Mrs. Malfoy purchased five sets of the newest wizard robes at Fengya Wizard Clothing Store—one for herself, one for Draco, one for Pansy Parkinson, and another that matched Lucius Malfoy's measurements exactly.
Despite Lucius' death, Mrs. Malfoy hadn't discarded any of his clothing. Everything remained neatly arranged in their bedroom, untouched. Deep down, she harbored the hope that he would one day return, wear the luxury robes she bought for him, and accompany her to social functions like before.
Draco noticed this subtle display of faith. The violet robe he now wore made him appear more mature than before. However, the final set of robes his mother selected confused him—it wasn't sized for Lucius, nor was it intended for a woman.
The proportions were odd—shorter in height than Lucius, but broad at the shoulders and hips, clearly male. Draco grew increasingly curious about who this mysterious wizard might be.
Before he could inquire further, Mrs. Malfoy paid the clerk and declared she would be taking Draco into Hogwarts.
Draco blinked, surprised. "Mother, did you say you're taking me into Hogwarts? But I'm not even eleven yet…"
"You're absolutely right," Mrs. Malfoy replied, brushing his blonde hair gently. "But today I made a generous donation of gold Galleons to Hogwarts on behalf of the Twelve School Governors. It will fund the school's owl-replacement project."
"So, my dear child," she said in a soft but firm tone, "you've been granted special permission to visit. It's a rare opportunity. I want you to experience campus life in advance, and most importantly, see how your seniors study magic."
Draco nodded silently. Ever since Lucius died, he'd locked himself in his room, thinking deeply about the future. He believed he was ready to weather the storm. In just under two years, he would be sorted into Slytherin House.
His thoughts drifted immediately to the person his mother might've meant by "senior"—Moriarty Slytherin.
The name had been drilled into his mind. Since the previous year, Lucius had mentioned Moriarty no less than five times a day, praising his heritage, talents, and reputation.
Then there was Lilith Piliwick.
Draco grimaced. He had met her recently and disliked her penetrating gaze. She looked at him and his mother as though they were helpless prey—a frightened doe and her fawn.
Her expression carried pity, superiority, and subtle ridicule.
Draco had once worn that same expression when looking at others. Now, the tables had turned.
And of course—Soldaya Selwyn.
Thinking of that senior, two years ahead of him, Draco clenched his fists in frustration.
"You didn't expect me to show up like this, did you?" he muttered under his breath, plotting how to make an unforgettable impression.
Twenty minutes later, the Malfoys arrived in Snape's office via Floo powder. As the green flames vanished, Snape's deep voice greeted them.
"I'm sorry about Lucius, Narcissa."
Snape's lips tightened in a rare show of sentiment. He had known the Malfoys since school—Lucius had been his prefect, occasionally offering him guidance in their Slytherin days.
"Thank you, Severus," Mrs. Malfoy said, giving a solemn nod. Draco also greeted him politely.
"The funeral will be held Friday," she added. "Can you come?"
"I'll be there," Snape replied.
Mrs. Malfoy quickly shifted topics. "I need to see Headmaster Dumbledore."
"He's in the Headmaster's office. I'll escort you." Snape's tone was brief, as ever.
As they approached the door, Narcissa suddenly spoke again. "Severus, would you consider becoming Draco's godfather?"
Snape's eyes flicked toward Draco. He contemplated the question briefly before replying, "We'll discuss it later."
Narcissa let out a quiet sigh. "At least allow him to walk around the castle."
Draco's face lit up. "May I go to the Slytherin common room?"
Snape arched a brow. He nearly scoffed, but remembering that Draco had just lost his father, he refrained. "If you can find your way to the Slytherin dungeon," he said dryly, "I'll consider being your godfather."
"Stop that," Narcissa said, irritated. "Draco's not going to the dungeon. He's delivering this wizard robe—to Moriarty Slytherin."
Both Draco and Snape looked at her, stunned.
Narcissa took a folded robe from her enchanted handbag and handed it to Draco.
"This is a token of gratitude," she said gently. "Go on, Draco. I trust you'll do well. Making new friends is the first step to success—just like your father once did."
Initially, Draco wanted to protest. His mother buying an expensive robe for a boy three years his senior and sending him to deliver it personally? That was almost humiliating.
But her final sentence echoed in his mind: Make new friends. Just like your father did.
If this robe could help him befriend Moriarty Slytherin, it would be worth it.
He ran his hand over the fine fabric. It was a limited-edition piece, exquisitely crafted.
Draco nodded.
"Moriarty's at the Quidditch pitch," Snape reminded him. Draco blinked and dashed out.
"Thank you, Severus," Narcissa said earnestly.
Snape simply gave a slight nod and led her toward Dumbledore's office.
Draco emerged into the stone hallway, only to realize he had no idea where he was. Swallowing his pride, he approached a girl with blue eyes and asked for directions.
She smiled, eyes twinkling. "Going to the Quidditch pitch? So am I. Come with me. You don't look like a Hogwarts student. Hope you don't mind me saying, you seem a bit young."
"I'm Draco Malfoy," he answered, standing straighter. "I came with my mother."
"Malfoy?" she echoed. "That Malfoy?"
"If you mean the platinum-blond noble line, then yes, that's me." Even with grief lurking beneath the surface, Draco's pride remained intact.
He didn't notice the sympathetic glance she cast him.
Poor boy. Everyone had heard about Lucius being killed by a vampire. And his mother—rumors said she was being manipulated by a dark wizard. So tragic.
Draco failed to realize just how much Hogwarts students already knew. He strutted beside the girl until they reached the Quidditch pitch.
"There are so many people!" Draco whispered, eyes wide. The stadium's edge brimmed with excited students from all four Houses.
"Is there a match today?" he asked nervously.
"No. But Moriarty gathered dozens of Quidditch players to test the new broomstick he designed."
She glanced around and spotted Moriarty in the crowd. "There he is."
Then she left Draco behind and walked directly toward him.
"Moriarty… Quidditch… A new broom…" Draco muttered, stunned.
He suddenly remembered a conversation between Lucius and Moriarty during the boy's last visit. A prototype broom! Moriarty had even promised to gift him one.
Heart pounding, Draco followed.
Students seemed to part for the girl as she moved toward Moriarty. Draco stuck close, using her path to slip through the crowd.
Eventually, they reached the center, where Moriarty stood in a ring of admirers. Among them—Lilith Piliwick, with her aloof beauty, and Soldaya Selwyn, looking composed and powerful.
Draco readied his most impressive introduction, one that would leave an impression.
But Lilith spotted him first.
"Penello, since when did you have a personal valet?" she said coolly, arms crossed.
"I don't need one," Penello replied with a shrug. "I'm not some spoiled heiress. I just met the little Malfoy on the way."
The moment the word "Malfoy" left her lips, the pitch went silent.
The wind from the brooms howled above, but otherwise—not a sound.
Then, like synchronized clockwork, everyone turned to stare at Draco.
He froze.
Something in their gaze was off. Pity? Suspicion? Contempt?
Whatever it was—it wasn't admiration.