Chapter 30: 2-3

I woke up as usual, changed, and went down to the common room with my brush in hand, but Harry wasn't there.

"Huh, where's Harry?"

"Quidditch practice. Here."

The note Ron handed me was scrawled so messily it looked as though he had written it in his sleep—even worse than his usual terrible handwriting. Granted, my own handwriting is atrocious. I shudder to think what would have become of me if I hadn't received handwriting correction lessons from the future Hermione. By the way, those were mandatory.

"At this hour?"

"Maybe Oliver changed their strategy. Even the two Beaters left while half-asleep."

"So, does that mean Harry went with that bedhead...? It'll be even worse after practice..."

Our Potter genetics are practically cursed; if we neglect our daily brushing, our hair instantly tangles. It's terrifying to even imagine adding gale-force winds to that bedhead.

"I'm going to go see Harry."

Leaving my brush in hand, I threw on my robes and dashed down Gryffindor Tower, heading straight for the Quidditch training pitch.

For some reason, I bumped into Draco on the way (he was also heading to the Quidditch pitch). "What on earth is going on with your head!" he exclaimed, grabbing me by the scruff of the neck and untangling my hair with the brush I was holding. Come to think of it, I had just woken up too. It probably wasn't as bad as Harry's, but the ends must have been dancing around quite a bit. I ended up losing quite a bit of time as he fussed over it.

When I finally thought I had arrived, practice hadn't started yet. Peeking over quietly with Draco, it looked like the players were arguing. What's this? Did everyone finally rebel against Oliver?

"...Hey. Look at that."

"Huh? Ah. Ugh..."

What I saw was Gryffindor's red uniforms and—green.

Could it be—is it today?

Sure enough, I heard Hermione's rebuttal, "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in!" Draco and I both held our heads in our hands. Draco, especially, must have felt his stomach aching at the recurrence of his dark history.

—Wait a minute. Draco is right here. Who on earth became the Slytherin Seeker, then?

"—Theodore, huh," Draco muttered.

Theodore? ...Ah, Theodore Nott. ...Wait, Theodore did?

The slender, brown-haired boy sneered at Hermione. And then.

"Unfortunately, no one asked for your opinion. You filthy little Mud—"

"—I wouldn't exactly call that language refined."

Draco cut through the crowd with a dash of gallantry. His slender, almost fragile back looked so resolute that it completely killed the urge to mock him—well, it was pretty cool.

"Hello, Theodore."

"...Hello, Draco."

The two Slytherins exchanged greetings in an incredibly frosty atmosphere. Draco glanced at me sideways just once. ...Get them out of here now, he meant.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione."

I called the usual trio over in a low voice and slipped away, leaving the scene to Draco. Having those three around would probably only complicate things.

"Let's go to Hagrid's or somewhere. Harry, I am not letting you go to class with that hair."

"Is it that bad?"

"It looks like you've got a bird's nest resting on your head."

"Oh... Maria, you're looking... very girlish?"

"Huh? Really? I don't even know what it looks like."

I reached around to the back of my head and felt what seemed to be a braid. Is this... um... a French braid?

Hermione narrowed her eyes with a faint Hmm. She looked like she was dying to tease me.

"He's quite dexterous, isn't he—Malfoy. Plus, he knows exactly what suits you, Maria. ...It's incredibly cute."

"...Thanks."

Feeling somewhat embarrassed, I replied bluntly, which only made Hermione's smile deepen. ...What's that supposed to mean?

Hagrid's hut came into view. When we knocked on the door, Hagrid looked quite displeased. Apparently, Lockhart had barged in just a moment ago. That man really does sprout up everywhere we go. He's like an aphid.

While I fixed Harry's hair, the three of them told Hagrid about the insult Hermione had almost received. —And about Draco stopping it.

"I 'aven't 'ad much ter do with 'im, but 'e's an odd one, that Malfoy boy."

"Well, he's reasonably sensible, isn't he? For a Slytherin."

"Right. He's an oddball among the Slytherins. And even among the Malfoys... Hmm. Specially considerin' his dad..."

Harry was remembering. The cold-faced man he saw in Borgin and Burkes. That freezing gaze. —How could a good guy like Draco be born from a man like that?

"Alright, done! You're handsome today too, Harry."

"You're cute too, Maria."

As I planted a kiss on the cowlick right in front of his eyes, Hermione and Ron looked at us as if they were witnessing something utterly hopeless. Even Hagrid was giving us a lukewarm, indulgent look.

"Yes, well. You're especially cute today, Maria. A princess adorned by her prince is on another level, isn't she?"

"Hermione..."

...No use, I'll just give up. It seems Hermione has decided to tease me relentlessly today.

"Right then, you lot better get ready fer class. Harry's gotta change outta his uniform too."

We left Hagrid's hut in a lively bunch. While I was accompanying Harry to the changing rooms, we got caught by Professor McGonagall near the broom shed. It was about the detention I had completely forgotten about.

"Miss Potter will assist Mr. Filch with polishing the silver, and Mr. Potter will help Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail."

"With Filch!? The worst!"

"With Lockhart!? The worst!"

"What is this about dropping their titles! Five points from Gryffindor!"

Having thoroughly lost house points first thing in the morning, we headed back to the castle while being lectured by the tag team of Professor McGonagall and Hermione. On the way, as we parted, Professor McGonagall smiled, which made me tilt my head in confusion.

"It suits you very well, Miss Potter. Mr. Malfoy is quite dexterous, isn't he."

............What on earth is going on!

Steam was rising here and there in the corridors. —No, there were several people walking around with steam pouring out of both ears. It was cold season.

Ginny was completely exhausted from it, which worried me deeply. —Because in the 'previous time', Ginny's poor health wasn't from a cold, but from her soul—or maybe life force, in this case—being drained by the diary.

Up until today, Halloween, I couldn't help but repeatedly ask Draco to confirm if the diary was definitely still in his cabinet. ............In the hospital wing.

"Of all days, you—well, I did notice you've been looking even paler lately. If you're feeling unwell, please make it more obvious. Why are you putting on a brave face?"

Draco, who was fussing with my hair, didn't answer. This was the result of him making me turn my back to him, determined not to let me see him with steam pouring out of his ears. It seems he awakened to hair arranging after that one incident. Day by day, my red hair was becoming more artistic.

"You don't exactly look the picture of health normally... but you're looking awfully fragile now."

"Ugh... I hid it because I knew you'd say that."

"A bit late for that, isn't it?"

"It may be late, but I still have my pride as a man."

"I have my pride too, you know."

"No you don't."

When I burst into laughter at our effortless banter, Madam Pomfrey glared at us. ("If you're feeling better, hurry up and head to the Halloween feast! I have a queue of patients waiting, oh, I'm so busy!")

Kicked out of the hospital wing, I started walking with Draco behind me, his iron will determined not to let me turn around. But I was still worried, so I held his hand anyway.

"The Halloween feast, huh... I'm not in the mood. Not that I've ever been able to attend it properly even once."

Not being in the mood on Halloween was almost like a reflex by now. Problems happen every single year. I just can't hold a fun impression of Hogwarts' Halloween.

"...Do you want to come to my dorm, then?"

"Huh?"

He squeezed our joined hands, pulling me forward again just as I had started to turn my head.

"Everyone's probably entirely engrossed in the feast right now, so no one will be there. ...You can check on the diary with your own eyes."

"I see. —Sounds good, a very me kind of Halloween."

Draco's and my footsteps veered away from the corridor leading to the Great Hall. —We were heading for the cold dungeon dormitories.

Watching his reliably brilliant curse-breaking skills, I peered into the decorative box he offered me. —A tiara, and the diary.

I picked it up to check if it hadn't been swapped for a fake.

"...Yeah, no mistake."

"Right?"

The seals were put back in place. Judging by how routine his movements were, he really must be checking it for me every day. He's quite diligent, even when I'm not watching.

"I guess it's safe to assume the 'Chamber of Secrets' incident won't happen this year. ...Though that's a problem in its own right, since I won't be able to get my hands on a Basilisk fang."

"What are you going to do?"

"Hmm, maybe I'll instigate Harry to open the Chamber around Christmas... I'll figure out something for the Basilisk itself."

"Don't instigate your brother... I'm coming with you, you know."

"Obviously?"

I smiled mischievously at Draco, who now had a cool expression on his face, the steam completely gone, as if he had been perfectly fine from the start. Draco looked just a little taken aback.

You helped me last year, after all. I'll have you help me this year too—partner.

"Alright! Now that my worries are cleared up, maybe we should gather Harry and the others and head to the kitchens. If we beg, the house-elves might share some leftovers from the feast with us."

"You three were at... err... what was it, the ghosts'..."

"Deathday Party."

"Right. And you couldn't get anything to eat at all?"

"...Every year."

We trotted out of the Slytherin dorms. Even though we were walking side-by-side now, our hands were still connected.

"Should we check just in case? See if Mrs. Norris has been petrified."

"You're cautious."

"...Do you realize you're heading toward the third floor on your own?"

"...It seems I was unexpectedly cautious too."

It was completely unconscious. Guess it was quite the trauma, I chuckled as if it were someone else's problem, and looked around at the wall between the windows on the third floor.

"────Huh?"

A puddle on the floor reflecting the torchlight. A sequence of dreadfully glowing words. —And a cat hanging there, looking as if it had died.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

'I' had ended up being the first witness once again.