Aside from this year's freshmen, everyone present knew exactly what kind of person Draco was.
If words failed, he acted.
As Pansy and the others liked to put it, he was domineering.
Several of the more experienced wizards visibly flinched the moment Draco drew his wand, as though some unpleasant memory had just resurfaced.
For example, Ron Weasley, standing silently in the crowd with his head lowered.
Or the Head Boy, who now felt as if he had just been marked by a dragon.
Step.
It was almost unbelievable that a single, light footstep could make every wizard retreat in perfect unison.
And when the wand engraved with the Malfoy crest slowly lifted, a strange mix of excitement, fear, and anticipation stirred in their chests.
One thing was certain.
No one believed that this young Malfoy would calmly sit down and talk things through.
...
Just as the surrounding wizards were debating whether to retreat even farther to avoid being caught in the crossfire, Penelope—both Head Girl and the organizer of this exchange event—naturally had no intention of letting anyone get hurt.
Even knowing she might not be able to stop Draco, she still stepped forward.
"Let's calm down. It hasn't reached that point yet."
"Penelope…"
Though they had only met a few times, Penelope had already grasped Draco's domineering nature. She didn't place her hopes on persuading him.
Instead, she turned to the three girls beside him.
More precisely, she looked to Hermione Granger—the one who appeared the most rational, and who was, importantly, a Gryffindor.
Her judgment wasn't wrong.
Pansy, currently operating on pure devotion, was clearly not a reliable option.
As for Astoria, who wore a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes, Penelope wasn't confident she could sway her either.
That left the seemingly calm Miss Hermione.
But—
"I trust Draco."
Without hesitation, Hermione broke eye contact and said it plainly in response to Penelope's silent plea.
"..."
For a moment, Penelope seriously questioned whether her position as Head Girl carried any weight at all. At the same time, irritation toward her partner surged within her.
Why hadn't he learned his lesson?
More than anything, she was frustrated with this troublesome junior, Draco.
And just as Penelope was feeling helpless, she had no idea that her stepping forward had given the Head Boy behind her a surge of misplaced confidence.
His legs stopped shaking.
His back straightened.
Believing he had been protected by his goddess, his fear vanished.
Now—
How could a man continue hiding behind a woman?
He stepped forward again, placing himself directly in front of Draco.
As if shouting would lend him courage, he yelled,
"Did I say anything wrong?! I'm sure there are people here who don't believe a Death Eater could cast the Patronus Charm!"
"…What are you doing?!" Penelope gasped, her eyes wide. Her composed, elder-sister demeanor had completely fallen apart.
"Don't worry. Leave this to me."
"..."
That look in his eyes—affectionate… no, self-satisfied—made Penelope's face twitch. She silently stepped aside.
If I ever interfere in his business again, I'm an idiot.
Seeing all this unfold, Draco, who had been gathering his magic, paused.
For the first time, a thought surfaced in his mind.
Was he really taking someone like this too seriously?
...
If someone claimed that all Gryffindors were driven by a sense of justice, that might be a slight exaggeration.
But if you said they all had a reckless streak buried in their hearts, that would be perfectly accurate.
The moment the still-unnamed Head Boy finished speaking, several Gryffindors who had never gotten along with Draco stepped forward to stand opposite him.
Among them, the most eye-catching was Harry Potter, directing a stag.
"Potter…"
"Malfoy, this isn't a place for you to do as you please."
"I see. So that Patronus… is what's giving you confidence?"
Draco lightly flicked his wand and narrowed his eyes at the stag, which was staring at him warily.
If he had been casual before, now he was genuinely interested.
The Patronus Charm.
Although it had become known primarily as the spell to repel Dementors, it was, in truth, one of the oldest and most powerful Defensive Charms in the wizarding world.
Draco's gaze roamed thoughtfully over the stag.
He wondered whether it could withstand the Fiendfyre Curse in his hand.
The thought was tempting.
But Draco wasn't foolish enough to forget where he was.
Setting aside whether this was an appropriate place to unleash Fiendfyre, there was also the possibility that that meddlesome Dumbledore who loved to observe and interfere was lurking somewhere nearby.
So Draco suppressed the impulse. He nudged away the silver dog at his feet that was trying to lick him.
"The Patronus Charm, hm?"
"What? You actually think you can cast it? Don't make me laugh!"
The Head Boy's sneer gave Pansy and the others a strong sense of déjà vu.
After all, he had said almost the exact same thing earlier.
And Pansy had promptly proven him wrong.
In response to the mockery, Draco merely rotated his wand lazily between his fingers.
"Well, how would I know unless I try? It looks simple enough."
"…What did you just say?"
"Simple?!"
"You've got to be joking!"
Compared to Pansy's sharp tongue, Draco's relaxed tone and effortless arrogance were far more infuriating. Even Harry Potter's expression darkened.
No one understood better than he did how difficult it was to summon a Patronus.
And seeing the look of admiration on Pansy's face as she gazed at Draco only stirred something bitter in his chest—resentment, jealousy.
Sensing its master's hostility, the stag lowered its head, angling its antlers toward Draco in a clear attack posture.
But what none of them expected was that this small action would allow everyone present to understand what it meant to face a Thunderbird alone and survive.
"Ugh!"
"...What is this?"
"It's suffocating…"
"This magic—no way…"
Thick.
Oppressive.
The faint golden figure at the center seemed to be wrapped in visible waves of magic.
There was no wind, yet his velvet robes fluttered as if stirred by an unseen force.
Instinctively, everyone narrowed their eyes toward him, as though failing to do so would make it impossible to see clearly.
The sheer magnitude of that magical power alone was enough to drive an opponent to despair.
In that instant, a single word surfaced in every wizard's mind.
Monster.