章 418: 0417 The Trouble with Twins

The Burrow bustled with anticipation as the sun began to set on a warm summer evening. The air was thick with the mingling scents of fresh-cut grass, aromatic herbs from Mrs. Weasley's garden, and the tantalizing aroma of a feast in preparation. As the clock's hands crept closer to seven, an air of excitement mixed with mild anxiety permeated the burrow.

"There's simply no other way around it," Arthur Weasley muttered to himself as he hurried along the winding country lane leading to his home. His usually neat robes were disheveled, and his thinning red hair was exposed from his rushed journey. "With the Quidditch World Cup final rapidly approaching, the Ministry's in absolute chaos. Half the staff have been reassigned to ensure everything goes off without a hitch on match day. It's left mountains of work unattended in other departments."

He paused briefly to catch his breath, his mind racing with the day's events. "And if that wasn't enough, I even had to help Dirk Cresswell in a particularly nasty argument with the goblins from Gringotts. Merlin's beard, what a day!"

With barely a minute to spare before seven o'clock, Mr. Weasley finally arrived home, panting heavily as he burst through the garden gate. His face was flushed from exertion, and beads of sweat glistened on his balding head. Hastily, he loosened his tie, which felt like it was strangling him after his mad dash home.

His eyes lit up as they fell upon Harry, who was standing awkwardly near the back door. Despite his exhaustion, Mr. Weasley's face broke into a warm, welcoming smile. He strode over to Harry and enveloped him in a quick but affectionate hug.

"Harry, my boy! How wonderful to see you!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine warmth. "How are you feeling? Was your journey here smooth sailing? I do hope those Muggles didn't give you any trouble this time?"

Harry, looking a bit overwhelmed by the enthusiastic greeting, managed a small smile. "No, Mr. Weasley, everything was fine. You know the Dursleys – they couldn't wait to see me leave, as usual."

Mr. Weasley's face fell slightly at Harry's words, his brow furrowing with concern. "Now, now, Harry," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Let's not speak that way. I know there's been some... well, let's call it a misunderstanding between you and your aunt and uncle. But at the end of the day, you're family, aren't you?" His eyes twinkled with an optimism that seemed at odds with what Harry knew of the Dursleys. "I'm certain that deep down, beneath all the disagreements and differences, there must be some love there."

Harry bit his tongue, not wanting to shatter Mr. Weasley's naive but well-meaning belief. Instead of correcting what he saw as Mr. Weasley's absurdly hopeful notion, he simply nodded noncommittally and quickly joined the line of people carrying plates laden with food from the kitchen to the garden.

The Burrow, charming and cozy as it was, simply didn't have enough space to accommodate thirteen people for a sit-down dinner. So, in typical Weasley fashion, they had decided to turn Harry's birthday celebration into a grand outdoor feast.

As Harry stepped into the garden, he was struck by the beauty of the night sky over Ottery St. Catchpole. It was a sight quite unlike anything he'd seen before – different from both the magical, star-studded expanse that hung over Hogwarts and the murky, light-polluted darkness of London. Here, the sky was a deep, clear blue, gradually darkening as night fell, with the first twinkling stars just beginning to peek through the twilight.

Two long tables had been pushed together in the middle of the garden, groaning under the weight of Mrs. Weasley's foods. There were enormous joints of roast beef, glistening hams, golden-crusted meat pies, and colorful salads bursting with fresh vegetables from the garden. The centerpiece of the feast, however, was a cake that stood as tall as a house-elf – a masterpiece specially ordered by Sirius from the finest bakery in Diagon Alley.

The cake was a work of art, featuring a miniature Harry in exquisitely detailed Quidditch robes. The tiny figure zoomed around the cake on a perfectly crafted Firebolt, chasing after a fluttering Golden Snitch. The number '14' was inscribed on the back of the robes in shimmering red icing, commemorating Harry's age. Of course, that was how the cake had looked when it was first presented; now, after the enthusiastic attentions of the partygoers, it was barely recognizable, with large chunks missing and icing smeared in all directions.

Harry leaned back in his chair, a lazy smile appearing on his lips as he enjoyed the gentle evening breeze. He felt a sense of contentment wash over him, a feeling so rare and precious that he wanted to savor every moment of it.

As the feast wound down, the gathering entered its more relaxed phase. People began to move about freely, forming smaller groups for conversation. Hermione and Ginny had wandered off to one side of the garden, giggling as they fed treats to Crookshanks.

Nearby, Remus was chatting with Bill and Charlie Weasley about England's disastrous performance in this year's Quidditch World Cup. Remus's normally calm demeanor was tinged with exasperation as he gestured wildly.

"I mean, really," Remus was saying, his voice rising slightly, "how could they have fumbled that easy save against Transylvania? It's as if our Keeper had been Confunded!"

Bill nodded, his long red hair gleaming in the warm glow of the floating lanterns Mrs. Weasley had conjured. The fang earring dangling from his ear swayed as he shook his head in disappointment. "I know what you mean, Remus. I haven't seen playing that abysmal since my first year at Hogwarts when the Hufflepuff team all came down with Dragon Pox the night before the final."

Charlie, his muscular arms crossed over his chest, let out a snort. "At least the Hufflepuffs had an excuse. Our national team? They're supposed to be professionals! I've seen better coordination from a herd of Horntails during mating season."

As the three men continued their lively debate, Percy had cornered his parents near the remnants of the spectacular birthday cake. His chest puffed out importantly, Percy was telling Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with tales of his 'rising' career at the Ministry.

"You simply wouldn't believe the recognition I'm receiving at work," Percy said, his horn-rimmed glasses glinting in the lantern light. "Mr. Crouch himself commented on my report about cauldron bottom thickness. Said it was the most comprehensive analysis he'd seen in years!"

Mr. Weasley smiled silently, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of pride and amusement at his son's enthusiasm. Mrs. Weasley, on the other hand, was beaming so brightly she could have rivaled the lanterns illuminating the garden.

"Oh, Percy, that's wonderful!" she exclaimed, reaching out to straighten his already impeccable robes. "I always knew you'd go far. Didn't I say so, Arthur?"

Before Mr. Weasley could respond, a sudden commotion drew everyone's attention. Fred and George had risen from their seats, exchanging a mischievous glance that spelled trouble to anyone familiar with the twins' antics. They stepped back from the table with an exaggerated flourish, their movements perfectly synchronized as if they'd rehearsed this moment.

"Well then, ladies and gentlemen," Fred began, his voice carrying across the garden with theatrical flair.

"Distinguished guests and common rabble alike," George continued, earning a mock-indignant "Oi!" from Ron.

The twins bowed deeply, their long noses nearly touching the grass. When they straightened up, identical grins were plastered across their freckled faces.

"We regret to inform you that we must take our leave," Fred announced, placing a hand over his heart as if the very thought pained him.

"For you see," George picked up seamlessly, "a great endeavor awaits us!"

Ron, his face smeared with a combination of cake frosting and what looked suspiciously like jam, looked up at his brothers with curiosity etched across his features. He swallowed a mouthful of cake before asking, "What exactly are you two up to in that room of yours? You've been at it all summer, locked away like a pair of cursed mummies."

Fred's eyes widened in feigned shock. "All summer? My dear brother, you wound us! We've at least come down for meals."

"Most of them, anyway," George added with a wink.

"But as for the nature of our great work," Fred continued, leaning in.

"That, dearest Ronniekins, is none of your business," George finished, reaching out to ruffle Ron's hair, much to Ron's annoyance.

"Focus on your food, little brother," Fred advised 'wisely'. "You're looking a bit peaky. Another slice of cake, perhaps?"

With that, the twins linked arms and strolled off towards the house, whistling a jaunty tune that sounded suspiciously like a Weird Sisters' hit.

As if suddenly remembering something important, Percy glanced at his watch, his eyes widening in alarm. "Oh, is it that late already?" he exclaimed, his voice rising an octave in distress. "I simply must hurry back to my room to work on my report. Mr. Crouch has been most generous with the deadline, of course, but I certainly can't wait until the last moment to submit it. That would be most unprofessional!"

With a hasty goodbye to his parents and a nod to the other guests, Percy rushed off towards the house.

Harry watched Percy's retreating figure with a mixture of amusement and bewilderment. As he turned back to the table, he caught Sirius looking at him intently. Meeting his godfather's gaze, Harry raised an eyebrow in silent question.

Sirius jerked his head slightly, indicating that he wanted to speak privately. Curious, Harry asked, "What report is Percy writing exactly? It seems awfully important."

Sirius's lips quirked into a half-smile. "Something about cauldrons, apparently," His gray eyes darted around, taking in the various Weasley family members scattered about the garden before he gestured discreetly to Harry.

Understanding immediately that Sirius had something important to discuss, Harry nodded and followed him as he made his way towards the front of the Weasleys' broom shed.

As they reached the shed, Harry opened his mouth to inquire about Sirius's suddenly serious expression. Before he could utter a word, however, the sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention. Turning his head, he saw Remus walking towards them, in an expression of quiet concern.

"What's going on?" Harry blinked, his confusion evident in his voice.

Remus's amber eyes met Harry's green ones, a flicker of something – worry? – passing through them. "We want to talk to you about your scar, Harry," he said softly, noting the slight widening of Harry's eyes at the mention of his scar.

Remus nodded, confirming Harry's unspoken question. "Yes, Sirius told me everything. But what exactly is happening, Harry? I know your scar is no ordinary scar – it doesn't usually react, does it?"

"Uh, the scar, yes," Harry stammered, caught off guard by the abrupt shift from the cheerful birthday party to such a serious topic. He quickly gathered his thoughts. "It suddenly hurt for a while – but yes, you're right, it doesn't hurt often."

Touching the lightning-shaped mark on his forehead, Harry spoke more fluently. He glanced at his godfather and Remus, who was also a close friend of his father's, and said rapidly, "It hasn't reacted for two years, The last time it did anything was in my first year at Hogwarts, when Voldemort was lurking in the castle, attached to Quirrell."

Sirius and Remus exchanged a quick glance, sharing their thoughts.

"Is there anything else we should know, Harry?" Sirius pressed, his voice gentle but insistent.

Harry hesitated, unsure whether he should mention the dream. First, he wasn't certain if the bizarre dream was related to his scar, and second, since waking up, it was as if something had blocked his memory. The events in his recollection had quickly become blurred, and by now, he remembered very little.

"Before my scar started hurting, I was asleep," Harry began cautiously, weighing each word. "And then I had a dream. I dreamed about... about Voldemort."

Harry braced himself for looks of disbelief, but to his surprise, neither Sirius nor Remus showed any sign of skepticism. Instead, they continued to listen attentively, their expression was serious and focused. Encouraged by their reaction, Harry continued to narrate.

"I, um, don't remember it clearly now," he admitted, frustration tinging his tone. "It's all a bit fuzzy. But I do remember it started with this old, dilapidated house."

Sirius nodded encouragingly, while Remus leaned in slightly, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"There was an elderly Muggle man," Harry continued, the memory becoming slightly clearer as he spoke. "He was walking around inside the house, using a cane. I think. And then he... he discovered Voldemort in one of the rooms. Voldemort wasn't alone, He was talking to someone... a woman."

"A woman?" Sirius's brow furrowed, a thoughtful glint appearing in his stormy gray eyes. He turned to Remus, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "The Daily Prophet hasn't reported any more breakouts recently, has it?"

Remus shook his head, his response immediate and certain. "The Daily Prophet only reported one breakout, and that was you, Sirius." But then, uncertainty crept into his voice, "Do you think the woman Harry saw could be... a Death Eater?"

Sirius crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing as he pondered the possibility. "Voldemort must have trusted this woman very much, Think about it, Remus. Since Lily and Harry destroyed his powers, he's been in hiding. And now, he's willing to expose himself to this woman when he's at his most defenseless? It doesn't add up unless she's someone he trusts completely."

"Who do you think she could be?" Remus asked cautiously, his amber eyes flicking between Sirius and Harry.

A dark look crossed Sirius's face, his features hardening. "If my dear cousin were still out there, it would definitely be her, But Bellatrix is still rotting in Azkaban where she belongs. Hmm... Narcissa Malfoy, perhaps?"

"Unlikely," Remus shook his head solemnly, "If Voldemort were to reach out to the Malfoys, why wouldn't he go straight to Lucius? He was always one of Voldemort's most trusted follower."

"Wait!" Harry finally couldn't hold back. After a moment's hesitation between questioning the dream's reality and Sirius's cousin, he chose the former. He stared at Sirius and Remus with wide eyes, asking in bewilderment, "You think... you think that dream was real?"

Sirius and Remus exchanged a glance, their expressions darkening but neither spoke.

"But—" Harry was about to press for clarification when a sudden, thunderous boom from inside the house interrupted him. The noise was so intense that even the tables in the yard shook, causing the remaining dishes to rattle ominously.

"I've had quite enough of those two!" Mrs. Weasley's voice cut through the startled silence that followed the explosion. She jumped up from her chair, her face flushed with a combination of exasperation and worry. "I'm going to see what mischief they're up to this time, and Merlin help them if they've blown up another bedroom!"

As Mrs. Weasley stormed towards the house, her wand gripped tightly in her hand, Mr. Weasley hurried after her. "Now, now, Molly," he called, trying to sound soothing but unable to completely hide the note of anxiety in his voice. "Fred and George are at an age where they should have their privacy. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

"Privacy?!" Mrs. Weasley's indignant screech could have rivaled a Howler. She flung open the back door with a resounding bang that made everyone wince. "I'd be more than happy to respect their privacy if it didn't involve tearing the house apart board by board!"

At the dinner table, the remaining Weasley siblings exchanged knowing looks before following one after another, eager to watch the drama unfold. Ron, his earlier lethargy forgotten, was practically bouncing with excitement at the prospect of seeing the twins get a proper telling-off.

"You should go and see too, Harry," Remus suddenly said. He winked at Harry mischievously. "If Fred and George get into trouble, you might be able to put in a good word for them with Molly."

It wasn't long before heated arguments could be heard from inside the house. The rapid-fire scolding made it clear just how furious Mrs. Weasley was. But Sirius and Remus remained outside by the broom shed, their faces gloomy.

"I share Harry's doubts," the impatient Sirius finally spoke up. "How exactly does this work through dreams? Harry was in Privet Drive at the time; he couldn't have seen it firsthand, could he?"

"Only wizards like Albus and Bryan could figure that out—" Remus said worriedly. "You've already written to Albus about Harry's scar, haven't you?"

After receiving Sirius's confirmation, Remus nodded. "Albus should also know about Harry's dream and the woman who appeared in it. As for Bryan, well, since he's busy with his own affairs, we don't need to rush. But, Sirius—"

Remus suddenly fixed his gaze on Sirius's eyes, their gazes meeting in midair.

Years of close friendship meant they could understand each other's thoughts without words.

"Yes, that person is likely to return," Sirius said, thinking of his brother Regulus and sniffing hard.

"How many people will have to sacrifice themselves this time?" Remus's worried and sentimental voice drifted away on the light breeze, across the boundless wilderness.

*******************************

For More Chapters; patreon.com/FicFrenzy

コメント 4のコメント

投票

章 419: 0418 Cold War

Harry's stay at the Weasley house hadn't been very comfortable these past few days.

Firstly, due to Bill and Charlie's return home, Harry had to squeeze into a room with Ron, Fred, and George. Sirius, wanting to spend more time with Harry and reluctant to return to his old house, along with Remus, who had nowhere else to go at the moment, set up tents in the yard.

Mr. Weasley felt extremely guilty about this and even offered to give up his and Mrs. Weasley's room, but Sirius firmly refused.

Of course, what really made Harry uncomfortable was the situation with Fred and George.

The twins had been secretly working on various odd contraptions, which Harry and the others had known about for a while. After all, at Hogwarts, they often brought out amusing gadgets to entertain everyone.

But it wasn't until Mrs. Weasley exposed Fred and George's secrets on his birthday that they realized just how far the brothers had progressed in developing their joke products.

The sheer variety and ingenuity of their creations were astonishing:

- Ton-Tongue Toffees: Innocent-looking sweets that caused the eater's tongue to swell to enormous size.

- Canary Creams: Custard creams that temporarily transformed the unsuspecting consumer into a large canary.

- Self-Answering Quills: Cleverly enchanted writing implements that wrote answers during exams and can be used for homeworks.

- Skiving Snackboxes: A collection of sweets that made the customers believable ill, (perfect for skipping classes).

- Nosebleed Nougat: A nougat that triggered instant nosebleeds, easily stopped by eating the other half.

- Fever Fudge: Fudge that induced a convincing fever, complete with sweating and flushed cheeks.

- Puking Pastilles: Sweets that caused immediate and projectile vomiting, stoppable with the antidote end.

And these were just the finished products. Scattered among their possessions were dozens of half-finished prototypes, experimental formulas, and concept sketches for future joke items. The twins's room resembled less a bedroom and more an inventor's workshop crossed with an apothecary's nightmare.

The confiscated items, piled high in the kitchen, dwarfed the birthday feast that Mrs. Weasley had painstakingly prepared. It was a stark visual representation of just how much time and effort the twins had poured into their secret gadgets, time that their mother believed should have been spent on their studies.

And this incident completely ignited the conflict between Fred, George, and Mrs. Weasley.

The fierce arguments nearly blew the roof off The Burrow. For several days, Fred and George, who usually brought laughter to everyone, wore gloomy expressions and barely responded even when Harry spoke to them.

Mrs. Weasley, for her part, seemed to have reached the end of her considerable patience. Her reactions oscillated wildly between rage and despair, her voice rising to near-hysterical levels one moment, only to dissolve into tears the next. Her behavior reminded Harry uncomfortably of Aunt Petunia's frantic attempts to enforce a diet on Dudley at the beginning of the summer.

But that wasn't the end of it!

One afternoon, two owls arrived from Hogwarts, bringing Fred and George's O.W.L. exam results.

To be honest, if it weren't for the joke products, Mrs. Weasley might not have been so angry about their grades. But the glaring 'P's on their report cards, with only a few 'E's and 'A's, gave Mrs. Weasley another reason to unleash her fury. It was like pouring gasoline on an already raging fire.

In a moment of fury, Mrs. Weasley gathered up the confiscated joke products – items that had only been temporarily seized after much pleading and negotiation – and burned them in front of the horrified twins. The ensuing argument was so fierce that Harry genuinely feared Mrs. Weasley might disown Fred and George on the spot.

The fallout from this confrontation spread beyond just the twins and their mother. Sirius and Remus, who had been trying to maintain a neutral stance, found themselves caught in the crossfire. Mrs. Weasley, noting the twins's particularly abysmal grades in Defense Against the Dark Arts, turned her ire on the two former professors. The fact that they had taught the subject during Fred and George's O.W.L. years made them convenient targets for her frustration, further straining the already tense atmosphere in the household.

It was against this backdrop of familial strife that a rare moment of peace descended upon The Burrow one sunny morning. The weather, as if sensing the need for a pardon, provided a perfect day – warm sunshine bathing the fields surrounding Ottery St. Catchpole in a golden glow, without the oppressive heat that often characterized English summers.

The Burrow stood uncharacteristically quiet. Mr. Weasley and Percy had left for their respective positions at the Ministry of Magic. Mrs. Weasley, perhaps seeking a brief escape from the cold war atmosphere, had gone to Diagon Alley under the pretext of purchasing household supplies. Bill and Charlie, taking advantage of their rare time back in England, had both gone to London meet their old friends.

On the lush green lawn outside the house, Harry and Ron were playing Quidditch. Harry had lent his Firebolt to Ron, while he rode his old Nimbus, which he hadn't used in a while. The broom had been thoroughly battered by the Whomping Willow last year and had completely fallen apart, but thankfully Professor Watson had worked his magic, allowing it to continue serving Harry.

Although the Nimbus was no longer as good as before, unable to make sharp turns or sudden accelerations, it still felt much better than the old Shooting Stars in the Weasleys' broom shed, which had lost most of their twigs.

Hermione and Ginny sat on the lawn, enjoying the breeze, watching the two boys fly back and forth in the sky, and whispering to each other, occasionally bursting into giggles.

For a brief, shining moment, the troubles plaguing The Burrow seemed to fade away, replaced by the simple joys of friendship and youthful liveliness.

Bang--

The peaceful interval was interrupted by a sharp crack that split the air – the unmistakable sound of someone Apparating. Sirius materialized in the yard, his sudden appearance causing Harry to nearly fall off his broom in his haste to descend.

Sirius looked exhausted, his robes were slightly skewed and his long dark hair was tangled by the wind. Despite his disheveled appearance, there was a spark of excitement in his eyes that immediately captured Harry's attention. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, drawn by the commotion, hurried over to join them.

"How did it go, Sirius? Did you see Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked, his words tumbling out in a rush of anticipation.

Hearing Harry's question, Sirius didn't respond immediately, instead looked at the others standing beside Harry.

"I think I heard Mum's voice," Ginny said after a brief silence. "I'll go help her." She hurried away, looking slightly awkward.

Harry had already told Hermione and Ron about his scar, so there was no need to keep secrets from them.

"I did see him—" Sirius said, slightly out of breath. "Dumbledore had gone to find a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for you all and only returned this morning. I talked to him about the dream while we were having breakfast in the Great Hall."

"What did Professor Dumbledore say? Does he think the dream was real?" Harry pressed, anxiety evident in his voice.

Before Sirius could respond, Hermione interjected with her own burning question: "Who's the new professor?"

"I'll answer your question later, Hermione. Let's talk about Harry's situation first—" Sirius nodded at Hermione before looking seriously at Harry. "Yes, Dumbledore believes your dream might have been a real event."

"But—" Ron's eyes bulged in surprise as he stared at Harry. "Harry, that's... mate, unless you can see what You-Know-Who sees!"

Harry instinctively wanted to rebuke Ron's statement. The idea of any connection between himself and Voldemort was deeply unsettling. However, a memory from his second year at Hogwarts gave him pause. Dumbledore had once told him that on the night Voldemort gave him his scar, he had inadvertently transferred some of his powers to Harry.

Perhaps Ron's guess wasn't as far-fetched as it seemed.

Sirius noticed Harry's silent resistance hidden beneath his silence. After a moment's thought, he consoled, "It's just a possibility, Harry. In fact, this might not be as serious as you think!"

'Voldemort suddenly appeared and killed a Muggle, and this terrible scene was actually seen by Harry in Privet Drive. Isn't it serious?!'

Faced with incredulous looks from the three teenagers, Sirius elaborated, "When I told Dumbledore about your situation, Harry, he looked very calm, just slightly surprised. But I couldn't see much worry in his expression. You know, Harry, if Dumbledore isn't worried about this, I don't think you need to be too concerned either."

While this argument held some merit, it wasn't enough to completely dispel Harry's concerns. The implications of such a connection with Voldemort were too serious to dismiss entirely.

As the group made their way inside for lunch, they were joined by Remus. Unlike Sirius, who seemed energized despite his travels, Remus looked utterly exhausted. The lines on his face seemed deeper, and there was an unmistakable air of disappointment surrounding him.

Without needing to ask, they all knew the reason for Remus's dejected state. Unlike Sirius and Harry, Remus didn't have vaults full of inherited Galleons. In fact, it was uncertain whether Remus even had a vault at Gringotts. His lycanthropy made finding steady employment nearly impossible in the wizarding world, where prejudice against werewolves ran deep.

Remus had to fend for himself, but besides wizards like Dumbledore, who would risk employing a werewolf?

"Mum—" Although the living room was still full of people, everyone was lost in their own thoughts, making the atmosphere at the dining table somewhat gloomy. Ginny looked at the empty seats across from her and asked, blinking her eyes, "Fred and George are still in their room. Can I bring them some food, or call them down?"

"Don't!" Mrs. Weasley rarely got angry with the youngest Weasley daughter, but this time she snapped, "If they want to starve, let them starve!"

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, unconsciously lowering their heads even further, while Hermione sat up straight, eating her food. On the issue of Fred and George, her views actually aligned more closely with Mrs. Weasley's.

"I think you're being a bit extreme, Molly—" While the children didn't dare speak, Sirius frowned and said, "You've seen the things Fred and George have created. They're quite interesting. I've taught young wizards at Hogwarts, and I know the kids will love these things. Since they have a talent for this, why won't you let them give it a try?"

"Talent?" The usually kind Mrs. Weasley glared fiercely at Sirius. "This is irresponsibility and recklessness, Sirius. If they were willing to put half of their cleverness and 'talent' into studying, their O.W.L. results would definitely be much better than they are now!"

*******************************

For More Chapters; patreon.com/FicFrenzy

コメント 2のコメント

投票