Death Eaters

If Pomona's father, whom she had never met, had any virtues, it was that he was very rich and very generous. It seemed he was using this to make up for his failures as a father and husband.

Madam Sprout had rented her an underground vault at Gringotts when she was very young. Besides Galleons, it held quite a few silver bars. That was also why Pomona liked Hufflepuff—Madam Sprout had never considered making a fortune off her while she was young and ignorant.

As Madam Sprout put it, gold could not fill one's stomach. She had planted many crops in the valley and raised quite a few chickens. She was Muggle-born and had lived through World War I; during World War II, she had lost contact with almost all her relatives.

The battlefield, with flesh and blood flying everywhere, was certainly horrifying, but civilians suffered even more from war. Madam Sprout made food delicious not to indulge appetites, but because she cherished food. People were reluctant to waste delicious food, whereas when something tasted utterly terrible, people would loathe and reject it. Especially when it did not look appetizing, even if it tasted very good, it would still be left until last.

The young woman who emerged from the back room was very beautiful. She had long, sleek black hair, sparkling eyes, flawless fair skin, sharply sculpted features, and a graceful, curvaceous figure. Yet her expression was exceedingly haughty, and she exuded an aura utterly different from Madam Sprout's. If Madam Sprout brought to mind a sunny valley blooming with flowers and a table laden with food, then this beautiful girl evoked a dark, damp cellar.

In the animal kingdom, badgers were snakes' natural enemies. But this was the wizarding world. Hufflepuff students regarded Slytherins as though they were natural enemies, and Pomona's hair was practically standing on end.

"I wondered who it was. Turns out it's a first-year who hasn't even started school yet." With one hand on her hip, the black-haired girl looked Pomona over with a scornful smile. Even in such an uncouth pose, she remained beautiful, radiating a wild, unrestrained air. "Dare to tell me your name, little one? I swear I'll take good care of you after term starts."

At that moment, Pomona remembered Pete's words: "Don't talk to anyone." If a Hufflepuff wanted to spend seven peaceful, safe years at Hogwarts, the first thing they had to remember was to stay away from Slytherin. Pomona felt like a little badger that had fallen into a snake pit, and she regretted drawing so much attention to herself earlier.

Just as Pomona was growing so anxious she was about to cry, the black-haired girl seemed to suddenly realize something. She rapidly scanned the shop, then began cursing. "Damn it! Sirius Black! Where are you?"

"He went out with the Potter boy," someone kindly said. "They only just left."

The black-haired girl stormed out like a black whirlwind, then vanished into a cloud of black smoke.

Pomona knew that was definitely not Apparition, because she had not heard the explosive crack. Once the girl disappeared, the customers' discussion grew even livelier. Since they had lowered their voices, it sounded like mosquitoes in summer.

"That's Bella from the Black family. I heard she became Slytherin's female prefect this year, and she's become a Death Eater too."

"She's still a student."

"The Dark Lord had already gathered a group of utterly devoted followers in the castle while he was still in school. As long as you pledge loyalty to him, age isn't a problem."

"Mum, what does Death Eater mean?"

"Don't speak, dear."

The young mother and son, unwilling to invite trouble, left the robe shop. Several others followed soon after. Madam Malkin looked unhappy, but she still took Pomona into the back room to measure her.

A thick curtain had been hung in the back room to block people's view. Since there were no windows, the scent left by the previous customer had been completely preserved. Aside from Bella's perfume, Pomona caught a faint whiff of decay. It was unlike the stench of rotting leaves in the forest; it smelled more like dead rats or rotting flesh.

"Can you smell that?" Pomona asked Madam Malkin, covering her nose.

"What smell?"

"It's like... something died in here."

"Dear young lady, my shop has only been open for a week. How can you say such a thing?" The kindly Madam Malkin looked as though she was about to lose her temper. "Perhaps England's tastes do not suit fashionable French people like yourself. There are robe shops in Diagon Alley run by French wizards. You may go have a look there."

As she spoke, Madam Malkin pushed her out. It seemed she was unwilling to serve her any longer.

"Veela mongrel," Pomona heard someone say as the jingling door closed behind her. Only then did she remember Madam Sprout's words before she left. She really should have used a little magic on her face.

Bored out of her mind, she returned to the entrance of Flourish and Blotts. Shopping was supposed to be enjoyable, but she was in an awful mood now. She wondered whether it would affect her choice of wand.

"Hey, dear, want your fortune told?"

Just then, a hunched-over witch approached her. She tried to give Pomona a friendly smile, but it only made her look more ill-intentioned.

"No, thank you," she said warily.

"Then buy a protective charm. It'll only cost you a little money, but it can keep you safe." As the witch spoke, she reached for Pomona's sleeve—the arm carrying her money pouch.

"Get away from me!" Pomona screamed.

"Don't be shy. Come on, come with me. I've got better things than these at home." Seeing people around them beginning to look over, the witch simply grabbed Pomona by the wrist and tried to drag her into the alley behind the bookshop.

"No! Let me go!"

"Don't touch her." At the critical moment, Pete appeared. The witch had not wanted to let the matter go, but when she saw the wand in Pete's hand, she finally gave up. Only after the witch's back disappeared into the darkness did Pomona's heart begin beating properly again.

"Are you all right?" Pete looked at her anxiously.

"I'm fine..." Tears welled in Pomona's eyes, but she tried desperately not to let them fall. There really were so many bad people in the world.

"Why did you come back? Did you buy your clothes that quickly?"

Every woman in the world loved shopping. Even Pete's mother, a busy woman who worked at St Mungo's, could treat shopping as entertainment and stroll around all day without tiring. Accompanying her on shopping trips was routine for Pete, but Pomona did not know how to explain it to him.

"Don't flaunt your wealth, idiot." A sarcastic voice sounded beside Pomona. A sullen-faced boy, young as he was, passed by them. A mocking smile curled his lips, and his black hair lay greasy against his scalp. He carried a bitter medicinal smell, like an unpleasant potion or some botched dish that killed any appetite.

"Two underage wizards who can't use magic outside school, carrying that much money—why aren't you back in your burrow already?"

When badgers encountered danger, they hid in their dens—burrows beneath the ground. But no one would be pleased to have their home compared to a burrow.

Even though she knew the boy was warning them that bad people had their eyes on them and urging them to go home early, Pomona still felt terribly depressed.

Freak.

That was Pomona's first impression of him, just as his impression of her was that she was an idiot. It could not have been a worse first meeting.