The unspoken understanding between Pansy and Draco lasted only a short while.
Before long, Pansy, who had just left, returned to the compartnt where Draco and the others were seated.
Yet the mont she stepped inside, she imdiately sensed sothing... off.
Draco and Hermione were sitting far apart, their eyes not eting, but the atmosphere between them felt strangely charged—enough to make Pansy suspicious.
What on earth had they talked about while she was gone?
Maybe this was what people called a girl’s intuition...
The trip back to Hogwarts was otherwise unremarkable—except for the occasional murmurs and sideways glances directed at Draco’s group.
If there was one thing that stood out this year, it was the storm.
As their carriage passed through the gates flanked by the winged boar statues, the towering outline of Hogwarts Castle appeared beside the lake. Lightning flashed across the sky now and then, giving the ancient castle a gloomy, almost sinister air.
Rain, thunder, and a looming castle—it was like a scene straight out of a horror film, as if foreshadowing sothing ominous.
“What rotten luck,” soone muttered.
“Yeah,” ca another voice, “and just when I thought the weather couldn’t get worse, we run into sothing even more miserable.”
As Draco and his companions stepped out of the carriage and entered the castle, the familiar voices of the Weasley twins echoed through the entrance hall.
They were staring straight at Draco, smirking. Their tone made it sound as if running into him was the worst thing that could happen to anyone.
At once, quiet laughter rippled through the nearby students—an obvious attempt at provocation.
Before Draco could even react, his followers bristled in response. The more hot-headed among them had already drawn their wands, waiting for Draco’s signal.
But to everyone’s surprise, just as it seed Draco would raise an eyebrow and reply with one of his trademark barbs, he simply stepped back and said nothing.
That small motion made the twins’ eyes light up. “Looks like so Death Eaters—”
“Watch out above you, George, Fred!”
Bang!
Before the warning had even finished, a large red water balloon dropped from the ceiling and burst right over the Weasley twins’ heads.
Freezing water splashed everywhere, and the crowd erupted into shrieks. Draco, who had sensed sothing strange a mont earlier, had already pulled the two girls beside him back to safety. Thanks to that, they avoided the worst of it—and unlike the twins, stayed completely dry.
The Weasley twins, who hadn’t been caught in the rain outside, now looked as though they’d been dunked headfirst into the Black Lake. Their mouths opened and closed wordlessly, too stunned to react to the chaos around them.
“Peeves! It’s you again!”
Professor McGonagall ca storming out of the Great Hall. Judging by the damp hem of her robes, Peeves had apparently gotten her too.
“I didn’t do anything!” Peeves cackled from above. “They were already wet, weren’t they? Hey, have another one!”
“I’m warning you, Peeves! Get down here this instant!”
“Gahahaha!”
Whether it was her sharp tone or her terrifying glare, the poltergeist decided to make himself scarce, vanishing mid-laugh.
But the damage was already done.
“See? Now who’s the unlucky one?”
“What a pathetic sight for a couple of forr losers.”
Goyle’s words sent the Slytherins into fits of laughter.
And just like that, the tension between the two sides flared to life once more.
“You lot—”
“What are you doing? Get inside, quickly! The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin!”
Under Professor McGonagall’s sharp gaze, every student—whether they had co to watch the commotion or stir up trouble—imdiately dropped the idea.
But even from that brief mont, one thing was obvious.
Because of the spreading rumors, Draco had beco the center of hostility among the students.
Aside from the Slytherins standing behind him, wizards from the other three Houses now looked at him as though he were sothing poisonous.
And in so of those eyes, Draco caught sothing darker—hatred.
The kind that ca from those who had lost family to Death Eaters...
...
The Great Hall, where the Sorting Ceremony was held, was as magnificent as ever. Hundreds of candles floated in midair above the tables, their warm light glinting off silver plates and goblets. The four long House tables were packed with excited, chattering students waiting for the ceremony to begin...
Pansy, pleased that a certain “flirtatious cat” wasn’t around, was the first to notice sothing strange at the teachers’ table.
“Draco, look over there. The Defence Against the Dark Arts seat is empty. Did they fail to find a professor this year?”
“Probably not an easy position to fill,” Draco replied casually.
“Hmm... makes sense.”
Thinking about the past few Defence Against the Dark Arts professors, Pansy’s expression grew odd.
From the Dark Lord’s pawn to the werewolf whose secret had been exposed, none of the previous professors had been what you’d call “ordinary.” By that logic, an average wizard simply wouldn’t last in that position.
In fact, Pansy wasn’t the only one who noticed—the empty seat had already drawn murmurs from students across all four tables.
When Draco glanced up at Dumbledore, hoping to catch a clue, he found the Headmaster staring silently at the enchanted ceiling. His long fingers were steepled together, chin resting lightly on them, as if lost in deep thought.
It wasn’t until the Sorting Ceremony ended and it ca ti for the Headmaster’s address that Dumbledore seed to snap out of it.
“As always,” he began, “I must remind everyone that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits to students. In addition...”
“I regret to inform you that the House Cup Quidditch tournant will not be held this year.”
A shocked outcry swept through the hall—not one of joy, but disbelief.
And just as Dumbledore was about to continue his explanation, the heavy doors of the Great Hall slamd open with a thunderous bang...
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