By the middle of December, the cold had settled firmly over all of Britain, and I was heading to London aboard the Hogwarts Express.
"Welcome home, Elaina!"
The moment I stepped down onto the platform at King's Cross Station, my father rushed over, his face lighting up brightly. He hugged me just like that and patted my head.
"Honestly, look at you. I can't even tell which of us is the child anymore," I said.
Right behind him, my mother was smiling wryly.
"Welcome home, Elaina."
"I'm home, Mom. Dad."
It was already completely dark by then, so we Apparated straight back to the house. Returning to my childhood home after so long filled me with a deep sense of relief, the kind only home can give.
On the television that had been left on, a football match was being broadcast, as if to say, "Who cares about the cold?" The commentator's excited voice rang out just as Arsenal's goalkeeper blocked a shot.
In the kitchen, the warm glow of the oven baking gratin spilled out, while from the CD player in the living room came my father's favorite song, John Denver's "Country Roads."
This truly was the benefit of modern civilization.
Magic is fun, but Muggle machines have a different kind of charm. While my mother prepared dinner, my father made some tea.
"Here you go, Princess."
"Then I shall gratefully accept it."
Even in Britain, famous as a nation of tea, many households these days simply dunk a teabag into a cup. Thanks to his hobby, though, my father's tea was easily on par with that of a café.
"So then, Princess Elaina, how is school?"
"It's fun, Sebastian."
Joking around together, I began telling my father about life at Hogwarts.
About the Sorting, about classes, about Quidditch. I kept quiet about the Halloween troll incident, since my father would probably faint if he heard about it.
"Dinner's almost ready, so help out, Elaina and Sebastian," my mother said.
"Even you, Victorica…"
"What's wrong, Sebastian?"
That day, my father was called Sebastian the entire time. The food itself was perfectly delicious.
If there was anything that felt different after coming home, it was this.
"Victorica, please give Sebastian a break already…"
"Oh, come on. It's cute."
"Won't you call me by my name anymore?"
"Oh my, are you sulking?"
"..."
Isn't the distance between them a little too close?
(Were they always like this? I knew they were a close couple to begin with, but still…)
That said, it was only the first day back home. It was entirely possible they were just unusually excited because their daughter had returned. I decided to watch and see how things went.
And then came the next day.
"Hey, dear. Which do you think suits me better, white or beige?"
At a nearby shopping mall, my mother was picking out clothes. She seemed to be planning to buy a knit cardigan but was hesitating over the color.
"I think both would suit you."
"Hey, think about it properly."
"Well then… can I decide?"
When my mother nodded, my father raised his hand and called over a store clerk.
"Excuse me. I'd like to buy this cardigan."
"Certainly. Which color would you like? I think both would look lovely on your wife," the clerk said.
Perhaps she had heard the conversation. The clerk looked at my father with clear interest. And my father's choice was simple.
"Then I'll take both."
"D-dear…?"
"They both suit you, and I can't bring myself to choose just one."
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, my father smiled gently and paid. My mother also seemed to move a little closer to him than before.
They squeezed each other's hands.
Ah. They're holding hands. And not just that, it's a lovers' hold. Wow.
"Y-your parents are very close, aren't they…?" the clerk said awkwardly.
"..."
Leaving the smiling clerk behind, I deliberately put some distance between us, just enough not to look like a family member. Honestly, what on earth happened between the two of them while I was away at Hogwarts?
Well, a man and a woman under the same roof for nearly three months. It would be strange if nothing had happened.
…No. Let's stop that line of imagination right now.
I don't know what happened between my parents while I was at Hogwarts. And to be honest, I'd rather not know too much about it.
＊＊
And so winter break came to an end, and the new term finally began.
Reuniting with the usual group, we celebrated our reunion by exchanging the souvenirs each of us had brought back and chatting about what had happened during the holidays.
Of course, my family situation was no exception.
The moment I let something slip, the Slytherin girls at that age immediately bombarded me with questions, and I was forced to show them a two-shot photo of my parents. Since it was an enchanted photograph, the two of them were constantly flirting while moving around, but after reaching a state of enlightenment over this Christmas, my heart remained as calm as gentle ripples on water.
"Elaina's mom looks so young! What is this, a celebrity?"
"Her eyes are kind of sexy."
"I could totally take her."
Looking at my mother's photo, Pansy, Daphne, and Millicent each let out voices of amazement.
Things were peaceful at first, but as exams drew closer, we were given a flood of assignments.
Gradually, more and more students began frequenting the library. Then, as it became crowded, students once again dispersed to empty classrooms and common rooms, and things slowly adjusted into a kind of balance.
Incidentally, using the soundproofing spell I had desperately memorized over Christmas, I turned our bedroom into a perfectly soundproof space. As for why I knew that spell, Pansy and the others seemed to understand without asking further questions.
"What is this? I don't get it at all…"
Millicent, sprawled out on the carpet, tossed aside her Potions textbook. If you patiently organize the theory and think it through, it is a subject where you can reliably score points, but it is a tough field for those who struggle with meticulous work.
Beside Millicent, who had given up and started stretching, a thoroughly worn-out Pansy was asking Daphne for help.
"Daphne, please, help me with this part."
"Okay."
But why does Pansy always ask Daphne? Normally, this would be the moment to seek guidance from me, the smartest in Slytherin.
"I've been wondering this for a while, but why do you always ask Daphne instead of me?"
"Because, Elaina, when I ask you, you look at me like, 'You don't even understand something this simple? What on earth have you been doing with your life until now?' You're so obviously looking down on me."
"Well, I won't deny it."
Honestly. What have you been doing with your life if you struggle with something as basic as exam prep?
"…That's seriously exactly the problem with you."
"But isn't that part of my charm?"
"Daphne, that logic makes no sense."
For the record, our roommates' grades currently form a sharply divided gap: Daphne and I in the high-achieving group, and Pansy and Millicent in the unfortunate group.
What surprised me a little was Daphne. Contrary to her usual airheaded behavior, she quietly maintained above-average grades. She starts by memorizing everything, including model answers, and then wins through sheer volume by covering as many solution patterns as possible.
Daphne's method of starting with memorization before understanding can be harsh when faced with unfamiliar problems, but as a study method specialized for exams, it is quite rational.
"Now then, if I'm going to maintain first place, I need to perfect my own studies first."
My goal: defeat Hermione Granger.
"'Self-proclaimed' first place, more like. You lost that astronomy quiz the other day."
"Listen carefully, Pansy. Until now, I have been merely hiding my true self. If I get serious, taking first place in the year is something I can do anytime."
"Hurry up and get serious already. And you're not hiding anything at all."
"Well, no need to rush."
Yes, it's not as if I have no chance of winning.
That was, I believe, about three days ago.
"Hey, Elaina, do you happen to know anything about Nicolas Flamel?"
While I was looking for a book in the library, Hermione, who had come to study with Harry and the others by coincidence, called out to me.
"Nicolas Flamel? Which subject's test is that for again?"
"No, it's not related to exams. I'm just personally interested…"
Hermione certainly looked relaxed. While everyone else was being chased by exam study, it was impressive, as expected of her. However, that overconfidence would be her downfall.
"I think I saw the name in a book on early modern alchemy… or maybe I didn't."
At this point, Hermione would be able to find the rest on her own. Nicolas Flamel is a major figure in early modern alchemy, after all. He probably comes up right after figures like Cagliostro, Saint Germain, Paracelsus, Roger Bacon, and John Dee.
"Alchemy… alchemy, right. I'll look into it! Thank you!"
Watching Hermione head happily toward the alchemy shelves, I felt my chest swell with anticipation. With her overconfidence showing, this was my chance to reclaim the top spot in our year.
(End of chapter)
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