Chapter 6: 3-2

"Now then, let's have a constructive conversation, shall we? Which House do you intend to join? Gryffindor, I assume?"

"And you? I suppose you're still set on Slytherin?"

"...I have to be. I can't afford any more misunderstandings with my father."

I suddenly realized the weight behind those words. Draco had gone out of his way to wait for us on the platform of the Hogwarts Express (though he’d never admit it; he was never one to be honest with his feelings). Come to think of it, despite it being their precious son’s grand departure, I hadn’t seen Lucius or Narcissa anywhere. In the ‘previous’ timeline, that would have been unthinkable.

"Where are your parents today...?"

"...Bit by bit, I’ve been trying to convey my own thoughts and desires in my own way—but it’s not going as smoothly as it did for Scorpius."

He averted his gaze, a faint, lonely smile gracing the boy’s lips. That was my answer.

"I see... Mr. Lucius seems even more thick-headed than you were when you were playing father."

“No doubt about it. Since I’ve shown such blatant distaste for it, he’s grown suspicious, but he’s still dreaming of ‘My Lord.’ If it weren’t for the situation with my father... I think Gryffindor might have been interesting. Since you’re there.”

"If I ever got the chance to choose a Hogwarts House again, I used to think Slytherin wouldn't be so bad next time. There are examples like you, Professor Snape, and my own child. Slytherin isn't evil. They simply don't pick and choose their means; they remain true to the one sense of justice they hold within themselves. It’s a House where people who are, in a sense, remarkably sincere, gather."

"And Gryffindor isn't just a pack of dunderheads whose only merit is courage. It’s a place that hides the greatest potential for growth. A place where one can surpass their own limits—just like Neville Longbottom."

"Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, too, must be wonderful Houses. The idea of which is superior or inferior is nonsense; it never really existed in the first place. Though... it took me quite a while to realize that."

"Well, it's our second time around. A bit of a cheat, really."

I looked at him as he spoke so lightly beside me, and a strange feeling washed over me. To think I’d be having a conversation like this with that Draco—the Draco who did nothing but pick fights when we were children. And without even a glass of firewhisky between us.

That alone was enough to remind me that this world was 'different.'

"—Hey. Why don't you come to Gryffindor after all? I can’t go to Slytherin because it would make supporting Harry difficult... but honestly, spending time in the same House as you sounds very tempting."

"Thank you for the passionate invitation. ...If I did that, I’d become the first 'Blood-traitor' of the Malfoy family. My past self would probably question my sanity."

"Then—!"

"—But, I’m still going to Slytherin. ...To protect you."

"Eh?"

"You’re going to stay by Harry’s side and protect him, right? Then I’ll take the role of watching the whole picture from afar. 'To deceive your enemies, start with your allies,' as they say."

To deceive your enemies, start with your allies. I knew two people who had staked their lives on that principle. And both of them—were heroes of Slytherin.

“...You really are a Slytherin.”

“Well, I should head back. I left my uniform in the other carriage. I need to wake up Crabbe and Goyle before we arrive. You’ll need to change before we reach the castle, too, won’t you? You can change here once I leave. —Listen, Maria. Do not, under any circumstances, undress in front of boys. You’re a lady now, do you understand?”

"Yes, yes. I get it, Draco-mama."

"Who are you calling 'mama'?"

"But Draco, your nagging sounds exactly like Mother-in-law Molly. Come on, get out already. Are you planning to watch a lady change? You pervert."

"............Please, try to be more ladylike. One spitfire like Granger is more than enough. If anything happens, contact me using 'that method'—Hey! Don't start undressing yet! Can't you see I'm still here!"

He was so particular about everything... no, I mean, following Draco’s ‘kind advice,’ I started to lift my shirt. Draco hurriedly turned his head away and scrambled to his feet with such clumsy movements that I couldn't help but laugh. His ears and neck were beet red. Against his pale skin, it was incredibly obvious.

Honestly, you’ve even had a child in the future, what’s with that reaction? It's just me.

"—Hey, Draco."

Jokes aside, I let go of my shirt and stroked Hedwig, who had been sitting quietly during our secret talk, before calling out to Draco through the door as he prepared to leave.

"Back on the platform, you called out, didn't you? You said 'Harry.' —Which one of us did you mean?"

There was no answer.

"Sorry, Harry. I got caught up talking with Draco—Oh, have you made friends already?"

“Welcome back, Maria! This is Ron. Ron Weasley. And Ron, this is my sister Maria I was telling you about. And you are...?”

"I’m Hermione Granger. I’m Muggle-born. Nice to meet you, Maria. I know all about Harry from Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century, but I didn't know he had a twin sister. Now, Maria, there’s something I simply must ask you. —What on earth are you wearing?"

After parting with Draco, I returned to find that, as expected, the compartment now held two more children besides Harry.

A red-haired boy holding a rather scruffy, fat rat, and a girl with bushy brown hair holding her wand with an air of self-importance—Harry Potter’s irreplaceable best friends.

I gave a wry smile at the one who had rattled off her lines at me without pausing for breath—Hermione. She hadn't changed a bit.

"It's my uniform. Is something wrong? Ah, you two should change soon, too. We’ll be at Hogwarts shortly. Here, Harry, your uniform. Sorry for keeping your things for so long."

"Is something... wrong—?! Is something wrong, you ask—?! Everything is! You're a girl, aren't you?! You have a lovely face, and you even have breasts!"

"Oh, thank you for the compliment. Maybe I'm just a man with a chest?"

"Harry called you his sister!"

"Darn, I should have told him to keep his mouth shut."

"You don't sound very convincing when you're laughing like that, Maria," Harry added.

Despite Hermione’s sudden eruptive, almost tantrum-like outburst, Harry seemed to have expected her reaction the moment they met. He took his uniform from me with a relaxed, serene expression. He was such a healing presence. Ron, on the other hand, looked completely put off. Easy there, Ron; this girl might be a stranger now, but she’s your future honey.

Hmm, I knew she was intense, but this is fierce. Is it really such a crime for a female student to wear the boys' uniform? Technically, it’s just the trousers.

"It's against the school rules! You won't be allowed to enroll like that!"

"Were there rules like that? Even with the Headmaster's permission?"

"Eh—W-well—Is that... is that true...?"

"Yeah. I talked it over with Madam Malkin when I was getting fitted. She had a word with Headmaster Dumbledore and forced him to agree... ahem. Excuse me, I have a bit of a scratchy throat."

By the way, that was the real reason my fitting took so long. Thanks for sticking to your guns, Madam.

"T-that’s—so you're just getting special treatment...? That’s not fair. That's favoritism. If that’s the truth, I shall go directly to Headmaster Dumbledore and protest. Harry said it was because you didn't like 'girly' clothes, but to change the uniform just for that..."

"Even if there was a reason for it?"

"Eh?"

Since seeing is believing, I pulled open the front of my brand-new robes and tugged my sweater and shirt up from my trousers. Ron let out a startled yelp and covered his face with his hands, though his blue eyes were clearly peeking through the gaps in his fingers. That's so you, Ron.

Hermione was about to snap at me for doing something so sudden—but then, an awkward silence fell over the compartment.

"I got this when I was little; the aunt I’m living with poured boiling water on me. Quite artistic, isn't it? That part was an accident—but can't you tell by looking at me and Harry? We’ve been abused. Poor Harry, look at his arms. He’s skin and bones. That’s the result of hardly being given food. Now, is it so strange for a maiden to want to hide her scars?"

"Ah—I—um, that—"

"Hermione, you are right. I’m sure you’ve lived your life with integrity and correctness until now. That’s something to be proud of, and I’ll respect you for it. But perhaps it's not too late to wait until you understand the other person's circumstances before exercising that 'rightness.' Otherwise, you might end up hurting them. Don't you think?"

"...Yes, you’re right. I—I’m sorry."

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too for sounding so preachy. Don't forget, you weren't wrong. You were right. You don't really need to apologize. Neither do I, probably. We just had different points of view. So, instead of apologizing... let’s shake hands. We’ve become friends, but we only know each other's names. Come on, Ron, you too.”

I took their stunned hands in each of mine.

“I look forward to getting to know you. Ron, Hermione.”

For a long, very intense part of our lives.

“...Maria!”

Overwhelmed with emotion, Hermione threw herself at me. I used the momentum of catching her to lead us out into the corridor.

Just before the door closed, I locked eyes with Harry, who had been watching silently. I’m sure he understood my intention. My other half is brilliant, after all.

Ah, this brings back memories. Hermione’s intense physical affection. I’d settled for a handshake because I was resisting the urge to kiss my best friends after eleven years. ...Hagrid would probably scold me, saying you shouldn't kiss people the first time you meet them.

That aside, there was a reason I was a bit harsh with her despite her age. It’s because of what happens later with Ron.

In the past, Hermione and Ron were truly terrible to each other. I can't count how many times I got dragged into their colossal fights. Even after they grew up, that didn't change much.

Now I realize it was because they were hyper-aware of each other as man and woman. But they really should have considered what it was like for me (Harry) being stuck in the middle.

—And so, for the sake of Harry’s peaceful school life, I decided to strike preemptively.

By the way, while I told Hermione about the scars on my stomach with a solemn air, the truth is I don't care about a burn like this even a micron. It really was an accident caused by my aunt before I was five, but—

"Hey, Maria? I’ve heard that Hogwarts has a very talented doctor. Yes, um... I believe they call them 'Healers' here. I’m sure they can do something about that scar. That’s what magic is for, after all."

"Hm? Ah... yeah. I suppose so."

At Hermione’s words, I dug through my memory for the image of the famous school Healer.

Madam Pomfrey could certainly fix it perfectly, even if she were half-asleep. It’s not like Harry’s cursed scar. —But.

“I have no intention of erasing a single scar I got in that house. At least, not until I leave it for good.”

“Eh—?”

"If they disappear, those people might forget what they did to us. —I can’t forgive that. I won’t let them act as if what happened to Harry and me never existed."

"............"

Before I knew it, Hermione was looking at me with eyes that seemed to be seeing something very strange.

After all, setting aside Uncle Vernon and Dudley, Aunt Petunia’s feelings toward us were complicated. Especially—toward Maria, who resembled Lily.

For instance, while she acted as if even looking at Harry was loathsome, the truth was she often watched Harry’s eyes. When Harry looked at her, her face looked like she was enduring something deep inside.

But toward Maria—

—Not with that face! Don't look at me with those eyes!!

"............"

That scream had been real.

"Um,"

The silence returned, and Hermione flustered. She looked like she was desperately trying to find something to say—the way she looked so much like a child was so endearing that I found myself waiting for her to continue.

My daughter, Lily, used to make that exact face when she was at a loss for words.

“You... well, you’re very... manly, aren’t you?”

"Pfft!"

I burst out laughing. I mean, of all things, that was what the great clever girl finally managed to squeeze out!

—Oops, I tried to cover my mouth, but she heard me loud and clear. Hermione’s face turned red as a teakettle. Her bushy hair seemed to puff out even more with the steam.

“Really! Honestly! And here I was worried! Fine, stay there and laugh like an idiot! Laugh until that pretty face of yours is ruined!”

"I'm sorry, Hermione. It’s just that you were so cute."

"I’m ‘clumsy, tactless, and cute’?! Oh, yes, fine! Unlike you, I am a child! —Good day!"

And so, the huffing brown-haired princess stomped back to her own compartment in a massive sulk.

Yeah, that was my fault. I’ll have to put in some effort to win back her favor later.

—Now then.

“You two? Stop eavesdropping and get changed already. And don't forget to clean up the sweets you’ve scattered everywhere.”

""Y-Yes!""