No one could have imagined that, in the very sa place and at the very sa ti, just a short distance away, a few wizards were discussing sothing capable of sending the entire school into panic.
And unlike earlier speculation, one only needed to see the certainty in Draco’s eyes and the seriousness on Pansy’s face to know that none of this was a joke.
In fact, it was already a confird reality.
Hermione could clearly picture how chaotic the British wizarding world would beco the mont Voldemort’s return was made public...
Yet, judging from how things were unfolding, the Ministry seed determined not to spread the news. They even looked ready to pretend nothing had happened. Hermione couldn’t decide whether that was understandable—or simply pathetic.
After all, the Ministry had done the very sa thing before. When it ca to the matter of Horcruxes, they hadn’t even wanted to acknowledge their existence, let alone admit the Dark Lord had already returned.
But whether it was Dumbledore or the Ministry who would act next, Hogwarts’ peaceful daily life might never return.
That thought alone made Hermione’s expression darken...
She was one in a million who had the fortune to beco a witch—she’d even t her first real crush at school. So why, of all tis, did sothing like this have to happen now?
To Hermione, this might be the most extraordinary experience of her life.
But it was also the worst possible era to live through...
...
While Hermione was still wrestling with the shocking news of Voldemort’s resurrection, Minerva McGonagall had vanished from the stage without anyone noticing exactly when she’d left—likely imdiately after delivering the announcent. Now, the professor’s podium stood completely empty...
That alone made it obvious the disappearance of Harry Potter and the others was far from a minor issue.
Even so, most of the young wizards—having eaten their fill—wanted nothing more than to return to their warm beds rather than think about matters far too complicated and frightening.
For students who hadn’t yet graduated, danger was still sothing distant and unreal...
“Let’s go. Bring Goyle and Crabbe back to Slytherin.”
“Ah—wait for , Draco!”
“.....”
Hermione had instinctively risen as if to follow, only to stop herself the mont she rembered she wasn’t actually a student of Slytherin House. Watching Draco and Pansy walk away, she felt a mix of envy and quiet frustration she couldn’t quite put into words.
“If only I…” She sighed softly, leaving the rest unsaid. Anyone with even a bit of emotional intelligence would know what the Gryffindor know-it-all ant.
And as it happened, Astoria—who not only had emotional intelligence but was also remarkably perceptive—overheard Hermione’s murmured words...
“Allow to reintroduce myself: Astoria Greengrass.”
“Eh?”
Faced with this elegant witch—not their first eting—Hermione froze for a mont, unsure how to respond.
If her mory was correct, they had already crossed paths in Hogsade Village.
Though the circumstances back then had been… complicated.
Seeing Hermione’s surprised expression, Astoria lightly pressed her lips together.
Astoria hadn’t forgotten any part of what happened that day in Hogsade. But unlike before, her attitude toward Hermione Granger had undergone a dramatic shift.
She had originally assud Hermione was just an insignificant presence by Draco’s side, but after carefully observing her, Astoria realized things were far from that simple.
Draco’s complete lack of reservation with Hermione, and Pansy’s unexpected tolerance toward this Gryffindor witch, made it obvious to Astoria that the girl in front of her was soone she needed to take seriously.
If she wanted to grow closer to Draco, she would have to accept these rather “unique” witches around him.
With that thought, Astoria’s smile brightened.
The one who had just walked away might not know it yet, but as the fiancée already acknowledged by Lady Narcissa, she had no intention of losing.
At least—not before the end of her life...
…
Moonlight shimred across the surface of the Hogwarts Lake.
Beneath its glow, wizards stood straight-backed and silent, arranged neatly before one particular figure.
This was the Slytherin common room, and the students gathered here ca from every year.
If one looked closely, it beca clear that at least half of those present were mbers of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Even those who weren’t still belonged to families with considerable standing and influence in the wizarding world.
But beyond their intimidating backgrounds, these Slytherins shared another trait unknown to ordinary witches and wizards:
Their families—or close relatives—had all once lived under Voldemort’s rule, and so had even produced Death Eaters who betrayed the Dark Lord.
And now, these Slytherins—backed by ancient power, and perhaps still carrying Voldemort’s lingering shadow—were gathered together in the quiet of night.
For a single reason.
Because of the figure now standing before them.
Gray eyes. Pale blond hair. Sole heir to a noble line fad for its platinum lineage...
Draco Malfoy.
...
Draco stood with his hands behind his back, gazing upward at the lake above as if drawn by sothing only he could sense. He paid no mind to the Slytherins below, who watched him in thoughtful silence.
Unlike Draco’s composure, the witch beside him looked electrified, staring at him with such shining admiration it bordered on ravenous.
Pansy had every reason to be excited.
No matter the final outco tonight, if even half—no, even a third—of the wizards here chose to follow Draco, this force would one day sweep across the entire British wizarding world.
Perhaps it was a hopeful thought, but the result would never fall far from it...
And then there was Astoria, usually buried in potion studies, who had unexpectedly shown up tonight. Even more surprising, she stood at Draco’s other side, a gentle smile on her face.
It was as if she intended to compete with Pansy for sothing—though Pansy, lost in her bright fantasies about the future, hadn't noticed at all.
The air grew so quiet one could almost hear the distant chewing of the giant lake octopus hunting below the surface.
Then Draco, standing before them, seed to return to himself. Slowly, his faintly luminous gray eyes swept over them.
In that mont, it felt as though the Flaming King from the tournant had appeared once more. When those fire-like eyes passed over the gathered Slytherins, it created the illusion that the very air around them was about to ignite.
But what Draco said next—froze them to the bone.
“That man has returned. If you still don’t understand…”
His voice cut through the silence.
“Voldemort is back.”
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