I was a bit distracted and didn't answer Draco's question immediately. Apparently, he took my silence as a kind of acquiescence, and his expression instantly turned even more sour, as if he could squeeze out a basin of water. I was distracted because I realized that he seemed to have grown a little taller during the time we didn't talk. Boys at this age are like saplings sprayed with growth potion, straining every nerve to grow towards the ceiling. It was a very strange feeling. As time passed, the line of sight when I looked into his eyes was gradually rising, and I could gradually feel a bit of oppressive feeling that made me want to step back.

When he rudely pulled the library chair, it made a loud noise. In the empty and deserted library, this sound was particularly harsh. Madam Pince must have gone somewhere else at this moment, otherwise she would surely come over and drive us away upon hearing the noise.

Of course I had prepared a birthday gift for him. It was now lying at the bottom of my schoolbag. I had thought for a while in the morning about how to use the Levitation Charm to throw the gift into his schoolbag or pocket when he wasn't paying attention, so that even if he threw it away, I wouldn't see it. But Pansy had been sticking to him like sticky plaster during this period, and I never found the right opportunity.

"Why should I prepare a gift for you?" I didn't know why I said the exact opposite. My voice was also a bit shriller than usual. "Why should I prepare a birthday gift for someone who doesn't talk to me anymore? I don't have much pocket money."

Draco crossed his legs. "I'm talking to you now. I want my birthday present."

I stood there, glaring at him for a while. For a moment, I couldn't find anything to refute him, so I took the schoolbag off my shoulder, took out a small gray - white paper box from it, and handed it to him.

"You - bought me a present?" He didn't take it right away. "Then why didn't you give it to me earlier? Were you not going to give it to me if I didn't come to talk to you?"

"No." I was quite glad to see him start unpacking the box immediately, so I sat down on the chair next to him and answered him honestly. "If you didn't come to me, I would have stuffed it into your schoolbag at the latest on the train back."

"This is a... glass ball? A Remembrall? Do you think I'm like Longbottom, that - do you think I'm also forgetful?" He looked at the transparent ball in his palm, and there was obvious disappointment in his tone.

I shook my head, then put both hands over the small glass ball. After a few seconds, I took my hands away.

"This is, uh, a constellation ball." I watched as stars emerged in the ball. They slowly rose and fell in a mass of deep - blue gas, emitting a golden glow. They looked very similar to the constellations seen in Astronomy class. "The advertisement said that if you hold it in your hand and silently think of a constellation in your mind, it will show up. - Look, it says Draco on it."

I looked at Draco nervously. I had always thought that a gift should be useful to the recipient, so those fancy and delicate trinkets in the flyers were never within my consideration (and they were often more expensive than portable herb storage jars or cauldron spoons).

"It's not completely useless." I tried to defend myself. "It can be used as a reference for Astronomy homework. Of course, the advertisement said its accuracy is limited and it's not recommended for academic use... I really couldn't think of what to give you. I originally wanted to ask you, but you weren't talking to me. Uh, do you really not like it? Then next time I'll - "

"I like it quite a bit." He mumbled. "I originally thought..."

"Thought what?" I smiled. "Thought I'd give you another potions book? No way. I know you don't like those books."

"I've never disliked the gifts you gave me." He said suddenly. "Although they were indeed very boring - one could say the most boring."

The light emitted by the constellation ball was almost negligible under the reflection of the setting sun's afterglow, far from achieving the "create a sky full of starlight" effect described in the Hogsmeade flyers. Just like all the previous arguments, as we walked out of the library, we selectively forgot what had happened before.

Everyone set off towards the Great Hall at the chime of the hour to have the last piece of pumpkin pie, chocolate pudding, or a bowl of disappointingly soft stewed beef of this school year. Clearly, everyone except the seventh - year students knew very well that they would come back on the Hogwarts Express after the summer vacation. But there was always an inexplicable sense of ritual when wielding knives and forks during this meal, as if when all the plates were spotlessly clean, they had suddenly taken a step closer to adulthood.

I know what many people are eager to see when they pick up this book. Perhaps compared to what came later, the memories of this year are as calm and trivial as a pebble at the bottom of a lake. It's not exciting, nor does it have the parts about that prophecy and the truth that you're interested in. But this is the golden age that I miss the most in my life. When Hermione suggested that I write a memoir, I decided almost without thinking where this long story should begin.

I originally thought I would feel pain because of the memories, and Hermione even suggested that I borrow a Pensieve. But surprisingly, to this day, when I pick up a quill and force myself to return to that time - that teenage era when we were all oblivious to what was coming and freely enjoying the sunshine, and force myself to immerse in it and retell these past events in the tone of that year, I often laugh. And I've scared my youngest son with my inexplicable smiles, making him think I accidentally ate some potion he tinkered with.

As I write this, I almost have the urge to stop right here. It seems that as long as I break the quill here and smash all the ink bottles in the house, at least the me and everyone around me in these rolls of parchment can stay in that year forever, and I won't need to be forced to say goodbye to anyone, whether it's unexpectedly or heart - wrenchingly. But my husband persuaded me. He has always had this ability, just like persuading me to marry him back then. I decided to continue writing this memoir, although I don't know if the publishing house still has the patience. They have already sent three owls to express their dissatisfaction with my delay in delivering the manuscript. But to be honest, writing is much more troublesome than making potions.

I sincerely hope that by the time the next book is finished, my youngest daughter won't catch cold so often. Merlin's beard, she really hates the cold - remedy tea her grandfather brews for her. She uses every joint of her body to show her dissatisfaction with the terrible taste, and her struggling broke my favorite quill.

Well, let's stop here for now. Farewell.