The final days at Hogwarts were suspiciously normal.
Quirrell was dead.
The Philosopher's Stone was gone.
Voldemort had once again failed to regain a body.
Harry had returned from the hospital wing.
I had been sleeping in the dormitory again for several days.
And the entire school was mostly interested in exam results.
That was probably the most Hogwarts solution possible.
You could nearly die beneath the school on Sunday, and by Tuesday someone would still be asking whether the wrist movement on the Charms exam was supposed to be done three times or four.
My left eye still was not working perfectly.
It did not hurt.
At least not without reason.
Ordinary vision occasionally blurred slightly, especially with sudden movement or when I tried to shift my focus quickly from something close to something far away.
Death's Sight did not seem particularly interested in that.
That was both reassuring and very interesting.
Which was why, in accordance with my promise to Pomfrey, I did not test anything.
Almost.
Definitions mattered.
Draco noticed the problem at breakfast.
I reached for the jug of juice.
Missed the handle by perhaps two centimeters.
Corrected.
Normally, no one would have noticed.
Draco stopped buttering his toast.
Alright.
Almost no one.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're staring."
"So are you."
"Because you're staring."
Blaise sat opposite us with a cup of tea.
"I'm enjoying watching this conversation develop."
Draco ignored him.
"Left?"
My hand stopped.
Well.
"Yes."
"Since the forest?"
"Yes."
"The whole time?"
"It's improving."
He frowned.
"How much can you see?"
"Draco."
"What?"
"I'm not letting you examine my eyes over breakfast."
Blaise put down his cup.
"Shame. I was hoping for letters on the wall."
Draco was still watching.
He did not let it go.
I sighed.
"It's fine. The image just blurs sometimes."
"Pomfrey knows?"
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
"That I should stop doing things that result in me ending up in her care."
Blaise nodded.
"Ambitious plan."
"She didn't give me a deadline."
Draco finally returned to his toast.
After a moment, he said:
"If it doesn't clear up over the summer, my mother knows Healers."
I looked at him.
He did not look at me.
He just kept eating.
There was no the Malfoys have the best Healers in the country.
No bragging.
Just an offer.
"Alright."
He nodded once.
Blaise looked between us.
"That was disgustingly normal."
Draco said:
"Shut up."
Everything returned to its proper place.
The results came the next day.
I had not failed anything.
That would have been slightly awkward.
Hermione, of course, treated the results as though the stability of British society depended on them.
I met her outside the library with a parchment in her hand.
"How?"
"I survived."
"Oliver."
"I passed."
"That's not the same thing."
"In my case, it's enough."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Transfiguration?"
"Good."
"Charms?"
"Good."
"Potions?"
"Granger."
"What?"
"You're not getting a full breakdown of my results."
"I didn't ask for a table."
"Yet."
Harry stood beside her looking considerably more reasonable.
"I showed her mine."
"Your mistake."
Hermione turned toward him.
"You wanted to know whether you passed Potions."
"Yes. Mine."
"It's completely normal to compare results."
I looked at Harry.
"Run."
"Too late."
Hermione lightly hit my arm with the parchment.
"You're impossible."
She headed into the library.
Harry stayed for a moment.
He looked at my left eye.
Did not comment.
I appreciated that.
"Are you going straight back to London?" he asked.
"Probably."
"To the orphanage?"
"Yes."
Pause.
Short.
Long enough.
I did not like it.
"You to the Dursleys?"
He grimaced.
"Yeah."
"So we're both having excellent holidays."
He smiled a little.
"I suppose."
Hermione stuck her head out through the library doors.
"Harry!"
"Coming!"
He looked at me.
"See you tomorrow."
"If Granger lets you leave the library."
"I won't!" she shouted.
Harry sighed.
"Help."
"You showed her your results."
I left him.
Everyone had to live with the consequences of their own decisions.
Packing turned out to be more complicated than it had been at the beginning of the year.
In September, I had arrived with one trunk.
Now I had one trunk which, for some reason, contained less space than before.
That was obviously impossible.
And yet the books refused to fit.
So did the parchments.
I did not remember when I had accumulated this much stuff.
I took everything out.
Rearranged it.
Closed the lid.
It worked.
Draco watched me from his bed.
"How?"
"What?"
"It didn't fit a moment ago."
"Now it does."
"I can see that."
"Then why are you asking?"
He looked at his own trunk.
The lid stood open.
Clothes spilled out from both sides.
One book lay at an angle that should have been illegal.
"No."
No.
"No."
"I didn't say anything."
"You want help."
"No."
"Good."
I went back to my things.
Three seconds.
"Oliver."
Blaise, who was folding a shirt, snorted.
I did not look up.
"Yes?"
"Help."
"Didn't hear you."
"Peverell."
"Worse."
He threw a sock at me.
I caught it.
Looked at it.
"That does not improve your position."
Ten minutes later, his trunk was closed.
Draco, of course, maintained that he could have managed on his own.
I did not argue.
That evening, we went down to the end-of-year feast.
The Great Hall was green and silver.
Very green and silver.
Slytherin banners hung from the ceiling. Snakes gleamed across the tapestries. An enormous house crest hung behind the teachers' table.
Draco stopped in the entrance.
Looked.
Smiled.
"This is how it should always look."
"After a week, you'd stop noticing."
"No."
"Very possible."
"No."
Blaise walked past us.
"Let him have his moment. It may be his last."
Draco narrowed his eyes.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Blaise sat down.
"Nothing."
Which obviously meant everything.
We sat.
At the Gryffindor table, the atmosphere was exactly the opposite.
Ron looked at the decorations as though someone had insulted his family.
Fred and George looked as though they were already planning vandalism.
Hermione was talking to Harry.
Harry noticed me first.
He nodded.
I returned it.
Then I looked at the teachers' table.
Quirrell's absence was strange.
Not because I missed him.
Simply because the place he had occupied all year was empty.
Almost no one in the Hall knew exactly why.
Dumbledore stood.
The conversations died down.
"Another year has come to an end."
Several people applauded.
Draco sat a little straighter.
Dumbledore said a few things about the holidays, forbidden spells in the corridors, and Filch wanting to remind everyone that magic was prohibited during the journey home.
Then he moved on to the points.
Fourth place.
Third.
Second.
First.
Slytherin.
Our table erupted in applause.
Draco slapped his palm against the tabletop.
Blaise clapped somewhat more calmly.
Snape, at the teachers' table, looked almost pleased.
With him, the difference was subtle.
Dumbledore waited for us to quiet down.
"However."
Draco stopped clapping.
Immediately.
Blaise looked at him.
"No."
"Don't say it."
"I didn't say anything."
"You don't have to."
Dumbledore smiled.
"There are several recent events that have not yet been taken into account."
The Gryffindor table went quiet.
"First, Mr. Ronald Weasley."
Fifty points.
Gryffindor roared.
Ron turned red.
Draco grimaced.
"Nothing yet."
Hermione.
Another fifty.
Draco stopped commenting.
Harry.
Sixty.
The Great Hall became so loud I could no longer hear my own thoughts.
Not much of a loss.
Blaise watched the hourglasses.
Counting.
So was I.
Dumbledore raised a hand once more.
"Neville Longbottom."
Ten.
This time, Gryffindor almost overturned its own table.
The colors of the Hall began to change.
Green gave way to red.
Silver to gold.
The snake above the teachers' table dissolved and was replaced by a lion.
Draco stared at the hourglasses.
So did Blaise.
"Sixty," he said.
Draco:
"I can count."
"Just making sure."
"I'll kill you."
"You'll lose more points."
Draco turned toward him.
It did not help that Blaise looked completely calm.
The Gryffindors started celebrating.
Fred and George climbed onto a bench.
Hermione clapped.
Ron appeared to be trying to shout and talk at the same time.
Harry sat in the middle of it all and looked genuinely happy.
Good, actually.
They deserved it.
Even if handing out points at the last possible moment was slightly theatrical.
Dumbledore, however, was still standing.
I noticed first.
He had not sat down.
Had not finished speaking.
Oh.
No.
Blaise saw my expression.
Then Dumbledore.
Then me.
Slowly, he smiled.
"What?"
"Nothing."
I did not like people using my word.
Dumbledore raised his hand again.
It took Gryffindor a while to quiet down.
"There remains one more person."
Several heads turned.
Then more.
Dumbledore looked toward our table.
No.
"Oliver Peverell."
The entire Hall looked at me.
Perfect.
Draco immediately straightened.
Blaise rested one elbow on the table.
I stayed seated.
Dumbledore continued.
"For keeping a clear head in a situation where few students would have been capable of thinking clearly."
I did not like where this was going.
"For helping another student despite his own injuries."
Worse.
"And for courage whose cost proved considerably greater than he had any right to anticipate."
He did not mention Quirrell.
Voldemort.
The Stone.
Nothing.
Good.
"Fifty points to Slytherin."
Our table exploded.
Not as loudly as Gryffindor had earlier.
But loudly enough.
Draco shot to his feet.
"YES!"
Blaise clapped several times.
I looked at the hourglasses.
The points moved.
Ten.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Forty.
Fifty.
Stopped.
The red and gold decorations remained.
The lion did not disappear.
Gryffindor was still ahead.
By ten.
Draco stared.
He remained standing for another second.
Then slowly sat down.
Blaise glanced at him.
"Draco."
"No."
"We're still losing."
"I said no."
I looked at the score.
Ten.
Well.
Draco turned toward me.
"If you hadn't lost those fifty back then—"
"I earned them back."
He stopped.
Blaise started smiling.
No.
Not started.
He already knew.
Draco stared at me.
"What?"
"I lost fifty."
I pointed at the hourglass.
"I got fifty."
Pause.
"Zero."
Blaise covered his mouth with one hand.
Draco frowned.
Then looked at the hourglass.
Then at me.
Then back at the hourglass.
I did not help him.
I let him get there on his own.
Important for development.
His expression slowly changed.
"No."
Blaise broke first.
He laughed.
Draco immediately pointed at him.
"No."
Blaise said nothing.
Just laughed.
I looked at Draco.
"You didn't earn yours back."
"Oliver."
"What?"
"Don't finish that."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You know perfectly well."
Blaise rested his forehead against the table.
I looked at the score again.
"If not for your twenty—"
"Peverell."
"—we'd be ten ahead."
"Shut up."
"Mathematically."
"SHUT UP."
Several people at the Gryffindor table started looking our way.
Ron understood first.
I did not know how.
Maybe he simply knew the story about the lost points.
His grin widened.
He said something to Fred.
Fred told George.
Both of them looked at Draco.
Oh no.
George held up ten fingers.
Fred pointed at Draco.
Blaise stopped breathing from laughter.
Draco turned red.
"This is your fault."
I looked at him.
"Mine?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"I don't know yet."
"Very compelling argument."
Ron waved at Draco.
Draco made a gesture at him that an eleven-year-old probably should not have made within sight of the teachers' table.
"Malfoy."
Snape's voice cut through the noise effortlessly.
Draco lowered his hand immediately.
"Yes, Professor."
Snape looked at him for a moment.
Then at the hourglass.
"Do try not to make the score worse."
Silence.
Blaise made a very strange sound.
I turned my head away.
I did not want to die.
Draco looked as though he had just been betrayed by his own Head of House.
Snape returned to his goblet.
I was not sure whether he had done it deliberately.
I preferred to believe he had.
The food appeared a moment later.
Gryffindor officially won the House Cup.
By ten points.
Draco did not speak for the first two minutes.
Then Blaise said:
"Ten."
"No."
"Nothing else."
"You said ten."
"It's a number."
"Shut up."
I focused on my food.
I was not smiling.
Almost.
Across the Hall, Harry looked at me.
Raised his goblet.
I returned the gesture with mine.
Hermione had also clapped when I received the points.
Which was slightly strange, considering that for about fifteen seconds I had nearly taken the Cup away from her house.
But fine.
Ron looked considerably less generous.
He did, however, have ten reasons to forgive me.
After the feast, Slytherin returned to the dungeons in a mood that was difficult to classify.
Fifty points for me helped.
Losing by ten did not.
Several older students patted me on the shoulder.
One said I had "almost saved them."
Draco heard.
That was a mistake.
"He didn't save anything."
The older Slytherin looked at him.
"He got fifty points."
"He lost fifty."
"I earned them back."
Draco stopped.
Looked at me.
"Don't start."
"I'm not saying anything."
"Good."
Blaise, walking beside us:
"Twenty."
Draco went after him.
Blaise sped up.
For the first time that evening, I actually started laughing.
The next morning was chaos.
Trunks.
Cages.
Owls.
Students trying to find things they had not seen since September.
Someone lost one shoe.
I had no idea how.
Hedwig sat on my trunk and watched everything with obvious superiority.
"You didn't pack anything."
She hooted.
"Exactly."
Draco entered the dormitory.
Looked at Hedwig.
Then at me.
"Tell her to move."
"Off my trunk?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I want to sit."
"You have a bed."
"It's covered."
I looked.
It was.
"That sounds like your problem."
Hedwig hooted.
Draco narrowed his eyes.
"She doesn't like me."
"She does."
"How do you know?"
"She hasn't bitten you yet."
He considered that.
Apparently found it satisfactory.
The road to Hogsmeade was loud.
For the last time in several months.
Students left the castle in groups, dragging trunks behind them. Hagrid helped with the heaviest luggage while simultaneously trying to make sure no one got left behind.
I looked back at Hogwarts.
Only once.
I did not need a dramatic farewell.
It was a building.
Enormous.
Magical.
Dangerous in ways no sensible regulator would ever accept.
And...
good.
I liked it.
That was all.
Blaise noticed.
Of course.
"You look like an eighty-year-old alumnus."
"Shut up."
Draco looked back at the castle.
"We're coming back in September."
"I know."
"Then why are you looking?"
I looked at him.
"You two are very interested in the direction of my gaze today."
Blaise said:
"You've given us material all year."
Fair.
On the platform, Hermione found me first.
I did not know how.
The crowd was enormous.
She simply appeared.
"Oliver."
"Granger."
She looked at my left eye.
Very briefly.
Then at me.
She did not ask.
Good.
"You have my address?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"I didn't eat the parchment."
"That's not an answer."
"Yes, I have it."
"Will you write back?"
"If you write."
Her expression said enough.
I sighed.
"I'll write back."
"Not after a month."
"We didn't establish deadlines."
"We are now."
"No."
"Two weeks."
"That's very arbitrary."
"One week."
"These negotiations are going in the wrong direction."
Harry and Ron appeared beside us.
Ron caught the end of it.
"What's this about?"
"Hermione is setting deadlines for my correspondence."
"Good luck," Harry said.
Traitor.
Hermione looked at him.
"You have to write back too."
Ron began backing away.
"I didn't give you my address."
"I know it."
He stopped.
"How?"
Hermione just looked at him.
Ron decided he did not want the answer.
Harry smiled at me.
"See you in September."
"If the Dursleys don't lock you in the basement."
His smile turned slightly strange.
"We don't have a basement."
"Good to know."
Hermione elbowed me.
Lightly.
"Oliver."
"What?"
Harry laughed.
So did Ron.
Good.
I did not want to end the year with another serious conversation about Quirrell.
This was enough.
Hermione adjusted her bag.
"Seriously. Write."
This time without the teacher voice.
I nodded.
"I will."
That seemed to satisfy her more than the entire earlier conversation.
"Good."
They left for their compartment.
Draco appeared a second later.
"Did Granger just assign you holiday homework?"
"Yes."
"My condolences."
"She said I can write to you too."
"What?"
"Nothing."
He narrowed his eyes.
Blaise stepped into the carriage.
"If you've finished your romance with the platform, the train is leaving."
Draco said:
"That sentence made no sense."
"It didn't need to."
We boarded.
For the first hour, Hedwig stayed in her cage.
Then I got tired of her staring at me.
I opened it.
She came out immediately.
Sat on top.
Draco looked over.
"Is that allowed?"
"I don't know."
"Wonderful."
Blaise said:
"If a prefect comes, we'll say Peverell can't control his own owl."
"I can't."
Hedwig hooted.
"See?"
The journey passed faster than the first one.
Maybe because back then I had been traveling toward a place I did not know.
Now I was leaving a place I knew too well.
Draco talked about the holidays.
Mostly about himself.
Blaise occasionally corrected his version of events.
I sat by the window.
Not the entire time.
I was not that dramatic.
When the topic shifted to the House Cup, I reacted immediately.
Draco said:
"No."
"I didn't even say anything."
"I can see it."
"What?"
"That face."
Blaise looked up from his book.
"Ten."
Draco threw a cushion at him.
King's Cross was louder than I remembered.
Parents.
Siblings.
People calling to each other over the crowd.
Trunks.
Owls.
Children disappearing one by one into their families' arms.
Blaise got off first.
His mother was waiting farther toward the exit.
I did not know her.
He nodded to me.
"Write if you find anything interesting."
"That's a very broad category."
"In your case, that's exactly why."
He looked at Draco.
"Ten."
And left.
Draco took one step after him.
Stopped.
Turned around.
"I'm not saying goodbye twice."
"You haven't said goodbye once."
"Then excellent."
He stood there.
So did I.
Eventually, he held out his hand.
I looked at it.
Then at him.
"Really?"
"Don't make this a thing."
I shook it.
"Until September."
"Yes."
He let go.
Took two steps.
Turned around again.
"And answer your letters."
"Granger already established the regulations."
"I don't care about Granger."
"She'd be devastated."
"Oliver."
"Draco."
He shook his head and left.
Lucius and Narcissa were waiting farther away.
Draco immediately started talking.
Probably from the moment he reached them.
Narcissa looked in my direction.
She did not know me.
Yet.
That was the only reason the look lasted a second.
Then they disappeared into the crowd.
I was left with my trunk.
Hedwig.
And several hundred people, none of whom were waiting for me.
That was not new.
It was simply easier to notice the difference after ten months at Hogwarts.
"Come on."
Hedwig hooted from the top of her cage.
I started walking.
The orphanage looked exactly the same.
That was almost offensive.
The same stairs.
The same paint.
The same smell of floor cleaner in the corridor.
The same woman at the desk.
She looked up.
"Oliver."
"Good afternoon."
She looked at the trunk.
Then at Hedwig.
"She's grown."
"No."
Hedwig hooted.
"Maybe a little."
The woman looked at my eyes longer than before.
Black was not particularly subtle.
Fortunately, after a year, the people at the orphanage had learned that questions about school rarely produced sensible answers.
"Everything alright?"
"Yes."
It was true enough.
She handed me the key.
The same one.
I went upstairs.
The room was smaller.
It had not changed.
I had simply spent a year getting used to different spaces.
I put the trunk beside the bed.
Hedwig immediately claimed the windowsill.
I opened the window.
London was loud somewhere below.
Not magically.
Normally.
Cars.
People.
A siren in the distance.
I sat on the bed.
The mattress creaked.
Yes.
Definitely the same one.
Hedwig looked at me.
"Don't start."
She hooted.
"It's only two months."
She stared.
"I didn't say I intended to sit here for two months."
Apparently, that was better.
She turned her head toward the window.
I opened the trunk.
Books lay on top.
Clothes beneath them.
Between those, Hermione's letter, which I had shoved inside before leaving.
And a short note from Draco with the address of Malfoy Manor.
I took both out.
Placed them on the desk.
Then the signet ring.
The black diamond caught the light from the window.
For the first year, I had mostly known that I was a Peverell.
That was not the same as knowing what the name actually meant.
I had the entire summer.
Hedwig flew down from the windowsill.
Landed directly on both letters.
I looked at her.
"Really?"
She hooted.
"We arrived five minutes ago."
She did not move.
I sighed.
"Tomorrow."
Hedwig tilted her head.
"Fine. Within two weeks."
Apparently, she accepted that.
She stepped off the parchments.
Traitor.
I lay down on the bed.
For a while, I stared at the ceiling.
First year was over.
Not the way I remembered.
But close enough that the world still looked familiar.
For now.
I closed my eyes.
Downstairs, someone slammed a door.
Hedwig hooted.
And for the first time in many months, I had no lesson the next day.
It was almost unsettling.