Different Reactions Triggered by a Cold (7)

When McGonagall came around the corner, the entire "train" was already too late to stop. Ron was at the front and crashed headfirst into McGonagall. Seamus slammed into Ron, Dean slammed into Seamus, and the whole line piled up like dominoes.

Professor McGonagall did not budge. She merely looked down at Ron sprawled by her feet, her expression shifting from surprise to confusion, then from confusion to the helpless look of someone who had seen far too many absurd things but still found this utterly absurd.

Ron raised his head. The last wisps of black smoke were still drifting from his ears, his cardboard locomotive hat hung crookedly to one side, and the whistle was still clenched between his teeth.

He opened his mouth, wanting to explain, but nothing came out.

McGonagall looked down at him for three seconds.

"Mr. Weasley," she said in a frighteningly flat voice, "your... locomotive... is smoking."

The tangled group behind him collectively held their breath. Ron removed the whistle from his mouth and forced out a smile uglier than crying. "Professor, we were just... celebrating getting over our colds."

"By playing train?"

"...Yes."

McGonagall stared at him for a long time.

Then she turned around, took two steps, stopped, and said without looking back, "Next time you celebrate, do not block the corridor. And—" She paused. "Ron, your ears are still smoking."

Ron touched his ears. They really were still smoking.

He took off the cardboard hat, sat down on the floor, and suddenly started laughing. Seamus laughed too. Dean laughed too. Everyone laughed. They lay on the corridor floor, laughing until their stomachs hurt and tears streamed from their eyes. Hermione stood at the stairway with that book still in her hands, looking at the lot of them, and finally could not help