Daphne Greengrass finished reading the letter with a look of surprise. Only then did she realize it was an invitation from a newly appointed Hogwarts professor—Professor H. Slughorn—asking her to join him for lunch on the train.
To be honest, Daphne felt a little flattered.
After all, an ordinary girl like her had never been singled out by a professor in this way before.
However, when noon arrived and Daphne made her way to Carriage C—the location specified in the letter—what she saw left her slightly disappointed. It quickly became clear that Slughorn hadn't invited just her.
And judging by the enthusiasm with which Slughorn greeted the others, she was far from the person he was most eager to see.
More than a dozen students were already gathered around a round table inside the compartment.
Aside from Daphne herself, there was Blaise Zabini from the same year and house. He gave her a small nod, which Daphne returned.
There was also Marcus Belby, a fourth-year from Ravenclaw; Ginny Weasley, a fifth-year Gryffindor; and several seventh-years whose names Daphne didn't recognize.
And as the grand finale—
The "Chosen One," Harry Potter.
...
It was only then that Daphne realized most of them had influential connections.
Take Blaise Zabini, for example—his mother was a well-known and striking widow. Or Marcus Belby, whose uncle, Damocles Belby, was a famous Potions expert. As for herself, Daphne suspected she had been invited largely because of her mother.
Harry Potter might have been the sole exception. Between the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead and the ever-growing legends surrounding the "Chosen One," his fame likely surpassed that of everyone else in the compartment combined.
Unsurprisingly, most of Slughorn's attention was fixed firmly on Harry Potter.
For more than an hour, Slughorn hovered around him, fussing endlessly—asking whether he'd like some roast quail, then offering him pie, then circling back again.
Harry Potter looked visibly uncomfortable throughout it all.
In truth, "awkward" described the gathering perfectly—especially for Daphne.
After briefly asking about her mother at the beginning, Professor Slughorn all but ignored her, treating her as though she weren't there at all.
She sat in the compartment, counting the minutes, each one dragging by unbearably slowly.
When this was over, Daphne thought she would find Astoria and properly complain, her head lowered.
But the next moment, she froze.
Astoria hadn't come to school with her this year.
A sudden urge to cry welled up inside her.
Daphne quickly wiped at the corners of her eyes, careful not to let anyone else notice.
After lunch, Slughorn launched into a lively monologue, regaling them with anecdotes about the outstanding witches and wizards he had taught over the years—and how, back in their Hogwarts days, they had all happily joined a certain Slug Club.
Daphne couldn't wait to leave, yet she had no idea how to excuse herself politely.
As the train passed through a long stretch of thick fog, the scenery outside shifted into a crimson-hued sunset.
Professor Horace Slughorn exclaimed dramatically,
"Oh my, it's nearly dark already! I didn't even notice they'd lit all the lamps!"
He glanced around the compartment.
"You'd best hurry back and change into your school robes. If you're late for your proper schedule, Headmaster Dumbledore will surely blame me!"
With his permission, the students filed out one by one into the dim corridor.
"Harry… Harry…" Daphne heard Slughorn call from behind.
"Could you stay for just a moment longer? There's something I'd like to confirm with you."
Daphne saw Harry Potter stop, looking awkward yet still polite.
Then Slughorn's voice rang out again from behind them.
"Miss Greengrass—and you as well. Would you mind staying in the compartment a little longer?"
...
It took Daphne a moment to realize that Professor Slughorn had just called her name.
Startled, she stopped in her tracks, completely confused as to why he would single her out at the very end.
One by one, the others left. Soon, only Slughorn, Daphne, and Harry Potter remained in the compartment.
"Sit, sit—anywhere you like," Slughorn said casually. "I only want to ask a question or two. It won't take long."
Daphne and Harry Potter exchanged an awkward glance. With the long-standing tension between Gryffindor and Slytherin, the two of them had barely ever spoken before.
Slughorn turned his attention to Harry first. Lowering his voice, he asked softly,
"Harry, I'd like to ask you something about Mr. Jon Hart."
"Jon…?" Harry froze. "He died over a year ago. I saw it myself—Wormtail killed him."
"Oh? Is that so…" Slughorn murmured. "You're certain the one who died was him?"
"Professor, what do you mean?" Harry frowned slightly. "Of course it was him. I saw it with my own eyes."
"Very good, Harry… very good. Thank you," Slughorn said with a smile, cutting him off. "I was just asking."
"May I go now, Professor?" Harry asked cautiously.
"Of course, of course," Slughorn replied, nodding at once.
Harry Potter hurried out of the compartment.
Now, only Slughorn and Daphne Greengrass remained.
For reasons she couldn't quite explain, Daphne suddenly felt uneasy.
"Miss Greengrass," Slughorn said in an even lower voice, "you know the truth about Mr. Hart, don't you?"
"I've asked around. You were very close to him."
"No—I'm not—I didn't—" Daphne flushed bright red and hurriedly protested.
She felt absolutely miserable. Despite her verbal denial, her tone and expression had already betrayed Jon completely.
"I imagine you have a way to contact him," Slughorn continued, clearly having drawn his conclusion.His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "I need you to pass along a message for me. It concerns…"
His voice grew softer and softer, until nothing could be heard at all.
...
Several minutes later, a thoroughly flustered Daphne hurried back to her original compartment.
"Hurry up and change, Daphne," Millicent Bulstrode reminded her.
"The train's almost at the school."