Chapter 205
"Draco, the healer said I can be discharged tomorrow, but I still can't do anything strenuous. Father's carriage can only take me as far as Hogsmeade. Can you come pick me up? — Pansy."
Inside a ward thick with the smell of potions, Pansy Parkinson leaned over her bedside table, carefully writing on a sheet of parchment.
The walls were painted white, meant to soothe patients and aid recovery.
After several days of rest, her complexion had improved significantly. A healthy flush had returned to her cheeks.
"Oh, right…" Pansy bit the end of her quill and added another line. "I heard you were chosen as a Champion by the Goblet of Fire. Good luck!"
Having been confined to bed for so long, her usual sharpness seemed to have softened. She appeared quieter, more subdued.
"Abby!" she called toward the window.
A strong eagle-owl with sleek feathers swooped in, landing neatly on the bedside table.
"Take it where it needs to go," Pansy whispered, gently stroking its feathers. She folded the letter and tied it to the owl's leg.
"Miss Parkinson!"
A young witch in white healer's robes stepped into the room, her expression immediately turning stern at the sight.
"No pets allowed in the ward. It's for your health," she scolded sharply.
"Abby, go!" Pansy ignored her, urging the owl onward.
The owl leapt from the window and vanished in an instant.
"I'm being discharged tomorrow. Don't be so strict," Pansy said, forcing an innocent look as she gazed up at the woman.
This was a private nurse her father had hired—not a regular staff member of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries—and that made her even more intimidating.
"Even if you're leaving tomorrow, as long as you're here, you follow the rules," the nurse replied, walking over and picking up the quill and parchment.
"These should already be packed."
"Yes, yes, I know," Pansy nodded obediently, eager to avoid further lecturing.
"What's this?"
The woman bent down and picked up a torn scrap of paper from beside the bed. It looked like a fragment of a newspaper—likely from the Daily Prophet—though it had been ripped into pieces.
"Probably something a visitor left behind. Maybe my father. I don't go around cutting newspapers for fun," Pansy said quickly, her face flushing red.
"Is that so?" The nurse eyed her suspiciously, but didn't press further.
"Get ready to leave tomorrow. And remember—no strenuous activity."
"I know," Pansy replied impatiently.
"Then I'll let you rest." The woman tidied the room and left.
If she had bothered to check under the bed, she would have found something far more revealing.
The moment the door closed, Pansy dropped to the floor, ignoring the dust, and reached under the bed.
She pulled out a pile of shredded paper.
Carefully, she began piecing them together—like assembling a puzzle—passing the final hours of her hospital stay.
After a long while, she finished.
She stared at the reconstructed image in silence.
It showed several Champions and figures related to the Goblet of Fire.
Notably, two people in the picture stood very close together—far closer than the others.
---
On a Friday afternoon, a week before the tournament, the fourth-year Slytherins had no classes.
Inside the Hogwarts library, Draco Malfoy stood before two ancient bookshelves, searching for information.
Professor Bathsheba Babbling had assigned individualized homework based on each student's level. Even Malfoy couldn't solve his easily.
The subject was notoriously difficult. Many students had already dropped it, leaving only a small group behind. This allowed her to tailor assignments precisely.
Even Fleur and Gabrielle had their own tasks.
For example—memorizing foundational correspondences: invisible beasts representing zero, unicorns representing one.
Today, Fleur Delacour had taken Gabrielle to a Care of Magical Creatures class. According to her, this might be her last bit of free time before the tournament consumed everything.
Malfoy, meanwhile, finally had a moment to himself.
These past few days had taught him what "troublesome beauty" really meant. Fleur had an uncanny ability to find him no matter where he was.
"Design a rune combination that sustains energy…" Malfoy murmured, fingers gliding over the pages of an old tome.
"Laguz—for life? Or something tied to emotional vitality? Perhaps Perthro… representing mystery? Or even the sun rune, symbolizing power and light?"
Different goals required different configurations.
Though the number of runes was limited, their combinations were nearly endless. This ancient magical system was endlessly fascinating—enough to consume a lifetime of study.
A sudden fluttering sound came from the window.
An owl swooped in.
"Apologies, Madam Pince. I'll step outside," Malfoy said, noticing Irma Pince glaring at him from across the room.
She despised any disturbance in the library, and this unexpected visitor clearly violated her sense of order.
Malfoy quickly exited.
In the quiet corridor, he leaned against the railing and removed the letter from the owl's leg.
He unfolded it and read.
Gradually, his expression softened. A faint smile appeared—clearly, the contents brought good news.
But the relief lasted only a moment.
Almost immediately, a new problem surfaced in his mind.