"Hermione Granger?" Astoria Greengrass blinked in confusion.
The name wasn't unfamiliar to her. In fact, most Hogwarts students knew Miss Granger's "reputation." She was a Gryffindor prefect, one year ahead of Astoria. She was also a close friend of the so-called "Chosen One," Harry Potter. And on top of that, her grades were always ranked first in the year.
Slytherin and Gryffindor, for historical reasons, rarely had much interaction—
Though Astoria vaguely remembered that two years ago, on the eve of Halloween, she and Miss Granger had briefly crossed paths, even getting into a small argument. As for what it had been about, the details were already hazy.
One thing, however, was certain—
Hermione Granger was hardly someone she could call familiar.
...
"Hello, Miss Granger." Astoria forced herself to sit up in the hospital bed, offering a polite smile. As casually as she could manage, she asked, "Is there something you need?"
"Miss Greengrass, are you ill?" Hermione glanced hesitantly at the girl on the bed. "It looks rather serious."
"Yes." Astoria had no intention of explaining her condition in detail. She merely nodded and asked in return, "How did you find me?"
"Just a guess…" Hermione replied. "I know your sister, Miss Daphne Greengrass—we're in the same year. She's been coming to the Hospital Wing a lot lately. And you've been on leave since the start of term, so I guessed you might be staying here… so I—"
"Alright… you're impressive," Astoria said quietly, cutting her off. Her tone was sincere, without the slightest hint of sarcasm.
"Just a bit of cleverness," Hermione said, a faint smile unconsciously appearing at the corner of her lips.
Astoria continued, her voice still full of confusion. "So, Miss Granger, what exactly are you here for?"
"And at a time like this, shouldn't everyone be in the Great Hall enjoying the Halloween feast? Why come to see me now?" she added.
"Well… actually… actually…" Hermione hesitated, her voice faltering.
"Hm?" Astoria let out a soft sound, looking even more puzzled.
"I just wanted to… ask you about someone," Miss Granger said at last, as if she had made up her mind, her voice rising slightly.
"Ask about someone…" Astoria repeated softly from her bed.
She seemed to realize something, and her tone immediately cooled.
"Who do you want to ask about?"
...
"I want to ask about…" Hermione Granger's voice quickly steadied, becoming extremely calm. "Jon… Jon Hart."
"I don't know," Astoria replied coolly. "He's been dead for a long time, hasn't he… a year and a half ago."
"No—he hasn't!" Hermione shot back without hesitation. "He only faked his death. I'm certain of it. In fact, half a year ago, he was still at Hogwarts, wasn't he? I saw him myself."
"You must have mistaken someone else for him," Astoria said faintly, lowering her head.
She wasn't good at lying—at least, Miss Granger clearly didn't believe her.
"There's no need to lie to me about this, Miss Greengrass," Hermione said, sounding increasingly confident. "Not long ago, an Auror told me he appeared on the Isle of Man more than half a month ago."
"The Isle of Man?" Astoria looked momentarily flustered.
But she still stubbornly insisted, "No, absolutely not… it's just a lie."
"I remember you were very close to him, Miss Greengrass," Hermione said with a smile. "At the Yule Ball two years ago, you were his dance partner. I remember it clearly."
"And what does that have to do with you?" Astoria shot back sharply. "Weren't you Viktor Krum's dance partner as well?"
"If you truly didn't know anything about him, then hearing that he might still be alive should make you happy—maybe even hopeful," Hermione Granger countered without backing down. "So why are you so certain, so adamant, that he's dead… unless—unless you've been getting information about him all along?"
"Even if I have, what business is it of yours?" Astoria bit her lip in anger, her voice rising noticeably.
The temperature of the room seemed to drop several degrees in an instant…
A large, ginger-colored, rather ugly cat silently crept out from behind Hermione Granger. Its flat face fixed on the hospital bed, eyes full of hostility.
At the same time, a pure white, exceptionally beautiful owl lifted off from the bedside cabinet. From above, it looked down at the girl and the cat.
The air was thick with tension.
But the tension didn't last long.
As if hearing something strange, the owl Jorgrin suddenly began to tremble, then "fell" from the air and burrowed into Astoria's arms.
Crookshanks also shrank back, hiding behind Hermione.
At the same moment, a sound drifted over from the direction of the garden.
...
"You need to wash it all off. If purple rat juice stays on you too long, it'll start to smell absolutely awful…"
"There's still some on your tail… hold on, there's some on your backside too. That needs washing as well…"
"Don't stick your head into my pocket! I promised you the herbs, and I'll give them to you—I won't go back on my word!"
Jon descended from the sky, landing in the garden of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing.
He was helping the phoenix Fawkes wash off the purple rat juice. Earlier, to fool Grindelwald's followers—even after so many years, those who had fought Albus Dumbledore directly or indirectly would certainly recognize the aura of a phoenix—he had smeared Fawkes with a generous amount of the potion.
He happened to remember that there was a fountain in the Hospital Wing garden. And with the Halloween feast theoretically lasting for more than another hour, there was plenty of time. He could even take the opportunity to check on Astoria.
"All done. Completely clean," Jon said, shaking the water from his hands. "See? Not a single feather missing."
The phoenix didn't answer. Ignoring its still-damp wings, it spread them and flew up, staring warily in Jon's direction.
Jon turned around in surprise—
because he had heard it too.
Footsteps, approaching from behind.