12 Grimmauld Place.
Soft, tranquil sunlight filtered through the carved window lattice, falling over the two boys bent over their desks, scribbling furiously.
Their quills scratched across parchment, the hurried rustling filling the room.
Though his wrist ached terribly, Harry did not dare pause for even a moment. Holding his breath and focusing, his green eyes were not fixed on the words his quill left behind on the parchment. Instead, he paid particular attention to how much space remained on the page, writing in a wild scrawl while muttering under his breath.
Ron, seated beside him, was in much the same state.
The old wall clock faithfully marked every passing second. When the hour hand pointed to ten—
"Done!"
Harry suddenly threw down his quill, leapt from his chair, and raised both hands over his head, shouting in celebration as though he had just won a Quidditch final.
Ron, meanwhile, looked utterly devastated the moment Harry cheered.
Unwilling to accept it, he snatched Harry's parchment and skimmed it twice. Once he had confirmed that Harry's essay met Professor Binns's required length, he let out a wail and collapsed onto the desk as if his spine had been pulled out!
"Hand it over, Ron. Don't even think about weaseling out of it!"
Ron's wailing did not earn Harry any sympathy. Instead, the smile at the corner of his mouth grew brighter as he held out one hand to Ron.
"Here—"
Ron gave an angry cry. He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. After selecting one Galleon, he put the remaining Sickles, Knuts, and the commemorative coin Professor Breen had given him back into his pocket.
"This Galleon was supposed to serve a more important purpose—"
Reluctantly placing the Galleon in Harry's palm, Ron said