Astoria Greengrass froze where she stood. Had she heard such words a year ago, she might have jumped with joy. But now, all she felt was bitterness.
"My mother..." Astoria murmured softly, offering a clumsy excuse. "She… might not have the time."
"Summer break lasts ages. She can't be busy the entire time… can she?" Jon answered with a light smile.
Seeing his expression only made Astoria's heart ache more. He understood nothing—of course he could still look at her like this. If he knew the truth, would he still smile at her?
"Then it's settled — I'll take that as a yes!" Jon leaned close to her ear and whispered, "I'll write to you over the holidays. Don't ignore me!"
"I… I can't—" Astoria began, but before she could finish, a small figure had already waddled over, cutting them off.
"It's the last day of term!" Professor Flitwick peered up curiously at the two Slytherins, squeaking, "What are you waiting for? Off you go now—get some rest!! Tomorrow morning, you'll be catching the train at Hogsmeade!"
Astoria glanced around… The Great Hall was nearly empty now, leaving only the two of them behind.
"Yes, Professor!" Jon nodded to Flitwick and quickly headed out of the hall.
Astoria hesitated, but under Flitwick's gaze, she had no choice but to follow him…
...
They walked through the basement corridor—Astoria maintaining a careful distance, her gaze fixed on the floor, never daring to look at Jon. In this strange, silent rhythm,with Jon walking ahead and Astoria quietly following behind, they returned to the Slytherin common room.
...
Ever since Christopher Patrick voiced his "anti–Dark Lord speech" that night, his standing among the Knights of Walpurgis had plummeted. Naturally, he was no longer the quasi–Death Eater leader he used to be.
So when he stepped into the common room, Graham Montague and Blaise Zabini immediately looked away, pretending they had never seen him.
Though he was clearly unwelcome now, none of the Slytherin students dared to show him open hostility… Christopher Patrick's reputation was far too deeply embedded in their minds.
Jon, however, didn't care at all. Theoretically, he would be gone from here in just a few minutes anyway.
After entering the dormitory, he made one last inspection of his belongings: two wands, spare potions, Grindelwald's Misericore… After packing away everything useful (leaving behind his Slytherin-green robe and hood), he threw on a black cloak and picked up his suitcase.
"Chris… Patrick… where are you going?" Sean Avery asked in surprise.
"Term is over, so naturally I'm leaving," Jon replied calmly, walking out of the dormitory without a backward glance.
"Is he serious…? Without the Hogwarts Express, how's he supposed to leave…?" Avery muttered under his breath, but Jon had already vanished from sight.
...
Leaving the Slytherin common room, Jon—draped in black—wandered once more through the dim basement corridors. He slipped off the iron ring and tossed it into his suitcase; a sense of lightness washed through him.
"Meow—"
A gaunt, dark-gray cat burst out like a ghost, suddenly blocking his path. Her bulbous eyes glared at him, every hair on her body bristling with suspicion.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Without hesitation, Jon drew his wand and stepped over the immobilized Mrs. Norris.
This Petrification Charm fulfilled the dream of nearly half the student body… for almost half the school despised that cat with a passion.
Leaving the basement corridor, Jon emerged beside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and finally spotted the bright-red bird.
"Why didn't you just meet me at the common-room entrance? That would've taken you a second," Jon muttered.
The phoenix shot him a haughty glance—an expression that clearly said, "I thought you ditched me"—then lazily extended a tail feather.
Jon grabbed Fawkes's tail feather, and—
...
He appeared on a country road, hedged in on both sides by tall, tangled bushes.
"Lumos." Jon raised the emerald bamboo wand and murmured.
The light illuminated a signpost:
One arrow pointed back toward "Great Hangleton, 5 miles."
The other arrow pointed forward toward "Little Hangton, 1 mile."
Jon paused, listening to the steady chorus of summer cicadas, scanning his surroundings for his companion.
The phoenix lay sprawled at his feet, its head resting against his leg, dozing peacefully…
Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long. Within a minute, several points of light approached from the direction of Great Hangleton.
The path glowed brighter, and then a white figure emerged from the darkness—slowly, steadily. Albus Dumbledore. Still wearing his half-moon spectacles, but his snow-white robes stood out brilliantly in the night.
"Not bad!" Albus Dumbledore gave Jon a quick once-over. "Black suits you more than yellow or silver-green… You look like a raven."
"Ravens aren't exactly lucky," Jon muttered, then blinked at him in surprise. "Wait—Professor, why do you have an extra walking stick?"
"Inspiration courtesy of Minerva!" Dumbledore said with a mischievous wink, tapping the cane—almost as tall as he was—lightly against the ground. "For elderly men like me with troublesome legs, an extra cane is quite convenient!"
"And your wand… don't tell me—"
"Oh yes. It's inside the cane. Just a simple bit of magic," Dumbledore confirmed. He then raised something in his other hand. "By the way, didn't you ask me to bring this?"
A gleaming sword rested in his left hand, its hilt set with rubies. The blade bore an engraving:
Godric Gryffindor.