Chapter 86: 6-2

I was swaying comfortably. My shoulder-length hair tickled my cheeks softly, feeling almost like someone’s fingers. Like an infant receiving your love in a cradle—as if I had returned to my mother’s womb.

Then, the cold.

My breath was rapidly snatched away. It was being sucked right out of my lungs. Bursting from my mouth and nose, the air turned into bubbles that popped against my face. Instead of oxygen, a rush of freezing water surged down my throat.

Someone was holding me. By the waist, with forceful strength. It was just one arm. I opened my eyes. I was underwater. The current rolled and brushed against my eyeballs. As I blinked a few times against the water pressure, I saw my slightly fish-like twin right in front of me.

Harry. The voice turned into bubbles. In my hazy mind, I remembered the ending of The Little Mermaid I had once read to my beloved daughter, Lily.

"—Pah! Cough, cough, haa… cough… Harry!"

"Maria!"

Breaking the surface of the water, sound finally reached me. A storm of enthusiastic applause and cheering. Then Hermione screaming our names, Ron’s voice, Fleur crying out for her sister, Madam Pomfrey’s angry shouts—the sensory overload made me zone out, staring blankly up at the sky.

"Maria, take her."

"…Ah, so you saved her too."

The beautiful little girl, her silver-blonde hair fanning out on the water, was being held by Harry in a daze. Fleur’s hostage—her little sister, Gabrielle. With Gabrielle between us, the three of us swam toward the shore. The moment we reached it, Madam Pomfrey was waiting, instantly wrapping all three of us in thick blankets.

"What a barbaric tournament! To be chilled to the bone like this… The Headmaster assured me the hostages would be perfectly safe underwater! This is not what I was told!"

The fierce angel in white, fuming with anger, immediately began tending to the frailest among us, Gabrielle. Put on the back burner, the two of us huddled together, wrapped tightly in a single blanket. You did great. I patted his soaking wet back to comfort him; he had apparently dived in wearing his sweater and slacks. Though, as someone who was called in to be a hostage the day before, I was dressed in the exact same thing.

"I'm in last place. I got there first, but I got greedy and wanted to save everyone. Funny, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It's funny. —To think my little brother is so amazing!"

I roughly ruffled Harry's messy hair, just like I would with Sirius—wait, no, like I would with a dog. Right now it was damp with water, but once it dried, it was going to be a disaster. Hermione had drilled it into me that letting it air-dry was dangerous.

Drawn in by our playful banter, Hermione threw herself at us—I felt a little sorry for the abandoned Krum—and the four of us, including Ron, celebrated together just like old times.

"Right, you're next!"

Harry, who was closest to Madam Pomfrey, had his arm grabbed and was dragged away. Then, replacing the hauled-away Harry, Fleur approached with Gabrielle in her arms.

"'Arry, 'Arry Potter… you saved my leetle sister. Even though she was not your 'ostage."

"Merci, 'Arry Potter."

Smiled at by two beautiful girls who looked like literal manifestations of light, I could see Harry blushing even as he was being manhandled by the matron. Hermione and I exchanged a grin.

"Marie."

—Hmm?

The Delacour sisters, passing Harry to come to me, took my hands—while I was still being held like a stuffed animal by Hermione—and passed a warm heat into them.

"Marie, you gave Gabrielle 'your warmth' so she would not be cold. Merci."

"Merci beaucoup."

What Gabrielle handed back to me with an adorable bow was a necklace. —Ah, right. Yesterday, knowing exactly how freezing the winter lake would be, I had felt so bad for the little girl who was going to be submerged that I lent her my very first Christmas present from Draco.

This necklace was a magical item containing a special flame trapped inside the jewel, possessing the ability to adjust to a comfortable temperature based on the wearer's body heat. If it was cold, it warmed up; if one was overheated, a cool flame would flicker. It was only a small comfort, but it seemed it had been somewhat useful.

"You're welcome. Umm, how do I say that in French…?"

" 'Je vous en prie,' I think."

"As expected of Hermione."

My best friend, who had traveled to France a few times, was far too reliable. When I repeated Hermione's words to Gabrielle, albeit clumsily, Gabrielle gave me a kiss on the cheek with a smile that rivaled an angel's. Fleur did too. Then, leaving behind a "Salut! Monsieur," she ran cheerfully back to Madame Maxime.

"…Hey, Hermione. Monsieur means…"

"Mister."

"……"

"How exactly do Veela see you?"

"I have no idea…"

Where on earth did they get the idea I’m a boy?

While I was being looked after by Madam Pomfrey, Harry's score was announced. Just like "last time", his moral fiber was recognized, and he surged to tie for first place with Cedric. Harry was boisterously surrounded by a sea of red. He didn't seem to mind it too much. For now, at least—I’ll forget about the bleak future and genuinely praise my little brother's valiant effort.

"Maria."

A robe was draped over my body, which was now mostly dry thanks to the matron. A green robe. Fingers slipped through my hair, which felt a little stiff from the natural air-drying.

"—Draco."

"Yeah."

"I'm going to stop interfering."

"I see."

"Fair and square—I'm going to beat Cedric."

That was the best I could do. …Probably.

The smooth green fabric, undoubtedly made of the highest quality material, brushed against my shoulders along with the cold wind.

BAAANG!—

The resounding crack brought a dead silence sweeping across the Great Hall. The source was the Gryffindor table. Specifically, from between Harry Potter and Hermione Granger—from the fist Maria Potter had just slammed onto the table.

The fabricated article written by Rita Skeeter in Witch Weekly was completely unbearable, hideous, and revolting.

First, there was the smear piece on Hermione. She was portrayed as a calculating "femme fatale" playing Harry and Krum against each other—or as Mrs. Weasley put it, a "Scarlet Woman."

"M-Maria…? No one is actually going to take this—this rubbish article seriously. Claiming that you and Harry are… involved…"

The Yule Ball I attended with Harry, the times I consoled him when he was on the outs with Ron—they were written about as if I was "comforting" him in that way. I suddenly, clearly understood the meaning behind Draco's "baseless suspicions" from before.

"I will absolutely never forgive this."

A low growl dropped from my throat. The shoulders of the kids on either side of me jumped.

"Maria, I don't really mind—"

"That's right, Maria. You two are undeniably close, but—"

"—Suggesting the possibility that Harry and I… aren't blood-related?!"

Wait, THAT'S the part she's mad about? Harry and Hermione exchanged a look despite themselves.

I could, if I concede a hundred steps, let it slide that someone wants to wildly fantasize about me and Harry. It induces more nausea than getting a rotten egg-flavored Every Flavour Bean, but it's true our physical closeness crosses the usual boundaries of a boy and a girl. I can't control what goes on in people's heads. Not unless I use brainwashing or the Imperius Curse, anyway.

But—

“Harry Potter and Maria Potter are twins. A boy and a girl. One is the Boy Who Lived, and the other is a nameless, ordinary girl. But considering how entirely different they are, are they truly twins? Their genders, the destinies they bear, and their appearances. The boy and girl, who share virtually nothing in common, have perhaps been licking each other's wounds of loneliness. Finding love only in one another—…”

—DAAH!? Denying that Harry and I are siblings—trying to rip away the single bond of family I have with this utter rubbish—who the hell would forgive this?!

"Harry and I are the children of James and Lily Potter, without a doubt. We are siblings. I won’t let anyone in the world deny my 'family'. —Hermione!"

"Y-Yes!"

"We're going to catch this piece of trash woman."

"H-huh?"

"—You'll help me, right?"

"Yes! Of course!"

I stood up from the breakfast table, bringing along Hermione, who had stood up on pure reflex.

"M-Maria…?"

"It's fine, Harry. Leave everything to your big sister. —I'm going to tear her to shreds."

NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS FINE!!

The mental screams of the students who fearfully witnessed Maria's volcanic eruption in the Great Hall—naturally, did not reach Maria's ears.