“You should have thought of the consequences before pulling such an idiotic stunt!”

Snape slams the door behind him in an effort to go and find McGonagall.  

Harry has a feeling that he does it to refrain from throttling them both. The thought does little to calm him.

“You okay, Harry?”

He shakes his head wordlessly.  He’s concentrating on not throwing up.  He wishes he had a dark hole to crawl into.

And never come out.

. . .

McGonagall is furious.

She doesn’t yell, but the disappointment in her eyes is just as bad.  

Ron babbles through their story in a ragged way, looking back and forth between McGonagall and him with both panic and oddly, concern.

“We didn’t have a choice,” Ron tells them at last.

“Why didn’t you send an owl?”  McGonagall glares severely down at them.

A knock on the door reveals no other than Dumbledore.

There’s no reason to exaggerate.

Harry feels the fury all over again.  He barely feels it when his feet finally hit the floor.

“Who?”  He surprises them all by speaking.

“Who, what, my boy?”  Dumbledore raises an eyebrow instead of his usual twinkling grace.

“Who should we have sent it to?”  He hisses.