Chapter 133: 1-2
September 1st. After parting ways with the Prefects, Ron and Hermione, we joined Luna and Neville in their compartment. Luna was wearing the free Spectrespecs that came as an insert, dreamily leafing through a copy of The Quibbler. I was mostly playing the role of her sounding board. Perhaps because complimenting The Quibbler when we first met had paid off, Luna had taken quite a liking to me. As for me, I strongly remembered her as my wife's best friend, so conversing with her was effortless.
Just then—an intruder appeared.
"Hello, Harry. I'm Romilda. Romilda Vane."
She was a strong-willed-looking girl with dark hair. With an entourage of giggling friends in tow, she slid the compartment door open, oozing with confidence.
...Ah... Right... I quietly averted my eyes beside a bewildered Harry.
...You were there, weren't you. That's right. This was the year when everyone suddenly seemed to become hyper-aware of romance... and when even 'I' became somewhat popular. She was one of those girls.
"You couldn't find a spare compartment, could you? Why don't you come and sit in ours? You don't have to sit with them."
It seemed Romilda thought Harry had only chosen this compartment reluctantly because there were no empty ones left. She shot a sidelong glance at "Loony," her face blatantly showing her disdain. Harry scowled, his eyebrows shooting up in irritation. Neville looked entirely flustered. Luna, who had just been singled out, was completely absorbed in her Spectrespecs. ...Hmm, she's picked the wrong opponent.
Taking pity on the two of them (mostly Neville), I opened my mouth to intervene. But before I could, a hazy, ungrounded voice floated through the air, countering Romilda.
"I don't think you'll be able to catch Harry's attention. Harry is quite particular about looks, you see."
"Excuse me?"
Romilda froze. Her eyes were fixed on "Loony."
"It can't be helped, considering Maria is always by his side. He has extremely high standards now."
"......"
"Unless you're saying you can rival Maria, of course. But I think you'd need to be at least as pretty as Ginny to have a chance."
Romilda, who had been stiff with shock, finally processed Luna's words and flushed scarlet. A deep, angry red. She glared fiercely at Luna and me before storming down the corridor, practically stomping her feet. Her lackeys scurried after her. An indescribable silence fell over the compartment. Luna tilted her head, looking utterly confused as to what she had said to make the girl so angry. ...Terrifying, Luna Lovegood. In a way, she truly is an unrivaled powerhouse.
"...Harry, I'll give you something nice later."
Yielding to the sudden wave of exhaustion that washed over me, I leaned against Harry. He absentmindedly stroked my red hair.
It seems your generosity won't go to waste after all, Fred and George.
After greeting Harry, Ginny, and Neville—who had just returned from Slughorn’s luncheon—the scene shifted to the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Suddenly, I felt a sense of unease. Like something was missing—
The Welcoming Feast began. Hermione was frowning at a ravenous Ron. In the distance, Lavender was giggling with Parvati while looking at Ron. Colin was showing his camera to his younger brother, talking boastfully. Seamus was blowing up his goblet. Ginny was surrounded by boys. (I have a few things to say about that last one.)
The Gryffindor table was as chaotic as ever. Just what was missing—?
Suddenly, the doors to the Great Hall burst open. All eyes immediately darted toward him. A boy with blond hair long enough to pass his shoulders, tied back with a chic black ribbon, took his seat at the Slytherin table, his robes billowing behind him. —It was Draco. Draco Malfoy had arrived late.
The positions of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy—who had once gotten the better of him—were reversed.
"Did you see that? Even when he's late, the rich boy still tries to look elegant."
"I wonder if something happened?"
"Maria?"
The three of them, including Harry, looked at me. I shook my head, indicating I didn't know either. —Had something happened on the train?
Putting down the fork I had been using to poke at my chicken, I tightly gripped the piece of communication parchment in my pocket.
"—Draco!"
Early September nights are relatively bright. I caught up with my partner-in-crime, who was sporting a troubled expression, by our usual spot near the lake.
"I'm sure you know, but—"
"Yeah. It's just... no, I haven't quite wrapped my head around it either."
Sitting down on the grass, I peered at Draco, who was rubbing his furrowed brow. He had matured quite a bit over the summer, but when he made that face, he looked exactly like the Malfoy 'I' knew so well.
"Well... I overslept."
"Huh?"
I let out a rather dumbfounded sound. Draco looked utterly bitter, as if humiliated that his archenemy had witnessed his blunder.
"On the train? Didn't anyone wake you up? Are you really that hated?"
"I'm not hated. They were just keeping their distance."
"That's called treating you like a ticking time bomb, you know."
"Shut it, you smart-ass. ...That's not it."
Just as he had said when we first met up, Draco spoke with a bewildered expression. His ice-grey eyes were wavering.
"It was Astoria."
"What—?"
"The one who put me to sleep and left me on the Hogwarts Express... was Astoria."
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