The notice for the Hogsmeade visit went up. The last day of October—Halloween.
Barnette Crabbe and Gray Goyle were buzzing with excitement at the thought of visiting Honeydukes. More than anything, Goyle wanted a Sugar Quill. Every class seemed to drain every last drop of energy from her, and the idea of a sugar quill she could nibble on in secret was nothing short of a lifeline.
The others chattered away about where they wanted to go, faces bright with anticipation. Malfoy had little interest in the shops frequented by commoners, but she had no desire to shatter anyone's illusions, so she played along well enough.
Just then, Hermione and Ron walked past behind her. Her gaze reflexively followed their retreating backs—then snapped away the moment she confirmed Harry Potter was not among them.
Harry Potter was sitting alone at the table.
While everyone else filed out, he stayed perfectly still. Then he tossed a cherry tart into his mouth, rose from his seat with unhurried ease, and made his way out.
Malfoy gave Crabbe and Goyle each a light tap on the shoulder.
"Crabbe, Goyle. Look at Harry Potter. Seems he can't go to Hogsmeade."
"Oh—you're right."
"Why is he alone, of all things?"
If Malfoy was the idol of Slytherin, Harry Potter was something like the living embodiment of Gryffindor. Seeing him sitting by himself was deeply incongruous.
There would be a reason for it, and Malfoy could make a fairly good guess as to what it was.
"I'll go ahead and have a bit of fun with him. Follow along when you're ready."
The two agreed. Malfoy left the Great Hall before Harry did.
Harry Potter couldn't go to Hogsmeade. Whether it was a matter of safety or a failure to get his permission slip signed, the fact remained—he didn't have a right that Malfoy took entirely for granted.
One who could enjoy everything.
One who couldn't properly enjoy a single thing.
Pitifully enough, Harry Potter couldn't even step out to buy himself some sweets.
Well. If he asked nicely, she might consider picking up a Sugar Quill for him.
Malfoy came out of the Great Hall first and walked at a leisurely pace. Just as she'd anticipated, Harry Potter spotted her and called out.
"Hey, Malfoy. Why are you alone?"
As expected. Malfoy smiled inwardly and lifted her chin.
"I'm waiting for the others. So that we can go to Hogsmeade. More to the point—what about you? Can't go to Hogsmeade, Potter?"
"Sadly, I didn't get permission."
Harry Potter delivered the line as though he were the tragic hero of some great drama.
"I mentioned it before, didn't I? I played a little prank on that absolutely insufferable woman. And then my aunt and uncle screamed blue murder and refused to sign the form. I tried to forge it myself, but the parchment spat the letters right back out at me. I never knew getting hit by your own handwriting could be so infuriating."
"How terribly unfortunate. Why not ask one of your ever-present friends to bring you back some sweets?"
The moment the words left her mouth, Malfoy caught herself.
Harry Potter had friends. There was no reason for her to play the benefactor and press a Sugar Quill into his hands. That would be neither natural nor her place.
She was just beginning to feel faintly irritated when Harry shrugged and replied.
"No need. I'll buy my own."
"Pardon?"
He'd just said he couldn't go—hadn't he? Malfoy turned the words over in her mind, and something snagged.
He hadn't said he couldn't go.
He'd said he hadn't received permission.
Which meant—
"…What exactly do you mean by that? The way you said it, it sounds rather like you intend to go anyway. Secretly."
Clap, clap. Harry Potter applauded with great enthusiasm.
"Correct, Malfoy."
"Are you out of your mind?"
"I'm the same as always."
"Which means yes. Do you honestly think that's possible? Filch will be conducting a thorough inspection in the entrance hall."
"Malfoy. If I were afraid of Filch, do you think I'd have spent the past several years wandering through restricted areas in the dead of night?"
"And you intend to do the same thing now?"
"Obviously."
"You're mad. Completely and utterly mad!"
His utterly unruffled demeanour made Malfoy want to beat her fists against something.
"Are you stupid? Sirius Black is out there hunting for you, and you're going to walk outside the castle walls?"
"Malfoy, I've been chased by something that drank unicorn blood from the back of a man's skull, and by a monster that could kill with a single glance. Do you really think I'm going to be frightened of some cowardly little traitor?"
"Black is different, Potter! The others had different targets—you simply got in the way. But you are Black's target. He wants to kill you!"
Harry Potter blinked, his eyes going wide.
"Are you worried about me?"
"Are you an idiot?! Worried—don't be absurd. Do you think I'd bat an eye if you dropped dead in some ditch somewhere? I'm simply frustrated watching someone as reckless as you behave so stupidly!"
"I appreciate the sentiment, Malfoy. But if Hogsmeade right on our doorstep is dangerous, do you think Hogwarts is any safer? It's dangerous either way."
For just a moment, something cold flickered through Harry Potter's gaze. He turned his eyes toward something unseen.
"Actually. Hogwarts might be the more dangerous of the two. Rats are harder to find when they've already crept inside."
"Hogwarts has powerful magical defences with centuries of history behind them. There are Dementors stationed at every entrance! Black wouldn't dare try to infiltrate Hogwarts!"
"Neither of those things existed in Azkaban. Very reassuring."
"Is now really the time for that?! You—!"
She was about to fire back with something sharper when Crabbe and Goyle, fully ready to go, came walking toward her. Malfoy pressed her lips shut and spun on her heel.
"See you later!"
"Do as you like!"
Harry Potter gave a wave and disappeared somewhere. Crabbe and Goyle drew up beside her, exchanging glances at Malfoy's visibly soured expression.
"'See you later'? Is Harry Potter actually going to Hogsmeade?"
"…Malfoy, should we go tell a teacher?"
"Don't bother. Are we children? Running off to tattle to a teacher the moment something happens."
Malfoy said it flatly.
There was no stopping Harry Potter. That was a conclusion drawn from years of experience.
In that case, it was better not to report that Harry Potter was going to Hogsmeade.
As he'd said himself, Black might already be searching for a way to infiltrate Hogwarts. For a criminal who had escaped Azkaban by deceiving the Dementors' watch, it was hardly impossible.
Hogwarts' defences were thorough, but it was still a school. Its structure and security were inevitably more lax than a prison.
*If anything, sneaking off to Hogsmeade without being detected might actually be safer…*
Malfoy shook her head sharply.
"Thinking about it like that makes it sound like I'm actually worried about him!"
Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other and blinked. Their lips parted as though they had something to say—but Malfoy whipped her head around and shouted before they could get a word out.
"Crabbe, Goyle! Enough. Don't give that boy another thought. On a day like today, even a second spent thinking about that delinquent is a second wasted!"
Malfoy strode toward the entrance hall. Filch, who had been laboriously checking names against his list, was so overwhelmed by the blazing force of her approach that he hurried the students through.
The outing was, all things considered, rather enjoyable.
Honeydukes had desserts Malfoy had never seen before, and buying a few to enjoy alongside a Butterbeer warmed her thoroughly from the inside out.
Malfoy didn't particularly care for noise, but she found the boisterous atmosphere of the Three Broomsticks quite to her liking. The Butterbeer, which warmed her entire body, was better than she'd imagined. She had two bottles wrapped up and sent ahead to herself at Hogwarts via Owl Post—an extravagance of the highest order, but she could hardly carry Butterbeer around with her all day.
Zonko's Joke Shop was mostly juvenile, but a few items caught her eye with genuine curiosity. Malfoy pretended not to be interested, stealing sidelong glances at a pair of Status-Sharing Rings.
It didn't feel like much time had passed at all, yet the sky was already darkening. The bells of Hogsmeade rang out, and the shopkeepers began ushering students out, reminding them it was time to return to Hogwarts.
Malfoy admitted to herself that she'd been rather caught up in it all. She'd lost track of the time entirely, and when she finally took stock, she'd already spent three Galleons. Money was no concern whatsoever—but the fact that she'd let that much slip away, coin by coin, in shops catering to ordinary people, was something of a shock even to her.
When she returned to the Great Hall after the outing, thousands of pumpkins filled with candlelight drifted through the air, and enchanted bats wheeled across the ceiling. The tables were piled high with specially prepared food. Crabbe and Goyle, despite having snacked their way through Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks, still managed to put away two helpings each. Malfoy exercised just enough self-control to stop at one.
After the feast, the items she'd sent ahead by Owl Post began arriving one by one. Two bottles of Butterbeer, a large box of sweets, and a handful of the toys Crabbe and Goyle had wanted.
Malfoy tore open the wrapping and cast a sideways glance at the Gryffindor table.
Harry Potter was in the thick of it, talking loudly with everyone around him. Catching a few words, she gathered he had indeed slipped out and come back.
She hadn't caught so much as a glimpse of him in Hogsmeade. He must have kept himself hidden from view the entire time.
He'd come back safely, at any rate. That was enough. Malfoy turned away.
Back in the dormitory, Malfoy gave the box of sweets to the first- and second-years who hadn't been able to go to Hogsmeade. The younger students sang her praises and devoured the sweets with abandon, despite already being full. The Butterbeer went undrunk—everyone was too stuffed. Malfoy cast a preservation charm on the bottles and spent a pleasant while chatting about the day's experiences.
Exactly ten minutes later, Professor Snape walked in with a set expression and sent every last student out.
Sirius Black had attempted to break into the Gryffindor dormitory. He had been repelled by the Fat Lady's resistance, slashed the portrait, and fled. The professors were now searching the castle.
Malfoy listened to Professor Dumbledore's explanation with a face drained of colour.
Harry Potter had been right. Hogwarts was not safe. A criminal who had escaped Azkaban—the most secure prison in the wizarding world—was hardly going to be stopped by a school full of students.
"Lucky he broke in on a Hogsmeade day…"
Someone murmured that nearby, but Malfoy couldn't bring herself to agree.
Lucky?
If Sirius Black had known nothing of the day's events and broken in by pure chance, then yes—it could be dismissed as coincidence.
But what if Sirius Black had known that Harry Potter hadn't received permission to leave, and had chosen to infiltrate the castle precisely when the students were away and the corridors were quiet?
There was someone on the inside.
Malfoy felt something tighten inside her, like a wire being drawn taut, and looked around the room.
If Black had an accomplice helping him, it was someone of at least professorial standing. Someone with access to students' personal information.
If Harry Potter hadn't slipped out without permission today, it would have been his body—not the Fat Lady's portrait—that had been torn apart.
Did Harry Potter know this?
Malfoy clenched her trembling fist and looked across the room at him.
Harry Potter was not tense.
If anything, he looked disappointed. That was how it seemed to Malfoy.
"Sirius Black appears to have already fled, but you must all remain here until we have completed our search. For your safety, everyone will be sleeping here tonight. Prefects, please stand watch at the entrance to the Great Hall. Report anything unusual to me immediately."
Dumbledore left those words behind and was gone.
Because Malfoy had been watching Harry Potter, she saw it clearly—the moment he spoke to himself.
She hadn't heard the words. But the cold expression on his face, and the shape his lips made as they moved, were unmistakable.
*Just missed*, he had said.
Harry Potter, wearing the same rigid look he wore whenever a plan went wrong, murmured those words to himself.