The year-end banquet finally ended "successfully" amidst the chaos of little wizards and Filch's curses.
By the way, Gryffindor lost sixty points.
Thanks to those few Dungbombs, William didn't encounter any trouble until he boarded the Hogwarts Express. However, on the way, it seemed that there were indeed a few witches trying to open his compartment door, but no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't budge the door an inch—
"Is this... the power of an idol?"
Watching the blurry shadows flicker on the glass, William shook his head in resignation.
"...Speaking of which, aren't they afraid of getting hit?"
Cedric, who was brushing the feathers of the Thunderbird, grinned. Right now, the door indeed couldn't be opened—Ginny, Luna, and Cho Chang were also gathered in this compartment, holding the Kitty and Niffler borrowed from William, while the Fire Dragon Radish perched on William's head. If outsiders were to see the contents of this cabin...
William's "treatment" probably wouldn't be much better than Lockhart's.
"Of course, this is the fan circle—very strange."
William squinted his eyes, fumbling to gather up the feathers fallen on the ground, "Hey, Fawkes, you're starting to molt." He said to the Phoenix standing in his palm.
"..."
Fawkes fixed William with a deadpan stare, his dark pupils filled with speechlessness.
That was obviously pulled off by you.
Indeed, the reason William was avoiding Dumbledore's gaze earlier was because he had Fawkes hidden in his luggage, and Dumbledore hadn't realized that Fawkes had been kidnapped yet. All William needed to do was leave the castle with Fawkes, then he'd have an entire summer to bond with this Phoenix...
And then, heh heh heh...
As the scenery outside the window sped by, the platform paved with gray stone bricks soon appeared before everyone's eyes, the whistle of the Hogwarts Express sounded, and thick white smoke billowed from the locomotive, pushing Norbert, who was trying to poke its head out, back into his pocket. William grabbed his suitcase and followed the crowd off the train.
After bidding a short farewell to the little wizards each heading towards their parents, and slipping the bit of extra summer homework Cedric had assigned to him into the hands of the senior Diggory who had come to pick up his son, William passed through the wall under the watchful eyes of an old guard, returning to the Muggle world.
Breathing in the damp London air, William hurriedly walked into the crowd.
…
"This is a telephone number." Harry handed a torn Parchment to Ron and Hermione on platform 9 3/4, "Last summer, I told your dad how to use the phone, he'll understand. Call me at the Dursleys, okay?" He said, making a face, "If I have to spend the entire summer just talking to Dudley, and they even know I can't use magic, I don't know how I'll survive this summer..."
The group passed through the barrier at the station side by side, and after a brief exchange, went their separate ways. Harry, carrying Hedwig's cage, followed the stout man at the station entrance with heavy footsteps.
But at that moment, a familiar and sharp voice sounded behind the boy.
"...Why are you alone? Where's my mom?"
Malfoy?
Harry instinctively paused, ever since that duel, he had not seen him outside of the Great Hall or class, and even when they did meet, Malfoy only acted as if he didn't know him, not even a word of mockery—
This change really made Harry uncomfortable... It's hard to say if he has some kind of quirk.
Harry turned to look, only to find the boy with platinum blonde hair standing across the street, his black leather shoes on the station steps, a deep green old-fashioned car parked in front of him. A man in a butler uniform stood beside the car, nodding and bowing to the boy, "Ahem, the master and mistress are currently at home preparing to entertain guests, they sent me to pick you up—"
"...Alright."
Draco Malfoy frowned, clearly unhappy, because he had a belly full of questions for those two people, but apparently he would have to hold back a bit longer.
"Potter, what are you gawking at—"
Vernon Dursley, who had already reached his car, angrily pounded the car door, clanging loudly, drawing attention from others, while about to get into the car, Malfoy seemed triggered by the keyword and instinctively raised his head.
The two boys unknowingly met eyes across the road.
"...Drive."
Draco looked down, got into the car, watching the butler tidy up his luggage, he whispered.
"Yes, sir."
The man nodded eagerly, being a Squib, wanting to live in the Magic Realm, could only work for these noble families—he certainly could leave the Magic Realm and become a Muggle, but like Filch, having witnessed the wonder and convenience of magic, some people would never want to be ordinary... even though the term Squib wasn't a nice one.
The ride home was quick, quick enough to interrupt Draco's thoughts about school with the screeching brakes.
"We're home, young master."
The old man got out of the car, eagerly opened the car door for Draco, then opened the trunk to retrieve his luggage.
"Bring the luggage to my room," Draco stepped out of the car, frowning, asked, "Where's my mom now?"
"Madam..."
The man paused, checking his wrist, "At this time, the banquet has already begun, the master said once you're home to go straight to your room, dinner will be in the room—"
Before the man's words were finished, Draco already turned towards the manor's doors, the butler wanted to dissuade him but was met with a glare from Malfoy.
The boy walked through the gold-trimmed doors, across the soft carpet all the way to the dining room, sure enough, the burning torches at the door slightly relaxed his furrowed brow, he raised his hand ready to knock, but a conversation from inside reached his ears—
"...Did the price of salt at your house go up?"
The voice sounded familiar, but Draco couldn't recall whose voice it was.
"Oh, we changed chefs."
It was his mother's voice.
"The taste is good. So, how did you go about the thing I asked you?"
"Uh, actually... well, actually after you left, some fled, some scattered—only a few people still keep in contact with me, so trying to gather them back together is difficult—"
Malfoy recognized the slightly troubled voice as his father's.
"Difficult? It seems you haven't done anything—"
The other voice suddenly grew raspingly hoarse, causing Draco a jolt of panic, almost instinctively reaching out to push open the door.
"Oh, the young master is back?"
Sitting at the head of the table, William squinted his eyes, looking at Draco who was completely stunned after pushing open the door.