Back to Hogwarts

The hot pot was more delicious than anyone had imagined. By the time they came out of the restaurant, aside from Snape, Ms. Molly was the only one who still looked presentable.

Snape strode steadily out of the restaurant, his black robes billowing as usual, as though the pot of red broth had had no effect on him.

If not for the unnatural redness still lingering on the tips of his ears, he might have looked as though he had never taken part in the feast.

Molly Weasley followed behind him, her apron still neat, though her bun was a little looser than usual, and a satisfied flush colored her face.

In stark contrast to them-

"Burp... Merlin..." Ron leaned against the wall, his whole body curled like a thoroughly cooked shrimp. His slightly bulging belly was visible beneath his crew-neck T-shirt. "I think I ate a whole turkey... or twenty chicken legs."

Arthur was no better off. He was too full to walk and crouched by the roadside, trying to make himself a little more comfortable.

With her son and husband making such spectacles of themselves, Molly couldn't help rolling her eyes. She took Harry by the arm. "Leave them. Let's go."

Harry looked back at the pitiful Weasley father and son. She reasonably suspected that, if hitting them now wouldn't make them throw up, Ms. Molly would have given each of them a smack on the back.

Hermione considerately pressed a bottle of digestive potion into each of their hands. Of course, she had borrowed them openly from Professor Snape.

Meanwhile, late at night at Malfoy Manor, Lucius Malfoy's roar shattered the crystal chandelier in his study after he received Draco's letter.

"How dare he-how dare he write 'Muggles have their merits too' in his letter?!" His pale fingers gripped Draco's letter home, veins bulging. "I'm going to London! Now! This instant!"

Just as he was about to leave, Narcissa's voice doused him like ice water. "Lucius, where are you going?"

"Draco has been bewitched by those filthy Muggles!" Lucius brandished his snake-headed cane. "I must bring him to his senses-"

"Our son," Narcissa said, enunciating every word, "has the right to form his own judgment."

Lucius opened his mouth, but under his wife's calm gaze, he ultimately lost their staring contest. He put down his cane, unwilling but resigned. "...As you wish."

Far away at a London shopping center, Draco suddenly sneezed, completely unaware that he had just escaped a calamity.

A week later, on the train to Hogwarts, the pure-blood wizards had all bought at least a few gifts for their friends and family.

Even Draco had spent a great deal of money on something called a computer for his parents.

He had even paid a high price for a car and had the seller deliver it to a designated location.

My father will definitely like the gifts I bought him!

Draco thought confidently.

Amid the cheerful atmosphere, Pansy Parkinson was the only exception.

She sat alone in a corner, her fingers unconsciously stroking the black ring.

When someone asked whether she had bought gifts for her friends, she merely sneered. "I wouldn't bring filthy Muggle rubbish back with me."

The young wizards who asked usually got nowhere and left. They were even a little puzzled: if Pansy hated Muggles so much, what had she gone to the Muggle world for?

The week's exhaustion reached its peak when their heads hit their pillows.

Muggle Experience Week officially came to an end once they returned to Hogwarts.

They hadn't felt it while they were out, but once they returned to the dormitory and their heads hit their pillows, exhaustion came flooding over them.

Harry's eyes had been closed for only a few minutes when a bone-chilling cold coiled around her limbs like a snake, leaving her unable to move.

She opened her eyes and tried desperately to cry out, only to find that her lips seemed sewn shut.

Hermione... she cried in her mind. She could clearly hear her roommates' steady breathing, yet she couldn't lift so much as a finger.

An eerie black mist began to spread through the room.

Harry could finally move again, but the moment she sat up, she saw to her horror that Hermione's and her other roommates' heads had fallen to one side, and they had lapsed into an unnatural unconsciousness.

Tom! Voldemort! She frantically called out in her mind to the Basilisk disguised as a bracelet, but received no response.

Something's wrong.

This is far too wrong!

If it were only her friends in the dormitory who had been knocked unconscious, that would have been easy enough to explain. But Voldemort wasn't responding either, and that was far too strange!

Though she didn't want to admit it, Voldemort was someone whose name most wizards didn't even dare speak, and his strength was plain for all to see.

I can only rely on myself now!

Harry snatched up the wand beside her pillow and rushed out.

The moment she left the dormitory, the sight in the corridor made her gasp.

Students lay sprawled across the floor, and the figures in the portraits all had their eyes closed.

"What kind of magic is this...?" Harry's fingertips went cold. Forcing back her fear, she left the Hogwarts dormitory and ran toward the thickest part of the mist.

After running for who knew how long, Harry finally saw someone awake at the end of a corridor.

Pansy Parkinson.

She stood silently by the window, the moonlight stretching her shadow long.

Black mist poured endlessly from the ring in her hand.

The culprit was obvious.

"Parkinson!" Harry said sharply. She raised her wand, her eyes fixed on Pansy. "What did you do to them?"

Pansy slowly turned around, her expression somewhat innocent, as though she knew nothing. "I don't know what you're talking about, Harry Potter."

Harry was almost angry enough to laugh.

She didn't particularly want to be prejudiced against Slytherin, but whether it was Voldemort or Malfoy, and now Pansy on top of them...

Each of them had their own infuriating way of doing bad things.

What's wrong with this house?

"I don't like the way you're looking at me." Pansy casually raised her hand and lifted her eyes. Her pupils rolled around once, and the corners of her mouth curved upward.

"You're not allowed to look at me," Pansy said.

Harry's scar suddenly burned with pain, and she staggered back a step. Before her, Pansy's eyes were pitch-black, nothing like human eyes.

Harry tightened her grip on her wand. "You're not Pansy. Who are you?"

"What makes you think I'm not Pansy?"

"I've never done anything to make Pansy Parkinson hate me, but you're obviously here for me. You can't be Pansy Parkinson!"

Pansy giggled, then nearly doubled over laughing, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "How naive... Harry Potter, the Girl Who Lived."

As she spoke, she raised her hand, and the black mist instantly turned into sharp arrows that shot toward Harry.

"Die, Harry Potter!"