Draco Malfoy couldn't quite recall how he'd left the Hospital Wing that day.
All he remembered was one thing: he'd shaken hands with Harry Potter, in front of Edward, Daphne, Hermione, Ron, and others, no less.
"I wasn't there to save you, mind you. I was just worried about Edward," he muttered under his breath.
He could still vividly picture that first day at Hogwarts, before the Sorting Ceremony, when he'd tried to befriend Potter only to be coldly rebuffed. Edward had used some… persuasive tactics to bring him around.
But now, a year later? Not only had he become friends with Edward, but he'd gone with him to save Potter, faced off against the mysterious figure his father once served, and Potter had actually thanked him and offered a handshake?
Malfoy felt like even a swig of Living Death potion couldn't have conjured a dream this wild.
His head felt like it was filled with a balloon, ready to float off if someone didn't tether him down.
Ron's Chocolate Frog dropped to the floor as he gaped at this historic reconciliation. Hermione's eyes shimmered with tears, looking like she might burst into sobs any second.
Daphne, propping her chin in her hand, murmured almost inaudibly, "Boys, honestly."
Edward, meanwhile, thought this moment might just be the happiest he'd felt in ages—more than blasting Quirrell or chasing off Voldemort, even.
After some friendly chatter, gasps, and squeals, the group's visit ended abruptly under Madam Pomfrey's watchful eye as she hurried them out.
"Don't miss the end-of-term feast! We're House Cup champions again this year," Daphne called out, throwing a pointed glance at the Gryffindors nearby. "Though, second place isn't bad for Gryffindor, I suppose."
Hermione and Ron ducked their heads, pretending not to hear.
"How're you feeling, Harry?" Edward asked with a grin once the others had left.
"Like a weight's been lifted off my chest. It feels brilliant!" Harry replied cheerfully.
Making peace with Malfoy? That was something he hadn't imagined in a million years.
In the days that followed, despite Harry and Edward insisting they were fine, Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let them leave the Hospital Wing until the day of the feast.
She did, however, loosen the visiting rules, turning the ward into something like a fan convention.
Classmates flooded in to see Edward and Harry—some in groups, others just "passing by" the Hospital Wing to sneak a peek or fish for gossip. Hagrid, Pansy, Gemma, the Weasley twins, Wood, the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and Slytherin first-years all showed up, bringing enough get-well gifts to nearly overflow two bedside tables.
Finally, the day of the end-of-term feast arrived.
The two boys slipped out of the Hospital Wing while Madam Pomfrey was distracted, dodging her odd medical contraptions.
The Great Hall was already packed, its enchanted ceiling draped with silver-green decorations. A massive banner hung behind the staff table, emblazoned with a Slytherin serpent that slithered and flicked its tongue across the fabric.
The professors were seated at the staff table. Snape sat ramrod straight, leaning slightly to exchange words with Professor McGonagall.
As Edward and Harry stepped into the hall, a hush fell over the crowd. Every head turned toward them, followed by an awkward burst of overly loud chatter.
"See you later, Harry."
"Catch you soon, Edward."
The two darted to their respective House tables.
Moments later, Dumbledore swept into the hall through a side door, and the buzz of voices faded.
"Quiet, please, everyone. Another year has come and gone!" Dumbledore's tone was bright and lively. "Before we tuck into the delicious feast that's yet to appear, I'm afraid you'll have to indulge an old man's ramblings for a moment."
"What a spectacular year it's been! We've welcomed a new batch of first-years, and I'm certain you're the finest yet—because I say that every year!"
Laughter and playful boos erupted from the students.
"And we must bid farewell to our graduating seventh-years. I hope you've gained knowledge at Hogwarts to carry you forward, but remember: this will always be your home!"
The older students broke into enthusiastic applause, some even sobbing loudly.
"I don't want to leave!" a few shouted.
"Now, I believe it's time for the House Cup award ceremony." Dumbledore summoned a parchment with a wave of his hand and began to read.
"In fourth place, Hufflepuff, with 352 points. Third, Ravenclaw, with 426 points. Second, Gryffindor, with 472 points. And in first place, Slytherin, with 522 points!"
The Hufflepuff table took the news with their usual calm. They cared more about enjoying the day than rankings—when would Dumbledore announce dinner, anyway?
Ravenclaw's table, however, buzzed with grumbling. They were used to securing second place, quietly racking up points while Slytherin and Gryffindor bickered.
Gryffindor erupted in cheers, stunned they'd scored so high despite all the trouble they'd caused. Harry's victories in two Quidditch matches had clearly helped.
"Blast it, why didn't we win that last game? Next term, we're doubling down on training!" Wood slammed the table, making the Gryffindor Quidditch team flinch.
Slytherin's cheers were the loudest by far.
"Edward! Edward! Edward!"
Someone at the Slytherin table started the chant, and soon the whole House joined in. Edward alone had earned 100 points for Slytherin this year—nearly a quarter of their total.
If they weren't cheering for him, who else deserved it?
Malfoy banged his goblet on the table, ignoring Daphne and Pansy's exasperated looks.
"Very well done, Slytherin," Dumbledore said, glancing at Edward with a twinkle in his eye. "However, some recent events at the school must also be accounted for."
The hall went silent. Malfoy's goblet froze mid-air.
"We still have some extra points to award."
"Didn't I hear Dumbledore was a Gryffindor? He's not going to play favorites, is he?" Pansy whispered sharply, sensing trouble.
"First, Mr. Ronald Weasley," Dumbledore announced loudly.
"For winning the most remarkable game of chess Hogwarts has seen in years, I award Gryffindor fifty points!"
Gryffindor's cheers were deafening. Slytherins stared at Dumbledore, jaws dropped, disbelief etched on their faces.
Fifty points? Was he serious?
Gryffindor had been trailing Slytherin by just fifty points. Now they were tied—and it sounded like Dumbledore wasn't done.
"That's cheating! Blatant cheating!" Malfoy's pale face reddened, but Slytherin's protests were drowned out by Gryffindor's roars.
Dumbledore cast a Sonorus charm to amplify his voice.
"Second, Miss Hermione Granger, for her cool-headed logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor fifty points."
Slytherins slumped in despair. At the staff table, Snape's face contorted, every muscle twitching.
Another fifty points? Enough was enough!
Everyone knew Snape played favorites, but the real biased one was clearly the headmaster!
Amid Gryffindor's ecstatic cheers, Dumbledore pressed on. "Third, Mr. Harry Potter, for his fearless courage and extraordinary bravery, I award Gryffindor sixty points!"
Silence fell over the Slytherin table, eerily calm.
They glared at Dumbledore and the Gryffindors with resentful—almost venomous—stares.
Gryffindor had just gained 160 points, rocketing to 632, a commanding lead over Slytherin's 522 by 110 points.
But as Gryffindor celebrated, certain of victory, Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"Ahem. Gryffindor's points have been awarded. Now, there are a few more to distribute."
The hall perked up, all ears on him.
"Fourth, Mr. Edward Bedivere, Mr. Draco Malfoy, and Miss Daphne Greengrass. It's hard to find a single word for your actions, but Mr. Bedivere gave me the perfect one."
"Chivalry! For the knightly virtues you three displayed in recent events, I award Slytherin one hundred points!" Dumbledore declared.
The hall fell into a stunned silence, then exploded into cheers loud enough to shake the ceiling.
This time, the roar came from Slytherin, joined by a few from other Houses cheering for them.
Edward absolutely deserved those points!
Malfoy's mouth hung open in shock.
He hadn't expected Dumbledore to award them points at the last minute—and for all three of them, no less. He felt like he'd barely contributed to the events. Why was he included?
But they were still ten points short. Gryffindor led by a mere ten!
Surely Edward's deeds were worth more than that. Couldn't they squeeze out another ten points?
Every eye in the hall fixed on Dumbledore. Even the staff—McGonagall, Snape—watched him, waiting for what he'd say next.
Dumbledore seemed to savor the moment.
He opened his mouth, hesitated, then spoke slowly.
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