On the first day of term, Watson cleared his entire schedule.
He drove the car himself, dark circles under his eyes so heavy that one might question what he'd been up to the previous night.
After staying up all night reading an entire book by Gilderoy Lockhart, Watson was yawning nonstop.
During the drive, John sat in the passenger seat, half-convinced his father would nod off at any moment.
Fortunately, Watson's willpower held strong—he managed to stay awake all the way to King's Cross Station, delivering them safely.
Tom looked utterly relieved to still be alive, wagging her tail gratefully as Mrs. Wick held her leash.
"Want to take a nap here first?" John asked, glancing at his father.
Watson took a sip of his life-saving elixir—coffee—and declared with absolute conviction, "I said I'd send you off to school myself. I don't break my word."
After stepping out of the car, Watson waved toward a line of black vehicles parked behind them.
The men in suits who had followed him stopped and waited at his signal.
John couldn't help but notice how much more impressive his father's presence had become lately.
Watson explained, "Those hotel people from last time still haven't settled down. The company insisted I bring protection."
Translated into plain language, that meant someone was targeting Watson—and those men in suits were his security detail.
Without any of the bodyguards accompanying them further, Watson walked with John into King's Cross Station.
Staring at the entrance to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Watson couldn't hide the hint of envy in his voice. "You've made it, John."
John took Tom's leash, nodded to his family, and headed toward the barrier.
Crossing through, a different world unfolded before him.
He gave the leash a light tug, and it automatically slipped from Tom's neck, retracting into a silver bracelet that he casually tucked into his small satchel.
Freed, Tom dashed happily ahead, bounding onto the train in search of a seat.
"That's John Wick's dog! Give it way! Give it way!"
As she trotted down the corridor, students who recognized her eagerly reached out to pet her head, while others watched with curiosity.
By the time John reached his compartment, Tom had already stationed herself by the window, wagging her tail at passersby.
That familiar sight quickly caught Daphne's attention. She hurried over, and Tom immediately jumped up to greet her affectionately.
A moment later, Draco appeared as well.
Crabbe and Goyle followed behind, their faces lighter than they'd been in months.
Their fathers had been imprisoned in Azkaban—something they'd thought would be for life—but their sentences had been reduced to just two years.
Astoria boarded together with Pansy, the two having been chatting about something before joining them.
After the train had been moving for a while, Daphne and Draco, who had stepped out earlier, returned to the compartment.
They were both prefects and had gone to patrol the train earlier.
When they returned, however, Draco didn't look pleased. Sitting down, he sneered, "You should've seen the 'Savior Potter.' Oh, he was absolutely glowing, wasn't he?"
He was referring to the crowd of girls who had surrounded Harry earlier. The Daily Prophet had been running headline after headline about the Ministry incident.
Since the Constellation Society's existence had been erased from public record, public attention had shifted entirely to the Order of the Phoenix—and to Harry.
Inevitably, Harry had become the center of attention once again.
Even those who had stood with him during the Ministry battle were now forgotten, reduced to nameless background figures.
It wasn't unexpected. After all, he had long been known as "The Boy Who Lived."
No one truly knew what Harry had done inside the Ministry that night, but that didn't stop the wizarding world from calling him "The One Who Defeated Him Twice."
The younger generation especially loved their heroes; students were eager to befriend Harry Potter.
Girls, in particular, were drawn to him—many charmed by the idea of being close to fame, with some even boldly inviting him to share their compartment.
"Like a peacock in mating season," Draco muttered, never missing a chance to mock Harry.
He sounded for all the world like a jealous ex, sulking because he'd been ignored.
Daphne said nothing—she'd long since gotten used to Draco's habit of turning hatred into petty envy whenever it came to Harry Potter.
Draco rambled on for a bit longer about Harry before turning to notice Astoria's troubled expression.
Draco immediately tensed. "Tori—Astoria, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"
"Tori?" Daphne's tone sharpened at once—clearly she'd caught on to the nickname. Her eyes flashed like blades as she glared at Draco before turning to her sister. "Did you eat something bad?"
"No," Astoria shook her head, frowning slightly. "It's Pansy… she's got another boyfriend."
"Then we'd better look into that," Draco said with a sigh of relief—thankfully it wasn't anything serious about Astoria. He leaned back lazily and added, "After all, Pansy always manages to attract the worst kind of people."
That, in fairness, was true.
Her first "boyfriend" had been her pen pal—Tom Riddle.
The second had been a Slytherin boy who ended up betraying the entire House.
That third-year had never made it to fourth year, having been expelled after Snape received evidence personally submitted by Pansy herself.
The boy would likely spend the next few years in Azkaban on charges that could easily amount to attempted murder.
So when Draco made his remark, everyone in the compartment found themselves nodding in reluctant agreement.
Unfortunately, Pansy happened to be walking past at that very moment—and she heard every word.
Her compartment was right next door.
Without hesitation, she stormed in, grabbed Draco by that third row, twelfth split-end of hair, and dragged him out into the corridor.
A few minutes later, Draco came back in with his collar sticking up and a tie wound around his head, grumbling defiantly, "I just don't hit women."
"Mhm," Daphne said dryly.
"We all know."
John responded halfheartedly, his tone the very definition of polite indifference.
Astoria, however, felt sorry for Draco. She drew her wand and tapped his nose lightly. "Tempest Scourgify."
The shoe prints on Draco's face vanished, and a small gust of wind swirled through his hair, restoring it to its usual slick perfection.
"Thanks, Tori," Draco said, pulling the tie off his head and looking at her gratefully.
Astoria smiled and nodded, and Draco's grin widened—until he noticed Daphne's murderous stare from across the compartment.
At that exact moment, someone knocked on their compartment door.
A third-year boy stood outside, not daring to meet the gaze of the person sitting by the window. His voice trembled as he stammered, "H-hello, I—I was told to deliver these—"
"Leave your voice at home, did you?" Draco snapped impatiently.
The poor boy flinched, clearly having heard of Draco's reputation.
He blurted out his message at lightning speed: "I—I was asked to deliver these to John Wick, Daphne Greengrass, and Draco Malfoy!"
He thrust three scrolls of parchment tied with purple ribbon into Draco's hands before bolting down the corridor as if chased by a rabid Cerberus.
Draco handed the parchments over—one to John, one to Daphne, keeping his own.
John untied his and scanned through the contents.
"John,
If you would do me the honor of joining me for lunch in Compartment C, I would be most delighted.
Yours sincerely,
H. Slughorn."
"Slughorn's invitation?" Draco read his own parchment uncertainly, scanning it twice to make sure he hadn't misread it.
Then realization struck him, and he stormed out of the compartment, shouting down the corridor at the retreating third-year, "You missed one! Bring another invitation—now!"
The boy only ran faster.
John looked over at Astoria, who had also seen that her sister had been invited.
She forced a small smile and said softly to Daphne, "It's all right, Sister."
"Astoria," Daphne said quietly, taking her sister's hand.
Draco returned, muttering irritably, "Can't even count properly. What kind of incompetence is that?"
But when he saw Astoria's strained smile, his anger deepened into frustration.
John gave a faint shake of his head. Even Slughorn, it seemed, could misjudge people.
Daphne's brilliance tended to overshadow everything around her—especially her younger sister.
Leaning forward slightly, John said gently to the disheartened Astoria, "Astoria, there's something I've actually been thinking about for a while."
Astoria looked up at him, confused.
John raised his hand, and faint starlight began to gather at his fingertips—shimmering points of light that slowly condensed into a small box tied with a sky-blue ribbon.
He handed it to her and said softly, "Open it. That way you'll know I haven't tampered with anything."
Astoria glanced toward her sister. Daphne gave her a reassuring nod.
Carefully untying the ribbon, Astoria opened the box.
Inside lay a Constellation Society badge, its stars shifting and glimmering as though alive.
Astoria gasped, covering her mouth in surprise, tears welling at the corners of her eyes.
On top of the badge rested a small card with her name written on it.
John smiled faintly. "I've been thinking for a while about inviting you to join the Constellation Society. You were too young before—but now, if you're willing… would you like to join us?"
Astoria bit her lip and turned her head slightly, trying to keep her tears from falling.
She caught her sister's encouraging gaze—and Draco's enthusiastic thumbs-up from across the compartment.
This was the moment she had been waiting for.
Finally, it had come.
Seeing her trembling with emotion, John stood and said casually, "Come on. Let's step out for a bit."
Knowing this was the best time for Astoria to let out her emotions, both Draco and Daphne quietly excused themselves from the compartment.
Once they were gone, the sound of Astoria's soft sobbing filled the space.
She wiped at her tears clumsily with the back of her hand.
She remembered the first time she had walked through the Great Hall, surrounded by the members of the Constellation Society. Ever since then, she had wanted to join them.
But surrounded by so many extraordinary people, she had always felt invisible.
I'm not worthy of the Constellation Society.
That had been her conclusion long ago. Carrying that thought, she had worked tirelessly to improve herself—just so she could one day stand beside her sister.
Yet once the Society appeared, all eyes were drawn only to its brightest stars. No one noticed those standing nearby.
Even though no one had said anything today, the exclusion still stung. Not even invited… because I'm not good enough.
But now, none of that mattered.
What was Slughorn's invitation compared to this?
The Constellation Society had just shown her that Astoria Greengrass was no less brilliant than anyone else.
And John's words made it clear—this wasn't pity, nor a gesture born of sympathy. He'd made this decision long before today.
No favoritism, no special treatment.
She and her sister were both among the best.
She was a radiant star—one that shone alongside the rest of the constellation.
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