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𝓔very now and then, students would hurtle out of their compartments to get a better look at Harry as he, Soraya, and Neville walked. The exception was Wendy Chang, who briefly glared at Soraya before darting into her compartment when she saw them coming. As they passed the window, Soraya saw her deep in determined conversation with her friend Marietta Edgecomb, who was wearing a very thick layer of makeup that did not entirely obscure the odd formation of pimples still etched across her face. Sighing in pity, Soraya continued forward.
When they reached compartment C, they saw at once that they were not Slughorn's only invitees, although judging by the enthusiasm of Slughorn's welcome, Harry was the most warmly anticipated.
"Harry, m'boy!" said Slughorn, jumping up at the sight of him. Professor Slughorn was an enormously fat, bald, old man, whose great velvet-covered belly seemed to fill all the remaining space in the compartment. His shiny bald head and great silvery mustache gleamed as brightly in the sunlight as the golden buttons on his waistcoat. "Good to see you, good to see you! And you must be Miss Afolabi and Mr. Longbottom!"
Soraya and Neville nodded, the latter looking scared. At a gesture from Slughorn, Soraya sat beside Neville and opposite Harry in the only three empty seats, which were nearest the door. Soraya glanced around at their fellow guests. She recognized a Slytherin from their year, a tall black boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes — the quiet Blaise Zabini; there were also two seventh-year boys she did not know and, squashed in the corner beside Slughorn and looking as though she was not entirely sure how she had got there, Ginny.
"Now, do you know everyone?" Slughorn asked Soraya, Harry and Neville. "Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course —"
Zabini only imperceptible nod at Soraya when she awkwardly waved and didn't make any sign of recognition or greeting to Harry and Neville, but neither did they: It was stupid, but Gryffindor and Slytherin students loathed each other on principle.
"This is Cormac McLaggen, perhaps you've come across each other — ? No?"
McLaggen, a large, wiry-haired youth, raised a hand. Soraya waved back, Harry and Neville nodded back at him.
"— and this is Marcus Belby, I don't know whether — ?" Belby, who was thin and nervous-looking, gave a strained smile. "— and this charming young lady tells me she knows you!" Slughorn finished.
Ginny grimaced at them from behind Slughorn's back.
"Well now, this is most pleasant," said Slughorn cozily. "A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I've packed my own lunch; the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on licorice wands, and a poor old man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things. . . . Pheasant, Belby?"
