Chapter 73: Daphne, Your Talent is Very Suitable for Inheritance?
In Hogwarts' Hospital Wing, there was the smell of disinfectant.
Harry Potter woke up, and the first thing he saw was Dumbledore's kind face.
"How are you feeling, Harry?"
"Professor! Quirrell! Lord Voldemort, he..." Harry tried to sit up excitedly, but his whole body was aching.
"Don't worry, child, it's over," Dumbledore soothed him.
"The Philosopher's Stone is safe. You did well, Harry; you stopped him once again."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief, then remembered something.
"Draco... how is Malfoy?"
Although he hated Malfoy, it was indeed Malfoy who had been fighting Lord Voldemort in the end.
"Oh, Mr. Malfoy..." Dumbledore's expression was a bit odd.
"To protect you, he overextended his magic, and his spirit also suffered a shock. However, Madam Pomfrey says it's nothing serious; he just needs a few days of rest."
Harry was stunned.
"To protect me?"
He clearly remembered that Malfoy had pushed him toward the flames and watched from the sidelines, only acting at the very end.
He wanted to explain, but seeing Dumbledore's "everything is under control" gaze, he swallowed his words.
Would explaining even help?
He lay in his hospital bed, recuperating for two days.
During these two days, he finally understood the meaning of the gap between people.
On his bedside table, there were only one or two misshapen cakes occasionally sent by Ron.
By Draco's bed opposite him, there was a constant stream of visitors.
Pansy Parkinson came every day, serving tea and water, peeling apples so thin the skins were translucent.
Blaise Zabini and the others brought top-tier tonics.
Even the Ice Beauty of Slytherin, Daphne Greengrass, made a rare appearance, leaving behind a bouquet of white Dittany flowers.
What made Harry feel most uncomfortable was that Hermione came too.
More than once, she sat by Draco's bed, softly reading textbooks to him and organizing his notes. Her focused expression made Harry feel a tightness in his chest.
Every time Madam Pomfrey mentioned Draco, she was full of praise.
"Oh, poor Mr. Malfoy, what a brave child!"
"To save you from that villain, he exhausted all his magic! He is truly the pride of Slytherin!"
Harry tried to explain the truth, to talk about Lord Voldemort and Draco's suspicious behavior.
But Madam Pomfrey only looked at him with a "poor child, you've been frightened" expression.
Then she would force him to drink a dose of Calming Potion and tell him to sleep well.
The whole world treated Draco as a hero.
While he, the true "hero," was like a mentally deranged clown whom no one believed.
---
Finally, it was time for the end-of-year feast.
Harry and Ron were discharged from the hospital to attend.
The Great Hall was filled with Slytherin's green and silver. A giant serpent banner hung behind the staff table.
Slytherin had won the house cup for the seventh consecutive year.
At the Gryffindor table, the atmosphere was somber.
The feast began, and Dumbledore stood up.
"Another year has passed!" He was beaming. "Before awarding the house cup, we still need to award some final points for recent events!"
The people at the Gryffindor table sat up straight.
They knew Dumbledore's favoritism was about to begin.
"First, for Mr. Ron Weasley, who played the best game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor fifty points!"
The applause was sparse.
"Second, for Miss Hermione Granger, who showed superb logical thinking in a moment of crisis, I award Gryffindor fifty points!"
Hermione blushed but couldn't help stealing a glance at Draco at the Slytherin table.
"Finally, for Mr. Harry Potter," Dumbledore looked at Harry.
"He showed fearless courage and outstanding grit; I award Gryffindor sixty points!"
The Gryffindor table erupted!
They cheered and clapped wildly.
With these one hundred and sixty points, their total score surpassed Slytherin's!
The green banners began to change color, seemingly about to become Gryffindor's red and gold.
Every Slytherin's face changed, except for Draco, who continued to cut his steak unhurriedly, a playful smile on his face.
Just as Dumbledore was about to announce the result.
A cold voice rang through the Great Hall.
"Principal."
Severus Snape stood up, his black robes billowing and his face grim.
"With all due respect, you seem to have forgotten something."
Dumbledore's smile froze.
"Oh? Severus, what is it?"
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger,"
Snape's voice wasn't loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly.
"They violated the rules by wandering at night, causing Gryffindor to lose a large number of points."
"Furthermore, during their detention in the Forbidden Forest, they violated rules again, clashing with dangerous creatures and behaving poorly."
Snape's gaze swept over the pale faces of Harry and his two friends.
"As the Dean of Slytherin, I believe such persistent misconduct must be strictly punished."
He paused, saying each word deliberately:
"I demand a deduction of fifty points from GryffindorHouse."
An uproar broke out.
Deducting points right after adding them? It was unheard of!
Dumbledore stared at Snape, knowing he was serious this time.
Moreover, the reason was legitimate and impossible to refute.
"Very well, Severus." Dumbledore sighed helplessly. "Since you insist..."
Fifty points were deducted from Gryffindor's score, and they fell behind once more.
The cheers at the Gryffindor table stopped abruptly, as if someone had grabbed them by the throat.
But it wasn't over yet.
"Additionally," Snape's voice rang out again, "I believe there are omissions in the house cup scoring."
He looked toward Draco.
"Mr. Draco Malfoy, in the action to stop the Dark Wizard, protected his classmates and assisted the school in recovering the stolen Philosopher's Stone."
"And using his knowledge, he repaired several ancient magical defense vulnerabilities for the school."
"I believe these outstanding contributions should be rewarded."
Snape looked at Dumbledore, his tone brook no argument.
"I propose adding seventy points to Slytherin House!"
This time, Dumbledore was silent.
Everything Snape said was factual. What Draco had done was indeed more than what Harry and his friends had done combined.
Under the gaze of the entire school, Dumbledore could only nod with difficulty.
"Agreed."
Slytherin's score surged again, leaving Gryffindor far behind!
High above the Great Hall, the banner that had halfway changed color completely reverted to green and silver.
"Boom!"
The Slytherin table completely exploded!
Cheers, whistles, and thunderous applause!
All the Slytherin students stood up, surrounding their king—Draco Malfoy—in the center!
Draco rose amidst countless admiring and fanatical gazes, taking the heavy house cup from Snape's hands.
He held the trophy high, enjoying the glory of the victor.
Then, he turned and, across the long distance, looked at the pale-faced savior at the Gryffindor table.
A cruel smile curled at the corners of Draco's mouth.
He raised the trophy and gave Harry Potter a distant toast.
Chapter 74: The Compartment Scares Two Goddesses Soft! Massage My Jade Feet for Me!
The Hogwarts Express let out a long whistle, its crimson body cutting through the steam as it carried the young Wizards home after the school year.
Inside the luxurious compartment.
Draco Malfoy reclined on the velvet seat.
He wasn't looking at the scenery flying past outside the window; his gaze swept over the three women in the compartment.
"Pansy."
Draco's voice was soft, yet it made the air fall silent.
"Lock the door."
"Yes, Draco."
Pansy Parkinson immediately stood up from her seat. In her eyes, usually accustomed to scorn, there was now only fanatical obedience.
She quickly walked to the door, pulled it shut behind her, and with a "click," locked it.
Drawing her wand, she whispered incantations at the door and windows.
"Muffliato, Confundo, Repello Muggletum."
A few faint flashes of magic passed, and this carriage was completely isolated from the outside world.
A private domain belonging solely to Draco Malfoy.
Pansy didn't return to her seat. Instead, she walked up to Draco and smoothly knelt on the carpet at his feet.
She looked up, gazing obsessively at Draco's jawline, her voice trembling with suppressed excitement.
"Draco, is there anything I can do for you?"
Draco didn't speak, only lifted his foot slightly.
Pansy understood immediately.
She cradled Draco's foot, clad in Dragon-hide Boots, gently untied the laces, removed the boot, and neatly placed it aside.
Then, her well-maintained hands, through the silk socks, applied moderate pressure as she massaged his soles and ankles.
The pure-blood heiress of the Parkinson Family was doing a maid's work, yet her face was filled with willing devotion.
Draco enjoyed the service, his gaze passing over Pansy's head to land on Hermione Granger opposite him.
Hermione's cheeks were flushed so red they seemed about to bleed.
She kept her head bowed stubbornly, her eyes fixed on the book on her lap, "Travels with Ghouls," but her slightly trembling fingertips betrayed the turmoil in her heart.
Her school skirt seemed a bit short, revealing a section of plump calves. As the train swayed, the hem occasionally brushed her knees, causing an itch that made her flustered.
Draco's gaze felt tangible, branding her skin with heat.
Pansy's actions made her feel a strong sense of shame and a hint of envy she didn't want to admit.
Even a pure-blood like Pansy was willing to kneel.
What was she?
Draco's wrist moved slightly, and a small, entirely emerald-green snake, only as thick as a finger, slid from his sleeve, its snake eyes bright as gemstones.
This was an Alchemical Creation rewarded by the System, made of magic yet lifelike.
"Sss... sss..."
A low, ancient hiss came from his throat.
That sound didn't belong to a human; it carried a peculiar rhythm and authority.
Parseltongue.
The little snake understood the command, obediently winding around his fingertip, raising its head high, and flicking its tongue at him.
"Bang."
The compartment door was pushed open by an external force.
Pansy's spells had been bypassed by a more skillful method.
Daphne Greengrass appeared at the doorway, her golden hair cascading like a waterfall, her emerald eyes still cold, about to speak.
The next second, all her words caught in her throat.
Her gaze froze.
First, she saw Pansy kneeling on the floor in a humble posture.
Then, she saw Hermione with a flushed face, not daring to look up.
Finally, her eyes fixed on the green snake at Draco's fingertip and the unique mouth shape of Parseltongue on his face.
Daphne's pupils contracted sharply.
As an heir of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, she knew better than anyone what this meant.
Parseltongue... the bloodline mark of Salazar Slytherin!
No matter how noble the Malfoy Family's bloodline, they had never produced a Parselmouth!
How was this possible?
Daphne's look toward Draco changed completely.
Scrutiny, evaluation, and equal arrogance crumbled in an instant.
Leaving only reverence and suspicion as if toward a deity.
This man not only possessed extraordinary wisdom and power but also inherited the talent of Slytherin's founder!
He was the true king of Slytherin!
Draco paid no attention to Daphne's intrusion, not bothering to explain.
Watching the changing expressions on her face, he moved his finger.
"Go, greet our new friend."
He gave the order in Parseltongue.
The green snake left his hand, gliding silently on the carpet, heading straight for Hermione Granger.
"Ah..."
Hermione felt a coolness at her ankle, a slippery sensation, and she gasped softly, her entire body tensing up.
The snake, with its cold scales, slowly wound around her calf, coil by coil.
She wanted to scream, to pull her leg back, but under Draco's gaze, she couldn't even move her toes.
The snake continued upward, sliding over her thigh, stopping on the book at her knees, raising its head high.
Its crimson tongue almost touched her face.
Hermione's breath stopped.
She could see her own terrified reflection in the snake's eyes.
"Kiss her hand."
Draco gave the order again in Parseltongue, then softly translated it for them in human language.
The green snake obediently lowered its head.
A cool kiss gently landed on the back of Hermione's hand, which was tightly gripping the book.
It was nothing but an absolute mark of submission.
The string in Hermione's mind snapped.
He could easily command a venomous snake to take her life, yet he only had it give a light kiss.
He retrieved the little snake with satisfaction.
Taking a small two-way mirror from his chest, he casually tossed it to Hermione.
"Take it."
Hermione caught it in a fluster.
"During the summer, carry it with you. Every night at ten, use it to report your whereabouts to me."
Draco's tone was plain, but it was an order.
This wasn't a gift; it was a collar.
"I... I understand!"
Yet Hermione held it like a rare treasure, pressing the mirror tightly to her chest, feeling the residual warmth from Draco, and nodded heavily.
After doing all this, Draco finally turned his gaze to the ice-cold beauty at the door.
"Miss Greengrass, planning to stand at the door until London?"
He patted the empty seat beside him.
"Come, sit."
Daphne's body stiffened slightly.
She put away all her coldness and arrogance, took a deep breath, moved her somewhat stiff legs, walked to Draco's side, and obediently sat down.
The aura emanating from the man beside her wasn't just magic; it was a pressure that made her bloodline instinctively feel reverence.
"Malfoy... you..."
"Call me Draco." Draco interrupted her.
His fingers tapped lightly on the armrest of the seat, with a clear rhythm.
"This summer, there will be an important event at Malfoy Manor."
His voice was soft, carrying a hint.
"I think the Greengrass Family would be interested."
Daphne's heart skipped a beat, immediately understanding.
This wasn't an invitation; it was an opportunity to take sides.
An opportunity to attach to the future monarch of the Slytherin bloodline and lead the family to greater glory.
"Of course," Daphne's voice held respect for the first time.
"The Greengrass Family looks forward very much to in-depth cooperation with Malfoy... with you."
Chapter 75: Filial Piety Makes One Strong! I Embraced My Father's Wife!
The train whistle shrieked as it pulled into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at King's Cross Station.
Crowds poured out of the carriages, and the platform was filled with the noise and laughter of family reunions.
Draco, surrounded by a crowd of Slytherins, stepped off the train and immediately locked onto a thin, small figure at the other end of the platform.
Harry Potter.
The other boy's green eyes were also fixed firmly on him, filled with irrepressible hatred.
The corners of Draco's mouth curled up, as he didn't even bother to spare him another glance.
He turned around and, under everyone's gaze—including Harry's, which looked ready to spit fire—he reached out his hand to Hermione.
Hermione's face flushed instantly.
Draco leaned over and printed a standard noble hand-kiss on the smooth back of her hand.
At the moment their lips touched, his fingertip lightly traced a circle in Hermione's warm palm.
A signal that only the two of them understood.
Hermione's body trembled imperceptibly, and her eyes became somewhat unfocused.
After finishing this, Draco released her hand and, leading Pansy and the following Daphne, walked straight toward the VIP passage for pure-blood families.
At the end of the passage, a figure had already been waiting for a long time.
Lucius Malfoy.
He wore a sophisticatedly tailored black robe, and in his hand was his signature snake-head cane, the silver light of the head cold and sharp.
His expression was habitually arrogant, but when he saw Draco and the brand-new prefect badge on Draco's chest,
a look of satisfaction appeared in his grey-blue eyes.
His gaze then swept over Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass behind Draco.
One a loyal dog, the other a potential ally.
"You did well, Draco."
Lucius nodded slightly, offering no redundant chatter.
The father and son exchanged a look; with a single glance, the glory was understood without words.
Back at Malfoy Manor.
In front of the living room fireplace, Narcissa Malfoy was pacing back and forth anxiously.
The extremely well-maintained noblewoman immediately discarded all decorum the moment she saw Draco.
"Oh, my dear Dragon, you're finally back!"
She stepped forward quickly and pulled Draco tightly into her embrace.
The scent of expensive perfume mixed with a mother's unique fragrance washed over him.
Draco took the opportunity to bury his head in his mother's soft embrace, his face appropriately squeezed into a look of exhaustion and lingering fear.
"Mother, you have no idea what terrible things happened at school..."
His voice carried a hint of grievance, like a frightened child.
His cheek pressed against the expensive silk gown on his mother's chest, feeling the warmth coming from beneath the fabric.
The hand encircling his mother's slender waist seemingly unintentionally slid gently along the curve of her back, his fingertips feeling the smoothness and tightness of the silk.
[Ding! Detected host is in deep physical contact with high-value blood relative unit [Narcissa Malfoy]!]
[Ding! Hidden side quest [Legacy of Wei Wu] triggered!]
[Task Description: The inheritance of bloodlines does not stop at the offspring. "Filial piety" towards elders can also nourish the Family Luck.]
[From this contact, obtained Family Luck +10 points!]
The system's notification caused the curve of Draco's lips to take on a strange hue.
This system was indeed very sensible.
Narcissa was completely defenseless against her son's small movements, assuming the child was merely seeking a sense of security; motherly love surged as she held him even tighter.
"Don't be afraid, darling, it's all over. You're safe now that you're home."
She comforted him softly, completely unaware that the "frightened little dragon" in her arms was calculating how to take this "filial piety" a step further.
At the dinner table, the atmosphere was solemn.
Lucius highly praised Draco's performance at school, especially the final defeat of Dumbledore and winning back the house cup for Slytherin.
"This is the best humiliation for those mudbloods and Blood Traitors," Lucius said in a flat tone as he cut into the bloody steak on his plate.
"To reward your glory, Draco."
He took a patterned brass key from his robes and pushed it in front of Draco.
"Your first independent vault at Gringotts; inside are the Startup Funds the family has prepared for you, and some... more interesting things."
Lucius's gaze was meaningful.
"This summer, you have free rein, no need to report. Go and learn about the power that truly belongs to a Malfoy."
Draco picked up the key, feeling the cold touch of the metal.
He knew his father was paving the way for him, letting him touch the true core of the family—those Dark Artsthat could not see the light of day.
After dinner, in the study.
The air smelled of a mixture of old parchment and cigars.
Lucius took something out of a safe that had multiple protective charms placed upon it.
A small, black-covered diary that looked somewhat worn.
"Something the Dark Lord used when he was at school," Lucius's tone was a mix of awe and a hint of unhideable fear.
"I have kept it for many years, originally intending to let it play its part at the right time... but now, he has failed."
He placed the diary on the table.
"I don't know what use it still has, but it is very dangerous."
"Draco, I am giving it to you because I want you to understand how tempting power is—especially the Dark Lord's power—and how lethal it can be."
Lucius wanted to use this diary to give his son a practical lesson on the dangers of the Dark Arts.
Unfortunately, he completely misread the look in Draco's eyes.
That was not the look of someone seeing a dangerous object.
That was the look of someone seeing an... Experience Mob.
Tom Riddle's first Horcrux.
A container storing a soul fragment of his sixteen-year-old self.
Draco already had a plan in mind.
Use it to open the Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts.
Use it to draw out the Basilisk.
Finally... devour this soul fragment belonging to Tom Riddle, just like the one on Quirrell, and turn it into his own nourishment!
"I understand, Father."
Draco retracted the greed in his eyes and replaced it with a solemn expression.
"I will study it carefully."
...Late at night.
Inside Draco's bedroom, the candlelight flickered.
He wasn't sleeping; he was sitting at his desk, flipping through a Dark Arts Goods Catalog he had ordered by mail from the Borgin and Burkes Shop.
"Pop!"
A soft crack of air exploding.
A small, thin figure appeared on the carpet.
It wore a tattered pillowcase, had large bat-like ears, and its tennis-ball-sized green eyes were full of terror and guilt.
The House-elf, Dobby.
According to the original trajectory, he should be at Number Four, Privet Drive, using stupid methods to "protect" Harry Potter.
But now, the aura of Voldemort's soul fragment on Dracocaused Dobby's fear to overwhelm that meager sense of justice.
He had to come and warn his young master first.
"Young master... Master Malfoy..."
Dobby's voice was high and trembling as he wrung his fingers, not daring to look up.
"Dobby has come to warn you! There is a terrible plot at Hogwarts! You cannot return to school this year; it is safest to stay at home!"
He was just about to reach for the desk lamp to hit himself on the head as per habit, punishing himself for "disrespect" to his master.
Before he could finish speaking.
Draco raised his hand.
"Incarcerous!"
A non-verbal spell.
Dobby's body suddenly stiffened, bound in place by an invisible force, unable to move even a finger.
The terror in his eyes turned into shock.
The young master's magic... how could it be so strong?!
Only then did Draco turn his chair around.
Then, he opened his mouth.
"Hiss... sss... you... disloyal... little thing..."
Parseltongue spilled from his mouth, carrying a pressure that originated from the soul.
That was the scent of the Dark Lord!
Dobby began to shake violently, his large eyeballs nearly bulging out of their sockets from fear.
"No... Master... mercy..."
He couldn't make a sound and could only scream in his heart.
What he was facing was that terrifying existence whose name must not be mentioned!
Draco stood up, walked over to Dobby, took a stack of letters from a drawer, and threw them in Dobby's face.
The papers scattered across the floor, the addressee on all of them being—Harry Potter.
"Intercepting all of Potter's letters for the entire term, hmm?"
Draco's voice returned to normal, yet it was colder than the Parseltongue.
"Wanting him to think he's been abandoned by his friends, isolated and helpless, so he won't return to Hogwarts."
"Dobby, you have quite the nerve, daring to go behind the Malfoy Family's back to protect a Potter?"
He leaned down, leaning close to Dobby's ear, his voice pressed very low.
"You know, for a disobedient House-elf, I only need to throw a piece of clothing to you..."
"And you will be exiled. That would be more painful than death, wouldn't it?"
Desperate tears welled up in Dobby's eyes.
It was the truth; being exiled by one's family was the greatest shame for a House-elf.
Draco straightened up and released the Binding Curse.
Dobby immediately collapsed onto the floor, shaking like a leaf.
"Dobby was wrong! Dobby deserves to die! Please punish Dobby, Master!"
He wailed, about to go bang his head against the wall.
"Stop."
Draco commanded coldly.
Dobby's movements stopped mid-air.
A playful smile appeared on Draco's face.
"Who said I was going to punish you?"
Dobby froze, looking at him in confusion.
"Your idea is very good, Dobby. Harry Potter indeed shouldn't return to school so smoothly."
Draco's voice held a hint of praise, "However, your methods are too mild."
He squatted down to eye level with Dobby, a gleeful light shining in his grey-blue eyes.
"I want you to continue 'protecting' Harry Potter."
"But, you must use more extreme methods."
"Go to his house, use magic to ruin his uncle's dinner party, and get him locked up."
"Create obstacles on his path so he can't catch the Hogwarts Express."
"If he still finds a way to get to school..." Draco paused, his smile deepening.
"Then find a way to break his arm, or his leg. Make him spend the entire term lying in the Hospital Wing."
"Make him live in fear, make him feel like the whole world is against him."
"Can you do that, Dobby?"
This string of commands left Dobby's brain completely blank.
He had originally wanted to protect Harry Potter, which was why he came to warn the young master.
Now, the young master was ordering him to harm Harry Potter in an even more cruel way!
What kind of logic was this!
Under Draco's gaze, which was mixed with the pressure of Parseltongue and pure malice, Dobby could not resist.
"Dobby... Dobby... obeys..."
He wept, letting out a whimper of submission.
"Very good."
Draco stood up, satisfied.
"Go now, my loyal Dobby. Execute your new mission."
"Remember, let our dear savior have a summer he will never forget for the rest of his life."
Crying, Dobby slammed his head hard against the wall once as a punishment for himself.
"Yes... Master..."
Then, his figure twisted and he vanished.
Chapter 76: The Pure-Blood Social Arena! I Walk Away with the Ice Queen!
On a summer afternoon, sunlight slanted into Malfoy Manor.
A Great Horned Owl folded its wings and landed on the windowsill of Draco's bedroom, its posture haughty.
A thick parchment letter was tied to its leg, sealed with emerald-green wax stamped with a crest of two intertwined serpents.
A letter from the Greengrass Family.
Draco untied the letter; its gilt lettering carried a faint, cool fragrance.
It was a personal invitation handwritten by Daphne Greengrass.
One week later, at Greengrass Manor, the "Midsummer Night's Dream" pure-blood gala.
This was the pinnacle of wizarding society's social scene, accessible only to the most ancient pure-blood families.
Draco took the letter and went downstairs.
In the drawing room, Lucius was teasing a white peacock with his snake-headed cane. He glimpsed the crest on the envelope, and his eyes lit up.
"An invitation from the Greengrass Family?"
"Yes, Father."
Lucius withdrew his cane, paced two steps, his grey-blue eyes full of calculation.
"Draco, remember, the Greengrass Family controls over half of Britain's trade in Potion ingredients." "Their daughter, Daphne, is the most prized gem on the marriage market."
The implication in his words was unmistakable.
"At the gala, display the bearing of the Malfoy heir. This is crucial for our family's future."
"I understand, Father." Draco's reply betrayed no emotion.
A marriage alliance? Too small-minded.
What he wanted was conquest.
To make the Greengrass Family willingly become a cornerstone of the Malfoy commercial empire.
The night of the gala.
Narcissa had prepared a traditional black dress robe for Draco, intricately embroidered with silver thread.
"No, Mother, it's too old-fashioned."
Draco flatly refused, walked into the dressing room, and personally selected a robe of his own design.
Dark green velvet, tailored to fit, with minimalist serpentine patterns embroidered in silver thread on the collar and cuffs—understated yet dangerous.
He changed into Martin boots made of Norwegian Ridgeback hide, adding a touch of aggression to the noble elegance.
Before the large dressing mirror, his platinum-blond hair was immaculate, his features handsome.
Those grey-blue eyes, deepened remarkably by the growth of his mental power, were astonishingly profound.
He examined his reflection and was quite satisfied.
Time to depart.
Greengrass Manor was ablaze with lights; figures moved and glasses clinked within the grand hall.
Almost all of the most powerful people in the wizarding world were gathered here.
Draco followed Lucius, stepping out from the fireplace via the Floo Network.
The hum of conversation in the hall dropped by half.
If Lucius was a majestic lion, then the young man following him, Draco, was a young panther king with his aura fully unleashed.
His handsomeness was pressuring, combined with a composure far beyond his years, instantly making him the center of attention.
Blaise Zabini and several other Slytherin students instinctively gathered around him, forming a small circle.
"Draco, you tonight... are too dazzling." Pansy Parkinsonfollowed behind him, her gaze infatuated.
Draco paid no heed to these compliments.
His gaze pierced through the crowd, locking onto the head of the Greengrass Family, who was conversing with several noblewomen.
He picked up a glass of Elf-made Red Wine and walked over.
"Good evening, Mr. Greengrass."
Daphne's father, a shrewd and stern middle-aged man, turned around.
"Ah, Draco, welcome. I've heard Daphne mention your performance at school. The younger generation is formidable." His tone was polite, yet distant.
heirs from several other families nearby also crowded in, finding topics of conversation.
"Malfoy, confident about defending the Quidditch Cup next season?"
"I heard your Potion Class grades are excellent. Professor Snape must favor you, right?"
Draco had no interest in these topics.
A smile on his face, he waited for them to finish before looking at Mr. Greengrass and speaking.
"Mr. Greengrass, I've recently been studying the black market material prices in Knockturn Alley."
With that one sentence, the surroundings fell silent.
Mr. Greengrass's brow twitched, clearly intrigued.
"Oh? A first-year Wizard studying that?"
"It is the future." Draco's voice was not loud, yet carried weight.
"I've analyzed data from the past fifty years: Trollwhiskers, African snakewood bark, and Bicorn horns."
"These three core materials have a seven-year price fluctuation cycle." "This cycle is a perfect negative correlation with the production of a certain alchemical material on the European continent."
He paused, then revealed his true objective.
"If the Greengrass Family cooperates with the Malfoys, we will take the lead in controlling the source of that alchemical material on the European continent." "You handle the stockpiling and selling of these three Potioningredients. Within three years, we could monopolize over seventy percent of Britain's offensive Potion market."
"By then, whether it's the Ministry of Magic or the Order of the Phoenix, the cost for them to brew even the most basic enhancement Potion would be one and a half times ours."
"We would be the ones setting the rules."
These words left everyone present stunned.
Those peers still chatting about Quidditch wore expressions of utter bewilderment.
They couldn't understand.
But Mr. Greengrass understood.
The way he looked at Draco changed completely.
This was not the look one gives a junior, but that given to an equal, or even more ambitious, partner.
This boy wasn't looking at a single deal, but at the entire commercial landscape of the wizarding world!
"Draco... you..." Mr. Greengrass's voice was somewhat dry.
Just then, a melodious Waltz began to play.
The dance had begun.
Draco said no more, merely raising his glass in a toast, a smile of complete confidence on his face.
The bait was enticing enough.
He turned, ignoring the suggestive look from the Parkinson patriarch nearby, hinting he should invite Pansy.
He crossed the dance floor, heading straight for a corner.
Daphne Greengrass was surrounded by a group of young pure-bloods.
She wore an ice-blue off-the-shoulder gown, her demeanor cool and aloof.
Under everyone's gaze, Draco elegantly extended his hand to her.
"Beautiful Miss Greengrass, might I have the honor of inviting you for the first dance?"
The air froze.
All eyes focused on the two of them.
Daphne looked into Draco's profound eyes, able to sense the aura of confidence and dominance emanating from him.
Her heart skipped a beat.
After a brief hesitation, a faint blush, almost imperceptible, appeared on her cheeks.
She placed her hand, clad in a white lace glove, into Draco's palm.
"The honor is mine, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco clasped her hand and led her, gliding into the center of the dance floor.
The lights converged, the music was melodious.
The two moved in perfect sync, twirling, gliding, every movement precise and elegant.
They were a match made in heaven, stealing the spotlight from everyone.
In the corner, Pansy bit her lip hard, her eyes full of jealousy, yet she dared not make a sound.
Draco smiled.
Tonight, what he secured was not just the Greengrasscommercial channels.
But also this most beautiful, and most thorny, rose of Slytherin.
Chapter 77: Garden Prey, the Iceberg Goddess Melts
Waltz music echoed in the hall.
Draco's hand pressed against Daphne's slender waist.
Through the ice-blue silk gown, he could feel her body's stiffness and slight trembling.
As the dance steps whirled, he applied a little pressure with his fingertips, pulling her closer.
His fingertips caressed her smooth back, testing her limits.
Daphne's breathing became ragged.
She wanted to maintain her cold and aloof posture, but those emerald eyes had already lost their composure.
The man's scent enveloped her; it wasn't the greenness of a youth, but a sense of pure predation.
Her body was turning soft and hot.
"Your dance steps are as stiff as you are, Daphne."
Draco whispered in her ear, his warm breath brushing against her earlobe.
Daphne's body shuddered.
"I..." She wanted to retort, but couldn't produce a full sentence.
The song ended.
The music stopped, but Draco did not let go.
Applause rang out around them.
"It's too stuffy in here."
Draco took her limp hand with an air that brooked no refusal and led her out of the hall.
"Let's go get some fresh air."
He pulled her through the corridor to the manor's Moonlight Garden.
A Silencing Charm had been cast here; there was no one around, only the sound of the fountain.
The silence made certain things in the air grow more intense.
Draco didn't stop, leading Daphne all the way to a marble pavilion deep in the garden.
He suddenly spun her around, pressing her back against the cold stone pillar.
"Thud."
He braced his hands on either side of her head, trapping her between his arms and the stone pillar.
"Malfoy, what... what do you want to do?"
Daphne finally found her voice, but her tone was weak and lacked any deterrent.
"Me?" Draco looked down at her, his grey-blue eyes shining frighteningly bright in the moonlight, "I want to see what's hidden beneath that arrogant Pureblood mask of yours."
His voice carried a hint of mockery.
"Iceberg Goddess? Pureblood reserve? It's nothing more than an icy shell used to hide your desires."
"Nonsense!" Daphne retorted in shame and annoyance, her secret thoughts having been exposed.
"Nonsense?"
Draco chuckled and slowly lowered his head until their faces were almost touching.
"Then why is your heart beating so fast?"
"Why is your face so red?"
"Why... are you trembling?"
Every question shattered a layer of her disguise.
Driven back step by step, she could only turn her head away, not daring to look at him.
"Admit it, Daphne. You long to be conquered by a stronger man, to have all your pride torn to shreds."
"No... I don't..."
Her final protest was stifled by a burning kiss.
"Mph!"
Daphne's eyes widened instantly.
It was a kiss that left no room for retreat.
Draco's tongue pried open her teeth, driving straight in and seizing territory.
She instinctively tried to push him away, but that bit of strength was negligible against his [Dragon Blood War Body] physique.
Soon, her resistance turned into weak pounding.
Finally, even the strength to pound disappeared.
One of Draco's hands left the stone pillar, slid down her smooth back, and reached deep into the ice-blue gown.
"!"
When that large, warm, calloused hand pressed directly against her burning skin, Daphne's whole body stiffened.
An unfamiliar current surged through her limbs, leaving her mind blank.
She went completely limp in Draco's arms, suppressed whimpers escaping her throat.
That sound was like the mewling of a kitten, carrying pain and also surrender.
[Ding! System detected deep physical interaction between the host and high-potential target [Daphne Greengrass]!]
[Determination successful! Beginning to copy the target's core talent...]
[Ding! Talent [Frost Affinity] copied successfully!]
A cool energy flowed into Draco's body through the skin contact between the two.
He felt that his magic had gained a new affinity for the ice element.
Draco satisfiedly released the panting, dazed Daphne.
He raised his hand, using his thumb to wipe the moisture from the corner of her lips, then helped her straighten her disheveled collar behind her, his movements refined and considerate.
Daphne leaned weakly against his chest, gasping for air.
In the moonlight, her cheeks were flushed, and in those emerald eyes, the coldness had faded, leaving only mist and complexity.
There was humiliation, there was resentment, but mostly there was resignation.
She knew she was finished.
From her body to her soul, she had been branded by this man.
Draco lowered his head and declared in her ear, in a voice only the two of them could hear.
"From today on, remember your new identity."
"You are no longer the Iceberg Goddess of the Greengrass family."
"You are my, Draco Malfoy's... private property."
Daphne's body shuddered again.
This time, she didn't resist, nor did she speak.
She just buried her face deeper into the man's chest... It was mid-August, and the weather was hot.
Draco came to Diagon Alley again under the pretext of buying school supplies.
With a few words, he brushed off Lucius, who wanted to accompany him, and slipped into that dark alleyway alone.
Knockturn Alley.
The Wizards here all had gloomy expressions, but seeing Draco's expensive robes and that Malfoy face, they all tactfully cleared a path.
His destination was clear—Borgin and Burkes Shop.
The shopkeeper, Borgin, a greasy, hunchbacked man, immediately put on a fawning smile upon seeing Draco.
"Master Malfoy! What wind has blown you here?"
"Cut the nonsense, Borgin," Draco said coldly. "Is the item we discussed last time here?"
He communicated with Borgin using a few bits of black market slang.
Borgin was intimidated by his aura and professionalism; not daring to be negligent, he quickly brought out several boxes from under the counter.
Draco sold several useless Dark Arts items he had found in the Room of Requirement for a good price.
His gaze fell upon the old, dilapidated wardrobe in the corner of the shop.
The Vanishing Cabinet.
The other one that led to the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts.
He glanced at the damaged parts of the cabinet, noting the materials and spells needed for repair.
This thing would be of great use in the future.
The transaction complete, Draco walked out of the shop.
Just then.
"Bang! Cough, cough, cough..."
The green flames in the shop's fireplace flared up, and a figure tumbled out, coughing violently on the floor.
The person was covered in soot, and one side of his round glasses was shattered.
Draco stopped in his tracks.
Looking at that familiar figure, a playful smile appeared on his face.
Harry Potter.
It seemed savior, with Dobby's "help," had mispronounced the Floo Powder address and ended up in Knockturn Alley instead of Diagon Alley.
Harry finally stopped coughing and looked up, staring in terror at the ill-intentioned Dark Wizards around him.
Then, he saw Draco.
He saw his rival, spotless and looking down at him from above.
Harry's face instantly turned red.
He instinctively reached for his wand.
Draco's movement was faster.
He swept his gaze over Harry's pathetic appearance as if looking at trash.
Then, he unhurriedly pulled a Silver Sickle from his pocket.
"Clink."
The silver coin traced an arc and landed precisely in the mud at Harry's feet.
The surrounding Dark Wizards let out low snickers.
Harry was stunned, not understanding what he was trying to do.
Draco spoke slowly in a condescending tone.
"Take it, our famous savior."
"Buy a loaf of bread, or wipe the soot off your face."
"Don't starve to death here before school starts, or I'll have much less fun in the new term."
These words were more hurtful than any jinx.
This kind of humiliation trampled his dignity underfoot.
"Malfoy! You!"
Harry's face turned beet red, and the veins on the back of the hand gripping his wand bulged.
He wanted to fight back, to make this guy shut up.
Just then, a massive figure rushed over.
"Harry! Are you alright? I knew you'd get into trouble!"
It was Hagrid.
He had come searching anxiously, interrupting Harry's swearing.
Seeing Hagrid, Draco only gave a disdainful snort.
He turned and walked back into Borgin and Burkes Shop.
Right in front of Harry and Hagrid, he bought a withered, evil "Hand of Glory" from the display window.
"Malfoy! Why are you buying that Dark Arts stuff!" Harrycouldn't help but question.
Holding the withered hand, Draco looked back at him with pure malice on his face.
"Naturally... to do some interesting things that you Gryffindors will never understand."
With that, he ignored the fuming Harry and the wary Hagrid, disappearing into the shadows of Knockturn Alley.
Harry thought this was just Malfoy showing off his Dark Arts.
He didn't know that this hand was just a distraction.
The real killing move had already been set.
Chapter 78: Weasley VS Malfoy! Hermione Takes a Side!
Flourish and Blotts was overcrowded.
The new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, was holding a book signing for his new work.
The shop was filled with a strange smell of cheap perfume mixed with old pages; most of the crowd were middle-aged witches, each looking fanatical.
Draco frowned the moment he stepped inside.
He quickly found Hermione in a corner of the crowd.
She wasn't screaming; she just had her brows furrowed, clutching Lockhart's new book, 'Break with a Banshee'.
Her fingertips repeatedly traced over a certain paragraph, as if searching for a flaw.
Draco knew Hermione had no interest in such empty vessels; her eyes only held rigorous logic and magical knowledge.
A sudden commotion broke out in the bookstore.
"Good heavens! It's Harry Potter!"
Lockhart's eyes lit up, accurately locking onto the boy with broken glasses in the crowd.
He pushed through the crowd and rushed enthusiastically to Harry.
"Harry Potter! I can't believe it!"
He grabbed Harry's arm, dragged him away from Hagrid, pulled him close, and faced the reporter's magical camera.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Lockhart announced loudly, holding their joined hands high.
"When Harry stepped into Flourish and Blotts, he only wanted my autobiography... but he didn't know he'd soon be getting much more!"
The flashes went off in a blinding wave.
Harry was caught off guard by the spectacle, standing there stiffly.
Draco watched the farce, a flicker of mockery crossing his lips.
He pushed through the crowd in front of him and walked up calmly.
"Professor Lockhart, may I interrupt for a moment?"
Lockhart's smile stiffened for half a second before immediately returning to perfection: "Oh, it's Mr. Malfoy! Of course, what is it?"
Draco ignored him and picked up a copy of Lockhart's 'Weekends with Werewolves' from a nearby stack.
In front of everyone and the cameras, he flipped to a page and read clearly:
"'With a simple "Homunculus Charm," I turned that savage Werewolf back into human form'..."
After reading, Draco closed the book and looked at Lockhart with a calm gaze.
"Professor, the Homunculus Charm is an ancient Alchemy used for creating artificial life or separating souls. The effect described in your book is the 'Homorphus Charm,' a standard third-year spell at Hogwarts."
He paused, his voice not loud but carrying over the noise of the room.
"So, did you redefine this spell? Or can you not even distinguish a third-year spell?"
As the words fell, the room went silent.
Everyone's gaze shifted from Harry to Lockhart's face, which turned from white to red, then red to green.
Lockhart's signature smile froze completely; he stood with his mouth open, unable to squeeze out a single word.
Draco was telling the truth.
His books were nothing but fabrications.
In the corner, Hermione watched Draco's upright back, a light shining in her amber eyes.
Just as Lockhart was stuck in an awkward position, there was another commotion at the door.
"Make way! Make way!"
The weasley family bustled in.
Ron Weasley immediately saw Harry being held by Lockhart and the radiant Draco beside him.
"Harry! Are you okay? Malfoy, are you trying to bully Harry again?" Ron immediately bristled and rushed forward.
His father, Arthur Weasley, happened to bump into Lucius Malfoy in the narrow aisle.
"Oh, look who it is, Arthur Weasley." Lucius's tone was full of aristocratic contempt.
"Bringing your whole family to admire what a real bookstore looks like?"
"Lucius!" Arthur's face instantly flushed red. "Mind your own business! Don't think you're something special just because you have a few Galleons!"
Long-standing resentment made their conversation sour, and the conflict escalated abruptly.
Amidst the gasps of the onlookers, Arthur actually swung a fist at Lucius's face.
Lucius simply stepped aside elegantly, using his snake-head cane to easily parry the clumsy punch.
"Has staying among Muggles for so long turned your brain into muscle, Weasley?"
Lucius pressed the tip of his cane against Arthur's chest, his tone cold.
"Look at you, and look at your children. Wearing old robes, using second-hand textbooks. This is the result of your obsession with those filthy Muggle things! A disgrace to the wizarding world!"
Ron's face turned beet red at these words, and he looked down at the tattered Transfiguration textbook in his arms, his lips trembling.
Draco watched coldly from the sidelines, even finding it somewhat amusing.
At that moment, he noticed a detail.
When the conflict broke out, Hermione didn't rush in to help like a Gryffindor; instead, she instinctively stepped back a few paces.
She stood behind Draco, seeking protection.
This subtle movement was clearly seen by Harry Potternot far away.
Harry's heart suddenly tightened, a dull pain making it almost hard for him to breathe.
Hermione... his friend Hermione... had stood on Malfoy's side... Draco felt the girl's proximity behind him.
He reached out, naturally putting an arm around Hermione's slender shoulders, shielding her completely in his embrace.
Then, he looked up and, through the crowd, cast a victorious glance at Harry Potter.
The conflict in the bookstore turned into a complete brawl because Arthur had made the first move.
Lucius parried and countered elegantly with his cane, while Arthur swung his fists wildly like an angry bull.
Bookshelves fell, and books scattered all over the floor.
Screams and roars blended into a mess.
Everyone's attention was drawn to this ridiculous fight.
This was exactly the opportunity Draco had been waiting for.
Chaos was the best cover.
His gaze accurately locked onto Ginny Weasley at the edge of the crowd.
The youngest Weasley girl was clutching a battered cauldron, her face pale, trembling behind her mother.
In Draco's hand, a small, black-covered diary had already appeared.
Tom Riddle's diary.
In a corner where no one was watching, his fingertip quickly traced a complex rune on the diary's cover.
A faint, imperceptible magical light flashed and vanished.
His other hand pressed into the center of the diary.
Tom Riddle would be the venomous insect he carefully raised.
"Weasley! Get your filthy hands off me!"
Lucius swept Arthur away with his cane, disgustedly straightening his rumpled robes.
He saw the tattered textbook dropped by Ginny's feet, disdain flashing in his eyes.
He walked over, picked up the book, and then pulled a brand-new Lockhart autobiography from Ginny's cauldron, his face full of mockery.
"It seems you can't even afford this."
With that, he roughly threw the old book, along with Lockhart's book, back into Ginny's cauldron.
In that very instant!
At the moment Lucius bent down and threw the books, drawing everyone's attention!
Draco moved.
With a flick of his wrist, the tampered black diary silently blended into the pile of old books and landed in Ginny's cauldron.
The whole process was extremely fast, and no one noticed.
Even Lucius Malfoy, who had personally "completed" the framing, didn't know he had become a part of his son's perfect crime.
He merely thought he had humiliated the Weasleys once again.
The conflict soon subsided.
Lucius, with a winner's posture, summoned Draco to leave.
Draco straightened his robes, his face wearing a perfectly measured annoyance at the fight.
Before turning to leave, he "happened" to pass by the still-shaken Ginny Weasley.
He stopped, bent down, and helped her pick up another book that had fallen on the ground.
"Hold onto it, don't drop it again."
He handed the book to Ginny with an aristocratic, hypocritical smile on his face.
At the moment Ginny reached for the book, Draco leaned close to her ear and said in an extremely cold voice:
"I wish you a... wonderful new term, Miss Weasley."
The malice in that voice was pure and intense.
Ginny shuddered violently, as if licked by a cold snake's tongue, and stepped back in fear, looking at him in terror.
Draco didn't look at her again; he straightened up, turned to follow his father's lead, and disappeared through the bookstore entrance.
Ginny clutched the heavy cauldron in her arms, her heart racing.
She didn't know why she was so afraid of a single sentence from that boy.
Meanwhile, Draco, walking in the sunlight of Diagon Alley, finally let a smile curl his lips.
Hogwarts, I'm back.
I hope this year brings a few more surprises.
Chapter 79: The Front Page of The Daily Prophet, Mrs. Weasley Cried!
The study of Malfoy Manor.
Lucius Malfoy's snake-headed cane tapped against the carpet rhythmically, producing a dull sound.
His expression was terrifyingly gloomy.
"Unacceptable! A Weasley!"
His voice was thick with suppressed rage.
"A disgrace to the wizarding world who spends all day with Muggles, the dregs of the Ministry of Magic—he actually dared to lay a hand on me in public!"
Lucius turned around, glaring at his son.
"Draco, this isn't over! I'll make him pay! I'm going to the Ministry of Magic to find Fudge right now; I want him fired!"
Draco was sitting in an armchair, holding the black tea a House-elf had just delivered, slowly blowing off the steam.
His father's fury stood in stark contrast to his own calm.
"Father, calm down."
His voice was flat, yet it possessed a certain soothing power.
"Looking for Minister Fudge? Of course, we must go. But not now, and it's not as simple as just getting him fired."
Lucius frowned. "What do you mean?"
"If he's fired, others will only think we Malfoys are using our influence to bully others."
Draco put down his teacup, his grey-blue eyes looking up, the light within them making it hard for Lucius to read him.
"That's thinking too small."
"What we want to do is ruin his reputation."
Draco spoke each word deliberately, his tone indifferent.
"Make the entire weasley family the laughingstock of the wizarding world, make their already poor situation even worse, until they have to break a single piece of bread in half to eat."
There was no heat in his words, yet the temperature in the study seemed to drop several degrees.
Lucius was stunned.
He looked at his son and suddenly felt a sense of strangeness.
This wasn't the excellent son of his memory; this was a deeper, more terrifying way of thinking.
"What do you want to do?" Lucius's voice lowered unconsciously.
Draco didn't answer but snapped his fingers.
"Dobby!"
The House-elf Dobby appeared out of thin air, his large ears drooping, looking at his two masters in terror.
"To... serve the master..."
"Bring parchment and a quill," Draco ordered.
The items were soon placed on the low table.
"Father, your performance in the bookstore today was perfect."
Draco picked up the pen but didn't write immediately.
"You maintained aristocratic dignity throughout. Even when he threw a punch, you only used your cane to block and didn't use any offensive spells."
"This is called 'restrained self-defense'."
The anger on Lucius's face slowly receded, replaced by contemplation.
"Now, we need to tell this 'fact' to the entire wizarding world."
The corners of Draco's mouth curled up slightly.
"Dobby, I'll dictate, and you record it word for word."
He cleared his throat and began to speak in an emotionless tone.
"Draft Title:'Shocking! Ministry Official Commits Violence in Public, Pure-Blood Noble Shows Incredible Grace!'"
"Main Text: This afternoon, a violent incident occurred at Flourish and Blotts."
"Ministry official Arthur Weasley, at a book signing event, attacked Hogwarts Governor Mr. Lucius Malfoy without provocation..."
The content Draco dictated was extremely cunning.
He blurred the cause of the argument, only emphasizing that Arthur was the 'active attacker,' painting Arthur as a dangerous individual who had lost control due to jealousy.
While Lucius was portrayed as a victim who maintained order and restraint.
"...According to witnesses, Mr. Weasley's expression was hideous, he cursed incessantly, and his behavior was like a thug from Knockturn Alley..."
"...Mr. Malfoy didn't say a word throughout, only using his cane to block; his grace won the admiration of everyone present..."
Lucius listened, dumbfounded.
A shameful brawl had become a perfect personal image showcase in his son's words.
"Finished writing?"
"Finished, finished writing, Young Master." Dobbytremblingly held up the parchment.
Draco took a magical photo from his robes.
In the photo, Arthur Weasley's face was flushed, his features distorted as he threw a punch.
While Lucius elegantly turned sideways, lightly blocking with his snake-headed cane, his expression showing just the right amount of shock and helplessness.
A perfect victim.
"Very good."
Draco took a coin pouch from a drawer and threw it on the table.
"Dobby, take the draft, the photo, and this bag of gold, and go find a woman named Rita Skeeter immediately."
"Tell her the Malfoy family appreciates her writing and hopes to see a 'truthful' report on the front page of tomorrow's The Daily Prophet."
"Remember, be quick and keep it a secret."
"Yes! Dobby will go right away!"
The House-elf took the items and disappeared with a sharp crack.
Silence returned to the study.
Lucius looked at his son, his eyes full of shock.
Bribing reporters, manipulating public opinion... he knew these methods too, but never like Draco, who devised such a complete, malicious, and efficient plan within half an hour of the incident.
This wasn't just cleverness; this was strategy.
"Draco..." Lucius's throat was a bit dry, "How... did you think of this?"
Draco picked up the lukewarm black tea and took a sip.
"Father, fists and spells are the lowest-level weapons."
"Destroying a person's reputation is much more interesting than killing them."
...Early the next morning.
At the breakfast table of Malfoy Manor, an owl flew in and dropped The Daily Prophet next to the dinner plate.
Draco didn't look up, cutting his fried egg with a knife and pushing the newspaper in front of his father.
Lucius unfolded it in confusion.
The next second, his eyes lit up.
Front-page headline, a huge bold title: 'Ministry Official Brawls in Public, Pure-Blood Family Shows Aristocratic Grace'.
Below the headline was that magical photo.
Arthur Weasley repeatedly performed the punching motion, looking crude and frantic.
The article's content was sharper and more malicious than Draco's draft.
Driven by Galleons, Rita Skeeter directly extrapolated Arthur's love for Muggle items into a 'pathological obsession' stemming from an unstable mental state.
The last sentence of the article asked directly.
"We cannot help but ask, is such an emotionally unstable Wizard with violent tendencies really suitable for a key position in the Ministry of Magic?"
Lucius's hand holding the newspaper was trembling slightly from excitement.
He looked up at his son, who was eating breakfast unhurriedly across from him, with unprecedented approval and a hint of awe in his eyes.
What he had lost was just a bit of face in a street fight.
Draco, however, had won him a war sufficient to destroy a political enemy.
"Well done, Draco," Lucius praised sincerely, "Very... well done."
At that moment, a notification sounded in Draco's mind.
[Ding! Detected that the host has successfully implemented a perfect manipulation of public opinion, reversing the family's unfavorable situation and dealing a major blow to the reputation of the weasley family!]
[Judgment successful! The host's family prestige has increased slightly, and influence in the pure-blood sphere has increased!]
[Congratulations to the host for obtaining a rare achievement: Public Opinion Manipulator (Junior)!]
[Achievement effect: Statements you make or authorize will be more easily accepted by the public, with a certain chance of twisting the judgment of neutral parties.]
A genuine smile finally appeared on the corners of Draco's mouth.
Meanwhile, far away at The Burrow in Devon.
Molly Weasley clutched the same newspaper, her shoulders twitching as she repeatedly muttered.
"How could they... how could they talk such nonsense..."
Arthur Weasley sat at the table, his face ashen, not saying a word.
In front of him was a letter from the Ministry of Magic.
Minister Cornelius Fudge, in a 'regretful' tone, informed him that he was suspended starting today to undergo an internal investigation.
The atmosphere in the entire Burrow was depressingly suffocating.
In the corner, Ginny Weasley huddled on the old sofa, not daring to look at her parents' faces.
Her eyes fell on a panoramic photo in the corner of the newspaper, where Draco Malfoy's handsome and cold profile was clearly visible.
Ginny's heart suddenly tightened.
She remembered what the boy had whispered in her ear at the bookstore.
"I wish you a... wonderful new term, Miss Weasley."
A chill rose from her tailbone, making her shiver.
She subconsciously hugged the battered cauldron in her arms, trying to gain a bit of warmth.
At that moment, the black-covered diary she had stuffed at the bottom of the cauldron flashed with an imperceptible dark light.
A faint trace of magic silently seeped into her mental defenses, which were wide open due to fear.
Chapter 80: God-Level Operation! Showing Off Space Magic!
Arthur Weasley was suspended.
The Daily Prophet depicted his argument with Lucius in the bookstore as a one-sided provocation.
He became a joke who abused his power and made a fool of himself in public.
Walking through Diagon Alley, he could feel the stares from passersby, their whispers surrounding him like flies.
Colleagues from the Ministry of Magic, who used to be friendly with him, now avoided him.
This couldn't be left at that.
Malfoy!
Those words burned repeatedly in his mind.
A Wizard humiliated to the extreme had only one thought left: revenge.
He wanted Lucius Malfoy to taste the flavor of being discredited.
Arthur used all his authority and connections in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office of the Ministry of Magic.
Based on a draft of a loophole-ridden emergency amendment, he forcibly obtained a Search Warrant.
Target: Malfoy Manor.
Reason: Suspected of harboring dangerous Mugglecreations modified by the Dark Arts.
He knew very well that if he could find any Dark Artscontraband in the manor, he could turn the tables... Late at night.
The tranquility of Malfoy Manor was torn apart by a sharp alarm.
"Woo—woo—"
The highest-level Defensive Barrier was forcibly triggered!
Lucius Malfoy sprang from his bed, the belt of his silk robe not even tied, and rushed out of the bedroom with a pale face.
"What's going on?!"
House-elves appeared out of thin air, screaming tearfully: "Master! It's Aurors! Aurors from the Ministry of Magichave broken in!"
Aurors?
Lucius's body stiffened, and his blood went cold.
Those things in the study's Chamber of Secrets... biting snuffboxes, cursed Opal Necklaces, and several items from Borgin and Burkes... any one of them would be enough to bring trouble to the family.
It was too late to move them now!
"Prepare for battle!" Lucius drew his wand, a flicker of ruthlessness in his eyes, "Whoever dares to break in, don't expect to leave in one piece!"
Resisting the law with violence was the only choice.
"Father, put away your wand."
A calm voice came from the shadows of the stairs.
Draco wore a black silk robe and was barefoot as he walked out of his room, his face showing no panic at all.
"Draco! They've already..."
"I said, put it away." Draco interrupted him, his voice not loud, but it made Lucius's arm stiffen.
Lucius looked into his son's grey-blue eyes; there was no fear, only a deep pool.
He actually, slowly, lowered his wand.
"They have a Search Warrant, Father." Draco walked to his side, his voice very soft.
"If we act, we'll confirm the charges. Arthur Weasley is waiting for us to do exactly that."
Lucius's face turned pale: "Then... those things..."
"Leave it to me."
Draco dropped those words and turned toward the study.
Lucius hesitated for a second and immediately followed.
The Chamber of Secrets opened, and several items emitted an ominous Dark Arts aura.
The sounds of clashing spells and the clamor of a crowd came from outside, getting closer and closer.
"It's too late, Draco! They're at the door!" Lucius's voice was trembling.
Draco ignored him.
He walked to the antique Snuffbox and reached out, his palm gently covering it.
No spell, no light.
Lucius only felt the air distort slightly.
In the next second, the Snuffbox was simply gone.
It wasn't a Vanishing Spell, nor was it Apparition; it was as if it had been completely erased from this world, without leaving even a trace of magic fluctuation.
Lucius held his breath.
"This..."
Draco didn't speak; his hand brushed over the Opal Necklace, the withered Monkey's Paw, and the screaming Skull in turn.
Wherever his palm passed, everything became void.
Lucius felt his throat go dry.
He had lived for half a lifetime and had never seen, or even heard of, such magic.
This was not a power that humans could master.
Just as the last piece of contraband disappeared.
"Boom!!!"
The manor's front door was blown to pieces.
Arthur Weasley rushed in with a team of Aurors, his face distorted with excitement.
"Lucius Malfoy!" Arthur held up a piece of parchment.
"In the name of the Ministry of Magic, I suspect you of illegally harboring dangerous items. I am now conducting a thorough search of your manor!"
Lucius stood at the study door, looking at him with a near-pitiful indifference.
"Search."
Lucius said only one word.
Arthur was stunned, but the fire of revenge left him no time to think.
"Search! Don't leave an inch! Especially the study and the basement!"
The Aurors scattered immediately.
They used spells to scan the walls, the light from their wand tips repeatedly passing over every corner.
They rushed into the basement, overturned the wine racks, and checked every floor tile.
The needle of the Dark Arts Detector didn't move once from start to finish.
An hour passed.
The entire manor was turned upside down, and not even a suspicious piece of parchment was found.
In the hall, Arthur's face went from smug, to confused, to incomprehensible, and finally to a deathly gray.
How could it be?
Nothing at all?
Was the tip-off fake? Impossible!
Just then, a flat voice came from the second floor.
"Excuse me... are you finished searching? Mr. Weasley."
Arthur looked up abruptly.
Draco Malfoy was standing by the second-floor railing, arms crossed, looking down at him.
The black silk robe made his skin look pale, and his platinum-blonde hair reflected the light.
He looked at Arthur with an expression as if he were looking at something filthy that had broken into the house.
"I heard that the reason you applied for a Search Warrantwas'suspecting us of illegally harboring Muggle items modified by the Dark Arts'?"
Draco's voice was calm, echoing throughout the hall.
"So, did you find any? An exploding Toaster, or a Rubber Duck that recites incantations?"
"Pfft." A young Auror couldn't help but laugh, then quickly covered his mouth with his hand.
Arthur's face turned beet red.
"Mr. Weasley, you had an argument with my father in a bookstore and were suspended pending investigation," Draco continued.
"Then, late at night, you used a ridiculous reason to blow open the door of a Hogwarts school governor's home."
"It's hard not to suspect that you are settling a personal grudge and abusing your power."
The surrounding Aurors' looks toward Arthur changed.
They were law enforcers, not thugs for personal vendettas.
"I... I am performing official duties!" Arthur's voice was dry.
"Is that so?" Draco chuckled. "Well then, your official duties are finished. You may take your people and leave my home."
Lucius's cold gaze was pinned on Arthur.
Arthur Weasley stood in the mess, feeling everyone's eyes like needles pricking him.
He lost.
He lost everything.
"...Withdraw."
He squeezed two words through his teeth.
Under the cold stares of the Malfoys and the suspicious looks of his subordinates, Arthur Weasley led his people out of the manor.
He was as arrogant when he arrived as his back was bent when he left.
Watching that pathetic figure disappear, Lucius let out a long breath, turned, and looked at his son with an expression of awe and strangeness.
Draco didn't look back; his gaze fell on the blasted door.
"Father," he spoke softly.
"Hmm?"
"When a mad dog bites you, you can't just drive it away."
Draco turned his head, his grey-blue eyes showing no joy of victory, only a cold chill.
"You have to break its legs, pull out its teeth, and make it so it can never bark again."
"This matter is not over."