Chapter 81: Turning the Tables! The weasley family Can't Even Afford Textbooks!
The search party retreated in disarray, but the air inside the study of Malfoy Manor remained tense.
The House-elves waved their wands, silently repairing everything the Aurors had messed up.
Lucius sat in a chair by the fireplace, his face pale, feeling both the relief of a survivor and a sense of shock at his son's capabilities.
"Draco, it's a good thing you were here. I almost... just now..."
He felt a lingering fear; if he had truly ordered a violent resistance to the law, the consequences would have been unimaginable.
"Father, do you think this is over?"
Draco walked to the liquor cabinet and poured two glasses of Firewhisky, one for himself and one for his father.
He handed one of the glasses to Lucius.
"Arthur Weasley failed this time, but this is a dangerous signal," Draco's voice was calm.
"It shows that Dumbledore and that pro-Muggle lot, the Weasleys, have already dared to make a move against us."
"Today they dared to search Malfoy Manor with a pathetic excuse; tomorrow they'll dare to use the same method to search the Nott home or the Parkinson home."
"We dodged it this time, but what about the next? We must let them know that if they touch us, the price will be more than they can pay."
Lucius gripped his glass, his brow furrowed.
Draco's words calmed him down; he had indeed only been thinking about solving the immediate crisis without looking deeper.
"Then what do you mean... what should we do?" Luciuslooked at his son, unconsciously adopting a consultative tone.
"Counterattack. It must be fast, and it must be ruthless."
Draco didn't answer directly but walked straight to the deepest part of the study, the place belonging to the head of the house. He went around the desk and sat down like the master of the house.
This action caused Lucius's pupils to contract.
"First, sue him." Draco tapped his fingers on the desk.
"Contact the family lawyers and sue Arthur Weasleypersonally in the Wizengamot on the grounds of 'illegal entry,' 'abuse of power,' and 'malicious slander.'"
Lucius's eyes lit up: "Exactly! Sue him!"
"It won't just be us suing," Draco interrupted him.
"Contact Uncle Nott, Uncle Parkinson, and all the pure-blood families who have been harassed by Weasley for 'Misuse of Muggle Artifacts.' We are going to file a class-action lawsuit."
He paused, saying each word deliberately: "Escalate this matter from a personal grudge to political persecution. Let the entire wizarding world see that Weasley isn't targeting Malfoy, but our entire pure-blood class."
Lucius felt a chill. This move was incredibly vicious.
"Second, find Fudge," Draco continued. "You know better than I do what kind of man Minister Cornelius Fudge is. He loves his reputation, but he fears losing his position even more. Families like ours are his purse and his voter base."
A trace of mockery flashed in Draco's eyes.
"Go see him directly and tell him that if he cannot 'deal severely' with Weasley and give us an explanation, then the Malfoy Family will not donate a single Galleon to the Ministry of Magic next year; it will all be redirected to St. Mungo's."
"And incidentally, remind him that we will initiate a motion of no confidence against him in the Wizengamot."
Legal action, political pressure, and economic threats.
With these three blows striking in succession, the plan was to completely strangle Arthur Weasley's political life.
This combination of tactics was no longer a scheme a twelve-year-old boy could devise. These were the methods of a seasoned politician.
Lucius looked at his son, who sat in his own seat talking eloquently.
That composure, that calculation, that coldness in treating enemies as chess pieces... what he saw was a version of himself that was younger, stronger, and more terrifying.
No, it was an existence that had already surpassed him.
"I... I'll go take care of it immediately!"
For the first time, Lucius fully accepted his son's plan.
He was even somewhat impatient, turning to rush to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo Powder, and disappearing into the green flames.
Draco watched his father's disappearing back, picked up his glass, and drained the Firewhisky in one gulp.
The spicy liquid burned his throat.
The Weasleys? They were merely an appetizer to test the waters in his new game... Draco's plan was incredibly efficient.
The next day, an internal Ministry of Magic bulletin was leaked.
Faced with the threat of a joint lawsuit from over a dozen pure-blood families and the Malfoy Family's ultimatum to withdraw all political donations, Minister Cornelius Fudgedid not hesitate for a moment.
To appease the anger of the pure-blood faction and protect his seat as Minister, he decisively abandoned Arthur Weasley.
With a single order, Arthur Weasley was placed on 'indefinite suspension with pay' and was to undergo an internal investigation by the Wizengamot Disciplinary Committee.
In the Ministry's bureaucracy, 'indefinite' meant a political death sentence.
'With pay' was the last bit of face Fudge left for Dumbledore's faction.
But this thin veneer of dignity was a disaster for the already cash-strapped weasley family.
Arthur's meager base salary could hardly support a family.
The family's primary income actually came from position stipends and various subsidies.
After the suspension, all of these vanished into thin air.
Inside The Burrow, a cloud of gloom hung over them.
Molly used red ink to cross out more than half of Ron's shopping list for the new term.
The new robes were gone, the new cauldron was gone, and that Transfiguration textbook, which was so worn it was falling apart, would have to be used for another year.
Meanwhile, Malfoy Manor presented a completely different scene.
In the study, Draco and Lucius sat at opposite ends of a wizard's chess board.
On the board, Draco's silver knight galloped across, elegantly and lethally striking down Lucius's black king.
"Checkmate," Draco said softly.
Lucius looked at the fallen king piece, silent for a long time.
He had lost.
Not just this game. In this confrontation, he realized that his thinking and methods could no longer keep up with his son's rhythm.
The future of the House of Malfoy needed a stronger leader.
After a long silence, he took out a small, exquisite gold key from his robes.
The key was engraved with complex Goblin runes, radiating a sense of power.
This was the spare key to the highest-level vault at Gringotts.
"Draco."
Lucius placed the key on the chessboard and pushed it toward his son.
"From today on, one-third of the family's liquid assets are under your full control."
"You do not need to report to me."
This wasn't just money.
This was power, trust, and a significant transfer of authority within the Malfoy Family.
Draco picked up the cool key and held it in his palm.
He could feel a power sufficient to move the wizarding world being passed into his hands through this small key.
He looked out the window, his gaze profound.
He saw clearly the weakness Fudge had displayed in this matter, as well as his surrender to money.
A Minister of magic who could be easily swayed by money and power... that would be very useful indeed.
Chapter 82: The Family Curse! Forcing Daphne to Sign an Indenture!
The struggle with the weasley family had come to an end, and the manor had returned to its usual tranquility.
On a sunny afternoon, Draco was in his room studying an ancient tome on soul magic when a Barn Owl landed on his windowsill.
A letter was tied to its leg, in a moon-white envelope sealed with the Greengrass Family heraldic wax seal.
Draco untied the letter.
The letter paper carried a chilly fragrance like Bluebells; it was the scent of Daphne Greengrass.
The elegant handwriting revealed a hint of restraint.
The content was simple, following a formulaic greeting.
Using extremely subtle wording, she asked several Potions questions regarding the ratio of Peppermint to Sopophorous Beans in the brewing of the Draught of Peace.
Draco looked at the letter and smiled.
A Slytherin who was consistently top of the class in Potions asking a second-year level question?
It was merely an excuse.
A signal to test the waters.
At the Midsummer Night Banquet, in that moonlit garden pavilion, he had used a kiss and absolute power to tear through her pride.
Now, this thorny iceberg rose was carefully extending an olive branch to her conqueror.
She was confirming whether everything that night was a whimsical conquest or the beginning of a relationship.
Draco, naturally, would not disappoint her.
He pulled out a piece of parchment and took up his pen to reply.
But he didn't answer that foolish Potion question, nor did he mention any of the ambiguity of that night.
His reply was filled with a business-like coldness.
"Miss Greengrass:
Regarding Potions, words can hardly do them justice.
It so happens that I am organizing Malfoy Manor's private greenhouse. Some of the rare plants within might provide direct assistance to your 'academic research.'
Additionally, regarding the plan I mentioned to your father that night about integrating the Potion channels of Knockturn Alley and the Greengrass Family to monopolize the market, I have drafted a contract.
I believe it is necessary to have an in-depth meeting with the future heir of the Greengrass Family regarding this matter.
I look forward to your visit this Wednesday afternoon.
Draco Malfoy."
A reply that packaged a private invitation as a business meeting.
The location was his manor, his greenhouse.
The topic was business cooperation.
What he wanted was not a trophy lover, but an ally who could contribute to his empire.
This letter was a new test.
If Daphne came, it would mean she accepted the rules of the game... On Wednesday afternoon, Daphne Greengrass arrived as scheduled.
The green flames of the fireplace flared up, and she stepped out, appearing in the magnificent drawing room.
She had clearly dressed up with care.
She wore a pale green off-the-shoulder gown, the color echoing the "greenhouse" mentioned in his letter.
Her blonde hair was pulled into an elegant bun, revealing her fair and slender neck.
Those emerald eyes strove to maintain a cool composure, but her slightly pursed lips betrayed her inner nervousness.
"Miss Greengrass, welcome."
Draco was already waiting in the drawing room.
He wasn't dressed formally, wearing a high-quality white linen shirt with the sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows, revealing the firm lines of his forearms.
He didn't look like a noble heir; he looked more like a young manor lord, exuding the composure of a master.
"Mr. Malfoy," Daphne said, curtsying slightly, her voice steady.
"Call me Draco," Draco said with a smile, directly bridging the distance of their surnames.
A faint blush appeared on Daphne's cheeks; she nodded without objection.
"Follow me. My greenhouse isn't often open to the public."
Draco didn't take her on a tour of the manor, but instead led her directly through the corridor to a massive glass building behind the estate.
The Malfoy Family's private greenhouse.
As they stepped inside, a dangerous atmosphere mixed with the scent of soil, flowers, and exotic plants rushed toward them.
There were no ordinary colorful blooms here; most of the plants displayed eerie and flamboyant hues.
Venus Flytraps with teeth snapped open and shut in the corners, making faint clicking sounds.
Mandrakes planted in soundproofed clay pots gave off a vague sense of restless magic.
The entire greenhouse was a beautiful poison garden.
Daphne subconsciously slowed her pace.
"Don't be afraid," Draco's voice sounded beside her. "They all know me."
He led her to a rattan table and chairs in the center of the greenhouse.
On the table lay a contract written on magical parchment.
Draco was in no hurry for flirtatious talk; he didn't even look at her much, pushing the contract directly in front of her.
"Take a look. This is the future I have prepared for the Greengrass Family."
Daphne's heart skipped a beat.
She had thought this would be an ambiguous tug-of-war of a date, but she hadn't expected him to get straight to the point.
She took a deep breath, suppressing the flutter in her heart, and reached out with a white lace-gloved hand to open the contract.
Just looking at the first page, her breath hitched.
The contents of the contract were even bolder and crazier than she had imagined!
The House of Malfoy would step in, using "gray methods" to integrate all black-market Potion material suppliers in Knockturn Alley and establish a unified procurement channel.
The Greengrass Family would then use their legal businesses to be responsible for selling these "laundered" materials at high prices to the Ministry of Magic, St. Mungo's, and even Hogwarts.
A massive plan that spanned both the legal and illegal markets.
Attached to the back of the contract were market analyses and profit forecasts personally prepared by Draco.
Once successful, within three years, the two families would monopolize over seventy percent of the offensive and curative Potion raw material market in Britain!
The profits would be astronomical!
Daphne's heart tightened as she read. This boy's ambition was far greater than her father had ever imagined.
She forced herself to stay calm, scrutinizing the contract with a merchant's eye.
"This contract... isn't the House of Malfoy's profit share a bit too high?" She looked up, fighting for her family's voice.
Draco smiled.
He stood up from his chair, walked around the table, and came behind her.
He didn't speak, but simply leaned down, close to her ear.
Daphne could feel his warm breath brushing against the tips of her hair, and that faint woody scent invaded the safety distance she had carefully maintained.
Her body stiffened involuntarily.
"Daphne," Draco's voice was low and seductive, "do you really think that what I'm giving you is just a business deal?"
He reached out his hand, his slender fingers not touching her skin, but slowly sliding along her bare shoulder line, stopping at the edge of her pale green gown's neckline.
"I've heard the rumors about the Greengrass Family."
Daphne's body gave a violent shudder.
"A... Blood Curse." Draco spoke each word very slowly, like an icicle stabbing into her heart.
"It is said that the women of your family rarely live past forty, and... it's very difficult to have offspring, correct?"
This was the Greengrass Family's most central and desperate secret!
The color drained completely from Daphne's face, and for the first time, pure fear appeared in those emerald eyes.
"How could you..." Her voice trembled, almost out of tune.
"I know much more than you imagine."
Draco's fingers moved away from her neckline and gently pinched a corner of her dress.
The fabric was gripped between his fingers as if he were holding her fate.
"This contract is only the beginning."
His voice was right at her ear, carrying an unquestionable command.
"Submit to me, Daphne. I promise that in the future, I will use all the resources of the Malfoy Family to find a way to break the curse."
He paused, his tone turning cold.
"Reject me, and all you will get is profit. While your family will continue to slowly wither under the shadow of that desperate curse."
What he offered was poison, yet also the antidote.
Daphne looked at the contract before her, which still smelled of fresh ink, and felt the pressure radiating from the man behind her.
At this moment, her psychological defenses wavered violently.
She knew that once she signed her name, what she would be handing over was not just the family's commercial channels.
It was herself, her pride as a pure-blood noblewoman.
And her entire future.
Chapter 83: After the Greenhouse Tryst, I Became a Friend of Plants!
Daphne's breathing became ragged, her emerald eyes clouded with a layer of mist.
Within them lay humiliation, resentment, and a trace of dazed temptation she was unwilling to admit even to herself.
She bit her lower lip hard, the sharp sting acting as the last straw to maintain her clarity.
Draco admired her precarious state, the curve of his lips becoming increasingly playful.
He enjoyed watching these usually high-and-mighty pure-blood peacocks have their gorgeous feathers plucked one by one before him, revealing their most vulnerable flesh.
"It seems Miss Greengrass needs a little help to make up her mind."
Draco didn't press closer; instead, he straightened up and elegantly reached out a hand.
"Come, I'll take you to see something interesting."
His tone was calm, yet it brooked no refusal.
Daphne hesitated for a moment, but eventually, as if pulled by an invisible thread, she stood up and followed behind him.
Deep within the greenhouse, near a corner of poisonous mushrooms, grew a strange plant.
Its vines were an eerie silver-white, covered in fine, downy tentacles.
The leaves were semi-transparent, revealing a pale purple liquid flowing slowly inside.
"Shivering Vine," Draco introduced. "A rare magical plant that is extremely sensitive to a Wizard's magicfluctuations."
"The more agitated the person's emotions and the more chaotic their magic, the more violent its reaction."
As he spoke, he reached out a finger and lightly tapped a vine.
The vine jerked back, then cautiously wrapped around his fingertip, rubbing against it submissively like a tamed cat.
"See, as long as you are calm enough, it is very gentle."
Draco turned to look at Daphne, the amusement in his eyes undisguised.
"Want to try?"
Daphne looked at the plant and instinctively took half a step back.
"I..."
The refusal failed to leave her mouth.
Draco was already standing silently behind her, his warm chest pressed tightly against her slender back.
Daphne's body stiffened.
Through her gown and shirt, she could clearly feel the steady, powerful heartbeat in his chest, thumping against her back time and again.
"Don't be nervous."
His voice sounded right against her ear, his warm breath sending a tingle of itchiness through her earlobe.
Before she could react, Draco grabbed her lace-gloved right hand, completely enveloping it with his large palm.
His palm was very hot, bearing the thin calluses from years of practicing spells, forming a sharp contrast with her cold, soft hand.
"Come, feel it."
Draco controlled her hand, guiding her fingertips toward the Shivering Vine with an irresistible force.
The moment they touched.
"Hum—!"
The vine's reaction was completely different from before!
It was as if it had been hit by a violent electric current; the entire plant began to tremble violently!
Countless silver-white vines came to life, instantly wrapping their joined hands so tightly that not even air could pass!
"Ah!"
Daphne cried out softly, instinctively trying to pull her hand away, but Draco's hand locked her in place like an iron pincer, making her unable to move.
"Do you feel it, Daphne?"
Draco whispered in her ear, his voice suppressed with laughter.
"Your heart is in disarray."
The vine's trembling spread through her entire body.
"No... it's not..." she defended herself in vain.
"Is it?"
Draco's other hand had, at some point, wrapped around her slender waist.
His fingers were restless, pressing directly against her smooth skin.
"!"
Pride, reserve, reason... everything was shattered at this moment.
Her knees buckled; if not for Draco firmly supporting her from behind, she would have collapsed immediately.
"Look, it's getting more and more excited."
Draco's voice dropped even lower, carrying a bewitching magic.
The vines wrapped around their hands trembled even more frantically as they sensed her out-of-control magicand emotions.
The vines outside and the man behind her formed a double resonance.
Daphne's consciousness blurred completely.
In her emerald eyes, the cold frost had long since melted, leaving only a hazy mist and sinking desire.
She weakly tilted her head back, her neck resting on Draco's shoulder as broken gasps escaped her throat.
Draco lowered his head, looking at her flushed cheeks and vacant eyes, knowing the timing was right.
He let go of her hand.
The frantically trembling vines lost their source of stimulation and retreated reluctantly.
Daphne's body also lost its support, and she slumped backward, only to be caught steadily in Draco's arms.
She went limp in his embrace, able only to gasp for air, greedily inhaling the aggressive, cold scent emanating from him.
Draco carried her back to the wicker table.
He didn't let her sit; instead, he had her lean against the edge of the table while he stood before her in a posture of absolute control.
He picked up a quill and tucked it into her still-trembling hand.
"Now, you know how to choose, don't you?"
Daphne looked up at him with eyes clouded by mist.
The man before her was handsome, powerful, and dangerously fascinating.
From the moment he led her away from the dance floor, she had fallen into a trap tailor-made for her.
Now, she had no way back, and she didn't want to retreat anymore.
She looked down at the contract.
In the section belonging to the heir of the Greengrass Family, she signed her name with trembling strokes.
—Daphne Greengrass.
The final stroke fell.
In Draco's mind, the system's notification sounded on time.
[Ding! Detected host has achieved deep physical interaction with high-potential target [Daphne Greengrass] and made her sign a Dependency Contract!]
[Judgment successful! Target's core defense line has been breached!]
[Nature Affinity (Elementary): Your perception of magical plants and Potion materials has been enhanced, and you can slightly increase the success rate of Potionbrewing.]
A fresh surge of plant energy poured into Draco's body, and his perception of the surrounding plants instantly became acute.
Draco smiled with satisfaction.
He took the quill from Daphne's hand, leaned down, and unhurriedly straightened her slightly disheveled skirt and hair.
Daphne leaned weakly against the table, trying hard to steady her breathing.
She looked at the man before her; one moment he had been violating her boundaries to the extreme, and the next he had restored his aristocratic poise, his eyes filled with complexity.
There was awe, attachment, and a trace of expectation she hadn't even noticed herself.
She understood that by signing this name, she was no longer just the heir of Greengrass.
She was also Draco Malfoy's... possession.
Draco looked at her disheveled yet pitiable appearance, reached out, and gently pinched her chin, forcing her to look up.
"Very good."
His voice carried approval.
"Now, our business is concluded."
His gaze lingered for a moment on Daphne's rosy lips, and he spoke slowly, his tone ambiguous.
"So next, should we talk about... the cooperation between us 'personally'?"
Chapter 84: I Use Hermione's Eyes to Monitor Voldemort's diary!
It was late at night.
After Draco finished dealing with Daphne's matter, he didn't feel sleepy at all.
He walked to the dressing table and took out the two-way mirror carved with snake patterns from the silver box.
Injecting magic, his fingertips tapped on the cold mirror surface.
"Hermione."
The mirror surface rippled like water, and a few seconds later, Hermione's face emerged.
She was wearing a faded cotton nightgown, her messy brown hair draped over her shoulders, her face showing the fatigue of staying up late.
In the mirror, she lacked the sharpness she had at school and looked somewhat soft.
"Draco..." Her voice was a mix of joy and nervousness, with a trace of guilt she couldn't hide.
"How is the matter I asked you to handle?" Dracointerrupted her directly, his tone very flat, revealing no emotion.
Hermione's back straightened instantly, like a soldier ready to take orders at any time.
"I wrote a letter to Ron and also asked Harry."
"The weasley family is in bad shape because of the newspaper incident; Mr. Arthur has been suspended."
"Harry and Ron... they really admire Lockhart and bought his full set of books. Also, Harry regarding the Knockturn Alley matter..."
Draco listened to this useless news without even moving an eyebrow.
"Hermione."
He spoke again.
"Come closer."
"...What?" Hermione was stunned.
"I said, come closer to the mirror, let me see you clearly." Draco's tone remained calm but carried a commanding note.
Hermione hesitated for only a second before obediently leaning her face in.
In the mirror, her face with a few small freckles was magnified, her amber eyes full of unease.
Draco scrutinized her quietly like that, without saying a word.
Just as Hermione was about to be suffocated by the silence, he finally spoke.
"You've gotten thinner."
Hermione's body froze.
"But, you've become prettier."
This light praise hit the softest part of her heart with precision.
A wave of heat burned from her neck to the tips of her ears; she could feel her cheeks burning.
"Hermione, look at me."
Draco's voice had a strange magic to it.
Hermione involuntarily looked up, meeting those grey-blue eyes in the mirror.
"You're feeling guilty," Draco said directly. "You feel like you're betraying your friends."
With one sentence, Hermione's defenses crumbled. Her eyes quickly reddened, and her lips trembled, but she couldn't say a single word.
"Do your 'friends' need your protection?" Draco's voice slowed down, with a persuasive rhythm.
"Harry has Dumbledore. What can Ron give you besides impulsiveness? How much trouble have you blocked for them?"
"How have they repaid you? By mocking your background?"
He paused, letting every word stab into her heart.
"And what about me?"
A hint of tenderness entered Draco's voice.
"It was I who saved your life when everyone else had given up on you."
"It was I who saw your value."
"Hermione, you are very smart. You and I are the same kind of people. We stand together to change this decaying wizarding world."
"So, you aren't betraying them; you are using a higher method to protect them from being harmed by their own stupidity."
These words pried open the shackles in her heart.
The sense of guilt faded, replaced by a satisfaction of 'being needed' and 'participating in a great cause'.
Right, Draco was right. Harry and Ron were always so impulsive. Staying by their side and acting as Draco's eyes was actually protecting them... Seeing the struggle in Hermione's eyes replaced by a fanatical identification, Draco knew it was done.
"Well done,Hermione." he praised. "After school starts, I'll give you a... special reward."
"A reward?" Hermione's face grew even hotter, her eyes showing shy anticipation.
"Yes, a reward that belongs only to you." Draco's voice trailed off with a slight upward tilt, full of suggestion.
Hermione's heart began to race wildly.
In her mind, she uncontrollably flashed back to that deepest corner of the Library, in the shadows of the bookshelves, where his warm fingertips had brushed against her... "By the way," Hermione suddenly remembered something and hurriedly added.
"I heard Ron say in a letter that he seems to have gotten into trouble again. Mrs. Molly was very angry and said she's going to send a Howler to the school for him."
A curve finally appeared at the corner of Draco's mouth.
A Howler? Very good. The chaos in the weasley family is more serious than he thought.
"One last instruction, Hermione." Draco withdrew his smile, his expression becoming serious.
"From the first day of school, keep a close eye on Harry Potter."
"Not what classes he attends or who he argues with. I want you to notice if he has any 'abnormalities'."
"For example, talking to himself. Or, telling you he hears strange noises that no one else can hear."
Hermione was startled: "Hearing strange noises?"
"Yes." Draco's eyes were deep and unfathomable.
"Once you find anything, tell me immediately through the mirror. Remember, you are only allowed to observe and report, not to interfere in any way. Do you understand?"
Although Hermione was puzzled, she still nodded vigorously.
"I understand, Draco."
"Very good."
Draco cut the connection, and the mirror surface returned to being smooth.
He turned and walked toward the desk, where the black diary belonging to Tom Riddle was lying.
He could feel that the remnant soul inside the diary was becoming more and more active because of Ginny Weasley's fear and vulnerability.
Draco reached out his finger and brushed his fingertip across the cover of the diary.
"Tom..." he murmured softly, "I hope you will like the new toy I've prepared for you."
...September 1st, the day before school starts.
A slight disturbance came from the magical boundary of Malfoy Manor.
In the bedroom, Draco, who was about to go for dinner, paused.
It was a House-elf's Apparition, and a forced movement that violated core orders, carrying the burning sensation of contractual punishment.
Dobby.
Draco raised an eyebrow, having no interest in even notifying his parents.
He snapped his fingers, and his figure faded and disappeared on the spot.
In the woods at the edge of the manor, Dobby, wearing a tattered pillowcase, was trembling in pain.
He had just failed to Apparate and was bounced back by the manor's magical barrier, his soul feeling as if it had been burned by fire.
"I must go... must go warn the great Harry Potter! Hogwarts is in danger!"
He muttered, raising his bony hand, preparing to slam it hard against a nearby old tree to punish his 'disloyalty' with physical pain.
"Hiss..."
A very light hiss sounded right against his ear.
Parseltongue!
Every nerve in Dobby's body was instantly drained, and all his movements froze.
Maintaining that ridiculous posture of being about to hit the tree, he couldn't even move his eyeballs.
A figure turned from ethereal to solid, silently appearing in front of him.
Draco looked down at him from above.
He did nothing; simply by standing there, the pressure from his bloodline stripped Dobby of all abilities, including the instinct to harm himself.
"You want to go to King's Cross Station to warn Harry Potter." Draco used a declarative sentence.
"Waa—!"
His defenses completely collapsed, and Dobby wailed loudly, snot and tears smearing his face.
"Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby violated master's orders! Dobbydeserves to die!"
"But... but Harry Potter is a great Wizard! He cannot go back! There is a conspiracy there!"
He screamed in vain, but couldn't even move a finger.
"You want to save him?" A smile that made Dobby feel bone-chilling cold appeared on Draco's face. "Very good."
The crying stopped, and Dobby looked at him in confusion.
"I didn't forbid you from going," Draco spoke slowly. "I order you, you must go."
Dobby's eyes widened into round circles.
"But," Draco's tone shifted, becoming extremely compelling, "the mission content, I will determine."
He crouched down, looking levelly into Dobby's tennis-ball-sized eyes.
"You, Dobby, go to King's Cross Station tomorrow. Your task is to use magic to seal the entrance to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters."
Dobby was completely stunned.
Seal the entrance? Then how would Harry Potter get on the train?
"And," Draco's tone was beyond doubt, "time it perfectly. Not too early, or they'll find the problem and look for a way."
"It must be at the very last moment when Harry Potterand that Weasley are pushing their luggage carts toward the wall that you seal the entrance."
"I want them to slam hard into the wall in front of all the Muggles."
"No... No! Master! You can't! Then Harry Potter won't be able to return to school!" Dobby screamed.
"Shut up."
A hint of a Parseltongue hiss entered Draco's voice.
Dobby immediately shut up, his body trembling into a ball.
"Don't you want to protect him?" Draco's voice carried a sort of malicious kindness, beginning to twist his perception.
"I'm telling you, the current Hogwarts is very dangerous. Keeping him away is the best 'protection' for him."
"If he can't get on the train, he won't encounter danger. You are saving him. Do you understand?"
This set of twisted logic, under the compulsion of the magical contract, was forcibly crammed into Dobby's head.
Protecting Harry Potter means not letting him get on the train.
Not letting him get on the train means sealing the platform.
The expression on Dobby's face changed bit by bit from fear and resistance to painful submission.
"Go." Draco stood up and waved his hand. "Complete your 'redemption'."
"Yes... Master..."
Dobby nodded with tears in his eyes and disappeared in a crack.
Draco looked at the empty space and slowly straightened his cuffs.
He naturally knew that the two stupid Gryffindors wouldn't give up just because they hit a wall.
Isn't that blue Ford Anglia in The Burrow garage a ready-made solution?
He didn't need to do it himself; he just needed to give a gentle push.
Driving an unregistered magical car, flying over Muggles... savior Harry Potter, on the first day of school, 'returning in glory' to Hogwarts as a lawbreaker.
Is there any opening more interesting than this?
Chapter 85: The First Day of School! I Drove a Flying Car into a Willow Tree
The Hogwarts Start-of-Term Feast.
The light from tens of thousands of candles reflected off the young faces at the four long tables.
Over at the Slytherin table, however, the atmosphere wasn't right.
Even the sound of clinking cutlery was cautious; everyone's posture was tense, their eyes darting intentionally or unintentionally toward the head of the long table.
Draco Malfoy.
He wore dark green silk robes, a silver snake pin at his collar, his back perfectly straight.
Pansy Parkinson sat on a cushion to his left, head bowed, peeling a purple grape with a small silver knife.
She peeled it meticulously, then picked it up with her fingertips and brought it to Draco's lips.
Without even looking up, Draco opened his mouth and took it.
The surrounding first-years' eyelids twitched at the sight; they didn't dare breathe loudly.
Before starting school, their elders had warned them: in Slytherin, Malfoy is the rule.
The upper-year students had witnessed firsthand that this boy had taken only one year to make the entire house speak with only one voice.
Draco Malfoy's voice.
"Draco, this year's first-years have good potential," Pansywhispered pleasingly. "Blaise has already gone to make contact."
"Mm."
Draco gave a short response, his gaze drifting over the crowd to the staff table. Beneath Dumbledore's smiling face, his eyes kept glancing toward the Gryffindor table.
Two seats were empty there.
Harry Potter and his red-headed sidekick hadn't arrived.
Just then, Professor McGonagall's expression changed. After whispering a few words to Dumbledore, she stood up and quickly walked out of the Great Hall.
Snape's gloomy face twitched, and he followed her out.
At the same time, a faint vibration came from Draco's sleeve.
The two-way mirror.
His wrist dipped slightly, his fingertips tapping lightly inside his sleeve to send back a pulse of magic.
Hermione's anxious voice was compressed into a thin line, entering his ear: "Draco! Harry and Ron didn't get on the train! They couldn't get through the barrier!"
A nearly imperceptible curve formed at the corner of Draco's mouth.
Dobby, well done.
He raised his hand and tapped his index finger lightly on the polished tabletop.
"Tock."
A soft sound.
At the entire Slytherin table, the sound of all cutlery came to an abrupt halt.
Hundreds of gazes turned toward him in unison, waiting for orders.
"Eat in peace," Draco said in a low voice. "After the feast, there will be a good show."
Everyone was puzzled, but no one dared to ask, and they lowered their heads again.
The Sorting Ceremony ended, and Dumbledore was just about to speak.
"Boom—!"
A loud crash came from outside the Castle, vibrating the glass of the Great Hall.
Then came the sound of trees snapping, followed by two out-of-tune screams.
"What's happening?"
"Are we under attack?"
The students were in a commotion, crowding toward the windows.
Draco, however, sat steadily without moving. He closed his eyes, and the air currents outside the Castle became clear in his perception.
A sky-blue Ford car was currently hanging from the branches of the Whomping Willow.
The thick branches turned into whips, lashing the car body again and again; the sound of twisting metal was enough to set one's teeth on edge.
He opened his eyes, stood up, and walked slowly toward the crowd by the window.
He didn't look at the tree; his gaze swept over the surrounding Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students.
"Truly surprising."
His voice wasn't loud, yet it suppressed all the noise; his tone was one of pure disappointment.
"Driving a flying car in the Muggle world, in open violation of the International Statute of Secrecy."
He paused, giving everyone time to think.
"This isn't just a rule violation; it's showing off. The privilege of believing oneself to be above all rules."
As his words fell, a ripple went through the crowd.
The faces of those Muggle-born and half-blood students changed.
To fit in here, they were cautious, terrified of making a mistake.
Why could "savior" Harry Potter do this?
It wasn't fair.
This thought rapidly germinated within the crowd.
The Great Hall doors were pushed open.
Snape walked in with a dark face, his wand tip dragging two figures behind him.
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.
Half of Harry's glasses were broken, and there was a new scratch next to the scar on his forehead.
Ron was in even worse shape; his robes were torn into strips, and a green leaf was still hanging in his hair.
Every gaze in the room was instantly pinned on them.
Astonishment, curiosity, and the disdain Draco had just personally planted.
Draco didn't look at the two losers; his gaze pierced through the crowd and accurately locked onto Hermione Granger by the Gryffindor table.
The girl was biting her lip hard, her face pale. Looking at her two friends' miserable state, her eyes held not only worry but also a hint of shame.
Draco moved.
In front of everyone, he walked straight toward the Gryffindor table. The students blocking his path subconsciously stepped aside to make a way.
He walked up to Hermione.
Under the girl's astonished gaze, he took a snow-white handkerchief from his breast, embroidered with a silver 'M' pattern.
He reached out and, with the handkerchief, gently wiped away the sweat on Hermione's forehead that had seeped out from nervousness.
The movement was very gentle, yet brooked no refusal.
"You did very well, Miss Granger."
"I am very pleased that you did not participate in such foolish behavior."
"Wisdom is always more precious than impulse."
Having said that, he retracted the handkerchief, not giving Harry or Ron another look, and turned to walk back to the Slytherin table.
The Great Hall was dead silent.
Draco Malfoy, in front of the whole school, had drawn Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born Witch, into his circle of protection.
He had also pinned the label of "foolish" onto Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.
Hermione froze in place, the sensation of the handkerchief seemingly still on her forehead, along with a faint woody scent.
She looked at Harry and Ron being dragged away by Snape, so pathetic, so ridiculous.
Then she thought back to Draco standing before her just now—elegant, steady, everything under control.
The sharp contrast made her head buzz.
The pointing and whispering of the surrounding classmates toward Harry and the others made her face burn intensely.
Only Draco's praise—"Wisdom is always more precious than impulse"—became her only solace at this moment.
She unconsciously clenched her fists.
Maybe... Draco was right.
Being mixed up with fools would only drag her down.
On the other side, Draco had already sat back down. He watched Dumbledore's hurried departure, the curve at the corner of his mouth deepening slightly.
He didn't eat any more; as soon as the feast ended, he stood up and left the Great Hall, heading toward the Dungeons... the door to the Dungeons office slammed shut with a "bang."
No lights were lit in the room; only the green fire in the fireplace flickered.
"So," Snape turned around, his voice devoid of any warmth.
"Potter, Weasley. On the first day of school, driving an illegal flying car, crashing into a precious Whomping Willow of the school, and being seen by seven Muggles."
With every sentence he spoke, he took a step forward, forcing the two of them back until they hit the cold stone wall.
"Do you think fame allows you to ignore the rules?" Snape's face wore a sneering expression.
"Or is it that Gryffinfdor's stupidity simply must be displayed in this manner?"
"Professor, we..." Ron's face was deathly pale, "we missed the train..."
"No other way?" Snape's voice suddenly rose.
"So you steal your father's magic car? Weasley, your father is currently under investigation for the misuse of Muggle artifacts, and you have added a glorious stroke to his record!"
Ron's face turned the color of a pig's liver as he buried his head.
Snape's gaze scraped over Harry like a knife.
"And you, Potter. Spending a summer in the Muggleworld, did you forget the rules? Perhaps you shouldn't have come back at all."
"I didn't!" Harry retorted.
"Your actions are enough to get you expelled a hundred times over!" Snape growled. "Pack your things and wait for the Hogwarts Express to send you packing!"
Expelled!
Harry and Ron's heads buzzed.
Just then, there was a knock on the office door.
Tock, tock, tock.
Snape roared impatiently, "Who is it?!"
"Professor, it's me, Draco Malfoy."
Snape frowned but still waved his wand to open the door.
Draco walked in, not even looking at the two in the corner, and went straight to Snape, handing him a roll of parchment.
"Professor, the improved Wolfsbane Potion thesis you assigned over the holidays."
Harry glared at him angrily, certain the guy was here to gloat.
Draco, however, didn't even bother to give him a side-glance.
The flames in the fireplace surged with a "whoosh," turning bright green, and Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall stepped out.
"Severus, I think we cannot be so hasty," Professor McGonagall said, eager to defend them.
"They made a mistake, but expulsion is too severe." Dumbledore's voice was gentle yet brooked no argument.
Snape's face darkened further. Harry and Ron were about to breathe a sigh of relief upon seeing the Principal.
Draco, however, turned to Dumbledore at that moment and gave a standard pure-blood noble's bow.
"Good evening, Principal, Professor McGonagall."
"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore nodded to him, "you shouldn't be here at this time."
"I apologize, Principal," Draco straightened up, his tone sincere. "I should have left after handing in my homework."
"However, I overheard the conversation between the Professor and yourself. I have no intention of interfering with your decision, but as a student, I am concerned for the reputation of Hogwarts."
"Oh?" A flicker of interest flashed in Dumbledore's eyes.
"Principal, as you know, the Malfoy Family has some friends at The Daily Prophet." Draco's voice was soft, but carried immense weight.
"Just now, a draft of the Prophet's late-night edition has already reached me."
He took a piece of magic communication parchment from his breast.
"The headline is: 'savior or the Destroyer? Harry PotterOpenly Defies the Statute of Secrecy!'"
Chapter 86: Draco's Long-Distance Flirting! Ron's Public Humiliation!
Professor McGonagall's face turned pale. Dumbledore's expression also darkened.
"They took photos of the flying car crashing into the Whomping Willow and interviewed three Mugglewitnesses."
Draco stated calmly, "The article analyzes Potter and Weasley's actions in detail, which violated Article Three of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery... Article Seventy-three of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, and the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Act..."
With every clause he read out, Harry's face grew a shade paler.
"At the end of the article, it questions the Ministry of Magic and the Hogwarts Board of Governors whether they will shield and condone Potter because of his'special status'."
Draco put away the parchment and looked at Dumbledore, "Principal, I am concerned that if the school's handling of this is too light, it will trigger a massive wave of public outcry."
"This will not only damage Potter's own reputation but also the thousand-year prestige of Hogwarts. By then, I'm afraid the Ministry of Magic will have no choice but to intervene."
Every word blocked all of Dumbledore's possibilities for a compromise.
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, but couldn't say a single word.
A satisfied curve finally appeared at the corner of Snape's mouth.
There was a dead silence in the office.
For the first time, Dumbledore's gaze scrutinized the boy before him so seriously.
His blue eyes, which could see through people's hearts, narrowed slightly, and a surge of mental power silently probed towards Draco.
Legilimency.
However, when that power entered the other's mind, it only encountered a calm void; nothing could be seen, and nothing could be left behind.
Draco felt that prying, but his expression remained unchanged as he met Dumbledore's gaze. His eyes were clear and open.
This level of manipulation, far beyond his age, made Dumbledore's heart sink.
He knew that he had to give a substantial punishment today.
Otherwise, things would completely spiral out of his control.
He had been checkmated by a twelve-year-old Slytherin.
After a long time, Dumbledore finally spoke, his voice carrying exhaustion: "Very well, Severus. Expulsion is indeed too severe."
Harry and Ron were just about to breathe a sigh of relief.
"But," Dumbledore's tone shifted, "given the malicious influence of this matter... Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter will be assigned detention for the entire semester. Additionally, I will personally write to your families."
"Fifty points from Gryffindor," Professor McGonagalladded, her expression extremely grim.
Harry's heart sank completely. This punishment was enough to make him a pariah of the whole house.
He felt a surge of humiliation and anger, which burned even hotter when he saw Draco's face.
Draco bowed slightly: "Since the matter is resolved, I won't disturb you further, Principal, Professor."
After speaking, he turned to leave.
As he passed by Harry, his footsteps paused for a moment.
His head didn't turn, and his lips barely moved, but a voice slipped into Harry's ear, audible only to him.
"This is just the beginning, Potter."
"Enjoy your cage."
Harry's body trembled, and he looked up sharply!
Draco had already reached the door, leaving only his back; that whisper seemed like an illusion.
The door was gently closed.
Harry clenched his fists tightly.
He vowed that he would make Malfoy pay!
The next day, at the Hogwarts Great Hall.
The atmosphere at the Gryffindor table was like it had been soaked in ice water.
Because of the flying car incident, their house's hourglass was empty of fifty gems.
The appearance of Harry and Ron made the air around them even more viscous.
Gazes of disdain, mockery, and schadenfreude were cast from all directions.
At the head of the Slytherin table.
Draco cast a one-way Muffliato on himself, isolating all the noise.
He used his silver cutlery to slowly cut the medium-rare steak on his plate. As the blade slid through, the perfect amount of blood seeped out, and the aroma of meat filled the air.
His gaze crossed the crowd and landed at the end of the Gryffindor table.
Hermione sat very far away today, with no one near her, and three empty seats between her and Ron.
The girl kept her head down, unconsciously stirring the oatmeal in her bowl with a spoon, without taking a single bite.
Just then, the owls flew in on time.
A decrepit old owl flew in precariously; it was Errol of the weasley family.
It circled once and dove straight for Ron, slamming a blood-red letter into his milk bowl.
"Bang!"
Milk splashed everywhere.
Ron's face was redder than the letter.
"Oh, no..." he let out a groan of despair.
The surroundings instantly fell silent, and all eyes focused on the letter. Over at the Slytherin side, some were already laughing.
"Ron, what is that?" Harry asked.
Ron tried to hide the letter, but as soon as he reached out, white smoke billowed from the envelope.
The next second.
"Ronald Weasley!!!"
A woman's scream was amplified a hundred times by magic, exploding over the Great Hall.
The candle flames on the ceiling flickered wildly, and the cutlery on the tables buzzed.
Everyone was terrified by this giant roar.
Molly Weasley's voice began an indiscriminate bombardment of Ron.
"HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR!!"
"YOUR FATHER AND I WERE NEARLY WORRIED TO DEATH! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA!!"
"NOW LOOK! BECAUSE OF YOU, YOUR FATHER IS FACING AN INQUIRY AT THE MINISTRY! OUR FAMILY IS FACING A MASSIVE FINE!!"
"IF YOU DARE TAKE ONE MORE STEP OUT OF LINE, WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!!"
Every word of the Howler made the weasley family's predicament public.
Stealing a car, being investigated, fines.
This wasn't just airing dirty laundry; it was a public execution of the weasley family in front of all the students and teachers.
After roaring the last sentence, the envelope spontaneously combusted and turned into ashes.
A small tongue of flame flicked out from the ashes, licked the air, and vanished.
After a brief dead silence.
"Pfft—"
The Slytherin table erupted in the first wave of raucous laughter.
"Hahaha! Did you hear that? His dad is being investigated by the Ministry!"
"Serves them right! That family of paupers just loves doing these sneaky things!"
Students from other houses were also whispering, and the looks they cast at Ron were a mix of disdain and pity.
Ron wished he could sink into the floor right then and there. He shrunk under the table, his face turning the color of pig liver.
Harry also felt his face burning, feeling restless.
Sitting at the other end of the table, Hermione looked coldly at the curled-up figure under the table, without a hint of sympathy.
Draco's words from yesterday echoed in her mind.
"Wisdom is always more valuable than impulse."
"Following the wrong person will make your whole life ruined by mediocre struggles."
These words fit the farce before her perfectly.
She subconsciously raised her hand and, through her sleeve, touched the cold two-way mirror inside.
That thing led to another world.
A world of reason, strength, and elegance.
Just then, a gaze fell upon her.
She looked up.
Across four long tables, she met Draco's eyes.
Draco had deactivated the spell.
He sat calmly at the end of the Slytherin table, surrounded by the awe of his followers and the unsightly behavior of his enemies.
He didn't smile; he just slowly raised the goblet in his hand.
Inside the goblet was golden Pumpkin Juice.
Across the entire Great Hall, he raised it to her from afar.
A silent, victorious toast.
Hermione's heart gave a heavy thud, and a wave of heat rushed from her neck to her ears.
She hurriedly looked down, avoiding his gaze, her cheeks burning intensely.
This scene was all seen by Pansy, who was beside Draco.
Pansy's face still held a submissive smile, but under the table, the silver fork she was holding was silently bent by her grip.
But she didn't dare show anything.
Whatever decision Draco made, she could only obey.
Draco put down the goblet with satisfaction, cut off the remaining large piece of steak on his plate with a knife, and casually handed it to Goyle beside him.
"A reward for you."
Goyle was overwhelmed by the favor, his face turning red as he took it and swallowed it in a few bites.
Draco wiped his hands with a napkin and stood up.
Breakfast was over.
Next period: Herbology.
He thought it was time to go see his thorny iceberg rose.
He wondered what expression Daphne Greengrasswould have when she saw him again.
He was looking forward to it.
Chapter 87: The Mandrake's Scream! The Ice Beauty in the Greenhouse!
Inside Hogwarts' Greenhouse Three, the air was humid and sweltering.
The mixed scent of soil and plants was somewhat pungent to the nose.
Second-year Slytherins and Gryffindors were attending their first Herbology Class.
Professor Sprout, a stout Witch, stood behind a long table, pointing at an unremarkable-looking green plant.
"Good morning, class! Today, we are going to learn about the Mandrake!"
"Its root is the primary ingredient for a powerful restorative, capable of reviving those who have been petrified."
At the mention of "petrified," several students turned pale, recalling Filch's cat.
Draco stood among the Slytherin students with a languid expression.
The heat in the greenhouse was starting to annoy him.
He took off his outer robe and handed it to Crabbe behind him without even looking, leaving only his white linen shirt on.
His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing a section of cool, pale forearm.
Among the crowd of students dressed in neat school uniforms, he looked distinctly out of place.
His gaze swept over the crowd and landed on the other end of the Slytherin group.
Daphne Greengrass.
She still maintained that icy appearance, her long blonde hair meticulous, and her emerald eyes devoid of any visible emotion.
As Draco's gaze swept over her, he noticed her shoulders stiffen slightly.
She was avoiding him.
"However!" Professor Sprout raised her voice, "The cry of a mature Mandrake is fatal! Therefore, you must wear earmuffs!"
As she spoke, the Professor handed out a pair of pink, fluffy earmuffs to everyone.
A burst of laughter erupted from the Gryffindor side; Seamus Finnigan put his on and immediately started wiggling his hips.
On the Slytherin side, everyone looked disgusted. Pansystared at the pink contraption with a deep frown.
Draco took the earmuffs and toyed with them in his hands, but didn't put them on.
"Alright, in pairs! Re-pot these little fellows! Remember, pull hard!" Professor Sprout clapped her hands.
The students began searching for partners.
Daphne's best friend, Tracey Davis, was just about to stand beside her.
When a figure walked over unhurriedly.
It was Draco.
He didn't look at Tracey; his eyes were fixed solely on Daphne.
"I need a partner," he said flatly.
The smile on Tracey's face froze. She looked at the expressionless Draco, then at the pale-faced Daphne, and sensibly took a step back.
"Uh... Daphne, I... I'll go find Millicent," she said, before scurrying away quickly.
Ignoring the surrounding gazes, Draco stepped directly into the spot Tracey had vacated beside Daphne.
"Miss Greengrass," he leaned in slightly, getting closer, "I hope my joining won't disturb your 'academic research'."
He enunciated the words "academic research" particularly slowly.
Daphne's body trembled.
She naturally remembered that this was the excuse she had used in her letter to him.
He had used that excuse to lure her to Malfoy Manor and used a bloodline curse to force her into signing that contract of servitude.
She bit her lower lip and kept her head down, not daring to look at him.
"Put on your earmuffs," she squeezed the words out through her teeth.
"No need," Draco said.
The surrounding students had already put on their earmuffs and were beginning to pull the plants out with great effort.
"Ah——!!!"
"Eee-ya-ya-ya——!!!"
A scream like a crying infant pierced the air; even with earmuffs on, it made one's scalp tingle.
Neville Longbottom had just pulled one out when his eyes rolled back, and he fainted.
Hermione and Ron were frantically trying to stuff their Mandrake into a new pot, while the little thing was still flailing its limbs, trying to bite someone.
It was Daphne and Draco's turn.
Daphne took a deep breath, put on her earmuffs, and reached out to grab the plant's leaves.
Draco's hand pressed down on hers.
"Let me," he said calmly.
Daphne looked at him in astonishment.
Draco extended a finger and lightly touched a leaf of the Mandrake.
The moment his fingertip touched the plant, the restless Mandrake's leaves stopped shaking.
Draco's finger slowly brushed along the leaf.
The root of the plant actually emitted a cat-like purr.
The screaming throughout the greenhouse stopped.
Everyone's eyes converged on them.
Professor Sprout pulled off her earmuffs, her mouth hanging wide open as she stared intently at the scene.
"Heavens... how is this possible?" she murmured, "It... it likes you?"
Draco had activated [Nature Affinity].
A gentle wave of magic spread from his fingertips, enveloping the Mandrake.
"It was just a bit nervous," Draco smiled slightly and easily pulled the Mandrake out by its roots.
Throughout the process, the humanoid root didn't make a single sound.
It looked at Draco with its two small black-bean eyes and even waved its tiny branch-like hands.
The entire room erupted in an uproar.
"Merlin's beard! He made the Mandrake shut up!"
"How did he do that?"
Professor Sprout was flushed with excitement as she rushed over, looking at Draco as if he were a rare treasure.
"Incredible! Mr. Malfoy! You have an amazing talent for Herbology! Slytherin! Twenty points!"
Draco only gave her a nod and handed the quiet Mandrake to the still-dazed Daphne.
"Your turn, plant it in."
Daphne stiffly took it; the moment her hand touched the root, the little thing immediately began to scream and struggle again.
"It seems it doesn't like you very much."
Draco's voice, tinged with amusement, sounded in her ear.
Daphne's face instantly turned bright red from shame and embarrassment. She frantically tried to shove the thing into the soil but couldn't seem to line it up correctly.
"Your hand position is wrong."
Draco's voice came from directly behind her.
The next second, a warm chest pressed against her back.
Daphne's entire body froze.
Draco wrapped his arms around her from behind, his palm, which was larger than hers, covering her lace-gloved hand.
His chin rested ever so slightly on her shoulder.
His warm breath puffed rhythmically against the sensitive skin of her neck.
"Don't be nervous."
His voice was very low, vibrating through his pressed chest and making her eardrums tingle.
"Use your wrist, push it down."
Draco held her hand, forcibly conducting a "lesson."
His chest was tight against her thin back; she could clearly feel his steady heartbeat.
His fingers would always, during the "instruction," use the pads to brush against her seemingly by accident... The surrounding girls let out suppressed gasps, their faces full of envy and jealousy.
In their eyes, this was a couple flirting in public.
Only Daphne herself knew what kind of ordeal this was.
Under the gaze of the entire class, she was being wantonly encroached upon by this man under the guise of "instruction."
That contract made it so she couldn't even muster the strength to push him away.
Her breathing grew ragged, and an unnatural flush rose to her face.
"Very good."
Draco whispered in her ear, very satisfied with the reaction of the body in his arms.
He finally guided her hand to plant the Mandrake into the new pot.
Then, he let go of her hand.
Daphne felt as if her strength had been drained; her body went limp, and she only stayed upright by leaning against the table.
She panted heavily, not daring to look up.
The bell for the end of class rang.
Daphne was the first to rush out of the greenhouse, her retreating figure looking disheveled.
Looking at her state, the smile at the corners of Draco's mouth deepened.
[Ding! Detected that the host has successfully suppressed the target: Daphne Greengrass through physical contact and mental pressure.]
[Obtained Skill: Plant Hypnosis (Elementary) — Can soothe and hypnotize non-aggressive magical plants.]
Feeling the new knowledge in his mind, Draco smiled with satisfaction.
Attending class occasionally had its benefits.
He put on his outer robe, straightened his collar, and prepared to go to his next class.
Defense Against the Dark Arts.
He wondered what "surprises" that bestselling author, Gilderoy Lockhart, would bring.
Chapter 88: Lockhart Beaten by Pixies, Draco's Dashing Rescue!
The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was thick with the scent of narcissism.
The walls were covered with moving portraits of Gilderoy Lockhart, who was constantly winking and smoothing his golden curls, which were said to make witches scream.
Lockhart himself was wearing a flamboyant set of violet robes.
He stood at the podium, flashing a smile that had won the "Most Charming Smile Award" five times.
"Me!" he announced, his voice rising in an operatic aria as he threw his arms wide.
"Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Second Class, will be your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor!"
A small stir went through the girls in the classroom.
Hermione's face was flushed; she was clearly a devoted reader of this best-selling author.
Draco leaned back in his chair, propping his chin on one hand, his eyes filled with boredom as he watched the podium like a farce.
Harry was desperately trying to shrink behind Ron, attempting to escape Lockhart's intense gaze.
He failed.
"Harry Potter!" Lockhart's eyes lit up. "Good heavens, a real, live Harry Potter!"
A moment later, Harry was hauled from his seat and dragged onto the podium.
Lockhart threw an arm around Harry's shoulder and announced to the whole class.
"Now, let us reenact a classic scene from 'Travels with Ghouls'! I shall play myself, and Harry, he shall play a... simple villager who wants to ambush me with the Dark Arts!"
Harry's face turned the color of a pig's liver, and amidst the class's laughter, he was forced to perform a clumsy scene with Lockhart.
Draco nearly fell asleep on the spot.
When the "performance" ended, Lockhart handed out a quiz.
Draco scanned it, and the questions made him scoff out loud.
"What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?"
"What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?"
"In your opinion, what is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?"
Not a single word on the entire parchment had anything to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Ron was muttering curses under his breath, while Hermione was already buried in her work, writing furiously.
Draco chuckled, picked up his quill, and without a second thought, filled the parchment with flamboyant praise that made even him want to gag.
"Personally, I believe Professor Lockhart's greatest achievement is his very existence. He has brought light to us lost sheep..."
A few minutes later, Lockhart collected the papers.
He looked through a few and shook his head in disappointment.
Until he picked up Draco's.
"Aha!" he cried out in surprise. "Finally! Finally, a student who truly understands me!"
He cleared his throat and read Draco's flattery aloud to the class.
"...Mr. Malfoy! Brilliantly written! Flawless! Ten points to Slytherin!"
Lockhart looked at Draco excitedly, his eyes filled with the look of having found a "soulmate."
The Slytherin students shared in the glory, while the Gryffindors cast looks of utter disdain.
"Right then!" Having enjoyed the flattery, Lockhart finally remembered the business at hand.
He pointed to a cage on the podium, covered with a purple cloth and shaking violently.
"Now, for something practical! Let me introduce you to the most devious of Dark Arts creatures!"
He whipped off the cover!
Inside the cage were a swarm of palm-sized, bright blue creatures.
Cornish Pixies!
"Take that!" Lockhart roared, throwing open the cage door.
Disaster struck.
The pixies shot out like cannonballs, letting out piercing shrieks as they rampaged through the classroom!
They shredded the portraits of Lockhart on the walls and smashed ink bottles against the ceiling, sending black ink raining down like rain.
The classroom was filled with wails and howls.
"Stay still! Peskipiksi Pesternomi!" Lockhart drew his wand and frantically shouted an incantation no one understood.
It had no effect.
A pixie dove down, snatched his wand, and casually swiped his toupee, tossing both out the window.
Lockhart screamed and scrambled to hide under the podium.
"Quick! Catch them!" he shouted at the students.
The classroom turned into a chaotic mess.
Two pixies grabbed Neville by the ears, hoisted him up, and hung him from the ceiling chandelier.
Harry and Ron waved their wands wildly, but not a single spell hit the flying creatures.
Instead, several pixies grabbed them by the hair and dragged them across the desks.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Hermione tried to use the Levitation Charm to lift a desk.
A pixie ambushed her from behind, grabbing a handful of her bushy hair.
The girl cried out in pain, and her wand slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor.
More pixies shrieked as they swarmed toward her!
In the center of this chaos, only Draco Malfoy remained standing where he was.
His expression was indifferent, showing no reaction to the farce around him.
Until he saw Hermione in danger.
His eyes suddenly turned cold.
Draco finally drew the wand from his waist.
A point of icy blue light lit up at the tip of the hawthorn wand.
A surge of magical power, far exceeding a student's level, radiated from him!
A wave of freezing air, laced with ice crystals, swept through the entire classroom with Draco at its center!
The temperature plummeted!
All the pixies that were flying, screaming, and wreaking havoc in mid-air were instantly covered in a thick layer of ice the moment they touched the cold air!
Their movements were completely frozen!
Dozens of small blue monsters were frozen into various grotesque blocks of ice, suspended in mid-air.
Everyone stared with mouths agape at this incredible sight.
Draco stepped onto a desk, leaped up, and vaulted over everyone's heads, landing precisely beside Hermione.
He wrapped his left arm around the girl's trembling waist and pulled her out of the danger zone.
"It's all right now."
He casually helped Hermione tidy her messy hair, his slender fingertips intentionally or unintentionally brushing against her burning cheek.
Hermione looked up, still shaken, but could only see Draco's cold profile; her heart was beating so fast it felt like it would jump out of her chest.
Draco set Hermione steadily on the ground before unhurriedly raising his right hand and snapping his fingers.
"Snap."
The ice blocks around Harry and Ron melted instantly.
The two unlucky boys lost their "support" and fell from mid-air with a cry, crashing heavily onto the desks with two dull thuds.
The other pixie ice sculptures in the classroom remained suspended, motionless.
The difference in skill was immediately apparent.
"Oh—!"
After a brief, dead silence, the girls in the classroom erupted into loud screams and cheers!
Pansy and Daphne looked at him with even more fervent eyes.
Harry scrambled up, looking disheveled. Seeing Dracosurrounded by girls and then looking at himself, he clenched his fists, his face burning with shame.
Why?
Why did Draco Malfoy always appear like this whenever he was at his most pathetic?
Draco ignored the cheers.
He just looked at Hermione and asked calmly, "Where is your wand?"
"Ah... it... it fell over there," Hermione pointed.
Draco flicked his wrist.
"Accio wand!"
Hermione's wand flew up from the ground and landed steadily in his hand.
He handed the wand back to Hermione.
Their fingertips touched for a moment.
The warmth from his fingertips traveled through the wand, and Hermione jerked her hand back as if burned.
Draco watched her embarrassed state, a triumphant smile curling the corners of his mouth.