Ch: 16-23
Chapter 16: Witness! The Beginning of Young Master Malfoy and the Muggle Girl
Having found a wand so attuned to her heart, Hermione was filled with genuine joy and gratitude. She turned to Ollivander and Draco, speaking with sincere earnestness, "Thank you, Mr. Ollivander, and thank you, Malfoy."
[Ding, helped Hermione find her wand. luck value increased by 20]
"No need to be so formal. Please, call me Draco," Draco said, gazing at the brilliant light in her eyes. His heart stirred slightly as he mustered the courage to ask softly, "Miss Granger, might I have the honor of becoming your friend?"
Upon hearing this, a flicker of pleasant surprise passed through Hermione's eyes, followed by a radiant smile. "Of course! I'd be very happy to be your friend. Please, call me Hermione as well."
This exchange, overheard by Ollivander and Professor McGonagall, caused the two to exchange a look, their eyes filled with utter disbelief.
The House of Malfoy had always prided itself on its pure-blood lineage, being aloof and solitary, never associating with Wizards of Muggle birth.
Now, the young master of the Malfoy family was actively seeking friendship with a muggle-born girl. This action, so contrary to all expectations, would likely leave even Dumbledore astonished and struggling to believe it if he were told.
After a moment of stunned silence, a smile gradually appeared in Ollivander's eyes as his gaze shifted between Draco and Hermione.
Looking at Draco holding his Peach wood wand with a lion's mane hair core, and then at Hermioneholding her vine wood wand with a dragon heartstring core, he pondered to himself:
"vine wood meeting lion's mane hair: one intelligence, one courage; one sharp, one steady. This soul-attracting bond is truly a most wonderful rhythm. Perhaps it will rewrite many predetermined paths."
Then, with a hint of profound admonition, he slowly began to speak: "A wondrous resonance of souls is always a rare encounter, not something to be sought. Wisdom naturally attracts wisdom, just as holly inherently summons light. Souls that are fundamentally compatible will ultimately cross barriers to meet."
"But you must remember, children, even the most compatible wand requires the tempering and break-in of time to achieve complete harmony."
"In your future interactions, you must always maintain this dialogue of souls. Especially when your 'wand cores' point in different directions, when your hearts hold diverging views, you must calmly listen to each other's voices and not easily stray from your true nature."
After his lengthy speech, a trace of imperceptible worry flickered in Ollivander's eyes, as if concerned that this precious bond might be worn away by worldly prejudice and future hardships.
After Ollivander finished speaking, Professor McGonagall suddenly rose from the sofa. Her back ramrod straight, she spoke with solemn dignity and deliberation: "Hogwarts has always encouraged its students to forge genuine friendships based on respect, integrity, and shared pursuit. This is one of the cornerstones of house life and an indispensable strength on a Wizard's path to growth."
Her gaze turned to Hermione, her tone softening slightly, carrying more expectation and advice:
"Miss Granger, you possess extraordinary intellect and resolute determination. Your thirst for knowledge and dedication to truth far surpass your peers. A friend who can clearly understand your inner pursuits and perceive the essence of your soul may guide and support you on the thorny path of academic pursuit and ideal realization, helping you walk more steadily and smoothly, with less loneliness and obstruction."
Hermione didn't understand why Ollivander and Professor McGonagall were always so earnest and grave. She simply nodded silently.
Having reminded Hermione, Professor McGonagall turned her direct gaze to Draco, speaking with stern scrutiny and solemn entrustment: "And you, Draco Malfoy, you have displayed insight and erudition beyond your years. More importantly, you have broken free from your family's ingrained prejudices. This clarity and courage are truly rare."
"But you must understand that befriending such an intelligent, perceptive, and sincerely pure mind and heart means you automatically shoulder a weighty responsibility. Your words and actions must be worthy of this trust and entrustment. You must always guide each other toward constructive directions. Do not let the dust of the mundane world obscure your true nature, and do not betray this rare bond."
Draco nodded earnestly.
After a pause, Professor McGonagall's gaze softened somewhat, her tone carrying more affirmation: "I have already noticed that an extremely rare intellectual tacit agreement exists between you two. Your minds resonate on the same frequency, appreciating each other. If this tacit agreement can transform into a force that mutually encourages academic diligence, jointly upholds school rules and discipline, and leads others by example, then it would be most precious, worthy of acknowledgment and expectation."
Finally, Professor McGonagall fixed her gaze once more on Draco and Hermione: "I will be paying close attention to this matter. I hope you can prove that today's choice is not merely a momentary affinity and liking, but a true, Gryffindor-style connection that can withstand the passage of time and the trials of adversity."
Draco was utterly bewildered. We're just here buying wands, is all this lecturing really necessary?
But the feeling was rather nice, like having elders bear witness at a wedding... For Professor McGonagall, this was indeed the sternest admonishment she had given in recent years, but it was also the deepest respect and the highest form of 'investment' she could bestow upon a young friendship.
Chapter 17: The Reversal Came Too Quickly
Settling the bill for the wand, Draco and Hermione walked out of Ollivander's shop side by side.
Professor McGonagall followed slowly behind, her expression still holding a hint of caution as her gaze lingered on the two from time to time.
Draco turned his head to look at Hermione beside him. She was clutching the wand box tightly, her eyes still sparkling with the lightheartedness of having her wish fulfilled. He asked softly, "Hermione, have you bought everything you need for school? Is there anything left out?"
Hermione smiled and shook her head, her tone bright: "Everything's bought. Thanks to your help, I saved a lot of trouble."
"So you're heading back now?" Draco felt a slight reluctance to part. The words were at the tip of his tongue, but he didn't know how to continue the conversation.
Seeing the slight awkwardness in Draco's eyes, Hermione couldn't help but chuckle, giving him a playful, coquettish reproach: "Isn't that obvious? Now that everything's ready, it's naturally time to go back and prepare for school."
"Alright..." Draco gave a sheepish smile. Many words that had surged into his heart were now stuck in his throat, leaving only a sense of melancholy.
Just as Draco was thinking of finding another excuse to talk more, a familiar voice suddenly came from behind, carrying an unquestionable authority: "Draco, what are you doing?"
Draco's heart skipped a beat. He turned around and indeed saw his father, Lucius, standing not far away, looking over with a somber gaze.
Draco quickly turned back to Hermione, his tone hurried yet sincere: "Hermione, my family is calling me. I'll head over first. See you another day."
Hermione nodded obediently, a gentle smile on her lips: "Okay, bye. See you at Hogwarts after school starts."
After saying their goodbyes, Draco walked quickly toward Lucius, while the figures of Hermione and Professor McGonagall gradually merged into the crowd of Diagon Alley, heading in the opposite direction.
When Draco approached, Lucius raised an eyebrow at him, his tone questioning: "Who were you talking to just now, so engrossed?"
"A classmate who will be entering Hogwarts with me." Draco answered frankly, his gaze inadvertently sweeping over Hermione's retreating figure in the distance. "You should have seen her just now; Professor McGonagall was accompanying her for shopping."
Lucius frowned slightly. Seeing the girl's appearance, she seemed muggle-born. He was about to say something more.
"What are you two, father and son, standing here talking about? Quick, come give me a hand. These things are heavy. Why are you just standing there?"
Narcissa's voice, having finished her shopping, came over, interrupting the conversation between father and son.
She was carrying several bulging bags, her tone slightly reproachful but unable to hide her tenderness.
"Coming," Draco answered quickly, taking the opportunity to change the subject. He breathed a sigh of relief inwardly; he had finally managed to muddle through.
Turning to Lucius, Draco smiled and urged, "Old man, let's help Mother carry the things first."
Seeing this, Lucius stopped questioning the matter from earlier. He just gave Draco a deep look, a trace of imperceptible scrutiny flashing in his eyes, before nodding in agreement.
The father and son stepped forward quickly and took the bags from Narcissa's hands.
Lucius raised his hand and waved his wand, chanting a spell under his breath. The heavy bags instantly became light.
Then he packed the various items one by one into a leather satchel that had been cast with an Undetectable Extension Charm, his movements swift and skilled.
Watching this magical scene, Draco marveled inwardly: magic is truly wonderful. With such spells to help, carrying things while traveling is so easy, saving a lot of trouble.
Narcissa straightened her skirt, turned to Draco, and asked softly, "Son, you mentioned earlier that you wanted a Chinese Pastoral Dog. I've been around Diagon Alley for a long time and couldn't find a shop selling them. I'm afraid your wish won't be fulfilled."
[Ding, original plot changed, luck value increased by 10]
"It's fine, if there isn't one, then forget it." Draco smiled and shook his head, not feeling too disappointed. Compared to a pet, meeting Hermione today was already a huge gain.
Lucius slung the satchel over his shoulder, his gaze sweeping over, and asked in a deep voice, "Draco, are your wand and Wizard robes all settled?"
"Don't worry, Old man, it's all arranged," Draco replied with a nod. "I had my measurements taken at Madam Malkin's this morning. She promised they'd be ready by tea time. I expect they're ready now, so I'll go pick them up."
Hearing this, Lucius took out a sufficient amount of Galleons from his purse and handed them to him: "Go and come back quickly, don't delay too long."
"Okay." Draco took the Galleons and ran quickly toward Madam Malkins Robes for All Occasions.
As soon as he pushed the door open, he saw that Madam Malkin had already neatly folded the custom-made Wizard robes on the counter.
Seeing Draco's arrival, Madam Malkin immediately greeted him with a smile: "Young Master Malfoy, you've come at just the right time. Your Wizard robes are all ready. See if they're to your liking."
Draco stepped forward and gave them a general look-over.
The fabric was high-quality, the craftsmanship fine, and the fit was also very good. He was quite satisfied and handed over the Galleons: "Madam, your skill is exquisite. I'm very satisfied. Here is the payment. Thank you for your hard work."
"You're welcome." Madam Malkin smiled as she took the Galleons, her tone warm. "It's my honor to serve Young Master Malfoy. If you need anything in the future, feel free to come. I will certainly make proper arrangements."
"Certainly." Draco nodded with a smile, carefully put away the Wizard robes, turned, and quickly left the clothing shop, heading toward where his parents were waiting.
When he returned to the group.
Lucius examined the package in Draco's hand. Seeing that everything was in order, he nodded and said, "Since all the items have been purchased, let's head back."
Draco and Narcissa had no objections and both nodded.
Lucius raised his hand and gripped Draco's and Narcissa's arms. A sudden surge of magical waves appeared around them, and a familiar sense of dizziness faintly came.
The next second, the power of Apparition whisked the three of them away from the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley. In an instant, they were back at the quiet and luxurious Malfoy Manor.
Inside the manor, the trees and plants were lush, and sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting mottled shadows. It was completely different from the bustle of Diagon Alley, full of peace and comfort.
Meanwhile, at the other end of Diagon Alley, Professor McGonagall had already led Hermione out of the boundaries of the magical world and arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.
She didn't leave with Hermione immediately but walked straight to a quiet, deserted corner deep in the pub and gestured for Hermione to sit down.
Hermione was full of doubt. She placed her purchased items beside her and asked softly, "Professor McGonagall, everything we needed today has been bought. Why are we still staying here?"
She looked at Professor McGonagall's serious expression, and a faint sense of unease grew in her heart, wondering what else the Professor had to say.
Professor McGonagall sat down slowly, her back straight, her whole being radiating a steady and majestic aura.
She gazed at Hermione and said in a tone as if reading a rigorous report:
"Miss Granger, regarding that boy you were talking to in the wand shop just now—Draco Malfoy—I must inform you of some important background information now.
"This concerns your future school life at Hogwarts and, more importantly, your personal safety. You must listen carefully."
Hermione had been looking down, carefully putting her newly acquired vine wood wand into its box.
Hearing this, her finger movements instantly froze in mid-air. She slowly raised her head, her gaze looking straight at Professor McGonagall.
A flash of surprise first crossed her eyes, then she quickly narrowed them. Her whole person became focused, entering a state of high-alert analysis.
Her throat also swallowed almost imperceptibly, clearly having realized the seriousness of the matter.
Hermione took a deep breath and said slowly in an extremely soft but exceptionally clear voice: "...I understand, Professor. Please go ahead, I will listen carefully."
Seeing Hermione's steady reaction, the look in Professor McGonagall's eyes softened for a moment, knowing this child was bright and perceptive and would surely understand her good intentions.
Ultimately, she suppressed her concerns, gave a nearly invisible nod, and said solemnly: "Very well. What I am about to say are objective facts. You need to consider this information alongside your experience in the wand shop just now and make your own judgment."
Professor McGonagall paused before explaining the concept of blood status in the Wizarding World to Hermione:
"Before that, you first need to understand three core concepts—Muggle, half-blood, and pure-blood."
"Muggle refers to ordinary people whose parents are both not Wizards and who cannot perform magic; half-blood is when one parent is a Wizard and the other is a Muggle; and pure-blood is when both parents are Wizards, and the family has been of magical blood for generations, with no Muggle blood mixed in."
Hermione listened intently, silently memorizing these concepts in her heart, not daring to miss a single detail.
Professor McGonagall continued: "And Draco Malfoy, he comes from the House of Malfoy, which is one of the oldest and wealthiest pure-blood families in the Wizarding World, holding a very high status and influence in the magical community."
"But more importantly, this family has always openly and firmly upheld the concept of 'pure-blood supremacy'—they believe that only pure-blood Wizards deserve to have magical power and are the legitimate heirs of the magical world. As for muggle-born Wizards, they have always held... deep contempt, sometimes even with obvious hostility, disdaining to associate with them, let alone make friends."
These words were like a clap of thunder in Hermione's heart. Her back instantly stiffened like a cold piece of wood, and her fingers clutching the wand box tightened unconsciously.
Scenes from the wand shop just now involuntarily flashed through her mind—the platinum-haired boy, gentle in speech, knowledgeable, and his profile as he focused on explaining wand lore.
But this image, colliding with the words "deep contempt" and "hostility" from Professor McGonagall's mouth, shattered in her mind instantly, making it hard for her to accept.
For a moment, Hermione was unable to speak, her heart feeling heavy, full of shock and confusion.
Once Hermione gradually regained her composure, Professor McGonagall continued, her tone carrying a hint of worry and caution: "Therefore, the fact that he took the initiative to approach you and make friends today contains a huge contradiction in itself and also hides unknown risks."
"Your talent and hard work should blossom freely in a safe and equal environment, focusing on your studies and the pursuit of truth, rather than being drawn into the complex family politics and blood status disputes of the Wizarding World. That would be too dangerous for you."
Hermione took a deep breath and then exhaled very slowly, as if calming the concerns in her heart.
Only then did she raise her eyes. When she looked at Professor McGonagall again, the confusion and shock in her eyes had gradually faded, replaced by a cold clarity.
She held the wand box steadily to her chest, as if this wand could give her strength.
Hermione replied with an exceptionally steady, even somewhat detached tone: "Contradiction... yes, Professor. If you hadn't said it, I wouldn't have thought deeply about it, but thinking about it now, it is indeed so.
"I finally understand that inexplicable sense of disharmony from before. There is a clear logical gap between the extensive knowledge he displayed and the blood status concepts his family upholds, as well as the attitude he should have had. It's too abnormal."
"I accept your suggestion." Hermione said this decisively, without the slightest hesitation. "A safe and equal environment is the primary prerequisite for my coming to Hogwarts and learning magic. I will never let myself fall into unnecessary risks and will ensure my behavior always aligns with this principle."
Seeing this, Professor McGonagall nodded with satisfaction, her tone softening slightly: "A very wise choice."
She gazed at Hermione and urged again: "I am not predicting what kind of behavior he will exhibit in the future, nor am I completely dismissing him, but the hearts of people in the Wizarding World are complex, and blood prejudice is deep-seated. Prudence and vigilance are your most reliable shields in an unfamiliar environment. Do not easily let down your guard."
Hermione nodded slowly, her gaze passing Professor McGonagall and looking out the pub window.
It was as if she could already see through the scene before her to the complex situations that would arise in the corridors of Hogwarts in the future, seeing the gaps and disputes caused by blood status.
Her gaze gradually became cold. When she spoke again, her voice regained its usual clarity and strength, but with an added layer of metallic hardness: "Thank you for your honesty and guidance, Professor. If you hadn't told me these things, I'm afraid I would have made a wrong judgment based on incomplete information."
"At Hogwarts, my identity is first and foremost a student, and my primary task is to learn magic and study knowledge. Any matter that conflicts with this identity or would make my situation complex will be placed in a secondary position by me and will never affect my core goals."
After Hermione finished this summary statement, Professor McGonagall saw the determination and clarity in her eyes, and her concerns gradually dissipated.
She nodded to her extremely solemnly and then said in a deep voice: "Then, I believe you have fully understood the situation and are prepared to deal with everything."
"I completely understand, Professor. Thank you again for such clear and detailed information, helping me avoid potential risks." Hermione thanked her sincerely.
At this moment, she finally understood completely what deep meaning was contained in the obscure conversation between Professor McGonagall and Mr. Ollivander in the wand shop earlier, as well as the abnormal reactions of the two.
It was all because Draco Malfoy's identity and behavior were too abnormal, causing them to feel doubt and concern.
Having finished explaining everything, Professor McGonagall then stood up and led Hermione out of the Leaky Cauldron, heading toward the Muggle world.
Along the way, Hermione remained silent, her mind repeatedly pondering Professor McGonagall's words. The goodwill and trust she had originally felt for Draco were gradually replaced by vigilance and detachment.
And Draco, far away at Malfoy Manor, knew nothing of this.
He was full of joy, thinking that by taking the initiative to make friends with Hermione today, he had already left a good first impression on her, laying a solid foundation for their future friendship.
He would never have thought that the goodwill he had painstakingly built would be completely shattered by a conversation from Professor McGonagall. The path of their future interactions was destined to be much more rocky and twisted than he imagined.
Chapter 18: Family Interrogation
At Malfoy Manor, Lucius summoned the House-elf Dobby.
His brow was tightly furrowed, his gaze cold and severe as it fell upon the figure curled up on the steps below.
Dobby, wrapped in tattered Muggle rags, kept his head bowed extremely low, unable to stop trembling.
"You wretched elf!" Lucius's voice was as cold and hard as ice, dripping with undisguised contempt. "Your master returns, and you are not at the door to greet him. You spend your days idling about, utterly useless!"
Before the words fully settled, Dobby flung himself forward, his forehead striking the cold marble floor with heavy, resounding thuds, as if he meant to crack it open.
Pained sobs, mixed with utter self-loathing, choked from Dobby's throat. "Dobby is a bad elf! Dobby is a wicked elf! Master returns and Dobby was polishing silver, not at the door! Dobby is worthless! Dobbyshould be punished! Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"
He kept banging his head, his forehead quickly turning red. The dull thuds echoed in the grand hall, making the atmosphere even heavier.
Draco saw this and knew his father had always been harsh with house-elves.
If this continued, Dobby might be seriously hurt. He quickly stepped forward to intervene.
Adopting a deliberately stern tone, Draco said, "Enough. Your guilt is clear. Your task now is to take these things to my room. Do not linger here."
Dobby, as if granted a pardon, stopped immediately. He raised his tear-streaked face, gratitude flickering in his large eyes.
"Yes! Wicked Dobby will do it! Dobby will not make mistakes!" he babbled, scrambling to his feet.
He quickly gathered the parcels left on the floor by Lucius and Narcissa and scurried towards the stairs.
Lucius, clearly unsatisfied, opened his mouth to continue his tirade.
Narcissa quickly intervened, her voice soothing. "Let it be, Lucius. The boy's things are more important. They must be handled carefully for school."
Lucius's frown deepened, but he ultimately relented, settling for a final, icy glare at Dobby.
That single look sent another shiver through Dobby, making him hasten his steps even more.
Having narrowly escaped, Dobby's figure quickly disappeared up the stairs.
Draco breathed a sigh of relief and turned to his parents. "Father, Mother, I'll go to my room now. The journey was tiring." He then followed Dobby upstairs.
Lucius and Narcissa simply nodded in silence.
As Draco walked away, his mind raced. His father had seen him with Hermione today. He needed a good explanation ready.
Once Draco's footsteps faded, the hall fell silent.
Lucius's expression immediately darkened. "Narcissa," he began abruptly, "do you know who I saw in Diagon Alley today?"
Narcissa's eyes showed a flicker of confusion. "Who? To make you look so grave?"
Lucius's expression grew even more severe, his voice cold. "It was Professor McGonagall of Hogwarts, accompanied by a muggle-born girl, likely a new student this year, helping her shop for supplies."
"That seems rather ordinary," Narcissa said with a light smile. "Professor McGonagall has always been responsible, helping new students is quite normal."
"Ordinary?" Lucius snorted, displeasure evident. "If it were only that, it would be ordinary. But I also saw Draco."
"He was chatting amiably with that muggle-born girl, looking quite familiar. If I hadn't called him back in time, he might have followed that girl and Professor McGonagall out of Diagon Alley."
Narcissa's heart skipped a beat, her eyes full of disbelief. "Draco, being close to a muggle-born witch? That doesn't sound like the child we raised."
"It is absolutely true, I saw it with my own eyes," Lucius said, his face growing more overcast, the chill around him almost freezing the air. "It seems our education these years has had lapses, allowing him to entertain thoughts of mingling with Muggles, forgetting the rules and pride of the House of Malfoy."
Narcissa stepped forward, gently holding Lucius's arm. "Perhaps it's not as serious as we think. Maybe it was just a chance meeting. We'll ask him properly at dinner. Just don't be too harsh, or we won't get the truth."
Lucius took a deep breath, impatience in his tone. "I cannot guarantee composure. The heir of Malfoy, associating so closely with a muggle-born witch? It would be a laughingstock among our peers in the wizarding world."
Narcissa knew her husband's temper and the weight he placed on this matter. She could only sigh helplessly, hoping for a clear explanation at dinner.
Meanwhile, Draco had returned to his room.
The room was lavishly furnished. A carved four-poster bed stood beside a tall wardrobe. Books were neatly arranged on the desk, and sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting dappled patterns on the floor.
Dobby placed the parcels on the floor and was about to bow and silently withdraw when Dracosuddenly called out, "Dobby, wait."
Dobby froze, quickly turned around, bowed his head respectfully, and said humbly, "Young Master, what are your orders? Dobby will certainly do his utmost to fulfill them."
"Today in Diagon Alley, I brought you a small gift," Draco said with a smile.
This was actually a spur-of-the-moment idea. Having seen Dobby's loyalty and the frequent punishments, he thought to show a little appreciation.
Dobby trembled violently, his head snapping up, his eyes filled with unbelievable shock, his voice even trembling slightly. "Young Master... Dobby can also... receive a gift?"
If it were the old Draco, he would have had no hope, not even daring to entertain such a thought.
But since their last conversation, the Young Master's attitude had become much gentler, making him involuntarily feel a sliver of anticipation.
"Of course you can," Draco replied frankly, his tone sincere. "You work diligently every day managing the manor affairs, fulfilling your duties. Giving you a gift is only right, no need for such surprise."
Dobby shook his head vigorously, his tone firm. "No, Young Master, no Wizard master would ever give a gift to a House-elf. It is against the rules. House-elves are meant to serve their masters, without expecting any reward."
"Rules are made by people. Since no one has done it before, then I will set this precedent," Draco said with a smile.
Draco then took out a pair of gloves from the package of his newly acquired robes and offered them to Dobby. "I wanted to have gloves made to your size, but I didn't know the measurements. So I had an extra pair made in my size. If you don't mind, please accept them."
Dobby stared intently at the gloves, his eyes full of eagerness and reverence. He quickly shook his head, his voice urgent. "Dobby doesn't mind! Dobby doesn't mind at all! Anything from the Young Master is a hundred times more precious to Dobby than something made-to-measure! Are these really for Dobby?"
His voice was filled with unrestrained excitement, his hands trembling slightly, not daring to reach out and take them.
"Naturally, they are for you," Draco said casually. "If you don't want them, I'll throw them away later. I don't much like the color anyway; keeping them is useless."
"Don't throw them away! Dobby wants them! Dobby really wants them!" Dobby quickly interjected, fearing Draco might truly discard the gloves.
He then stepped forward, carefully extended his hands, and took the gloves.
[Ding, original plot added, luck value increased by 20!]
Looking at the gloves, Dobby's eyes were filled with reverence and gratitude.
This moved him no less than receiving clothing that could grant him freedom.
"Thank you, Young Master! Thank you for this kindness!" Dobby clutched the gloves tightly. "Dobby will henceforth be loyal and devoted to the Young Master, willing to go through fire and water, even at the cost of his life!"
"Enough, no need for such exaggeration," Draco waved his hand dismissively. "Don't always talk about life and death as if I have countless enemies. Just do your duty well. I won't treat you poorly in the future."
"Yes, Dobby will remember the Young Master's teaching!" Dobby bowed respectfully, carefully tucking the gloves into his chest, afraid of damaging them. "If the Young Master has no other orders, Dobby will go down to manage affairs now, and not disturb the Young Master in tidying his things."
Draco nodded in agreement. Dobby bowed once more before slowly withdrawing, closing the door with the utmost gentleness.
Watching his departing figure, Draco shook his head lightly.
Night deepened. Candles in the manor were lit one by one, their warm glow filtering through the carved window frames, revealing an atmosphere of quiet luxury everywhere.
At dinner time, Draco came to the dining room and sat in his seat. His gaze swept over his parents at the table, quietly waiting for his father to announce the start of the meal.
But wait as he might, Lucius never opened his mouth. The atmosphere in the dining room gradually became oppressive. The candlelight flickered, casting his father's face in an even deeper shadow.
Draco could no longer restrain himself. He looked at Lucius and said, "Old man, what's the matter today? It's just a dinner. Why the delay in speaking? Do you have something on your mind?"
Lucius raised his head, his sharp gaze locking directly onto Draco.
After a moment of silence, Lucius went straight to the point. "Draco, why were you so friendly and familiar with that muggle-born girl in Diagon Alley today? You completely forgot the rules of the House of Malfoy!"
Draco's heart gave a sudden, heavy thump. This was it. What he'd been dreading had finally come.
Chapter 19: A Bright Future I Cannot See, A Twisted Road I Cannot Finish
Faced with his parents' such direct interrogation, Draco actually felt little panic in his heart.
He had long anticipated such a situation; it was merely a showdown that was bound to come sooner or later.
Draco's expression was calm. He gently stroked the handle of his dinner knife and spoke slowly, "Father misunderstands. My conversation with her today was merely a pretext to build a rapport with Professor McGonagall. As the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and a master of Transfiguration, it's beneficial to have her favor in my future studies. It was never about befriending a muggle-born."
In such a delicate situation, using Professor McGonagall as a shield was the only way to deflect the immediate pressure.
"Is that so?" Lucius raised an eyebrow, his eyes filled with skepticism. "Your explanation for befriending a Professor through a muggle-born seems rather far-fetched."
"It is true," Draco replied, meeting his gaze. "If you doubt me, Father, you can ask Professor McGonagalldirectly to verify my words."
Draco knew his argument was unverifiable.
Lucius, as the head of the House of Malfoy, was far too proud to demean himself by seeking confirmation for such a trivial matter; it was just a bluff.
Indeed, Lucius was left speechless, his brow furrowed, unsure how to respond.
He truly had no valid reason to inquire with Professor McGonagall. Such an act would be undignified and an overreaction.
After a moment of silence, Lucius spoke with a tone of warning, "It had better be true. Do not forget your identity and the responsibilities you bear for the Malfoy family. Do not bring disgrace upon our pure-blood heritage."
"He understands," Narcissa chimed in gently, trying to ease the tension. "He won't act recklessly."
Draco looked at Lucius and continued, "Father, I understand your concerns, but I believe that regardless of how the Muggle world develops, they cannot pose a risk of genocide to us Wizards. In fact, the risks they face are far greater than ours."
"Consider the news we usually hear. Most reports involve Wizards accidentally exposing magic, causing casualties and chaos in the Muggle world. There are extremely few cases of Muggles actually harming a Wizard.
"Given this, our animosity towards Muggles is entirely unnecessary. It's simply creating trouble for ourselves."
"You think I'm afraid of them?" Lucius slammed his hand on the table, causing the cutlery to clatter, his voice thick with anger.
"It's not fear, but concern for those foolish Wizards bringing disaster upon themselves! Do you know that when a Wizard marries a Muggle, their offspring are highly likely to lose their magical talent, becoming Muggles themselves? Even if they are fortunate enough to become a Wizard, their magical power will be greatly diminished. Over time, the family will gradually decline and even face extinction!"
After these words, the dining room fell into complete silence. Lucius's breathing gradually evened out, the anger in his eyes fading, replaced by gravity and weariness.
Draco understood. His father had finally revealed the truth—all the animosity and defensiveness stemmed from an obsession with pure-blood lineage and the protection of family power and inheritance.
From the perspective of the Malfoy family heir, this mindset was not entirely wrong; it was simply too extreme.
Draco slowly nodded, his tone sincere, "Father, I understand. You are absolutely right. The continuation of the family is paramount. Your considerations are all for the sake of the Malfoy legacy. There is no fault in that."
Seeing Draco's attitude, Lucius's expression gradually softened.
Narcissa breathed a sigh of relief and said with a smile, "It's good that our son can understand. In the future, discuss matters with us more and don't make us worry."
"Enough. Let this topic end here," Lucius raised a hand to rub his temples. "In the future, you must act with more consideration. Do not be so naive. In all matters, put the family's interests first. Remember your duty."
Draco nodded in agreement and said nothing more.
This dinner was heavy and oppressive from start to finish. The earlier warmth and ease vanished completely. Each person was preoccupied with their own thoughts, and the food tasted bland.
After hurriedly finishing his meal, Draco stood up, gave a slight bow to his parents, and said softly, "Father, Mother, I am rather tired. I will retire to my room first. Please take your time."
They both nodded in assent. Draco turned and left the dining room, his footsteps somewhat heavy.
After Draco departed, Narcissa watched his retreating back and said softly, "Today's words were too profound for him. Let him think it over properly. Don't put too much pressure on him."
Lucius gazed out at the deep night beyond the window, his tone grave, "He must know these things sooner or later. As the heir of the Malfoy family, he must eventually learn to shoulder these responsibilities. Telling him earlier might prevent many unnecessary troubles in the future, helping him avoid some detours."
Narcissa also nodded in agreement. Yet the worry in her eyes was unmistakable. She knew her husband's words held truth, and could only silently hope that Draco would truly understand this heavy burden.
Returning to his room, Draco removed his outer robe and lay directly on the bed. Staring at the intricate carvings on the ceiling, his thoughts churned, unable to settle for a long time.
Before crossing over, he naively believed that staying with Hermione was a simple matter of overcoming some prejudices.
The Weasley family was manageable. The Weasley family had many children; five or six brothers, each with their own talents and abilities. Only Ron seemed ordinary. The heavy burdens of carrying on the family line and inheriting the family legacy never truly fell upon his shoulders.
Moreover, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were open-minded and tolerant, always respecting their children's choices. His life had an extremely high degree of freedom, unbound by family interests.
In contrast, he, as the only son of the Malfoy family, had carried the mission of family inheritance since birth. That invisible burden was suffocatingly heavy.
The glory of the family, the obsession with pure-blood, the continuation of power—each and every one was like a shackle, binding Draco tightly.
What made it even more frustrating was that these constraints were difficult to judge as right or wrong. From the family's standpoint, they were entirely justified.
Yet from his own standpoint, they clashed with his heart's desire.
Only at this moment did Draco truly understand the helplessness and struggle contained in the ancient saying, "It is difficult to be both loyal and righteous."
His mind was a mess. He tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep.
The only way to break free from these constraints was to have his parents give him more siblings to share the burden of inheritance.
But this was ultimately a pipe dream, not something he could control.
Such a situation was truly extremely difficult. The road ahead was long, filled with unknowns and obstacles.
Hermione, what should I do?
Chapter 20: The Path of Playing the Fool and Eating the Tiger Begins
Lying on the brocade couch, his thoughts tangled like a mess of hemp, the more he thought, the more annoyed he became. Draco felt stifled and uncomfortable in his chest, truly wanting to curse out loud.
He had originally thought that being reborn into the Malfoy family, born with immense wealth and prominent power, would mean a smooth and worry-free life.
Who knew he would be burdened with so many invisible shackles, where even his genuine inner thoughts were bound by family rules. Such troubles were no lighter than those of an ordinary family.
In the midst of his agitation, even deep contemplation offered no solution. So he simply cast aside his distracting thoughts—let things be as they may.
He would figure it out in detail tomorrow. There was still some time before Hogwarts enrollment; he would surely find a way to persuade his parents.
Having set aside those heavy considerations, lying back on the soft couch, Draco instead felt a touch of boredom.
The Malfoy family had always prided themselves on being pure-blood, harboring a deep-seated hatred and utter rejection of all things Muggle. Searching high and low within the manor, he couldn't find a single ordinary object to relieve the tedium.
His gaze grew distant, and his thoughts drifted involuntarily to Hermione, the image of the girl in the wand shop cycling repeatedly in his mind.
That little Hermione with her high ponytail was something he had never seen before. Upon careful recollection, she appeared exceptionally pure and lovely.
At this thought, a faint smile unconsciously touched Draco's lips. Drowsiness gradually deepened, and he unknowingly fell into a deep sleep.
He was completely unaware that Professor McGonagall's solemn warning the previous night had already caused Hermione to draw a clear line between them in her heart. The slight fondness from their first meeting was now veiled in a frost of distance, difficult to warm again.
The next day, as dawn broke, the morning light filtered through the carved windows into the room, gently covering the bed with warm rays, making the brocade quilt shimmer with iridescent colors.
Draco slowly awoke, feeling refreshed and clear-headed, his body and limbs comfortably stretched. The gloom and annoyance of the previous day had completely vanished.
He got up and stretched with a great big yawn, his joints lightly popping, filled with the pleasantness of a morning rise.
After enjoying the exquisite breakfast Dobby had carefully prepared, he sat upright on the velvet sofa in the living room, lightly tapping the armrest with his fingertips, quietly planning how to pass the remaining pre-school time.
In truth, an idea had already taken root in his mind: to find an opportunity to visit Hermione's home, to study together and discuss magic with her.
This thought had quietly sprouted back when they were in Diagon Alley yesterday.
However, he was well aware that Hermione was meticulous and cautious in her actions. Having known each other for only a day, such a sudden invitation would be far too presumptuous and would undoubtedly make her suspicious and overthink. After much deliberation, he ultimately decided to put it aside for now.
As for a chance encounter on the street, that was even more out of the question.
Given Hermione's study-obsessed, top-student nature, she would surely be holed up at home during this period, burying her head in books, delving deep into magical knowledge, and would absolutely not wander outside idly to pass the time.
After turning it over in his mind, he found not a single plausible reason to meet her. He couldn't help but sigh softly in resignation. It seemed this pre-school preparation period would mostly have to be spent alone.
Nevertheless, Draco felt quite at ease. He had already set two core goals; all other trivial matters could be temporarily set aside.
The first is to eliminate Lord Voldemort. This matter, in fact, sounds rather straightforward.
He carries memories from the original story, privy to many secrets unknown to others.
In the future, he only needs to find the right opportunity to reveal these hidden truths to Dumbledore. With that old Headmaster's immense power and deep cunning, he would naturally devise plans to counter them. There's no need for Draco to exert himself or risk personal danger. He could simply sit back and reap the rewards.
The second is to win Hermione's heart.
In terms of looks, he was born with platinum hair and grey-blue eyes, handsome and dignified, naturally carrying the distinguished air of a noble scion. Among his peers in the Wizarding World, few could compare.
In terms of capability, with the System by his side, his knowledge and abilities far exceed the ordinary. With such uniquely advantageous conditions, winning her over should be easy; there's no need for excessive worry.
With no pressing concerns for his two core goals, Draco gradually shifted his focus to enrollment preparations.
Although he had always advocated for keeping a low profile and avoiding excessive showmanship, there's a saying that rings true: you can pretend to be weak, but you can't actually *be* weak.
As a Wizard, mastering spells and solidifying one's magical foundation is ultimately the cornerstone of survival. Only with genuine personal strength can one stand firm in the unpredictable Wizarding World.
However, having Draco study and delve into dull and tedious magic books on his own would be far too time-consuming and laborious.
Besides, he already had the System as a shortcut. If he still had to do everything himself, it would make the System seem useless, which would be a pity.
With this thought, he immediately summoned the System's exchange interface. With light taps of his fingertips, various spells available for exchange were displayed one by one.
He currently had 140 luck value accumulated. Exchanging ordinary, basic spells naturally posed no problem at all.
However, the spells listed in the exchange were densely packed and varied in category—offensive, defensive, illusion, and more—making him dizzy and overwhelmed. He actually found himself in a dilemma, unsure which ones to prioritize.
After some contemplation, Draco had an idea: why not just fetch the *standard book of spells* and use it as a reference? That would be efficient and targeted.
But at this moment, he was in the living room, and the book was in his bedroom upstairs. It wasn't a great distance, but he couldn't be bothered to move an inch.
Just then, two spells flashed in his mind: Apparition and Accio.
Malfoy Manor was naturally protected by anti-Apparition defenses.
But his father, Lucius, had surely set permissions for family members. Apparating within the manor should be no issue.
However, using a high-level spell like Apparition just to fetch a book seemed a bit excessive.
In that case, Accio appeared more suitable. A simple incantation would bring the book to him, saving effort and avoiding attention.
Yet, after weighing both options for a while, Draco changed his mind again.
Apparition is, after all, a high-level spatial magic. Ordinary Wizards must be at least seventeen and pass rigorous examinations to learn it. The slightest mistake can lead to catastrophic Splinching.
If he could master it now, before even turning eleven, it would provide a significant advantage and sense of security.
Moreover, the exchange cost was only 100 points. With his current total, it was no issue at all.
Having made up his mind, Draco lightly tapped the exchange interface and decisively selected the Apparition exchange.
The moment he confirmed, a clear notification chime sounded in his mind: "Ding. Altered original plot trajectory. luck value increased by 10."
"This works too?" Draco felt a surge of intense delight.
Could it be that changing the original course by learning a high-level spell early earned him extra luck value?
If so, could he exploit this by continuously exchanging various spells to farm luck value indefinitely?
While exchanging powerful high-level spells might not yield high returns, exchanging ordinary basic spells would be almost like getting them for free, plus extra points.
This prospect alone filled him with excitement and anticipation.
But for now, he should focus on getting the *standard book of spells*. Other thoughts could wait.
He immediately clicked the learning option for Apparition. Instantly, a torrent of complex information flooded his mind.
Intricate incantation techniques, precise spatial perception, and stable magical control—all were deeply imprinted as if he had studied it for decades, instantly becoming a master.
Overjoyed, Draco got up, focused his mind, and willed his magic. A faint shimmer surrounded him.
The next second, his form vanished from the living room and reappeared inside his bedroom.
He landed lightly, steady and composed, without the slightest discomfort or disorientation.
Ordinary Wizards learning Apparition often experience agonizing, tearing sensations and risk Splinching. Yet the System-provided knowledge was flawless and painless.
"As expected of the System—top quality," he praised inwardly, giving the System a mental thumbs-up.
This smooth, effortless experience was a far cry from the nauseating, disorienting sensation of Apparating with his father yesterday.
That trip to Diagon Alley, with its swirling vertigo and wrenching pull, had nearly made him lose his breakfast.
Returning to the living room, book in hand, he was about to start studying when his cronies Goyle and Vincent showed up.
Chapter 21: Henchmen as Thugs
The magical object on the door announced the visitors—it was the body's original henchmen, Goyle and Vincent.
Draco instructed the object to open the door automatically.
The two entered the living room. Draco looked over and saw two tall, imposing figures standing there, their robust builds far exceeding those of typical children their age.
If not for the lingering youthful innocence and immaturity in their faces, one would surely mistake them for adult thugs.
Standing so upright, Draco, seated on the sofa, had to tilt his head back slightly to get a clear look at them.
"Who are you?" Draco asked, feigning confusion, though a hint of amusement glinted in his eyes.
As soon as he finished speaking, the sturdier-looking boy on the left grinned broadly, his voice thick and muffled like a drum: "Stop joking around, boss! I'm Goyle! How can you not recognize me?"
The boy on the right quickly chimed in, his tone urgent, as if afraid Draco had genuinely forgotten: "I'm Vincent, boss! We've been together since we were little. How could you not know us?"
Their eyes were filled with sincere confusion, completely unaware that Draco was deliberately teasing them.
Draco couldn't help but chuckle, waving his hand dismissively as his tone softened: "Just messing with you. Of course I recognize you. Come sit down—what are you standing around for?"
Once they were seated, Draco looked them up and down and couldn't resist asking: "What on earth have you two been eating to grow so tall and burly? You're a good head taller than most kids your age."
Goyle scratched his head, a simple, honest smile spreading across his face: "Well... it's my mom's meat sauce and mashed potatoes. She always serves me a huge plate, and I finish every last bite."
"Me too! Besides meat sauce and mashed potatoes, my mom always makes all kinds of cakes—chocolate, fruit—and I can eat as much as I want. She never holds back." Vincent quickly added, a touch of pride in his eyes, as if eating a lot was a glorious achievement.
Listening to their blunt words, Draco shook his head helplessly and offered a piece of advice: "From now on, you should eat less and learn to control your appetites. Being this overweight and cumbersome will cause you a lot of trouble in the future. Even if you want to throw a punch, your movements won't be quick, and you'll likely end up at a disadvantage."
Upon hearing this, Goyle immediately made a pained face, his brows furrowing in distress: "Boss, that's way too hard! I can't help myself when I see good food. I just can't control it."
Vincent nodded vigorously in agreement: "Yeah, boss! Asking us to eat less is worse than killing us! Eating is the happiest thing in the world."
They both wore expressions of profound suffering, as if missing a single bite would be an unbearable torment.
Seeing this, Draco understood that their simple, straightforward natures made it difficult for them to change their gluttonous habits anytime soon.
So he stopped pressing the issue and instead asked: "Did you come to my house today for a specific reason?"
Goyle quickly straightened up, a hint of excitement in his voice: "Wasn't it you who gave the order the day before yesterday, boss? You said we should start practicing flying early to prepare for Hogwarts' Quidditch, and told us to come today to be your training partners and practice broomsticks with you."
"That's right! We made sure to come early so we wouldn't delay your plans, boss. Whatever you want to do, we're fully on board and ready to help." Vincent chimed in supportively.
Both looked eager and attentive, awaiting Draco's instructions.
But Draco slowly shook his head: "No training today. I have other important matters to attend to, so no broomstick practice. We'll reschedule for another day."
Hearing this, a flicker of disappointment crossed Goyle's face, but it was quickly replaced by fervor: "If the boss has business, how can we, as your henchmen, not get involved? Whatever you need to do, we'll follow and help without question."
"Exactly! Whatever concerns the boss is our top priority. We'd go through fire and water for you, let alone lend a hand." Vincent also looked utterly loyal.
Draco looked at them, both amused and exasperated, and raised an eyebrow: "Since when did you two become so smooth-talking? Have you even learned how to flatter?"
Goyle showed a simple, honest grin, scratching his head sheepishly: "Isn't that just from learning from you, boss! You've always had a way with words, so we figured following your lead couldn't be wrong."
Draco immediately retorted: "Nonsense! Since when have I been the type to enjoy flattery or buttering people up? Don't go making false connections."
Vincent quickly backed him up: "Exactly! Plenty of people are already lining up to flatter the boss, all trying to curry favor. The boss has no need to flatter anyone else. Goyle, you've got it all wrong."
Draco was left speechless, thinking to himself: Vincent isn't wrong. Given Lucius Malfoy's power and influence, people have always flocked to ingratiate themselves with the Malfoy family. The original body never had to bow and scrape to anyone.
But saying it so bluntly does come off as rather arrogant.
Suppressing his thoughts, Draco changed the subject: "Since you two have nothing else to do, go back home first and fetch the magic books you'll need for school. Today, you'll follow me and learn some basic spells."
At these words, both Goyle and Vincent froze in place, their faces blank with confusion.
Goyle blinked, his tone disbelieving: "Boss... you want to study?"
Draco raised an eyebrow and shot back: "Why shouldn't I study? Aren't Wizards supposed to learn spells?"
Vincent quickly waved his hands: "You can! Of course you can! It's just... you never touched a magic book before, boss. You didn't even bother paying attention in class. Why the sudden initiative to study?"
Their eyes held genuine bewilderment, clearly taken aback by Draco's change in behavior.
Draco sighed impatiently: "What nonsense is that? Haven't I been to school before? Since we're going to Hogwarts, we should prepare in advance so we don't fall behind once we start."
Vincent hurriedly explained: "No, boss, that's not what I meant. I meant you never really studied seriously before, never bothered with textbooks. Today, you're suddenly so proactive..."
"Enough!" Draco cut him off. "Stop the chatter. Go get your books now. What's with all the questions?"
Goyle scratched his head, looking sheepish: "But boss... we haven't bought the magic books for school yet. Our families haven't prepared them."
"Then hurry back and tell your families to take you to Diagon Alley to buy what you need!" Draco urged. "School is starting soon. You should've had this sorted out already. Don't delay."
Vincent looked at Draco with a mix of hurt and disappointment: "Boss, you've changed. The three of us used to be inseparable, doing everything together. Now you're buying school supplies without even inviting us."
Draco was utterly exasperated and snapped back bluntly: "Stop talking crap! Do I have to take you with me for everything? If I go take a shit, do you need to stand next to me and smell it too?"
This crude, straightforward retort immediately shut them up, leaving both looking awkward and unable to muster a response.
Seeing them finally quiet down, Draco softened his tone slightly and offered an excuse: "I'm doing this to train you to be more independent. You can't rely on me for everything. Once you're at Hogwarts, you'll need to handle your own affairs."
But Goyle wasn't convinced and shook his head: "What's so great about books? They're boring. We'll just learn from you, boss. Following you gives us leaps in improvement—much better than reading books."
"That's right! Since following the boss, I can eat three extra bowls of rice, and I'm getting stronger by the day. That's progress!" Vincent chimed in, seizing the moment to flatter Draco again.
Draco was completely speechless. Looking at their increasingly portly figures, he thought to himself: This isn't progress—it's just getting fat. They're practically losing their waistlines, and they have the nerve to call it improvement.
Suppressing his frustration, Draco adopted a stern, no-nonsense tone: "Cut the crap, both of you! Go buy your school supplies now—textbooks, wand accessories, whatever you need. Get it done, and don't come back until you have everything."
"Otherwise, by the time I've mastered a bunch of spells, you two will still be like Muggles, not even knowing basic magic. That would be an embarrassment to me in the future."
Vincent, seeing the point, quickly nodded in understanding: "You're right, boss! We can't let you down. We'll go get everything as soon as possible and come back to you."
Goyle also agreed: "Yeah! We'll hurry up and buy what we need. We won't disappoint you, boss."
Seeing them like this, Draco nodded with satisfaction and urged them on: "Good, now that you understand, hurry up and go. Each of you, go home and get your families to take you shopping."
"Got it, boss! I'll head back right now and tell my parents!" Goyle said eagerly.
Vincent quickly followed: "I'll go with you! We can keep each other company on the way!"
The two hurried off, their figures gradually disappearing down the path.
Finally having sent off these two simple-minded henchmen, peace returned to the manor.
Draco let out a sigh of relief. Just as he sat back down in the living room and opened a book, before his fingers could even touch the page, the magical object on the door chimed again with a crisp 'ding-dong,' announcing another visitor.
Draco frowned, puzzled. He had just gotten rid of Goyle and Vincent. Who could be coming now?
Chapter 22: The Hell, This Is Pansy Parkinson?
The magical doorbell chimed with a clear ring. Amidst the swirling light and shadow, the visitor's name became clearly visible—Pansy Parkinson.
Draco's thoughts stirred slightly. He raised his hand and gave a light wave. Following the guidance of magic, the carved door slowly swung open.
As Pansy stepped inside and her figure crossed the threshold, the door leaves quietly closed again, shutting out the morning light and breeze beyond the eaves.
Pansy walked with light, unhurried steps through the courtyard. The plants beside the bluestone path swayed gently with her stride, and fragmented spots of light fell upon her shoulders as she made her way to the drawing room.
Draco leaned against the velvet sofa, waiting quietly. His gaze fell upon the newcomer, but he suddenly froze.
A wave of confusion rose in his heart: The girl before him had a graceful figure and delicate, lovely features—clearly an unfamiliar face. Where was Pansy Parkinson?
As he pondered, the girl had already walked up close. She looked at Draco with a familiar, coquettish pout. "Brother Draco, it's only been a few days. How come you don't recognize me already?"
Draco scrutinized her intently for a moment, yet still had no recollection. He couldn't help but frown and ask, "You are?"
Hearing this, Pansy jolted violently. Her small face instantly tensed, and her previously somewhat gentle expression froze stiff.
A flash of disbelief shot through her eyes—How dare he forget me?
The Parkinson Family and the Malfoy family have always been on good terms, with generations of interaction. Am I not even worthy of being remembered by him?
Or perhaps, the Malfoy family already looks down upon the Parkinson family, deeming us insignificant, unwilling to maintain even a shred of affection?
Such forgetfulness was a blatant insult, a disregard for her and the entire Parkinson Family!
At this thought, anger gradually ignited from the depths of her heart, spreading through her veins to her limbs.
Her small face turned from pale to flushed, hot fury coloring her cheeks. Her narrow eyes gleamed with a cold light.
Yet, amidst this surging anger, a trace of indescribable hurt quietly flitted through her heart.
She had cherished feelings for him since childhood, always longing to be close to him. Yet he couldn't even remember her face. Was this affection ultimately all in vain?
But this vulnerability was fleeting. Pansy swiftly concealed the grievance in her eyes, wrapping herself in a thick layer of arrogance, refusing to show the slightest hint of discomposure.
She abruptly lifted her chin, her neck held ramrod straight, assuming a posture even haughtier than Draco's, as if trying to use this display to suppress the panic and anger in her heart.
"I am Pansy Parkinson. I believe, at the garden party at our home last summer, your father and mine chatted for a long time on the terrace, discussing the new regulation changes at the Ministry of Magic. You were there too. Can you truly have no impression at all?" Pansy's tone was cold as ice.
Her words carried a deliberate reminder, each syllable clear and spoken with undeniable certainty, attempting to jog Draco's memory while also exerting silent pressure.
The friendship between their families was right before them. If he remembered even a fraction of it, he shouldn't be so dismissive.
"Pansy Parkinson?" Draco's heart shook violently. He subconsciously repeated the name, his eyes filled with shock.
In the original body's memories and the past I know, Pansy Parkinson has always been portrayed as homely in appearance and harsh in temperament. How could she look like this?
The girl before him had a slender figure, roughly the same height as Hermione. She wore neat bangs, her deep brown short hair cut into a sleek bob that lay obediently against her ears, accentuating her slender neck.
Her eyes were a rich, dark color, slightly narrow in shape with upturned outer corners. Her gaze was sharp as a blade, carrying an innate chill.
Her facial lines were clean and sharp, without any excess. Her lips were pressed tightly together, the corners slightly downturned. Her overall expression conveyed a sense of aloofness and pride.
This already surpassed most girls from the movies, though not quite reaching Hermione's level... And this pretty little girl—she was Pansy Parkinson?
Draco mused to himself. Such looks were simply a world apart from the image in his memory.
On second thought, it made sense—the young master of the prestigious Malfoy family, noble in status and outstanding in talent. If he had truly been infatuated with someone ugly for six whole years, that would be utterly absurd.
Even picking any ordinary girl would be better than that.
For a moment, Draco was lost in thought. His gaze lingered on her a bit longer, carefully examining the girl before him.
Yet he paid no attention at all to her earlier anger and deliberately displayed pride, simply immersed in this Disruptive cognitive disruption, unable to look away for a long time.
Pansy, who had been holding back a bellyful of anger, saw that he completely ignored her rage and arrogance, merely staring at her in a daze with an inscrutable, complex look.
For a moment, the anger in her heart gradually dissipated, replaced by thick confusion. Then, a sliver of secret delight quietly sprouted and spread within her.
What's wrong with him? In the past, though he wasn't particularly warm towards her, he had never stared at her so distractedly like this.
This look held a bit of inquiry, and seemed to carry a touch of admiration. Could it be... he's finally noticed my uniqueness?
Finally noticed my appearance, realized I'm not just any ordinary girl?
Once such thoughts arose, they grew wildly like vines, causing Pansy's heart to flutter with excitement.
She secretly clenched her fingertips, warning herself she must seize this opportunity, must make Dracoremember her completely, firmly locking his gaze on her.
Pansy deliberately straightened her spine, making that arrogance even more apparent.
Then, she subtly softened the coldness in her eyes, adding a hint of barely perceptible gentleness, her gaze meeting his directly.
The drawing room was quiet, with only the sound of plants swaying gently outside the window. Light and shadow flowed around the two of them, and the atmosphere gradually grew Subtle.
The flush that had risen to the girl's cheeks from anger faded extremely quickly, replaced by a light blush spreading across her cheeks.
It was unclear whether the lingering confusion hadn't fully dispersed, or if it hid some unspeakable shyness.
But Pansy's shyness was never the kind where a girl lowers her head, avoids eye contact, and appears timid.
On the contrary, she deliberately lifted her chin to look straight at Draco, her gaze carrying a deliberately maintained provocation, as if trying to use this bold eye contact to mask the inexplicable fluster in her heart.
She subtly adjusted her stance. Her originally tense posture relaxed slightly, her shoulders sinking a bit. Unconsciously, her bearing gained a touch of ladylike grace.
Every subtle movement exuded deliberate neatness, as if inadvertently displaying her propriety.
Yet this gentleness wasn't fully settled. Pansy then lightly crossed her arms in front of her chest, making her shoulders appear even straighter.
That innate pride quietly resurfaced. She wanted to show a girl's charm, yet didn't wish to appear weak or easily bullied, striving to find a balance between softness and strength.
However, the icy edge in her earlier tone gradually lost some of its sharpness, now mixed with a touch of coquettish sarcasm:
"What's the matter, Young Master Malfoy? After just a few days apart, not only has your memory become so poor, but you've also tossed basic manners out the window? Or perhaps, you've finally realized that treating a young lady this way—speaking carelessly, staring distractedly—is in itself highly improper?"
As the words left her mouth, Pansy's gaze remained firmly locked on him.
The sharpness in her eyes hadn't diminished, but she secretly hid a sliver of fragmented anticipation, hoping to find some trace of fluster or a hint of different sentiment in his eyes.
Chapter 23: Pansy's Demand
At Pansy's accusation, a faint trace of amusement rippled in Draco's eyes.
"My apologies, Miss Pansy. It was not my intention to be discourteous. It's just that you've grown even more radiant and lovely than before, your appearance has changed so much that I failed to recognize you for a moment. I hope you won't take offense."
Before he even finished speaking, Pansy's breath hitched. Her narrow, phoenix eyes widened slightly, filled with incredulous astonishment.
It was hard to believe Draco was actually apologizing?
Members of the Malfoy family were always aloof and arrogant, looking down on everyone from their lofty perch. When had they ever so easily bowed their heads and apologized to others?
This sudden apology sent a violent tremor through Pansy's heart, leaving her momentarily bewildered.
Before her emotions could settle, the words 'even more beautiful' drifted softly into her ears like a gentle breeze skimming the surface of a lake, stirring ripples upon ripples.
Pansy's phoenix eyes instantly narrowed, her gaze sharp as a probe, scrutinizing every inch of Draco's face.
She refused to let slip the slightest twitch of a muscle, nor would she miss any flicker of emotion in Draco's gray-blue eyes.
Pansy urgently wanted to dissect this sudden sweet talk thoroughly: Was it a perfunctory remedy after he realized his rudeness? A more sophisticated form of humiliation, deliberately posturing? Or... could it possibly be genuine praise from his heart?
Amidst the churning doubts, a scorching warmth had already stealthily risen from the depths of her heart. Carrying the vanity and flutter unique to a young maiden, it slowly melted the icy shell she had deliberately built up earlier.
She forcibly suppressed the turmoil in her heart, deliberately letting that offended expression hang on her face for one more second.
Yet, the corners of her mouth had already uncontrollably curved upwards, sketching a sharp, bright arc that couldn't conceal her elation.
"Hmph." Pansy let out a short puff of air from her nose, indistinguishable between reproach and coquettishness.
But as she lifted her chin even higher, her posture remained haughty, yet her gaze now held a touch of the newly acquired pride belonging to the 'admired one.'
"Do you think saying something like that can so easily excuse your earlier rudeness, Malfoy?"
Upon hearing this, the smile at the corner of Draco's mouth deepened. He deftly tossed the question back: "Oh? And what, in Miss Pansy's esteemed opinion, should I do to make amends for today's transgression and appease your anger?"
Hearing Draco's counter-question, Pansy's dark eyes instantly brightened, a flash of unconcealed triumph and delight shimmering in their depths.
She clearly knew that the initiative had now been symbolically handed to her.
This was a rare gift, an opportunity to close the distance between them. She had to make good use of it, absolutely could not let it slip away easily.
Pansy deliberately tilted her head slightly to one side, letting her meticulously styled dark brown short hair slide over her shoulder, the strands lightly brushing against her clothing.
Then she began to imitate her mother's picky (picky) yet somewhat Charming (charmingly naive) demeanor at tea parties, looking both charming and carrying a touch of a young lady's willfulness, exceptionally lively.
"Hmm..." Pansy drew out the syllable, her index finger lightly tapping her chin, pretending to be deep in thought. Yet, a hint of cunning hid in her eyes, as if she were carefully calculating something.
"First," she slowly raised one slender finger, her tone carrying the Of course (taken-for-granted) air of a young lady accustomed to being indulged, "you can't just vaguely say I've changed. Since you claim I've grown more beautiful, you must prove you've truly paid close attention, not just Perfunctory (mouthing empty words)."
As she spoke, she lightly leaned forward a step, her body inclining slightly, instantly closing the distance between them considerably.
Draco could now clearly smell the faint fragrance on her—a child's sweet perfume, not strong, but exceptionally fresh, lingering at the tip of his nose.
He instinctively took half a step back. As his gaze shifted, he happened to catch sight of the ornament in Pansy's hair and Speak in the moment (seized the opportunity to say): "That hair ribbon of yours is rather unusual. The style is unique, just looking at it I knew (you can tell) it's quite precious."
Hearing this, the triumph in Pansy's eyes intensified, laced with a bit of show off (showing off) and pride as she said: "Of course. This ribbon today is the latest style Mother brought back from Paris a few days ago. It's embroidered with an exquisite Thestral feather pattern, and the thread used is an extremely rare special Magic Threads (magical thread). Whenever it's in dim light, it glimmers with Shattered Light (fine, scattered light), dazzling and shifting like a real galaxy, exceptionally beautiful."
"Truly exquisite and extraordinary. Such a style, only you could carry it off, exactly (just right) to accentuate your lively spirit." Draco He praised her, just as she had said. (took the opportunity to praise along her lines).
These words thoroughly pleased Pansy. The smile on her face grew even brighter, the delight in her eyes almost overflowing. Her haughtiness faded considerably, replaced by more of a young maiden's charming liveliness.
"Secondly," Pansy slowly raised a second finger, the expression on her face gradually turning somewhat sly (cunning). This More like (seemed more like) she was engaging in what she deemed a 'fair' transaction with Draco.
"Since you missed my... uh, missed the process of me gradually becoming prettier, failed to witness these changes!"
After a pause, Pansy continued, "Then you must properly make up for this Pity (regret). Next weekend, our family garden will host a little Magic Little Match (magical competition) casting the Engorgement Charm on Bubble Pod (Bubble Pod). Father Specially invited (specially invited) several familiar friends from the wizarding world to participate. It will be very lively. You must come, and..."
Her words paused slightly. The cunning in Pansy's eyes abruptly convergence (receded) a bit, replaced by a flash of Undeniable sharpness (unquestionable sharpness): "You have to be my partner. Those peers in the manor, or the invited children (young scions), are either timid and incompetent, or crude and reckless (rash). The A silly look (foolish appearance) of Crabbe and Goyle It has absolutely no spiritual energy. (utterly lacking any wit). I don't want to partner with them and It was a waste of style. (lower my standards for nothing)."
Her words were full of disdain for others, Only (only) when mentioning making Draco her partner was there an obvious stubbornness.
Draco shook his head upon hearing this, his tone carrying a note of Helpless excuse (helpless evasion): "But I just purchased my wand in Diagon Alley not long ago. I haven't even grasped the most basic spells yet. As for magic (magic) like the Engorgement Charm, I've never even touched it, don't even know the incantation syllables. How could I possibly be your partner? If I embarrass myself on the spot, it would Instead, it delayed you. (hold you back instead). Wouldn't that be It's not worth it. (gaining little at great cost)?"
While this was an excuse, it also held a grain of truth.
Draco had no desire to participate in such leisure competitions among Pure-blood families to begin with, let alone partner with her.
Pansy was Pure and beautiful (pretty) in appearance, Exquisite (delicate) in figure. Though her temperament had a touch of spoiled (willfulness), it also held the vibrancy of a young maiden.
But deep down, Draco knew all too clearly that her closeness to him Mostly due to (mostly stemmed from) the power and glory of the House of Malfoy, from the A friendship spanning generations(friendship between families over generations), rather than truly being Devoted to (infatuated with) himself.
This Goodwill (fondness)Mixed with (mixed with)utilitarian (utility) and Family background (social standing) was never what Draco wanted.
What Draco truly thought of and yearned for had always only been someone like Hermione—that pure, transparent, utterly sincere manner. He I just want to honestly cherish this sentiment. (just wanted to honestly guard this feeling), slowly drawing closer to her.
Furthermore, the competition hosted at Pansy's home would undoubtedly invite children (young scions) from Pure-blood families in the wizarding world.
Those people, since birth, had been indoctrinated by their families with the idea (ideology) of 'pure-blood supremacy.' Their bones carried an innate sense of superiority, looking down on muggle-bornand half-blood Wizards, acting arrogant and domineering (arrogantly and tyrannically), full of pride and Prejudice (arrogance and prejudice).
Draco had always loathed such outdated and prejudiced ideas (obstinate and bigoted thinking), and had no wish to associate with them. In the future, he would definitely not follow the predetermined trajectory (predetermined path) of Pure-blood families, Unwilling to be bound by bloodline and social status (unwilling to be bound hand and foot by bloodline and social standing)."