Draco didn’t give much thought to who Flal was. Honestly, he didn’t believe soone like Harry could possibly uncover any grand secret—unless a wizard had deliberately handed it to him.
Pansy, on the other hand, seed genuinely intrigued. Whether it was curiosity or a real belief that it was worth digging into, she imdiately told Goyle and Crabbe to continue investigating.
Not that they got far with it.
The long-awaited Christmas holidays were finally here, and for the young witches and wizards, nothing was more important than the break.
Draco, too, couldn’t help but be swept up in the festive atmosphere. Any interest he had in the Flal mystery quickly faded into the background.
Whatever it was, it could wait until after the holidays...
Because of Hogwarts’ special nature, students going ho had to leave the sa way they ca—by the Hogwarts Express. The only difference this ti was they no longer needed to cross the lake by boat.
Even though Draco ca from a privileged background—and his father was on the school’s Board of Governors—he still boarded the train like everyone else.
And so, accompanied by Pansy's cheerful, lark-like chatter, Draco began his journey ho...
...
The chugging of the train and the sharp cry of the whistle echoed through the countryside.
This was the Hogwarts Express, speeding through fields and forests.
Unlike their first ride to school, the students aboard were no longer wide-eyed newcors facing the unknown. Now, they were like wild horses finally set free—racing through the corridors, shouting, playing, and full of energy. If not for the Prefects trying to keep order, chaos would’ve taken over.
It was worth noting that the most enthusiastic of the Prefects was Percy Weasley—another mber of the Weasley family.
Unfortunately for Percy, with everyone’s heads already in holiday mode, his authority didn’t quite carry the sa weight...
Which ant Draco’s plan to find a quiet, empty compartnt and read in peace was more or less dood.
Especially with the Slytherin Prefects popping up one after another, effectively dismantling that plan entirely.
“Boss lady, what’s going on?”
“Yeah, you look kinda serious.”
“If you don’t get it, just listen. As a couple of Draco’s few friends, it’s about ti you both grew up.”
Away from Draco, Pansy carried herself like a true queen. Just one sharp look was enough to make Goyle and Crabbe shrink back and fall silent.
That cool expression.
That commanding tone.
And the youthful face—still maturing, but already hinting at the beauty she’d grow into.
Thanks to a certain childhood companion, Pansy had already begun to show her own kind of charm...
Too bad most people never got to see this side of her.
Because right now, all eyes were fixed on the figure sitting at the center of the carriage—the one surrounded by a pale golden glow.
Whether Goyle and Crabbe would actually take her words to heart wasn’t Pansy’s concern. She turned her gaze from the two of them and looked toward Draco, seated among the crowd.
Yes, the compartnt didn’t just hold Draco, Pansy, and the usual four.
Gary Rosier and Evan Shafiq—who had openly shown their support for Draco during the Sorting Ceremony—were there too.
And they weren’t the only ones. A few unfamiliar faces had joined as well.
All of them were gathered around Draco, talking intently.
“So things can’t be avoided. Especially when... you’re the heir to the Malfoy na.”.”
Lowering her gaze, Pansy murmured softly as she looked at the item she held in her arms—the sa banner that had once fluttered proudly over the Quidditch pitch, a symbol of Malfoy honor...
...
Unlike the wizards from other houses, the Slytherins were surprisingly well-behaved.
Or rather, the section of the train near Draco’s compartnt was far quieter than anywhere else. Every young witch or wizard who passed by was imdiately t with a warning glare from the Slytherins standing guard at the door.
If you had a sharp enough mory, you’d realize that these silent sentries were all mbers of the Slytherin Quidditch team.
And yet, these Quidditch stars—usually the center of attention—were now standing there like re doorn. Their serious, watchful deanor was enough to make people wonder if Slytherin was plotting sothing again.
In fact, to certain people, it didn’t matter what Slytherin did—even if it was sothing good. Prejudice always found a way to twist the truth.
Take Ron Weasley, for instance. The mont he heard about this, his first thought was that Slytherin was up to no good again.
“You guys couldn’t get close?”
“Nope. That area’s reserved for Slytherin. We don’t have any excuse to just barge in.”
“Right, Ron, don’t you have a brother who’s a Prefect? Have him check it out.”
“He... uh... he’s probably busy or sothing. Forget it.”
With that, Ron shut the compartnt door, cutting off any further curious glances.
Just thinking about Percy made Ron sigh.
It wasn’t that he didn’t get along with him, but compared to Fred and George—who were close in age—Ron always found it hard to talk to Percy. Even Charlie and Bill, who were much older, felt easier to approach.
And just as Ron snapped out of his thoughts and looked up, he caught sight of a pair of eyes—bright and shimring like stardust.
It might’ve been a bit of an exaggeration, but that was exactly how Ron felt in that mont.
It seed the only two people in this compartnt... were him and Hermione.
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