Morning arrived, and William awoke with a start.
As usual, Boba Tea was off somewhere on another nighttime adventure, and his roommates were sleeping in bizarre positions.
Marcos and Bradley had even somehow ended up sharing a bed.
How did that happen?!
William absently rubbed the ring on his index finger, feeling more confident than he had in the past two days.
He no longer needed to worry about Robert's impending doom, Hagrid's arrest, or whatever plot Tywin had planned. Throwing on his robes, he went to the window, taking in the misty morning view, and let out a gleeful howl.
He felt absolutely fantastic!
The howl jolted his roommates awake. Chambers scrambled out of bed, stammering, "I'm sorry, Professor Snape! I didn't mean to be late…"
William sighed sympathetically. As Madam Pomfrey had said, students who'd been through Potions class with Snape were never quite the same.
"It's fine," William assured him. "Professor Snape is going to get arrested for murder today."
Of course, no one would remember this conversation tomorrow, so he could drop spoilers with reckless abandon.
"If only they would take Snape away for good! I wouldn't mind taking madam Pomfrey's classes," Chambers said through a yawn, rubbing his eyes.
"Yeah, wishful thinking." Marcos rolled over, pulling Bradley's blanket around him, clearly ready to go back to sleep.
Nobody took William seriously. He shrugged, got dressed, washed up, grabbed a few books, checked the Marauder's Map for professor locations, and headed into the common room.
A good number of students were already there, chattering excitedly about the Quidditch finals they'd be watching later that day.
Today was indeed April 20th. Again.
Since he'd already watched the game once and knew it would end abruptly thanks to Dumbledore, he saw no point in going.
If he did attend the game, he'd just be told to go back to the common room once the incident happened, wasting a perfectly good day in the loop. Instead, he planned to get some solid studying done, and to that end, he needed advice from a professor.
But not Dumbledore—that would only end in another endless soul-searching talk in the Headmaster's office.
Snape was out of the question; he'd be carted off to Azkaban before he'd have a chance to answer William's questions. And McGonagall, a Quidditch fanatic, would be at the game.
Ah-ha! How could he forget Professor Flitwick?
William remembered that Professor Flitwick wasn't planning to attend the match and would likely be in his office.
Perfect. His head full of plans, William stood up to leave, but a familiar voice stopped him.
"Hey, William! Aren't you coming to the finals?" Cho asked, giving him a quizzical look. With the stack of books in his hands, he didn't exactly look like someone off to watch Quidditch.
"Not really, it's a bit dull," William said nonchalantly as he plopped down on the couch between Cho and Marietta, who looked at him as if he'd just said he'd invented a new potion.
"But it's the finals!" Cho protested.
"Finals, shminus. Cho, let me tell you something. I woke up this morning with the power of prophecy—I can see everything that's going to happen today!"
William delivered this with a straight face, his confidence radiating.
Cho rolled her eyes, clearly unconvinced.
Marietta, however, gasped. Thanks to his reputation as a prodigy, she tended to believe almost anything he said.
"Don't believe me? I'll prove it," William continued, sounding as mysterious as possible.
"Oh, yeah?" Cho asked skeptically. "How?"
"All right, I just came out of the dorms, so I couldn't possibly know this, but I bet our Prefect Robert is currently standing right outside the door."
Before Cho could reply, Marietta darted off to check. Moments later, she returned with wide eyes.
"William… How did you know that?"
Cho's suspicious look deepened, but William just lounged back, relaxed. "Because I told you, I can see the future. For instance, I already know the final Quidditch score for today."
"What is it, then?"
"Seventy to ninety—Gryffindor in the lead when the game ends."
"That's impossible!" Cho declared. "Just catching the Golden Snitch gives 150 points!"
"Who said they'll catch the Snitch? Today's game will be interrupted by a major incident," William replied with a grin.
"What kind of incident?"
With the air of a prophet, he leaned in and whispered, "Thanos will send the Black Order to invade Hogwarts and try to steal the Ravenclaw Bronze Ring, but Dumbledore will punch them to death."
"…"
Having checked over Christmas break, he was fairly certain the wizarding world didn't have Marvel comics, so Cho and Marietta had no idea who Thanos was.
But they looked interested—and suspicious—all the same.
And the best part? By tomorrow, none of them would remember a single word. He could say anything he wanted.
Of course, once the Quidditch scores come out as he predicted, they might be further convinced of his prophetic abilities and would try to warn everyone against Thanos invasion in a panic….
What did that have to do with William? it would all be reset tomorrow anyway.
"Well, I'll let you see for yourselves soon enough. I have an appointment with Professor Flitwick." William made to leave but stopped when he noticed Cho's Hufflepuff hat.
With a wave of his wand, he tried to help her with the Transfiguration, hoping to make the badger come to life.
But he'd forgotten that Transfiguration was not his strong suit. In an instant, the hat burst into flames.
Startled, Marietta yelped, grabbing the hat and flinging it across the room, where it landed on the curtains, setting them ablaze as well.
"Fire! Help!"
Panicked students frantically tried to smother the flames with books, but the fire only grew, spreading to the couches and chairs.
One of the students managed a jet of water with "Aguamenti," which was enough for William to slip out amid the commotion.
Half of Cho's hair had been singed yellow in the blaze, and William had the distinct feeling she might finish him off if he stuck around any longer.
Thanos attacking Hogwarts might be a tall tale, but if he stayed there another second, he'd be facing an opponent far scarier—an enraged Cho Chang.
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