Chapter 37: Desperate Harry, No Helping Hand
The match had been going on for thirty minutes.
Ninety to zero.
Gryffindor hadn't scored a single point.
The chasers were being knocked all over the place.
The Beaters, Fred and George, swung their bats, but they couldn't even graze the bludgers.
Wood, the Keeper, stood before the goalposts, motionless, allowing the Quaffle to pass through the hoops time and time again.
The morale of the entire Gryffindor team had collapsed.
Only Harry Potter was still holding on.
He controlled his broom with his left hand, the sharp pain in his right shoulder making every breath a torment.
Cold sweat matted his hair, and his vision was beginning to blur into darkness.
He was still searching—searching for the Golden Snitchthat could end this nightmare.
Draco Malfoy followed right behind him, keeping a steady distance.
He would suddenly close in, using dangerous flight maneuvers to challenge Harry's frayed nerves.
"Give up, Potter."
"Your teammates are finished."
"You're nothing more than a clown struggling in the sky right now."
Harry ignored him.
He had bitten through his gums, and his mouth was filled with the taste of blood.
He couldn't lose!
He couldn't lose so pathetically in front of Hermione, in front of the whole school!
Enduring the intense pain, he dove into the clouds, trying to shake off Draco.
Passing through the thin clouds.
Something went wrong!
The Nimbus 2000 beneath him suddenly bucked upward!
A massive force nearly threw him off the broom!
"Ah!"
Harry let out a short cry of alarm, his legs instinctively gripping the broomstick tight to keep from falling.
But he had completely lost his balance, hanging off the broom like a tattered piece of clothing.
The broom was out of control!
It jerked, rolled, and spun violently without any pattern.
One moment it would lunge upward, the next it would plummet rapidly.
Harry's internal organs felt like they were being shaken out of place.
He could only grip the broomstick with his good left hand, letting himself be tossed around.
He felt like he could be torn apart at any moment.
"Look! Potter's broom!"
"Something's wrong!"
Merlin! He's going to fall!
Screams erupted from the stands.
Everyone stood up, watching the terrifying scene in the sky with horror.
In the Gryffindor stands, Ron Weasley's face went pale instantly.
"Someone's jinxing him!" he screamed, his voice cracking with fear. "It's the Dark Arts!"
He grabbed his binoculars and scanned the crowd frantically, trying to find the culprit.
"It's Snape!" Hagrid's gruff voice rang out, his massive body trembling with anxiety.
His large binoculars were locked onto the Staff table.
Ron snatched the binoculars and aimed them at the Staff table.
Sure enough!
The Potion Class Professor, Severus Snape, was standing there, his eyes fixed on Harry in the air.
His lips were moving rapidly, as if he were chanting something!
"It's him! I knew it was that old bat!" Ron roared.
"Hermione! Quick! We have to do something!" He turned to Hermione beside him.
Hermione Granger was also holding a pair of high-powered magical binoculars.
But her expression was unusually calm.
Frighteningly calm.
Her binoculars weren't looking at Snape.
Instead, they were aimed a few meters away from Snape.
Professor Quirrell, wearing his massive purple turban, was also staring at Harry.
A fanatical smile hung on his face.
His lips were moving too.
Hermione's brow furrowed slightly.
She saw it clearly.
Snape was chanting a Counter-curse; he was protecting Harry.
The one truly attacking was Quirrell!
She instinctively reached for the wand in her pocket.
She should go and set fire to Snape's robes to interrupt his "spellcasting."
But... Draco's handsome yet cold face appeared before her eyes.
"Hermione, remember, you are mine."
"Whether Harry Potter lives or dies has nothing to do with you."
"Your task is to observe and record. You are not allowed to interfere."
"Never do anything unnecessary."
The words Draco had whispered in her ear last night echoed over and over.
The commanding tone mixed with the sensation he had left on her lips.
Her fingers gripped her wand so hard they turned white.
Save Harry?
Or listen to Draco?
"Hermione! What are you waiting for!" Ron's voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Use those clever spells of yours! Think of something!" Ron was nearly driven mad with worry, shaking her shoulders violently.
Hermione stumbled from his shaking.
She took a deep breath.
In her amber eyes, only a cold determination remained.
Slowly, she moved her hand away from her wand.
Then, she looked up to meet Ron's furious gaze.
"I can't tell who's causing trouble, Ron." Her voice was flat and emotionless.
"Maybe Potter's broom is just too old and malfunctioned on its own."
Ron's movements froze.
He looked at Hermione as if he were looking at a stranger.
"You... what did you say?"
"I said," Hermione repeated clearly, word for word, "we shouldn't act rashly. It's foolish to accuse a Professorwithout evidence."
"Are you crazy, Hermione!" Ron's voice was hoarse as he pointed at the sky.
"Harry's going to die! He's going to die! Don't you see that!"
"I see it." Hermione's reply was cruelly calm.
"But that's his match, not ours."
With that, she put down her binoculars, sat back down, and even picked up a thick book nearby to start reading.
The boy struggling on the brink of death in the sky truly had nothing to do with her anymore.
Ron stared at her blankly.
A chill ran down his spine.
This wasn't Hermione.
This wasn't the Hermione Granger he knew, the one who would risk everything for her friends.
She had changed.
She had become cold, selfish, and terrifying.
He turned back to the sky in despair.
Harry's situation had worsened.
His left hand began to slip, and he was hanging upside down from the broom.
The broom's vibrations grew more violent.
He could fall at any moment.
He had been abandoned.
Abandoned in this desperate sky by his best friend.
High in the air, Draco hovered not far away.
He admired Harry's wretched state as if watching a good play.
He knew, of course, that Quirrell was behind it.
He also saw Snape chanting the Counter-curse.
Even more interestingly, he had watched everything that just happened through a Miniature magical lens hidden on Hermione's hairclip.
Including Hermione's final choice.
A faint, indistinct smile played at the corners of Draco's lips.
Letting Harry keep shaking like that, only to be saved by Snape or fall to his death, would be too easy on him.
The fall of savior required a more magnificent curtain call.
Draco lowered his broom.
The nimbus 2001 let out a hum.
The next second, he turned into a streak of silver-green lightning, diving toward the struggling black figure in the air!
His movements drew the eyes of the entire crowd.
"Look! It's Malfoy!"
"He's charging at Potter!"
"Heavens! Is he going to save him?"
Amidst the gasps, Harry also saw the silver figure rapidly approaching.
On the edge of losing consciousness, a flicker of... hopeful plea for help flashed in his green eyes.
Is Malfoy... coming to save me?
Chapter 38: The Golden Snitch, Taken from Your Ear
A silver-green streak shot toward Harry, who was swaying violently in the air.
The spectators held their breath.
In the eyes of the Gryffindor students, a glimmer of light actually appeared.
"Malfoy... he wants to..."
"Save Potter?"
"Impossible! They're mortal enemies!"
Ron Weasley also widened his eyes, staring intently at the sky, temporarily forgetting about Hermione.
Rescue from a mortal enemy?
This was absurd.
But now, Draco Malfoy was indeed the only one who could approach Harry at high speed.
Harry Potter saw it too.
His left hand gripping the broom had gone numb, his mind blank.
The wind rushing into his mouth prevented him from shouting.
In this falling darkness, that silver light was the only thing he could grasp.
Malfoy.
Coming to save me?
The thought was laughable, but the instinct to survive made a flicker of hope appear in Harry's green eyes.
Draco flew extremely fast.
In the blink of an eye, he was right in front of Harry.
The hearts of the entire audience were in their throats.
Less than three meters from Harry, Draco suddenly yanked his broom!
The head of the nimbus 2001 pointed vertically upward.
Draco released his feet from the footrests, leaned back, and hooked his ankles firmly around the broom handle.
His entire body, head down and feet up, hung upside down in the air.
Hanging Upside Down!
The entire stadium fell silent.
Everyone was dumbfounded.
Draco Malfoy had flown over just to show off a difficult maneuver in front of Harry Potter.
A humiliating maneuver.
Hanging Upside Down, his silver hair dangling, a mocking smile on his face.
He hung there, upside down, admiring Harry's face contorted by the broom's shaking.
"Potter."
Draco's voice was clear.
"You look quite interesting from this angle."
Harry's pupils contracted.
The hope that had just risen was crushed to pieces.
He wasn't here to save him.
He was here to watch the show!
To admire his disgrace in the most arrogant manner!
"You... bastard!"
Harry squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth.
Draco smiled.
"Thank you for the compliment."
As he spoke, he urged his broom, still Hanging Upside Down, to slowly circle around Harry.
Round and round.
Each rotation trampled Harry Potter's pitiful dignity into the mud.
Suppressed roars came from the Gryffindor stands.
"What is he doing!"
"He's humiliating Harry!"
"Despicable Slytherin!"
Ron's fists clenched until they turned white, trembling with anger, but he could do nothing.
The Slytherin stands erupted in loud cheers and shrill laughter.
"Draco! So cool!"
"Hahahaha! Look at Potter's face! It's green!"
"This is what a noble is! This is a king!"
Pansy and her companions jumped up and down, their screams almost lifting the roof.
Daphne Greengrass stood in the crowd, silent.
She just quietly watched the figure Hanging Upside Down in the air.
That person was doing the worst things, yet his posture was powerful and captivating.
Her heartbeat skipped a beat.
On the teachers' stand, Professor McGonagall's lips moved, but she couldn't utter a word.
Draco Malfoy's actions violated no Quidditch rules.
Dumbledore adjusted his glasses, his expression serious for the first time.
On the other side, Quirrell, who was casting a spell, slowed his movements.
The smile on his face stiffened slightly.
This Malfoy boy... was stealing his spotlight.
Just then, a buzzing golden ball with wings flew past Harry's ear.
The Golden Snitch!
It had appeared!
Attracted by the bizarre scene in the air, it circled around Harry.
Harry saw it too!
A final burst of light erupted in his eyes!
Catch it! As long as he caught it, all this would end!
Using his last ounce of strength, he stretched out his still-mobile left hand toward that flash of gold!
His fingertips were less than ten centimeters from the Snitch's wings!
Just as his fingertips were about to touch those wings—
A hand clad in black leather gloves swept past Harry's ear.
That hand, with two fingers, precisely pinched the golden ball.
It was Draco.
He was still Hanging Upside Down.
He reached out and, under Harry's desperate gaze, easily plucked victory from just two centimeters away from his ear.
All Harry could see was Draco's face, wearing a triumphant smile.
And the hand holding the Golden Snitch, slowly withdrawing.
"Beeeeep—!"
Madam Hooch's belated whistle sounded.
"Slytherin catches the Golden Snitch! Slytherin wins!"
"Score, two hundred forty to zero!"
As the whistle blew, Quirrell stopped casting his spell.
The Nimbus 2000 beneath Harry stopped shaking.
But he could no longer hold on.
His fingers loosened.
His entire body plummeted straight down from dozens of meters in the air.
"Thud!"
A dull thud as he hit the grass, sending blades flying.
In the sky.
Draco Malfoy slowly righted himself and sat back on his broom.
Under the gaze of the entire stadium, he raised high the hand holding the Golden Snitch.
Sunlight fell on him, gilding him with a golden edge.
He basked in Slytherin's frenzied cheers, like a king.
And beneath him lay savior, sprawled on the ground, motionless.
The match was over.
Draco knew his performance had only just begun.
This victory wasn't just one hundred and fifty points.
It was a public, devastating blow to Harry Potter and everything he represented.
From today on, there was only one legend at Hogwarts.
Draco Malfoy.
Draco landed gracefully.
The nimbus 2001 stopped behind him and fell into his hand.
"Draco!!!"
"Malfoy!!!"
The Slytherin stands went wild, a green wave surging toward the pitch.
But someone was faster.
Pansy Parkinson was the first to rush out of the crowd, her face flushed, her usual sharpness gone, replaced only by fervor.
Behind her followed the other five girls from the Cheerleading Squad, lifting their skirts as they ran toward their king.
"Draco!"
Pansy threw herself into Draco's arms, stood on tiptoe, and planted a kiss mixed with sweat and ecstasy firmly on his lips.
Flashbulbs went off all around.
The reporter from The Daily Prophet wouldn't miss the headline.
The other girls crowded around, clinging to his arms, his back.
"You were amazing, Draco!"
"You're the best!"
Millicent Bulstrode was so excited she even cried.
Draco let them swarm him, but his gaze pierced through everyone, landing on the very back.
Daphne Greengrass stood outside the crowd.
She didn't rush forward, just stood quietly, hands clasped in front of her, her expression complex.
Draco's gaze locked precisely on her.
The surrounding noise faded away.
Daphne felt she had become the center of attention.
She knew what he was waiting for.
Waiting for her "gesture."
Daphne's cheeks burned wave after wave, her pure-blood noble pride being crushed.
She bit her lower lip hard.
In the end, she lost.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, passing through the crowd toward Draco.
Everyone's eyes followed her, the flower of slytherin.
What was she going to do?
Under the watchful eyes of all, Daphne took from her team uniform pocket a silk handkerchief embroidered with the Greengrass Family crest.
Then, she stood slightly on tiptoe, leaned close to Draco, and used that handkerchief representing her family's honor to gently dab at the sweat on his forehead... sweat that didn't even exist.
The meaning of this gesture was understood by every pure-blood present.
For a woman to wipe sweat for a man not her relative was a sign of submission and belonging.
Daphne Greengrass, eldest daughter of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, publicly bowed her head to Draco Malfoy.
Only then did a hint of a smile appear at the corner of Draco's mouth.
This was what he wanted.
The next second, he raised his hand and grasped Daphne's trembling wrist.
"Thank you for your trouble."
His voice was soft, audible only to the two of them.
Almost simultaneously, lines of text appeared in Draco's mind.
'Detected bond interaction with Daphne Greengrass!'
'Target's emotions in intense fluctuation: shame, submission, confusion!'
'Bond charging...'
'Daphne Greengrass favorability increased! Current status: fear and submission (35/100)!'
'Skill fragment: Frost Resistance (Beginner), proficiency +20%!'
Satisfaction flashed in Draco's eyes as he released her hand.
Daphne recoiled as if burned, quickly withdrawing her hand, head bowed, not daring to look at him.
Her face was burning fiercely.
All of this was seen by Harry Potter, who had just gotten up not far away.
Hagrid's massive figure blocked most of Slytherin's revelry, but Harry saw everything clearly through the gaps.
He saw Pansy's kiss.
He saw Draco surrounded by a group of pretty girls.
He saw the proud Daphne Greengrass bow her head to wipe sweat for Draco.
But that wasn't the worst.
His gaze passed over the crowd, toward the Gryffindorstands, looking for Ron, for any familiar face.
Then, he saw Hermione.
She wasn't dejected or cursing like the other Gryffindors but stood at a high point, still holding binoculars.
Her gaze was firmly fixed on the center of the pitch, on Draco surrounded by beauties.
Then, Harry saw.
Hermione lowered the binoculars.
She raised her hands and, for Draco, for Slytherin's victory, gently began to applaud.
On her face was even a hint of... a smile.
At that moment.
The excruciating pain in his right shoulder, his bruised body, the crushing defeat in the match, the ridicule of the entire school... none of it compared to Hermione's smile, those few soft claps.
Why?
Harry didn't understand.
He stood swaying, the world spinning.
"Harry! Are you all right?" Hagrid's anxious voice sounded in his ear.
Harry didn't answer.
His vision darkened.
The last image was Draco surrounded by a group of girls.
And Hermione, still standing on the stands, watching his retreating figure.
"Thump."
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Gryffindor's savior.
Finally couldn't hold on any longer.
He fainted.
Chapter 39: The Tyrant of the Locker Room, Child of Wind Talent
The Slytherin Locker Room had become a sea of joy.
"Pop!"
Marcus Flint twisted open a bottle of champagne, white foam spraying everywhere.
"For Slytherin!"
"For Malfoy!"
The team members let out beast-like howls, several of them working together to lift Draco up and toss him into the air again and again.
"Draco! You're a goddamn god!"
"Two hundred and forty to zero! The largest point difference in Hogwarts history!"
"The way that Potter fell at the end, he looked just like a dead dog! So satisfying!"
Draco rose and fell in the air, maintaining a slight curve at the corner of his mouth as he looked down at these fools going wild for him.
Flint excitedly grabbed his hand, spittle flying everywhere.
"Draco, from today on, you are the absolute core of the Slytherin Quidditch team! My words are just crap! We'll all listen to you!"
Draco patted his shoulder, signaling for everyone to put him down.
He straightened his somewhat messy team uniform, his gaze sweeping over these overly excited guys.
"The glory belongs to all of Slytherin."
His tone was flat, yet it made everyone quiet down, nodding in agreement.
He had no interest in joining these rough guys' revelry. He walked to a corner, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes.
His consciousness sank into his mind.
A series of notification sounds rang out.
"Ding!"
"Side Quest: First Victory Achieved! Completed!"
"Quest Evaluation: Perfect!"
"Evaluation Details: Completely crushed the Gryffindorteam's morale, thoroughly destroyed Harry Potter's self-confidence."
"Quest reward calculation in progress..."
"Points obtained: 3000!"
"Random skill obtained: Master of Flight!"
"Hidden achievement detected: Public Humiliation!"
"Achievement Description: In front of over two hundred spectators, delivered a textbook-level humiliating blow to the Chosen One, Harry Potter, causing his physical and mental collapse."
"Additional reward obtained: Special Talent—Child of Wind (Beginner)!"
Draco's heart gave a heavy thump.
Master of Flight!
Child of Wind!
He immediately opened the talent description.
"Flight Talent: Child of Wind (Beginner)"
"Description: You are the darling of the sky. When riding any flying tool, aerial agility +30%, perception and control of air currents greatly enhanced."
A surge of heat rose from his spine, spreading throughout his body.
Draco felt his body lighten, a sense of liberation coursing through his limbs and bones.
He clenched his fist, feeling an impulse to merge with the wind right now.
If before he was a top-tier racer, now, both he and his vehicle had evolved.
Draco opened his eyes, his gray pupils gleaming with satisfaction.
This match was a huge win.
His gaze swept over the still-celebrating team members. The smell of champagne mixed with sweat made the room feel somewhat filthy.
"Alright, gentlemen."
Draco's voice wasn't loud, but it drowned out all the noise.
"Save the celebration for tonight."
He walked to the door and pulled open the Locker Roomdoor.
Outside, Pansy and her six-member Cheerleading Squadstood quietly.
They had changed back into Slytherin robes, but the flush on their faces hadn't faded.
"Now, everyone go shower and change into clean clothes."
Draco commanded the male team members in the room.
"Leave this place for the ladies."
"They need to organize their equipment and, by the way, clean up the mess you made."
The male team members were stunned for a moment, then burst into knowing laughter.
"Yes! Draco!"
"We'll get out of here right now!"
They left laughing with arms around each other's shoulders, whistling incessantly as they passed by the girls.
Soon, the noisy Locker Room quieted down.
Only Draco and six girls with varied expressions remained.
The atmosphere in the air became ambiguous and tense.
Pansy's gaze was intense, almost burning holes through him.
The other girls all lowered their heads, not daring to look at him, their cheeks flushed.
Draco closed the door behind him.
"Click."
A soft sound.
The girls' bodies tensed up.
Draco didn't look at anyone else. He strode with his long legs, walking straight up to Daphne Greengrass.
Daphne's heart jumped to her throat.
She lowered her head, only able to see the tips of her shoes. The gaze from above made her breathless.
The next second, a hand pinched her chin.
The force wasn't strong, but it made her unable to resist.
She was forced to look up, meeting those gray eyes.
Those eyes held scrutiny, amusement, and approval.
"Daphne."
Draco spoke slowly.
"You performed very well today."
"The way you wiped my sweat on the field was very much in the style of the Greengrass Family."
These words stabbed at Daphne's pride like needles.
"The Greengrass Family has always only followed victors."
Daphne's body trembled lightly under his fingers, her lips moving but unable to utter a single word.
Was it an honor or a humiliation? She couldn't tell.
"Your family has made the right choice."
Draco's fingers gently stroked the smooth skin of her chin.
"And you have also satisfied me."
He leaned in closer, his warm breath hitting Daphne's face.
"So, I've decided to give you a reward."
Daphne's breathing stopped.
"Tonight, there will be a Victory Celebration in the Slytherin Common Room."
Draco's voice was very low, carrying a seductive tone.
"I hope you can prepare a'special performance' for the victor."
Special performance?
Daphne's mind went blank.
"Just like... that dance you performed for me alone in the Room of Requirement."
Draco's lips curled into a malicious curve.
"Only this time, there will be more spectators."
"I want all of Slytherin to see how the eldest daughter of the Greengrass Family offers congratulations to their king."
The color drained completely from Daphne's face.
Perform that dance in front of all of Slytherin?
Wearing that outfit?
"No... I..." she blurted out, wanting to refuse.
"Hmm?"
Draco's eyes narrowed.
A pressure enveloped Daphne. She felt unable to move, even breathing became difficult.
"It seems you haven't fully learned how to please a victor yet."
Draco released her hand, took a step back, the smile disappearing from his face.
"It's fine, we have plenty of time."
"If you're not ready tonight, or if your performance doesn't satisfy me..."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over Daphne's body trembling with fear.
"Then we'll just have to return to the Room of Requirement and continue our one-on-one... tutoring sessions."
"Until you learn."
After saying this, he no longer looked at her, turning and walking toward the door.
"Pansy, leave this to you all."
"Clean it up."
He pulled open the door and walked out without looking back.
The room fell into dead silence, leaving only six silent girls and a teetering Daphne.
Daphne leaned against the cold wall, all the strength drained from her body.
She knew she had no choice.
Chapter 40: Undercurrents at the Victory Banquet, Lonely Ron
The Slytherin Dungeons had never been so lively.
The long table was piled high with food, the sweet aroma of Butterbeer permeating the air.
Draco Malfoy sat in the central carved armchair.
Pansy Parkinson knelt at his feet, carefully peeling a grape with her fingertips and offering it to his mouth with flattery.
Crabbe and Goyle stood guard-like on either side behind him.
The surrounding students gazed at their hero with fanatical eyes.
"Did you hear? Potter was carried into the Hospital Wing, still unconscious!"
"Serves him right! Who told him to provoke Draco!"
"Madam Pomfrey said his shoulder was dislocated, he'll have to lie down for days!"
"Better if he never rides a broom again in his life!"
"And those fools from Gryffindor! Lost ninety points! Got a clean sweep, hahaha!"
Schadenfreude laughter echoed through the Dungeons.
Every Slytherin held their heads high from this victory, cursing their mortal enemies with the most venomous words.
Draco did not join the discussion.
He leaned back in his chair, opening his mouth to accept the grape Pansy fed him, his gaze passing over the crowd to rest on a corner of the Common Room.
Daphne Greengrass sat with several pure-blood girls.
Her face was pale, holding a cup of pumpkin juice, untouched.
Draco saw that she was nervous.
Good.
Tonight's "special program" would teach her complete obedience... Gryffindor Tower was deathly silent.
In the Common Room, even with the fireplace blazing brightly, a chill permeated the air.
The team members huddled in a corner, no one speaking.
Captain Oliver Wood crouched in the corner, head in his hands, shoulders shaking as he suppressed sobs.
He had bet everything on this match, only to receive humiliation in return.
Harry wasn't there; he was still in the Hospital Wing.
Ron Weasley sat dazedly before the fireplace, eyes hollowly fixed on the flickering flames.
Harry's crushing defeat, Slytherin's arrogance, and... Hermione's back.
Everything felt like a nightmare.
"We lost," Fred Weasley's voice was hoarse.
"Lost completely," George continued.
"We're like a bunch of clowns."
These words ignited Ron.
The screech of chair legs scraping the floor sounded as he abruptly stood up, his crimson eyes sweeping across the entire Common Room.
His gaze finally settled by the window.
Hermione Granger.
She sat on the windowsill, a copy of "Advanced Potion-Making" spread open on her lap, reading quietly by moonlight.
Everything happening here had nothing to do with her.
This calmness stung Ron.
"Hermione!"
He strode over, snatched the book from her, and slammed it to the ground.
"Harry's nearly dying in the Hospital Wing! We lost the match! And you have the mood to read?"
Hermione looked up, her amber eyes showing no ripple of emotion.
"Will shouting and screaming change the fact that we lost?" she retorted coldly. "Or will it heal Harry's injuries instantly?"
"You—!"
Ron was speechless, his pointing hand trembling with anger.
"During the match! Harry's broom went out of control! I told you to think of something, what did you do?"
"You did nothing!"
"You watched him almost fall to his death! You even... you even applauded for Malfoy!"
Ron's voice grew louder, everyone turning to look.
"Is there a problem with applauding for the winner?"
Hermione stood up, meeting Ron's gaze directly.
Though she was shorter than him, her presence completely overwhelmed his.
"Slytherin won, fair and square. Malfoy's skills were indeed far superior to Harry's."
"That's a fact."
"Fact?" Ron laughed, a laugh uglier than crying.
"Snape used a Dark Curse on him! Malfoy humiliated him like that! Is that also a fact?"
"You have no proof that Professor Snape did it," Hermione's logic was icy.
"As for humiliation? Ron, this is Quidditch, not a tea party. If you're not skilled enough, you should be prepared to be humiliated."
"You..."
Ron couldn't speak. He found he couldn't refute a single word.
Everything she said was right, and also cruel.
"You've changed, Hermione," Ron's voice was full of disappointment. "You're not the Hermione we knew anymore."
"You've become... like a Slytherin."
The corner of Hermione's mouth twisted into a sneer.
"Perhaps I've always been this way, you just never noticed."
"I've had enough."
She bent down, picked up the book from the ground, and carefully brushed off the dust.
"I've had enough of this environment mixed with prejudice, jealousy, and loser mentality."
"It's wasting my time."
She turned, picked up her bag, and began putting the books and parchment from the table inside one by one.
"Where are you going?" Ron asked instinctively.
"To a place where I can study in peace," Hermione zipped up her bag and slung it over her shoulder.
"Like the Library."
"Or somewhere quieter, more suitable for the strong."
She didn't look back at Ron, nor at any other Gryffindor, heading straight for the exit.
"Gryffindor isn't good enough for you anymore, is it?"
Ron shouted this sentence with all his might behind her.
Hermione's footsteps paused for a moment.
She didn't turn back.
She only left behind one icy sentence.
"It's you who aren't worthy of victory."
She gave the password and walked out through the portrait hole.
The portrait closed slowly behind her, separating two worlds.
In the Common Room, a deathly silence fell.
Ron stood frozen in place, as if all his strength had been drained.
He knew Hermione was gone.
That so-called "golden trio" was shattered.
Meanwhile, in the corridors of Hogwarts, new rumors were spreading like wildfire.
"Did you hear? Malfoy's Upside-Down Snitch Catch was absolutely brilliant!"
"And Slytherin's Cheerleaders! Merlin, I dream of touching Daphne Greengrass's leg!"
"Harry Potter? Oh, that poor wretch who got knocked out? What an embarrassment to Gryffindor."
Chapter 41: The Trophy Room, Hermione's Reward
The Slytherin victory banquet was very noisy.
Draco didn't say goodbye and slipped out by himself.
He bypassed gazes with practiced ease, traversed the dark corridors of the Dungeons, and pushed open a heavy wooden door.
The Trophy Room.
Moonlight spilled in, shining on the trophies and shields, reflecting a cold light.
Someone was waiting for him inside the door.
Hermione Granger.
She was carrying her schoolbag, standing before a giant silver trophy. Hearing the door, her shoulders twitched, and she turned around.
Under the moonlight, her amber eyes were bright, yet her expression was complex—a sense of relief from severing the past mixed with a bit of helpless bewilderment.
Seeing him, that bit of bewilderment immediately turned into peace of mind.
"You're here," she said softly.
Draco didn't speak; he closed the door behind him and locked it.
"Click."
The sound of the latch sliding into place was exceptionally clear in this room.
He walked toward her step by step. The sound of leather shoes treading on stone slabs, one after another, beat against Hermione's heart.
He stood still in front of her, with only an arm's length between them.
A scent of cedar, mixed with the unique scent of a victor, dominantly occupied Hermione's breath.
"I heard you broke things off with Weasley," Draco began, his voice kept very low.
"And then, you walked out of the Gryffindor common room."
Hermione bit her lip and nodded.
"I just... told the truth that they didn't want to hear."
"The truth is always unpleasant," Draco finally had a hint of a smile on his face, "but I like it."
As soon as he finished speaking, he reached out and pulled her directly into his arms.
Hermione let out a short "Ah," her whole body crashing into his firm chest, her back pressing heavily against the glass display case behind her.
Cold at her back, burning heat in front.
She had nowhere to retreat.
"You did very well in the stands today."
Draco lowered his head, his forehead against hers, their noses almost touching, his breath fanning across her lips.
"That was rational."
"Rational..." Hermione's eyes darted away, "but Harry, he..."
"Shh."
A finger pressed against her lips, blocking that name.
"Don't mention losers in front of me."
Draco's other hand reached inside the edge of her robes, precisely pinching her tense waist.
As the heat from his palm transferred, Hermione's waist went soft.
"Weakness is not a sin, but arrogance is," his voice was close to her ear, as if telling a secret.
"Harry Potter is both weak and arrogant, and stupid to boot. His failure is inevitable."
"But you, Hermione, you are different."
"You are very smart; you know which side to choose."
"Adhering to the strong is the only law of survival in the wizarding world."
Hermione's breathing was completely erratic.
The bit of guilt she felt toward Harry and Ron was rapidly disappearing.
"Draco..." she subconsciously breathed his name.
"I'm here."
His lips pressed down.
This kiss carried no gentleness, directly prying open her defenses.
Hermione's mind went blank; she could only clumsily tilt her head back to endure it.
The strength in her body was drained bit by bit until she could only clutch the fabric of his chest tightly to keep herself from sliding down.
After a long time, their lips parted.
Hermione leaned in his arms, panting heavily, her cheeks frighteningly hot.
"Remember this feeling." Draco's fingers ran through her long hair, making her face the glass of the display case.
"This is the victor's reward, and you are a part of my victory."
The glass clearly reflected the posture of the two people.
One tall, one petite.
One controlling, one adhering.
"What can you get by following Potter?" Draco hugged her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder, whispering in her ear.
"Endless trouble? Or the ridiculous friendship of the weasley family?"
"Those things will only bury your talent."
"Follow me, Hermione."
"I can give you everything you want."
"Knowledge, power, status... even the authority to change the entire wizarding world."
Hermione looked at her flushed, dazed face in the reflection and the man's bottomless grey eyes behind her.
She knew there was no turning back.
She didn't want to turn back either.
"What... should I do?" Her voice was as thin as a mosquito's hum.
"It's very simple."
Draco smiled. He let go of Hermione and took out a folded piece of parchment from his robes.
"Help me let Potter and Weasley 'accidentally' see this."
He unfolded the parchment.
On it was a line of beautiful handwriting.
[Nicolas Flamel: Famous alchemist, the sole creator of the Philosopher's Stone.]
Hermione's eyes instantly lit up.
The Philosopher's Stone!
She understood immediately. Harry and the others were investigating the third-floor restricted area like headless flies.
Draco was going to hand-feed the clue to them.
"You... you want them to go..."
"Exactly." Draco interrupted her, "I want them to follow the script I've written."
"And you, Hermione, are half the director of this play."
He stuffed the parchment into Hermione's hand.
"Find an opportunity, the Library is best, and pretend to drop it by accident."
"With their brains, they'll only think they've made a major discovery on their own."
"Then, they will plunge headfirst into the trap I've prepared."
Hermione held the parchment; the paper was light, but at this moment, it felt as heavy as a thousand pounds.
She completely understood.
Draco didn't want to defeat Harry Potter.
He was toying with him.
This kind of wisdom and means made her feel a shiver of excitement, and it also made her... even more fascinated.
"I understand."
Hermione nodded heavily.
She suddenly turned around, stood on her tiptoes, and proactively kissed Draco's lips.
"For you."
At this moment, Gryffindor's miss know-it-all was completely dead.
In her place was the most loyal and lethal pawn Draco Malfoy had planted in Gryffindor.
[Ding!]
[Detected a complete shift in Hermione Granger's state of mind!]
[Loyalty locked, status 'Physical and Mental Submission' reinforced!]
[Congratulations to the Host for completely controlling the world's heroine, plotline control +20%!]
Hearing the prompt in his mind, the smile at the corner of Draco's mouth deepened.
He reached out and gently patted Hermione's cheek.
"Go on, my little librarian."
"Do what you must."
"Leave no trace."
Hermione nodded vigorously, tucked the parchment away, and quickly left the Trophy Room.
Draco watched her back disappear, his eyes playful.
Harry Potter, Quirrell, Snape, Dumbledore... He straightened his slightly messy collar and turned toward the Slytherin Dungeon.
The "special program" of the victory banquet was also about to begin.
He was looking forward to what kind of moving performance Pansy Parkinson, that black rose of Slytherin, would offer... After the Quidditch storm passed, the Christmas holiday bells rang at Hogwarts.
The Castle quickly emptied, and heavy snow covered everything.
Draco Malfoy's name became the hottest topic among the lower-grade girls.
Harry Potter, on the other hand, had completely become background noise, spending all day with Ron Weasley, his eyes gloomy.
Hermione was like a ghost, rooted in the Library.
Draco knew she was waiting for an opportunity, an opportunity to deliver "Nicolas Flamel" to Harry's eyes.
Draco also applied to stay at school. He told his parents he needed a quiet environment for previewing, but he was actually waiting for a gift.
That invisibility cloak that was supposed to belong to Harry Potter.
Christmas morning.
Draco woke up and didn't even look at the pile of gifts at the foot of his bed, directly picking up the two-way mirror.
The mirror surface lit up, revealing Hermione's face.
"He received it?" Draco asked.
Hermione in the mirror suppressed her excitement and nodded vigorously: "He received it, the invisibility cloak. Ron shouted in the Great Hall until the whole school knew."
"Has he started his night walks?"
"He wasn't in the dormitory last night," Hermione spoke quickly, "I guess he went to the Restricted Section, anxious to check on Nicolas Flamel."
"Fool," Draco snorted coldly and gave his assessment, "Keep a close eye on him and report at any time."
"Understood."
Cutting off the connection, Draco got out of bed.
With the invisibility cloak in place, the next target was that interesting mirror.
The Mirror of Erised.
A mirror that can reflect one's deepest heart's desire.
Draco was very curious about what an ambitious man like himself, who knew the future and held a system, would desire most.
He decided to go meet that mirror before Harry Potterdid.
Late at night, the Castle was silent.
Draco's figure blended into the shadows of the Slytherin Dungeon and disappeared.
He didn't use a low-level thing like an invisibility cloak; a high-level Disillusionment Charm was enough.
His form integrated with the surroundings; even Dumbledore wouldn't notice without deliberately using magic to investigate.
Relying on his memory, he easily bypassed Filch and his cat, heading straight for the abandoned classroom at the end of the fourth-floor corridor.
Pushing open the dusty door, the target was right before his eyes.
In the center of the empty classroom stood a magnificent large mirror that reached almost to the ceiling.
He recognized the reverse-carved text at the top of the mirror frame: I show not your face but your heart's desire.
This was it.
Draco cancelled the Disillusionment Charm, revealed himself, and walked to the mirror.
He subconsciously straightened his collar; even with no one around, a Malfoy's decency could not be lost.
Clearly reflected in the mirror was himself.
Platinum-blond hair, grey eyes, a handsome yet pale face.
That was all.
Draco frowned.
No desire?
Impossible.
He closed his eyes, filtering out those things within easy reach.
Money, power, women, immortality... these were just scenery along the way.
Draco opened his eyes again.
The mirror surface rippled, his own reflection dispersed, and reshaped into a new scene.
A magnificent golden throne.
A man sat on the throne; it was himself, a more mature, more dignified version of himself.
The man in the mirror wore luxurious black robes, with a giant snake embroidered in silver thread coiled upon them.
Those grey eyes were terrifyingly cold, looking at all things in the world as if they were dust.
The "him" in the mirror looked up, those indifferent eyes piercing through the mirror, staring directly at the Draco in reality.
Then, he smiled.
His lips opened and closed silently.
Draco read the lip movements.
"Are you ready?"
Chapter 42: A Good Show, Gryffindor's Saving Grace
The Hogwarts Library was so quiet that the sound of pages turning could be heard.
Madam Pince, the librarian, was like a vigilant owl, scanning every corner with her sharp gaze.
Hermione Granger sat in a window seat with several books spread out before her.
Her movements were natural as she organized her schoolbag, just like she did every day before leaving.
She pulled out a thick copy of "Quidditch Through the Ages."
She seemed to be checking the pages for dog-ears, her fingers flipping through them rapidly.
During this process, a folded piece of parchment slipped out from between the pages.
It fluttered down silently, landing in the shadows beneath the corner of the table.
It was in a place not easily discovered, but one that anyone sitting in that seat would definitely notice.
Hermione didn't seem to notice.
She stuffed "Quidditch Through the Ages" back into her bag, zipped it up, slung it over her shoulder, and quietly left the Library.
From beginning to end, her expression didn't change once, as if the falling parchment really was just an accident.
Madam Pince glanced at her, said nothing, and continued organizing her card index.
A few minutes later, the Library door was pushed open again.
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley walked in, both looking exhausted.
The crushing defeat in Quidditch was like a giant boulder weighing on the heart of every Gryffindor, especially Harry.
He felt like a complete and utter failure.
Ron walked beside him, still muttering complaints about Slytherin's despicableness.
They habitually walked toward the corner where Hermione usually sat, which had once been the golden trio's exclusive study area.
"She's not here," Ron said, his voice sounding a bit dejected.
Ever since that argument, Hermione hadn't studied with them again.
Harry didn't speak; he pulled out a chair and sat down, his eyes hollow.
He placed the wand in his hand on the table; it rolled and fell to the floor.
"Dammit," Harry cursed under his breath, leaning down to pick it up.
Just as his fingertips touched the cold floor, he saw that piece of parchment lying quietly at the corner of the table.
He picked up his wand and grabbed the parchment along with it.
He unfolded it.
On it was a line of beautiful handwriting.
[Nicolas Flamel: Famous Alchemist, the only creator of the Philosopher's Stone.]
Harry's breath hitched for a moment.
The Philosopher's Stone!
He and Ron had heard this term in Hagrid's hut!
The thing guarded by Cerberus!
"Ron!" Harry lowered his voice, grabbing Ron's arm excitedly.
"Look at this!"
Ron leaned in, and when he saw the words on the parchment clearly, his eyes widened like saucers.
"Merlin!" Ron almost shouted, but Harry clamped a hand over his mouth.
"This is... Hermione left this!" Ron broke free, his voice trembling with excitement.
"It must be her! This is the parchment she always uses, and this is her handwriting!"
Harry's heart began to pound violently.
Hermione... she hadn't really given up on them?
She was still secretly helping them investigate!
This discovery was like a beam of light, instantly illuminating Harry's gloomy world.
"She... she's reaching out to reconcile with us, isn't she?" Harry's voice held a hint of uncertainty and immense hope.
"That goes without saying!" Ron slapped Harry's shoulder hard. "She's just stubborn! Her heart is still with us!"
The two looked at each other, a great wave of warmth rising in their hearts.
The haze brought on by failure and arguments seemed to be swept away in this instant.
"We have to look him up quickly! Nicolas Flamel!" Harrygripped the parchment tightly, as if it were his last saving grace.
"Once we find him, we'll know what Snape wants with the Philosopher's Stone!"
The two immediately sprang into action, frantically searching through the shelves in the general section like headless chickens.
"Notable Wizards of the Twentieth Century," "Great Wizards of Our Time"... they scoured every book that might be relevant, but the name "Nicolas Flamel" was nowhere to be found, as if he had vanished from the face of the earth.
Meanwhile, at the Slytherin table.
Draco was elegantly using a silver knife to cut a piece of bloody steak on his plate.
In front of him, a blue panel invisible to others was floating.
On the panel, Hermione's avatar was lit up, with a line of small text next to it: [Task "Bait Placement" completed, Evaluation: Perfect.]
In another corner of the panel, a small real-time image clearly showed Harry and Ron's frantic state in the Library.
Looking at the excited expression of regained hope on Harry's face, the corner of Draco's mouth curled into a cold arc.
"How pitiful."
He forked a small piece of steak, put it in his mouth, and chewed slowly.
[Ding!]
[Detected that the host has successfully guided the plot progression, Behind-the-Scenes Manipulation progress+5%.]
[Gained Points: 500.]
In the Library.
"Quiet!"
Madam Pince's sharp voice rang out.
"Mr. Weasley, if you cannot control your volume, then please leave my Library along with Mr. Potter!"
Ron's face turned red, and he sheepishly shut his mouth.
In the end, the two were ruthlessly kicked out by Madam Pince.
Standing in the empty corridor, Harry held the already somewhat crumpled parchment, his gaze switching between frustration and determination.
"We can't find it in the general section."
"The only possibility is in the Restricted Section," Harrywhispered.
"But we don't have a signed note from a Professor," Ronsaid with a long face.
Just then, footsteps came from the other end of the corridor.
Harry looked up, and his body froze.
Snape.
And Draco Malfoy.
The two were walking side by side; Snape seemed to be whispering instructions, while Draco nodded slightly, a hint of a respectful smile on his face.
Reaching a fork in the path, Snape stopped, pulled a piece of parchment from his robes, and handed it to Draco.
Draco took it.
He seemed to feel Harry's gaze, turned his head, and glanced in Harry's direction.
Then, he deliberately and casually waved the parchment in his hand in front of Harry.
It was a pass to the Restricted Section... signed by Snapehimself.
Draco gave Harry an elegant yet provocative smile, then turned and strode toward the Library.
Harry's hands clenched at his sides.
Jealousy and anger burned fiercely in his chest.
Why?
Why could Draco Malfoy so easily obtain the very thing he dreamed of?
Chapter 43: Hunter of the Restricted Section, RavenclawSenior
The Library doors closed behind Draco.
Madam Pince peeked out from behind the tall bookshelves, her gaze fixed on him like a hawk.
"Mr. Malfoy, the Library is about to close," she said in a dry voice.
Draco ignored her warning and walked straight up to her.
He placed the permission slip gently on the librarian's desk.
"Professor Snape has some important ancient Potionmaterials he needs me to consult."
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unquestionable politeness.
Madam Pince picked up the slip and carefully checked the signature and seal.
After confirming it was correct, she reluctantly unhooked a large bunch of keys from her waist and opened the black iron gate leading to the Restricted Section.
"Be quick," she dropped coldly.
"Of course," Draco nodded with a smile and stepped into the dim area.
The iron gate creaked shut behind him, the sound of the latch clicking echoing in the silence.
The Restricted Section was filled with the smell of old paper mixed with dust.
The light was dim; only a few beams of moonlight filtered through the high windows, casting dappled shadows on the floor.
Draco was in no hurry to find books about Nicolas Flamel.
He could find those things with his eyes closed.
He was here for something more important.
He closed his eyes and sank his consciousness into his body.
The [Child of Wind] talent was quietly activated.
This talent didn't just improve his flexibility on a broom; it elevated his perception of his surroundings, especially changes in airflow, to a terrifying degree.
The airflow of the entire Restricted Section appeared in his mind like an invisible web.
In most areas, the air was still.
But in the deepest part of the Restricted Section, there was a place where the airflow showed an extremely faint disturbance.
Someone was there.
A living person.
A living person with light breathing and a slow heartbeat, trying their best to hide, yet unable to change the impact of their very existence on the environment.
The corners of Draco's mouth curled up silently.
He set off, his leather shoes making no sound on the stone floor.
He was like a ghost blending into the darkness, drifting along the shadows of the bookshelves toward the source of the disturbance.
Getting closer.
He could even smell a faint scent of feminine shampoo in the air.
He stopped at the corner of the last bookshelf.
That corner was the most remote part of the entire Restricted Section, piled with dangerous books on "Soul Magic" and "Ancient Curses."
A huddled figure was hiding in a blind spot of the bookshelves.
Her back was to Draco, and by the faint light from the tip of her wand, she was intently leafing through a heavy, black-covered book.
It was her.
The Ravenclaw prefect, Penelope Clearwater.
A senior two years above him.
Intellectual, responsible, curvaceous, and highly respected in Ravenclaw.
At this moment, this prefect, famous for following school rules, had illegally slipped into the Restricted Sectionafter hours to read a Dark Arts book with "Soul-Splitting Curse" printed on the cover.
How interesting.
Draco didn't make a sound.
Like a patient hunter, he admired the prey about to fall into his hands.
Penelope seemed so engrossed that she was completely unaware of the danger behind her.
She turned a page, her slender fingers tracing the vicious spells written in Ancient Runes, her brow furrowed as if troubled by something.
Draco silently took another step closer.
He pulled out his wand.
The Hawthorn wood gleamed coldly in the dimness.
The next second.
The tip of the wand, through a thin layer of robes, lightly pressed against the small of Penelope's back.
That spot was soft and sensitive.
Penelope's body suddenly froze.
It was as if the blood in her entire body had solidified at that moment.
The restricted book in her hand slipped from her limp fingers with a "thud," hitting the floor with a dull sound.
The sound was exceptionally jarring in the deathly silence of the Restricted Section.
"Good evening, Senior Clearwater."
A low, playful voice sounded behind her ear.
Penelope's body began to tremble uncontrollably.
This voice... it was Draco Malfoy!
She wanted to turn around but felt an irresistible pressure from the wand at her back, rendering her unable to move.
"Mal... Malfoy?" She tried to make her voice sound steady, but the tremor at the end betrayed her.
"What are you doing here? This is the Restricted Section!"
She tried to use her status as a prefect to suppress him.
"Me?" Draco chuckled.
"I, of course, have the Professor's permission to consult materials."
His wand slid slowly upward along the curve of Penelope's spine.
With every inch it moved, Penelope's body tensed further.
"As for you, Senior..."
Draco's voice dropped even lower, almost pressed against her ear.
"A Ravenclaw prefect, sneaking around after hours to read a Dark Arts book on 'Soul-Splitting'."
"Tell me, if I were to shout right now and call Filch over..."
"What interesting things would happen?"
These words, like a cold awl, completely shattered Penelope's feigned composure.
Her face instantly turned deathly pale.
Entering the Restricted Section without permission and reading Dark Arts books was enough to get her expelled!
The honor of the Clearwater family, her parents' expectations, her own long-standing pride... all of it would be ruined by the cry of Filch's damn cat.
Her breathing quickened, and her eyes revealed unconcealable panic and pleading.
"No... don't..."
"Please."
She finally gave up her resistance, her voice as thin as a mosquito's buzz.
Draco was very satisfied with her reaction.
He enjoyed watching these high-and-mighty top students peel away their disguises bit by bit before him, revealing their most vulnerable and true selves.
He withdrew his wand.
Penelope felt the pressure on her back release, but just as she was about to take a breath, Draco stepped forward, forcing her back with his body.
Her back slammed hard against the dusty bookshelf.
A tall figure completely enveloped her in shadow.
Draco reached out and propped his hand on the bookshelf beside her cheek, forming a classic wall-slam pose.
The distance between them was mere inches.
Penelope could clearly smell the pleasant scent of cedar mixed with ink coming from him.
She could also see his gray eyes, startlingly bright in the darkness.
In those eyes, there was no anger, no disdain, only the pure sense of control a hunter has over his prey.
"It seems we can have a talk."
Draco spoke slowly, his voice carrying an undeniable tone.
"I've always been one to help others."
"However, my help is never free."
He reached out with his other hand and gently tilted up Penelope's chin.
"Now, let's discuss a deal."
"As long as you do me a small favor, I'll act as if I saw nothing tonight."
"For instance... help me find some specific books on Alchemy."
Penelope was forced to look up at the handsome yet dangerous face before her.
She bit her lip.
She knew she had no right to refuse.
"...Fine."
Chapter 44: Narrow Space, Senior, Don't Make a Sound
Upon receiving Penelope's answer, Draco released his hand with satisfaction.
"Very good, a smart choice."
He took a step back, giving Penelope a little breathing room.
Penelope leaned against the bookshelf, her chest heaving violently as she tried to calm her heartbeat.
She didn't dare look into Draco's eyes again, keeping her head lowered like a prisoner awaiting sentencing.
"The books I'm looking for are all related to Nicolas Flamel."
Draco's voice returned to its usual flat tone, as if the oppressive person from a moment ago wasn't him.
"Particularly those regarding the creation of the Philosopher's Stone and the interpretation of ancient alchemical symbols."
"I imagine that with your familiarity with the Library, Senior, finding them shouldn't be difficult."
Penelope took a deep breath and nodded.
She was indeed intimately familiar with the Library, especially the Restricted Section.
To research the ancient curse that plagued her family, she had practically memorized the catalog of books here.
"Follow me."
She spoke in a low voice, then turned and moved through the labyrinthine bookshelves with the agility of a startled cat.
Draco followed behind her unhurriedly.
He admired how this Ravenclaw senior maintained her efficient movements even amidst her panic.
Her tall figure traced a graceful curve in the dim light, and her long curly hair swayed gently with her movements.
Soon, Penelope stopped in an inconspicuous corner.
She stood on her tiptoes and pulled several heavy, ancient books from the top shelf.
"These are the most detailed records regarding Nicolas Flamel held by Hogwarts."
She held the books to her chest and handed them to Draco, never daring to meet his eyes throughout the process.
Draco took the books and flipped through them casually.
the light of alchemy, Eternal Mysteries, The Paradox of the Philosopher's Stone.
Good, these were exactly what he wanted.
Just as he was about to say something, a sudden heavy sound of footsteps came from outside the iron gates of the Restricted Section.
"Creak... creak..."
The sound was slow and rhythmic, exceptionally clear in the silent night.
Immediately following was the meow of a cat.
"Meow—"
It was Filch!
And his Madam Norris!
Penelope's face turned as pale as paper in an instant.
Clutching the books, her body froze in place; she even forgot to breathe.
Filch had started his nightly patrol!
She was now trapped in the deepest part of the Restricted Section with nowhere to run!
Once caught, everything would be over!
Seeing the desperate expression on Penelope's face as if she were about to cry, there wasn't a hint of panic on Draco's face.
He even found it somewhat thrilling.
"Shh."
He made a silencing gesture to Penelope and then calmly raised his wand.
"Disillusionment Charm."
An invisible ripple of magic spread from the tip of his wand, quickly enveloping both his and Penelope's figures.
The outlines of their bodies began to blur, their colors and textures rapidly blending into the bookshelves behind them.
Almost instantly, the two disappeared from where they stood.
Penelope felt the strange magic wrapping around her, her heart filled with shock.
Such a high-level Disillusionment Charm!
Cast non-verbally, and the effect was so perfect!
This was not magic a first-year student should be able to master!
Before she could think further, Draco suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist.
"This way."
Without allowing for argument, he dragged her toward an extremely narrow gap between two giant bookshelves.
The gap was very narrow, barely enough for a person to squeeze through sideways.
Draco squeezed in first, then pulled hard, dragging Penelope in as well.
The space instantly became incredibly cramped.
To avoid any gaze that might sweep over at any moment, Draco pressed Penelope's entire body firmly against the wall.
His own body pressed against hers, leaving no gap.
Penelope felt herself enveloped by a hot, firm chest.
Her well-developed, full curves were completely deformed by the pressure, pressing tightly against his body.
She could clearly feel Draco's strong and powerful heartbeat, thumping one after another as if against her own eardrums.
She could also feel his warm body heat, continuously transferring through the thin fabric of their clothes.
"Don't make a sound."
Draco's voice was spoken almost against her lips.
One of his hands had, at some point, covered her mouth to prevent her from making any sound out of nervousness.
Penelope's mind went blank.
In her entire life, she had never had such intimate contact with any male.
Shame, tension, fear, and an indefinable, strange sensation intertwined in her heart.
The footsteps outside grew closer and closer.
Filch walked over, carrying a dim oil lamp and grumbling under his breath.
"Damn little brats... don't let me catch you..."
The lamplight swept past the gap, the dim yellow light illuminating the dancing dust.
For a moment, the light passed directly through where they were hidden.
Penelope's heart leaped into her throat; she squeezed her eyes shut, her body trembling uncontrollably from extreme tension.
Draco could clearly feel the senior in his arms shivering.
Far from being nervous, he felt that this sensation of dancing on a knife's edge made the blood in his body boil slightly.
His other hand had originally just been supporting her waist.
Now, however, his fingers began to lightly stroke Penelope's tensed waist, on and off.
This small movement caused Penelope's body to shake even more violently.
She felt as if an electric current was surging through her waist, causing waves of numbness.
Finally, Filch's cursed footsteps gradually faded into the distance.
"Consider yourselves lucky today..."
His voice vanished at the end of the corridor.
The crisis was averted.
Penelope was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when she realized that Draco had no intention of letting her go.
The hand covering her mouth did not move away.
The body pressed tightly against her did not retreat either.
The surrounding air seemed to become even more ambiguous and heated because the danger had passed.
Penelope could hear her own heartbeat sounding like a drum.
Just then, she felt a warm breath puffing against her sensitive earlobe and the crook of her neck.
A low, amused voice rang in her ear.
"Senior."
"Your heart is beating very fast."
Chapter 45: The Secret of Alchemy, The Subjugation of the Senior
Draco's words were like a feather, gently tickling Penelope's already taut nerves.
She could feel her cheeks burning, and her ears and neck were also flushed pink.
She wanted to push him away, but her body was too weak to muster any strength.
Draco lifted the Disillusionment Charm.
The surrounding scene became clear again.
He maintained the posture of trapping Penelope between the wall and his body.
Those gray eyes, in the dim light, held an aggressive gleam as they scrutinized her inch by inch.
"I saved you once, Senior."
He spoke slowly, his voice carrying a trace of natural dominance.
"Given the situation just now, without me, you would probably be on your way to the Principal's office."
Penelope bit her lower lip, unable to refute him.
"So..."
Draco lowered his head.
"Those books earlier were 'payment' for helping me find something."
"But I saved you, and that debt needs to be settled separately."
"I need you to pay a little... interest."
Interest?
Penelope hadn't yet grasped the meaning of those two words.
Draco's lips were already pressing down.
The kiss held no tenderness; it was filled with aggression and possession.
He forcefully pried open her jaw and conquered the territory.
"Mmm..."
Penelope's eyes widened abruptly, and her mind buzzed and went blank.
She struggled briefly, pushing against Draco's chest with her hands, trying to shove him away.
But that meager strength was no different from a cat scratching an itch to Draco.
Soon, her struggling ceased.
Draco's kissing skills far exceeded anything she could have imagined at her age.
That forceful yet skillful invasion made her feel waves of dizziness.
The lingering fear and tension, catalyzed by hormones at this moment, transformed into a thrilling, shuddering sensation.
Penelope's body slowly softened.
The hands she had placed against his chest unconsciously grasped the fabric of his shirt.
She began to respond to the kiss awkwardly and hesitantly.
[Ding!]
[Deep Bonding Behavior detected with High Potential Target 'Penelope Clearwater'!]
[Bonding charging...]
[Points gained: 1000 points!]
[Random Skill Fragment gained: Elementary Alchemy Knowledge (1/3)!]
The system prompt sounded in Draco's mind.
The curve of his lips became more pronounced.
After a long time, not until Penelope was nearly breathless, did Draco finally release her.
A silver thread broke between their lips.
Penelope leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, her cheeks so red they looked ready to bleed.
Her eyes were hazy, her legs were weak, and she could barely stand steady.
"Now, the interest is paid."
Draco gently wiped his lips with his thumb, his posture elegant, like a noble who had just finished dessert.
He didn't press her further; instead, he stepped back and picked up the ancient books that had fallen to the floor.
He casually flipped open the light of alchemy, his gaze sweeping over the dense Ancient Runes on the page.
The fragments of [Elementary Alchemy Knowledge] made these previously obscure symbols clear in his eyes.
"The explanation here is wrong."
Draco suddenly spoke.
Penelope froze for a moment, lifting her hazy eyes to look at him.
Draco pointed to a Transmutation Circle on the page.
"The 'Sun Wheel' symbol here does not represent 'positivity' or 'gold'; it represents 'the Constancy of the Soul'."
"The Alchemist who wrote this book clearly confused its different meanings in the Hermetic School and the Rosicrucian Order."
Saying this, Draco pulled out his Wand and lightly tapped the symbol.
He did not utter any spell.
But the ancient symbol on the page automatically decomposed under the influence of magic, reconstructing itself into a more complex and precise form.
The entire Transmutation Circle seemed to be illuminated at that moment, radiating a harmonious yet powerful aura.
Penelope was completely stunned.
She looked at Draco as if she were looking at a monster.
Nonverbal Spell!
And it was a complex spell used to modify an Ancient Transmutation Array!
Even more terrifying was his understanding of Alchemy!
She herself was a top student in Ravenclaw, and she had dabbled in Alchemy to research her Family Curse.
She knew very well that the error Draco had just pointed out was a blind spot that even many Senior Alchemists might overlook.
And he, a first-year student, had spotted it instantly!
Who exactly was this man?
The erudition, power, maturity, and dominance he displayed, far beyond his age, acted like a massive magnet, firmly drawing her in.
That adoration and fascination stemming from respect for the strong made the humiliation and resistance she had felt moments ago vanish without a trace.
"Senior."
Draco closed the book and looked at her.
"Now, I need you to do one more thing for me."
His tone had shifted from a command to a simple, flat statement.
Because he knew that the woman before him no longer needed threats to be controlled.
Penelope said nothing, merely looking at him with her complex gaze, giving her tacit agreement.
Draco tucked the light of alchemy back into her arms.
"Tomorrow morning, 'lend' this book to Hermione Granger."
"Tell her you found it by accident and thought she might be interested."
"Understood?"
Penelope, holding the book that still carried Draco's body heat, nodded.
She had completely succumbed.
She realized that not only did this dangerous Slytherinhold leverage over her, but worse, her heart had begun to beat for him.
She even... looked forward to the next "transaction."
"Very good."
Draco turned and walked toward the exit of the Restricted Section.
"Pleasure working with you, Penelope."
He did not look back.
Penelope watched his tall, straight back disappear at the end of the bookshelves, still leaning against the wall, her legs weak.
Draco walked out of the Library, taking a deep breath of the cold night air.
[Ding!]
[Penelope Clearwater Loyalty detected to have significantly increased!]
[Status Update: Changed from 'Forced Obedience' to 'Adoration of the Strong'!]
[Bonding Reward gained: Elementary Alchemy Knowledge (2/3)!]
[Elementary Alchemy Knowledge fragments collected, automatically synthesized into: Elementary Alchemy Mastery!]
A massive torrent of knowledge flooded into Draco's mind.
He raised his head and looked at the dark night sky over Hogwarts.
"The puzzle pieces are complete."