Maybe the measures had worked. Though inconvenient, ever since all the students began moving in groups, there hadn't been a single attack. It almost felt like school life was returning to normal.
But in truth, the culprit who petrified Mrs. Norris and the Weasleys still hadn’t been caught.
To Draco, this peace was only temporary. It wouldn’t be long before the Board of Governors—led by his father—took action...
...
Saturday morning.
Though the Chamber of Secrets incident had left everyone on edge, the upcoming Quidditch season had done a little to ease the tension.
Right now, the Great Hall was buzzing with excitement as students discussed the opening match. Just like every year, it was set to be a showdown between last year’s champions and runners-up.
That meant Slytherin, led by Draco, versus Gryffindor, with Harry Potter.
For Draco, who had experience under his belt, the approaching match did nothing to affect his appetite. If anything, he looked completely unbothered—there wasn’t even a trace of nervousness on his face.
Pansy, on the other hand, didn’t have Draco’s nerves of steel.
Her stiff expression and untouched breakfast said it all—she was getting nervous.
Draco, having noticed her tension early on, set down his knife and fork and glanced her way.
“Don’t stress too much. Just treat it like a training match. You can be a little more confident.”
“Easy for you to say... it’s not that simple.”
She shot Draco a sour look. Of course she understood the logic—but pulling it off was a different story. Especially when she didn’t want to disappoint Draco. That pressure only made her more anxious about messing up.
Classic case of overthinking—it only made it harder to stay calm.
Draco, not really able to relate, simply pointed to the side.
“Look at Goyle and Crabbe. They seem perfectly fine.”
“...”
Pansy followed his finger to where Goyle and Crabbe were seated—both of whom were also playing in today’s match.
Unlike her, those two were wolfing down their food like they hadn’t eaten in a week. It was the exact opposite of being too nervous to eat.
And this... was what Draco considered normal?
Pansy rolled her eyes in exasperation.
“Do you even know what ‘normal’ means? And you two—Goyle, Crabbe—take it easy! If either of you pukes midair, you’re done for!”
Clearly worried they might lose it mid-flight, Pansy waved a tiny fist in warning at the two boys.
Then suddenly, her gaze shifted to the witch sitting on Draco’s right.
“And why are you here with us Slytherins again?”
The person she was addressing was a young witch with long, dark golden-brown hair...
…
Come to think of it, ever since Draco returned from Romania, he’d swapped out his usual black tea and coffee for Gurdyroot Infusion.
Pansy never quite understood the appeal of that flavor, but she didn’t stop Draco from drinking it either. The only thing that bothered her was how, every time he brewed a cup, a certain little witch would always show up—right on time.
“This is the Slytherin table. Why are you here, Ravenclaw?”
Pansy glared at the small witch who was now effortlessly pouring herself a cup of Gurdyroot Infusion, taking a delicate sip like it was the most natural thing in the world. A vein twitched faintly at her temple.
The synchronized way she drank in perfect rhythm with Draco was clearly testing Pansy's patience.
After a quiet sip, the little witch tilted her head and looked at Pansy.
“Gurdyroot Infusion. Want a cup?”
“...So that’s why you come over here every morning?”
“It’s tasty. I like it.”
“.........”
Pansy stared at the Ravenclaw girl who had just said something so bizarre with such a dead-serious face, at a complete loss for how to respond. She turned to Draco, who was watching the exchange with barely concealed amusement.
For some reason, when it came to this oddly serene Ravenclaw, Pansy just couldn’t bring herself to get truly angry.
“You’ve probably got Wrackspurts clinging to you.”
What the heck is that supposed to mean?
Noticing the oddly sympathetic expression on the girl’s face, Pansy twitched slightly and shot a look at Draco, who was wearing the same confused expression. She wasn’t sure if she’d misheard or if she really was being plagued by something invisible.
“I think what she means is... you’re acting strange.”
“You’re the one acting strange!!”
Flushed with indignation, Pansy stomped on Draco’s foot under the table. Then she shot another exasperated glance at the Ravenclaw girl, who was quietly enjoying her tea like none of this concerned her.
“Seriously... you’re so weird.”
Just like the last time they’d met, her odd fashion sense and unusual behavior didn’t seem like anything a normal girl would have. And every now and then, she would say something completely incomprehensible.
In fact, though the school year had barely started, this quiet Gurdyroot-sipping Ravenclaw had already earned herself a rather unfortunate nickname among her housemates—“Loony.”
Draco, meanwhile, said nothing, watching the whole thing unfold with interest.
Honestly, it was the first time he’d ever seen Pansy completely stumped by someone, and he found it highly entertaining.
And really, Pansy wasn’t wrong. Whether it was her talk of Nargles and Wrackspurts, or the way she always tried to push The Quibbler on him, there was definitely something... off about her.
Still, thanks to this little encounter, Pansy—who had been quite tense earlier—seemed much more relaxed now. The way she angrily bit into her food was so cute, Draco almost wanted to ruffle her hair.
Come to think of it, none of them even knew that girl’s name yet...