Chapter 75: 2-3

Just as Uncle Arthur had feared, the World Cup incident turned into a scandal following Sirius Black’s twelve-year false imprisonment. The Ministry of Magic—and by extension, Minister Fudge—was in a tremendous panic. Harry and I stared at the newspaper suspiciously, wondering what would happen to the Ministry's prestige if Pettigrew's escape were added to the mix. It might have been my imagination, but Uncle Arthur's already thinning hair seemed to have gotten even thinner.

Furthermore—Bertha Jorkins. Her disappearance, which would become the key to Voldemort's resurrection, had also been brought to light by Rita Skeeter. The Ministry of Magic was already in complete chaos. Sure enough, Uncle Arthur was looking downright haggard.

On the morning of September 1st, the day we returned to Hogwarts, Amos Diggory informed Uncle Arthur about an incident where Mad-Eye was ambushed by someone at his home. The two of them viewed it as a case of excessive self-defense due to Mad-Eye's overreaction, but... if I recalled correctly, it was from this moment on that Mad-Eye was—

No. Even knowing the truth, I couldn't prevent it. Voldemort had to be resurrected using Harry's blood. Even though I absolutely—from the bottom of my heart—completely despised the idea of serving Harry up on a silver platter.

It was crucial to mix our mother Lily's blood and protection into Voldemort.

After parting ways with Harry and the others on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at King's Cross Station, I searched for the compartment number written on the communication parchment. This time, an information-exchange rendezvous with Draco was my top priority.

I couldn't fail. —Because an innocent young man's life was on the line.

Besides, the Malfoys' circumstances were also on my mind. On that night, Draco should have been with Narcissa, if not Lucius. He would never defy the orders of the father he so deeply respects and loves. —I needed to probe deeper into the Malfoy family's circumstances.

...I didn't want to see Draco driven into a corner, both physically and mentally, ever again. We used to fight like cats and dogs, but during that time, it was too cruel to watch. And now—he is my dear partner.

"Hi, Mister?"

"Good day, My Lady. Has your overprotective little brother been left with a sitter?"

"I left him in the care of reliable friends."

"Granger, then."

"Ron is reliable too. But yes, exactly."

I placed my luggage in a random empty space and sat down across from him, who was crossing his legs in a pretentiously dramatic manner.

"I'm glad to see you looking well."

"That's my line."

"Well, I thought you might be sulking because your dream of living together as a trio with your beloved godfather was put on hold again."

"We live in a world where dying while sulking is a very real, unfunny possibility."

We chuckled together. Once we had relaxed through our playful banter, the topic shifted to the main issue.

"To be frank, helping Harry is unnecessary this time," I said.

"...Is that so?"

"There’s a man whose role is to favor Harry and ensure he reaches the final stage no matter what. It would be a problem if we moved carelessly around him and caught his eye. His 'Eye' is... as you know, quite troublesome."

At the visage of the man that came to mind, I heard Draco let out a small groan.

I had already informed Draco of Mad-Eye's true identity, but the bitter memory of being turned into a ferret probably wouldn't fade anytime soon. In reality, that was less "instruction" and more just taking things out on him. Draco as a ferret was actually cute enough that I'd briefly considered petting him. ...No, actually, it served him right.

"Therefore, what we need to focus all our efforts on is..."

"—Preventing Cedric Diggory from competing in the final, right?"

An indescribable silence filled the compartment.

We knew. Both Draco and I knew just how incredibly difficult that would be. Because... our sons had already caught a small glimpse of the terrifying future that awaited us if we failed.

"We must not humiliate Cedric Diggory..."

"It's strange, isn't it? To me, Cedric doesn't seem to have that much pride. I've been crossing paths with him and observing him since my first year, and he really is just a genuinely good person."

I remembered the gentle boy I had met down in the kitchens. The more I got to know him, the more he seemed like a kid with a true Hufflepuff heart. Even now, I simply couldn't imagine him becoming a Death Eater depending on his choices.

Not everything had been calculated, but this was the reason I had approached him. To discern the darkness within Cedric.

"...Even if he doesn't possess stubborn pride himself, the immense pressure known as a parent's expectations is sometimes beyond imagination. It's enough to change a person's entire personality."

"...."

I looked at Draco with a start. Draco had turned his cold-looking grey-blue eyes toward the window, the shadow of his eyelashes falling softly on his cheeks.

"...I suppose it's only natural that I wouldn't understand, not having parents. Maybe it would have been better if you had been the one to approach him."

"Don't be stupid. I'm no good with people like that—the 'good to the core' types. They give me the chills. Someone like you is just right."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

I pouted slightly at the guy who was implicitly teasing me for being twisted, but upon seeing the cool smile playing on his lips, I let out a small sigh.

Amos Diggory... his passion and expectations for his son might certainly not have been entirely positive for Cedric. He's a father completely opposite to Lucius Malfoy, but... becoming a parent is truly a difficult thing.

"Regardless, we have to act from the sidelines. Unlike those kids, we are the ones living in this exact moment. This time, I won't let anyone be 'the spare'."

I clenched my fists tightly. Draco pressed his lips together, watching my resolve.

"Strictly no standing out—huh? ...Hah, a bit late for that now."

"A-haha. ...True."

His words took the edge off my tension. I slowly relaxed my fist.

"Among the teachers, leaving you aside, I'm probably considered quite a problem child. I'd hate it if they thought of me as the second Tom Riddle... Wait, if that diverts their suspicious eyes away from Harry, maybe it's a valid strategy?"

"No, it isn't."

"Ouch!"

Draco actually leaned forward just to lightly smack my forehead. You always complain that I'm too quick to get physical, but you can't exactly talk, can you?

"Well, well, Dumbledore is someone who doesn't make a move unless he's certain, so it's fine. And Professor Snape would hate being involved with me unless Dumbledore ordered it... probably."

"Don't depress yourself over your own words."

"Of course I'm depressed. I told you the origin of my name, didn't I? It's basically like my mother's dying wish. Despite that... his hatred for me is even worse than it is for Harry, you know? To the point that he'd rather look at the child who looks exactly like the man he despises than look at me."

"If you held back on the recklessness, maybe Professor Snape would feel a little more at ease."

"Impossible."

"I suppose so."

After a beat, we burst out laughing at the same time.

There was never an option to just behave quietly from the start. Doing whatever I pleased while using Harry, who inevitably stood out, as a smokescreen—that was Maria Potter.

"Besides, putting the matter of Cedric Diggory aside—you still have plenty of things to worry about."

Draco smiled thinly, his tone laced with a heavy dose of malicious sarcasm.

"What are you going to do about the Yule Ball?"

I suddenly froze. What was I going to do—what did he mean, what was I going to do? —That was already decided!

"I'm not attending. Why would I? Are you telling me to wear dress? I'd look more ridiculous than a clown!"

It was a more absurd concept than Luna looking at a cloud and saying it was just a cloud. It didn't even need confirmation; it was a settled fact.

Draco watched me rant with great amusement. His face, which suited a smirk far too well, was truly irritating.

"...What is it?"

"Nothing. I'm just in a good mood knowing my efforts won't be wasted."

"What are you plotting?"

"What do you think I'm plotting?"

Resting his chin on his hand against the armrest and sending me a sidelong glance, Draco possessed a strange sort of allure. What kind of seduction tactic was this? You've got the wrong target; I'm Maria, not Astoria.

"...I'm not wearing a dress, you hear me? Absolutely, positively not wearing one! I don't care if it was a gift from Sirius!"

"Is that so."

Draco, as expected, was smiling an almost creepy smile.

Stepping off the Hogwarts Express, we were met with a torrential downpour, like buckets of water being overturned. I felt pity for the Thestrals being battered by the rain, and when I muttered this out loud, Draco looked at me strangely.

"...You can see them?"

"Eh? The Thestrals? Well... yeah?"

What was he asking now? I had been seeing the Thestrals pulling the carriages since my first year. Reading the obvious question written across my face, Draco whispered.

"You never mentioned anything about having memories of the moment your parents died, did you?"

"I remembered that I was 'me' when I was five. My memories from before that are hazy, just like anyone else's. Naturally, I don't remember."

"Harry is the same, then? And Harry can't see the Thestrals—is that right?"

That's when I finally realized what was confusing Draco.

—That's right, why could I see the Thestrals?

Maria hadn't seen anyone die yet.

Looking off somewhere into the distance, Draco whispered once more.

"So you really are—'Harry', aren't you."

Was he glad, or was he sad? —Obscured by the sound of the rain, I couldn't discern the tone of his voice.