Honestly, Annie had already lost hope of survival since the second semester of fifth grade.
Especially when Sebastian started dabbling in dangerous dark magic to break the curse, even using the Killing Curse on Uncle Solomon.
Though Solomon was saved by Vivi, she could already tell her brother was willing to delve into the dark arts for her.
And she was powerless against this.
Soon, the little cart selling items came by.
They bought a bunch of stuff and placed it in the compartment to share.
"I heard," Ron mumbled while chewing a cauldron cake, "there's a new professor. Probably teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts? I think I saw him; he looks a bit chubby."
"Really?" Hermione asked with interest. "I wonder how skilled he is at teaching, if he can match Professor Lupin..."
"Probably not that easy," Ron said, swallowing the cake. "You know, Professor Lupin's teaching methods are unique at Hogwarts. I can't see anyone surpassing him or surpassing Professor Rozier who taught us in second year."
"Don't be so sure," Hermione huffed.
Before Ron could retort, the compartment door was pulled open again, and a panting third-year girl walked in.
"I'm here to deliver this to Neville Longbottom, Annie Saru, and Harry Po–Potter." She stuttered, turning red immediately upon making eye contact with Harry.
She handed over three rolls of parchment tied with purple ribbons.
Harry took the parchment with his name on it in confusion, and the girl hurriedly rushed out of the compartment.
"What's that?" Ron asked as Harry unrolled the parchment.
"An invitation," Harry said.
He looked at the invitation.
Harry:
If you can join me for lunch in Compartment C, I would be most delighted.
Yours faithfully,
Professor H.E.F. Slughorn
That's the difference between Britain and the United States. British people prefer to abbreviate the first name and middle name together, like Joanne Catherine Rowling abbreviated as J.K. Rowling; while Americans typically only abbreviate the middle name, like Harry Ship Truman becomes Harry S. Truman.
"Who is Professor H.E.F. Slughorn?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Horace Eugene Flaccus Slughorn," Harry spelled out for Hermione. "I remember he used to be the head of Slytherin, not sure why he would come to the school."
"How do you know him?" Hermione asked with interest, "It's like you've suddenly become really knowledgeable about the school's history."
Harry thought to himself, of course I know him; I've even seen his undisclosed lessons with Voldemort regarding the Soul Artifacts.
"I'm still curious," Annie looked at the invitation and asked puzzled, "It's understandable that he invited you, given you're the renowned Savior—but why invite me?"
"I know why," Harry chuckled. "Professor Slughorn used to be the head of Slytherin and also the professor of Magic Potion Class—I know he likes to host clubs at school, inviting students who he thinks have potential or capabilities."
Annie suddenly realized.
"So that's it..."
"Is that so?" Hermione seemed a bit displeased.
"I'm sure he just doesn't know you, Hermione," Ron tactlessly comforted Hermione, "or maybe he forgot about you..."
"No one will think you're mute if you don't speak!" Hermione snapped, leaving Ron a bit aggrieved.
Who did I provoke?
"Then why invite me?" Neville said, perplexed. "Don't joke around; I even messed up the scabies potion in first year..."
"Maybe he has his reasons," Luna suddenly remarked, burying herself in a magazine. "Don't belittle yourself, Neville."
"Let's go." Harry stood up and said to Neville and Annie, "Don't keep the professor waiting."
The hallway was crowded, and they squeezed their way through the throng to get to Compartment C.
When they arrived at Compartment C, they found Professor Slughorn had invited more than just the two of them, but judging from Professor Slughorn's enthusiastic welcome, Harry was the one he most eagerly wanted to see.
"Harry, my boy!" As soon as Slughorn saw Harry, he jumped up, nearly filling the remaining space in the compartment with his velvet-clad belly.
His shiny bald head, the bushy silver-white beard, and gold buttons on his waistcoat all glittered in the sunlight.
"It's so good to see you, so good to see you! Now, you must be Miss Saru and Mr. Longbottom?"
Neville nodded, seemingly frightened.
Slughorn gestured, and the three of them sat in the only available row of seats closest to the door.
Harry scanned the other invited guests.
He recognized a fellow Slytherin in his year, a tall black boy with high cheekbones, long eyes, slightly upturned corners.
There were also two seventh-year boys Harry didn't know, and the one squeezed next to Slughorn in the corner, looking bewildered, unsure why she was there, was Ginny.
"Alright, you know everyone here, right?" Slughorn asked Harry. "Bruce Zabini is in the same year as you, you must know him—"