Chapter 150: The Time-Turner! A "Threesome" Atop Buckbeak?
A proud fighting spirit flashed in Draco's eyes.
He tucked the bottle containing Peter into his robes.
Then, he slowly raised the wand in his hand.
Draco closed his eyes. What surfaced in his mind were not those so-called "happy memories."
Instead, it was the image of him standing at the peak of Hogwarts, looking down upon all living things.
It was the satisfaction of Hermione sleeping soundly in his arms.
It was the pleasure of seeing Harry Potter trampled under his feet, raging in impotence.
It was the loyalty of Snape charging into battle for him.
It was the supreme glory of the future, where the entire wizarding world would surrender at the feet of the House of Malfoy!
These were the true sources of his power!
The Dragon Blood War Body within him was pushed to its absolute limit at this moment!
A domineering power originating from the depths of his bloodline perfectly fused with his magic!
"Expecto Patronum—!"
Draco snapped his eyes open and swung his wand!
What erupted from the tip of his wand was a Western dragon composed of massive silver light!
This silver dragon was enormous, blotting out the sky and the sun!
Its hideous head, sharp horns, and spread wings almost covered half the lake's surface!
Every scale on its body shimmered with brilliant silver light!
"Roar—!"
The silver dragon opened its massive maw and let out an earth-shaking roar of dragonic majesty!
This roar was no longer a simple magical effect. It contained an absolute suppression from the dragon bloodline against all lower soul entities!
The dozens of Dementors charging at the front instantly melted and evaporated like thin ice thrown into a fire under that dragonic roar!
A massive commotion broke out among the Dementors behind them! They were afraid!
They felt a fear originating from the soul level from that silver dragon!
The silver dragon circled above Draco's head.
Its eyes, burning with silver flames, looked down with disdain at the group of shivering "monsters" below.
The entire lakeside was illuminated as bright as day by its light.
Harry, collapsed by the lake, saw this soul-shaking scene before his consciousness completely faded.
He saw that majestic and holy silver dragon.
He thought it was his father, transformed into an even more powerful form, coming to save him.
Then, he completely lost consciousness.
Draco looked at his masterpiece and nodded with satisfaction.
This was the kind of Patronus a Malfoy should have.
[Ding! The Host has successfully cast an over-spec Patronus Charm in an extreme environment, triggering bloodline resonance and comprehending a special skill: Soul Pressure (Elementary)!]
[Skill Description: Your soul will exert a natural, irresistible rank suppression against all non-corporeal or lower soul entity creatures.]
The system notification sounded in his mind.
Draco did not linger for the fight.
He knew the true "savior" would be here soon.
He didn't want anyone to see him displaying such great power here.
With a thought, the massive silver dragon let out an unwilling low growl, turned into a streak of silver light, and shrank back into his wand.
The surrounding light instantly dimmed.
The Dementors, who had been scared witless, began to stir again once the dragonic pressure was gone.
Just then.
From the woods on the opposite side of the lake, an even brighter silver light soared into the sky!
A robust stag with massive antlers galloped out of the forest, dispersing all the remaining Dementors.
The Harry from the future had made his appearance.
Draco looked at the stag and curled his lip in disdain.
It was just an herbivore, after all.
He put away his wand and tucked the bottle containing Peter tighter into his robes.
Then, he turned around, donned his invisibility cloak, and quietly vanished into the darkness.
In the Hospital Wing beds, Harry and Hermione woke up almost at the same time.
"We were saved..." Harry whispered, the image of the silver dragon still in his mind.
He felt it was his father's soul.
But reality was harsher; Snape had already reported everything to Minister Fudge.
Sirius Black had been caught and was being held in Professor Flitwick's office, waiting for the Dementor's "kiss."
Dumbledore arrived. His blue eyes looked at the anxious Harry and Hermione.
"What we need most now is time," the old Principal said. "A little more time."
"Tonight, if I am not mistaken, more than one innocent life can be saved."
He finished speaking, turned around, went out, and locked the office door.
Hermione understood immediately. She pulled a gold chain from her neck, which held a small hourglass—a Time-Turner.
"Harry, hurry!" she said urgently. "We have to go back to the past!"
Harry was about to step forward to put the chain around his own neck.
At that moment, a voice rang out from the shadows of the ward.
"Count me in for this time travel trip."
Draco Malfoy stepped out from behind a pillar, a knowing smile on his face.
"Malfoy?! What are you doing here!" Harry and Hermioneexclaimed in unison.
"Me?" Draco spread his hands and said innocently, "I came to visit you. And by the way, I overheard a big secret."
Of course, he hadn't come to visit the sick.
After hiding Peter, he had been lurking near the Hospital Wing using the Disillusionment Charm.
He knew Dumbledore would come and that Hermionewould use the Time-Turner.
How could he miss such a good show?
Moreover, how could he let that eyesore Harry Potterdisturb his "private time" with Hermione?
"Granger, that's a Time-Turner in your hand, isn't it?" Draco's gaze fell on the gold chain.
"You want to go back to the past to save Black, and that beast Buckbeak, right?"
Hermione hid the Time-Turner behind her back.
"It's none of your business!"
"How is it none of my business?" Draco stepped forward, closing in on Hermione. "Don't forget, I was also present at the Shrieking Shack. I am also a party involved."
"And only I know how to quietly take Buckbeak away without alerting anyone."
He lowered his voice, his tone seductive. "After all, the executioner Macnair is an old friend of my father's. I know his habits."
Hermione hesitated. What Draco said was true. With his help, the chance of success would be much higher.
"Still, no! The Time-Turner cannot be seen by too many people!" Hermione was still struggling.
"Then let the unnecessary people not see it."
A wicked smile appeared on Draco's face. He suddenly took a step forward!
Before Hermione or Harry could react, he had grabbed the gold chain and hung it around his own neck.
Then, he heartlessly pushed Harry Potter away!
Thud!
Harry stumbled and crashed into a hospital bed.
"You!" Harry was both shocked and furious.
But it was too late.
Draco was already standing in front of Hermione, the two of them connected by the same gold chain.
His chest was almost pressed against Hermione's.
He looked down at her panicked, flushed face and commanded:
"Turn it, Hermione."
"Go back to three hours ago."
Hermione's head was buzzing. Draco's domineering attitude had left her completely dazed.
She could only obey him, her hand trembling as she turned the small hourglass.
"One turn... two turns... three turns..."
The surrounding scenery flew backward; outside the window, the sun rose and set.
The shadows of people in the ward appeared and disappeared like a fast-forwarded film.
Harry Potter's angry and helpless face gradually blurred.
The hourglass stopped turning; they had returned to three hours ago. Outside the window, the sunset was just right.
Draco let go, but the gold chain still connected the two of them.
"Alright, now it's time for just the two of us." He smiled at Hermione with a look of victory.
Hermione's heart was racing. Time traveling with Draco? This was too crazy!
"What... what do we do now?" she asked stammeringly, having lost her bearings.
"It's simple." Draco pulled her along as they slipped out of the Hospital Wing.
"Step one: go save that stupid bird first."
They hid in the pumpkin patch behind Hagrid's hut, watching their past selves, Harry, and Ron enter the hut.
Next, Dumbledore, Fudge, and the executioner Macnairwalked toward the hut.
"Now's the time!" Draco said decisively.
He pulled Hermione along as they approached the tethered Buckbeak.
He unfastened the iron chain, patted Buckbeak's wing, and led it to hide silently at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Macnair swung his axe, only to cleave a pumpkin, letting out a roar of rage.
Draco and Hermione hid in the woods, watching it all.
The night in the Forbidden Forest was chilling, and the howl of a Werewolf could be heard in the distance.
Hermione gave a frightened shudder.
At that moment, a warm chest pressed against her from behind. Draco held her tightly from the back.
"Don't be afraid." His lips were almost against her ear, his warm breath making her earlobe itch.
"It's just for warmth, and... concealment." He found an excuse for his actions.
Hermione's body went stiff.
She felt his strong heartbeat thumping against her back through two layers of fabric.
His forceful cedar-scented aura enveloped her.
In such a tense moment, in such a dangerous environment.
This sudden intimacy made her heart spiral out of control.
She couldn't tell if her racing heart was due to fear or... attraction.
"Now, we wait," Draco whispered in her ear, their breaths intertwining. "Wait for the other us to save Black."
"Then, we'll go to the top of the tower to meet him."
Hermione could no longer think. Like a vine with its bones removed, she leaned weakly in Draco's arms, letting him take the lead.
Finally, they saw Sirius riding Buckbeak, soaring into the sky from the tower and vanishing into the night.
"We did it!" Hermione whispered.
"Yes, we did it." Draco released her, a smile on his face.
Of course, he hadn't told Hermione everything.
Just moments ago, at the top of the tower, he had sent the past Hermione away to keep watch.
Then, he had faced the newly escaped Sirius Black alone.
He had shown Sirius the bottle containing Peter the rat.
Then, he had made a deal with this desperate, last heir of the House of Black.
"Mr. Black," he had said then.
"Your freedom, the future safety of your godson Harry Potter, and... your only hope for revenge are all in my hands now."
"What I want is very simple..."
"Exchange it for the inheritance rights of the entire House of Black."
Now, looking at the brightest star, Sirius, in the night sky.
Draco knew he had won.
He had not only won Hermione's heart but was also about to win a wealthy, ancient family.
Chapter 151: Black's Deal! Sirius Forced to Sign an Indenture!
Time, back to ten minutes ago.
At the top of the highest tower in Hogwarts, the cold wind howled.
Sirius Black straddled Buckbeak's back, about to say goodbye to Hermione and Harry.
He thought he would be free to track down Peter's whereabouts and clear his name.
An unexpected person stopped him.
"Mr. Black, don't be in such a hurry to leave."
Draco stepped out from the shadows, his face calm and composed.
"Before you begin your revenge and exile, I think we have a debt to settle between us."
Sirius looked at him warily, his hand already pressed beneath Buckbeak's feathers.
"Malfoy boy? Why are you here? What do you want?"
"Me?"
Draco chuckled softly.
"I'm here, of course, to... give you a great gift."
He pulled a silver-glinting metal bottle from his robes, covered in runes.
He shook it gently in front of Sirius.
Inside the bottle, a gray rat struck the walls in terror.
Sirius's eyes locked onto it, his breathing quickening, his eyes filled with hatred and murderous intent!
"Peter!"
He squeezed the name through his teeth, his voice hoarse.
"He's in your hands! Give him to me! I want to kill him!"
He almost lunged down from Buckbeak's back.
"Calm down, Mr. Black."
Draco unhurriedly pulled the bottle back.
"He is my trophy now. His life or death is for me to decide, not you."
Sirius's body went stiff. He looked at the blonde boy before him, feeling a chill for the first time.
This Malfoy boy was a hundred times more terrifying than Lucius.
"What do you want?"
Sirius calmed himself down.
He knew that the other party must have a purpose for bringing out Peter at this moment.
"A smart man."
Draco nodded in approval.
"I like doing deals with smart people."
He held up one finger.
"First, from today onwards, you must continue your exile. You cannot reveal to anyone, especially the Ministry of Magic, that Peter is still alive, let alone try to clear your name."
"What?!" Sirius couldn't believe it. "Then what's the point of you catching him!"
"The point is, he is under my control."
Draco's tone brooked no argument.
"Hand him over to that fool Fudge? And then let him be acquitted for 'insufficient evidence' under Lucius Malfoy's maneuvering? Don't be naive, Black."
"Only in my hands will he receive the most 'effective' treatment. And only this way will he have no chance to run back to his true master's side."
Draco's words hit Sirius's weak spot.
He knew Draco was telling the truth.
The Ministry of Magic was corrupt; once Peter was handed over, he would likely escape punishment.
"Second."
Draco held up a second finger, a playful smile on his face.
"In exchange for your continued 'fugitive' status, I, Draco Malfoy, will reluctantly 'take good care' of your precious godson, Harry Potter."
"I guarantee that, at least until I graduate, he won't die from any accidents. Of course, there will still be some harmless little troubles."
"After all, the joy of life lies in such things, doesn't it?"
These words were full of threats and charity. Sirius's knuckles turned white from clenching his fists.
He knew Draco was using Harry's safety to blackmail him.
"You despicable..."
"Stop the nonsense, Black," Draco interrupted him, "my patience is limited."
"Now, for the third and most important condition."
Greed flickered in Draco's eyes.
"I want you, right now, immediately, to make an Unbreakable Vow."
"Designate me, Draco Lucius Malfoy, as your sole and legal heir to the House of Black property."
"And grant me the highest level of authority over 12 Grimmauld Place."
He didn't want money; he wanted the entire House of Black!
This noble Pure-blood family, with its countless wealth and secrets!
"Don't even think about it!" Sirius roared. "I wouldn't hand the House of Black to a Malfoy even if I died!"
"Is that so?"
A look of regret appeared on Draco's face. He pulled the bottle out again, making a motion to open it.
"That's a pity. I imagine Peter must really miss the Thestrals and Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest. Throwing him in there would be quite a carnival."
"As for Potter..." He shrugged.
"The Triwizard Tournament next term is very dangerous. I can't guarantee that head of his, which was once bashed by a Troll, will let him survive until the end."
"You!"
Sirius's body trembled.
On one side were family honor and dignity. On the other side were the only hope for revenge and his godson's safety.
He was pushed to the edge of a cliff.
He looked at Draco's young but cold face and suddenly felt powerless.
He had fought for half his life, only to end up bowing his proud head to the family he looked down upon most, to a teenager.
What an irony.
After a long while, he closed his eyes, his voice hoarse.
"I promise you."
A victorious smile appeared on Draco's face.
"A wise choice."
Sirius trembled as he raised his wand, the tip pressed against his heart.
"I, Sirius Orion Black, hereby swear."
"I voluntarily bequeath all property and authority of the House of Black to Draco Lucius Malfoy upon my death."
"And at this moment, I grant him the highest access authority to 12 Grimmauld Place."
"This vow is witnessed by my magic and my life, Unbreakable!"
A golden light glowed at the tip of the wand and then sank into his chest. The contract was established.
"A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Black."
Draco bowed elegantly, like a businessman who had just signed a major deal.
"Now, you can take your mount and get lost."
"Remember, don't come back to Britain. Otherwise, I can't guarantee this bottle won't 'accidentally' fall into a fireplace at the Ministry of Magic."
Sirius gave him a deep look and squeezed Buckbeak's flanks with his legs.
The Hippogriff let out a high-pitched cry, spread its wings, and soared into the boundless night sky... The term ended amidst various chaos and rumors.
Professor Lupin, under immense pressure from parents, finally submitted his resignation and left Hogwarts.
On the return journey of the Hogwarts Express, the atmosphere in the Gryffindor carriage was somber.
Harry had received a letter from Sirius and a brand new, top-of-the-line Firebolt; amidst his joy, he felt even more lost.
In the Slytherin carriage, Draco sat alone in the most luxurious compartment.
He had arranged for Pansy and Daphne to go to other carriages.
He toyed with the cold metal bottle in his hand and looked out the window.
This year had been quite fruitful.
Hermione was already under his control. Harry Potterwas being played like a puppet in his hands.
He had also gained the inheritance rights to the entire House of Black, as well as the rat in the bottle.
He should have been in a good mood.
But his gaze was heavy with gravity.
Just then, there was a soft "pop."
A House-elf wearing a tattered pillowcase abruptly appeared in the compartment. It was Dobby.
It knelt respectfully, its large, tennis-ball-like eyes looking at Draco with adoration.
"Great Master Draco Malfoy! Dobby brings new information for you!"
"Speak," Draco said flatly.
"Dobby heard from the house-elves at the Ministry of Magic that Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, has been selling top-box tickets for this summer's Quidditch World Cup final everywhere."
"And... he also owes the Gringotts Goblins a large sum of money."
Draco's eyebrows twitched slightly. Ludo Bagman... the name brought back some unpleasant memories.
"What else?"
"Also..." Dobby's voice dropped even lower, "a Witch from the Ministry named Bertha Jorkins has gone missing."
"She was last seen near the forests of Albania."
"She went there to visit a distant second cousin."
Draco's pupils contracted sharply.
Bertha Jorkins, Albania—he knew what this meant... that man without a nose had begun to move.
Chapter 152: The Supreme Game! Planning and Humiliation on the Train!
Inside a compartment of the Hogwarts Express, the air was filled with a faint scent of cedar mixed with leather.
Draco leaned back on the soft velvet seat, his slender fingers rhythmically tapping the smooth tabletop with light clicks.
On the table before him, a blank piece of parchment lay spread out.
The information brought by Dobby was like a few key puzzle pieces, precisely placed into the massive blueprint of the future within his mind.
Ludo Bagman, a gambling-addicted fool, yet he was the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry of Magic, a core figure for the Quidditch World Cup.
He owed money to Goblins, which meant he was desperately short of cash; for money, he would dare to do anything and bet on anything.
A pawn that could be easily manipulated.
Bertha Jorkins, a Witch from the Ministry of Magic with a decent memory but not a very bright mind, had gone missing in the forests of Albania.
Draco's quill tip glided gently across the parchment, outlining an invisible route extending from Britain to Eastern Europe.
Albania, that man's final hiding place.
Bertha Jorkins's disappearance was no accident, but a prelude.
Her mind contained intelligence regarding the Triwizard Tournament and the Ministry of Magic's internal defenses; more importantly, she knew the whereabouts of Barty Crouch Jr.
Lord Voldemort would squeeze all of this out of her brain.
Then, Barty Crouch Jr., that loyal Death Eater, would break free from his father's control and head to Albania to reunite with his master.
Together, they would return to Britain and use the Triwizard Tournament as the perfect stage to orchestrate a world-shaking resurrection.
A cold arc curled at the corner of Draco's mouth.
Stop his resurrection?
What a foolish idea.
A dead, taboo Dark Lord was far less useful than a living one who could bring immense fear.
His return would be like a red-hot iron brand, searing into the Ministry of Magic's decaying skin, letting everyone smell the scorched stench of panic.
At that time, people would need a savior.
Not a troublemaking fool like Harry Potter.
But a family with the capability, financial power, and vision to lead them against the darkness.
The House of Malfoy would be the only choice.
[Ding! Host detected intervening in core world-line events, attempting to influence power games at the highest level. Main quest triggered!]
The system's voice echoed in his mind.
[Main Quest: The Supreme Game]
[Quest Objective: During the upcoming Triwizard Tournament, the Host must successfully control or deeply influence the key movements of no fewer than three factions (e.g., the Ministry of Magic, Death Eaters, Hogwarts school authorities, foreign magic schools, etc.).]
[Side Quest: Special Bloodline Collection. Collect at least one sample of special bloodline from a different race (Veela/Giant/Goblin, etc.) to optimize the Host's bloodline.]
[Quest Rewards: Massive increase in Family Fortune, unlock a random high-level Dark Arts talent, and upgrade System Mall permissions.]
A flash of understanding crossed Draco's eyes.
The system also approved of his plan.
He picked up his wand and tapped the parchment lightly.
Incendio.
The parchment recording those earth-shattering secrets instantly turned into a wisp of smoke and vanished without a trace.
Secrets are only safest when hidden in one's mind.
The train let out a long whistle, and its speed gradually slowed down.
The scenery outside changed from rapidly retreating fields to ancient and familiar brick walls.
King's Cross Station had arrived.
Draco stood up and straightened his impeccable dark green robes, every fold perfectly in place.
He pushed open the compartment door, regained his elegant and arrogant aristocratic posture, and slowly walked out.
On the platform, people were already bustling.
Lucius Malfoy's figure was particularly conspicuous in the crowd.
He leaned on his signature snake-head cane, his platinum-blond hair perfectly groomed, his indifferent eyes scanning the noisy crowd around him.
Seeing Draco step off the train, the icy distance in Lucius's eyes thawed slightly.
Draco.
Father.
Draco stepped forward and bowed slightly in greeting.
The father and son didn't say much; with just a meeting of eyes, the transfer of information was complete.
A flash of approval appeared in Lucius's eyes.
Draco told him with his eyes: the matter was settled, and the key to the Black family vault would soon be sent to Malfoy Manor.
Lucius nodded slightly, indicating that he had already arranged the transfer procedures and the notarization of the magical contract.
Efficiency was the creed of the House of Malfoy.
Just then, a coarse roar came from not far away.
"Hurry up, you useless boy! Dawdling like that—do you want the neighbors to see you looking like this?!"
Draco and Lucius both looked toward the sound.
A fat Muggle man, whose neck had almost disappeared, was roughly grabbing a small figure by the collar.
It was Harry Potter.
On his faded old clothes, there was a stain of something unknown; his hair was still messy, and his face was filled with embarrassment and anger.
He was struggling to drag a heavy trunk, while the man he called "Uncle" pushed and shoved him like an animal.
Surrounding wizarding families cast curious glances, while some Muggles pointed and whispered.
The savior?
At this moment, he looked more like an unwanted stray.
A playful smile appeared on Draco's face.
He took long strides and walked unhurriedly toward Harry.
Lucius didn't stop him, just watched with interest.
Draco walked up to Harry; Vernon Dursley was using his fat finger to almost poke Harry's nose.
"I'm warning you, once we get home, don't you dare mention a single word about that freak school! And that damn owl, lock it in its cage, no letting it out!"
Harry gritted his teeth, saying nothing.
Draco stopped, not even looking at Harry.
He gave his wand a seemingly casual flick.
A silent spell flashed.
The conspicuous stain on Harry's clothes instantly vanished, becoming as clean as new.
A perfect Scourgify.
Harry froze for a moment and looked up to see Draco.
Draco didn't even give him a glance; his gaze fell on Vernon Dursley.
There was no mockery or sneer on his face; instead, he wore a noble, condescending pity.
"This... Muggle gentleman."
Draco's voice was clear and pleasant, yet it sent an inexplicable chill through Vernon.
"Please be a bit kinder to our Hogwarts students."
He paused, his tone becoming even gentler, but the thorns in his words were enough to pierce the heart.
"After all, he can only live somewhat like a human being while at school."
Having finished, Draco didn't stay.
Without even giving Harry time to react, he turned and walked with elegant steps to rejoin Lucius, leaving proudly surrounded by House-elves.
Throughout the entire process, he hadn't looked Harry in the eye once.
It was as if cleaning that stain was just like clearing a piece of trash from the roadside.
And that pitying remark was more lethal than any malicious curse.
It was like a precise scalpel, slicing open Harry's fragile self-esteem and exposing his unknown, miserable situation of living under someone else's roof to the cold light of day.
Harry Potter froze in place.
He watched Draco's lofty back as it gradually disappeared through the exit of Platform 9¾.
An unprecedented sense of humiliation, like boiling lava, erupted from his chest, making him tremble all over.
Vernon Dursley's face had turned a deep purple.
Draco's words had accurately hit what he cared about most—being looked down upon by neighbors and being treated as a freak.
"Did you hear that?! It's all because of you!"
Vernon's rage poured onto Harry with even greater intensity.
"You little freak! Get moving! Don't expect to have any good days this summer!"
The rough pulling began again.
Harry was yanked, stumbling and looking wretched as he followed behind.
Chapter 153: Grimmauld Place! Draco Forcefully Takes Over the Dark Arts Family!
During the first week of summer vacation, London's night sky was obscured by thick clouds, with even the moonlight being stingy about shining through.
In Grimmauld Place, amidst a row of seemingly ordinary Muggle terraced houses, lay a hidden secret unknown to the world.
"Swish."
After a slight popping sound, Draco's figure appeared in the shadows of a corner of the square, followed by the House-elf Dobby.
He looked up at the row of buildings.
In Muggle eyes, numbers 11 and 13 were pressed tightly together, with no gap in between.
But in Draco's eyes, he could clearly perceive a space distorted by powerful magic hidden right there.
Number 12, Grimmauld Place, the ancestral home of the House of Black.
A fortress protected by the Fidelius Charm.
Without the Secret Keeper's permission or being granted authorization, no one could find it.
But now, the rules had changed.
From his robes, Draco slowly pulled out a piece of parchment radiating a faint glow.
It was precisely that magic contract Sirius Black had been forced to sign at the top of the tower.
The moment the parchment appeared, the surrounding air began to fluctuate.
Draco could feel the defensive mechanisms of the Fidelius Charm scanning him.
The golden runes on the parchment suddenly lit up, conveying a clear will to the ancient defensive magic—the comer was the new heir.
"Rumble..."
A low sound, like the shifting of the earth's crust, echoed out.
The houses at 11 and 13, which were originally side-by-side, began to slowly slide apart to both sides.
A worn, dust-covered black door emerged from the void, bringing with it a decaying and chilly aura as it revealed itself before Draco.
On the door, a door knocker composed of intertwined silver serpents watched him with hollow eye sockets.
Without the slightest hesitation, Draco reached out and pushed open that heavy door.
"Creak—"
The piercing sound cut through the silence of the late night.
A heavy smell, a mixture of dust, dampness, and Dark Arts, wafted toward him.
The entrance hall was pitch black, with many portraits hanging on the walls, the people in the paintings immersed in dark slumber.
The moment Draco stepped into the foyer.
—"Who is it?! Who dares to intrude upon my noble House of Black ancestral home!"
A hysterical scream, like a banshee's wail, suddenly exploded throughout the entire hall!
A life-sized portrait on the wall had been covered by heavy curtains; now, the curtains were suddenly pulled apart to both sides.
In the painting, an emaciated old woman wearing black robes was staring intently at Draco with venomous eyes.
It was Walburga Black, Sirius's mother.
Her scream seemed to carry some kind of magic, making the entire house vibrate along with it.
"Filthy scum! mudblood! Half-breed! Shames who have defiled our pure blood!"
"Get out! Get out of my house!"
Her insults were vicious and insane.
Dobby was trembling all over with fear, hiding behind Draco.
Draco simply extended his left hand calmly and used the tip of his wand in his right hand to make a light cut on the pad of his index finger.
A drop of bright red blood seeped out.
In this drop of blood, there was not only the bloodline of the House of Malfoy, but also the bloodline belonging to the House of Black from his mother, Narcissa.
"Shut up, old woman."
Draco's voice was very light, yet it carried an unquestionable authority.
He flicked his finger.
That drop of bright red blood turned into a red line, accurately shooting toward the frantically screaming portrait.
The moment the blood touched the canvas, it was like a branding iron falling into ice water, making a soft "sizzle" sound.
At the same time, Draco activated the system skill he had just obtained.
[Soul Pressure!]
An invisible pressure originating from a higher level of bloodline, mixed with Draco's own powerful soul strength, pressed down heavily on Walburga Black's soul fragment like a mountain!
The old woman in the portrait's screaming came to an abrupt halt.
For the first time, a look of terror appeared on her face.
She could feel the connection of the same bloodline in that drop of blood, as well as the pressure that made her soul tremble.
This was a suppression originating from the essence of life, making her unable to resist.
"Now, this place."
Draco slowly raised his head, his grey-blue eyes appearing exceptionally bright in the darkness.
"Is named Malfoy."
Walburga's mouth opened and closed, but she could no longer utter a single syllable.
The venom in her eyes was replaced by fear; she could only watch helplessly as this young "intruder" took control of the home she was so proud of.
Just then, from the shadows deep in the hall, came a rustling sound.
A short, hunched figure suddenly lunged out from the darkness!
It had a long, nose-like snout, and its two large, cloudy eyes were filled with madness.
It was the House-elf, Kreacher.
"Must not harm Mistress! Kreacher must protect the House of Black's home!"
It hissed, raising a rusted poker and charging at Draco like a madman.
"Bad master! Not allowed to come near!"
Dobby gave a scream and wanted to step forward to block it.
"Stand down, Dobby."
Draco raised his hand, stopping Dobby's actions.
He just stood there quietly, watching the crazed Kreacherrush in front of him.
Just as that poker was about to strike his expensive leather shoes.
Draco's lips moved slightly.
He didn't use a very loud voice, but simply and calmly uttered a name.
"Regulus Arcturus Black."
Kreacher's movements suddenly froze.
The high-held poker stopped in mid-air.
The look of madness in its cloudy eyes instantly faded, replaced by immense shock and confusion.
This name was the most sacred and painful secret deep within its heart.
Draco's gaze seemed able to see through its filthy skin and look directly at its heart filled with regret and pain.
His voice, like a demon's whisper, continued to echo in the empty hall.
"I know where he died, on a small island in the middle of a lake full of Inferi."
Kreacher's body began to tremble violently.
"I also know what he asked you to do."
Draco slowly crouched down, meeting Kreacher's terrified eyes at eye level.
"He asked you to destroy a Locket, didn't he?"
"A Slytherin's Locket."
"But you... didn't manage to do it, did you?"
This last sentence was like a heartless sledgehammer, completely shattering Kreacher's final line of psychological defense.
"Clang!"
The rusted poker slipped from its weakened hand and fell to the floor, making a crisp sound.
"Waaaah—!"
Kreacher could no longer hold on; he collapsed to his knees and let out a heart-wrenching wail.
He began to frantically bash his head against the cold, hard floor, producing dull "thuds."
"Kreacher is a bad elf! Kreacher failed to complete Master Regulus's orders! Kreacher deserves to die! Deserves to die!"
He wailed and self-harmed, falling into a complete breakdown.
Draco looked down at this scene from above, his face showing no sympathy.
A loyal, yet pathetic creature.
He intended to use the most cruel method to tear away all its pretenses and make it face its own failure and incompetence.
Only in this way could he completely take control of it.
When Kreacher's crying gradually lessened, leaving only desperate sobs.
Only then did Draco speak again, his voice carrying an irresistible temptation.
"Swear fealty to me, Kreacher."
He reached out and gently lifted Kreacher's face, which was covered in tears and filth.
"I can help you complete the final wish that Regulusfailed to achieve."
"I can help you destroy that thing."
Kreacher's crying stopped.
In his cloudy eyes, a flicker of fanatical hope, like grasping at a life-saving straw, slowly ignited.
He looked at this young master before him as if seeing the only possibility of completing his mission.
The next second, Kreacher lowered his head without hesitation and kissed the surface of Draco's spotless dragon-hide boots with his lips.
"Kreacher... is willing to do... anything for the new master."
Chapter 154: Voldemort's Soul Fragment? A Bumper Harvest of Dark Arts Knowledge!
Led by the thoroughly subservient Kreacher, Dracowalked into a dusty drawing room.
The air was thick with the musty smell of decay, and the furniture, covered in white sheets, looked like burial mounds.
Kreacher walked straight to a glass cabinet, opened the door with its withered fingers, and tremblingly took out a locket.
The locket was exquisitely crafted, with a green gemstone set in the center forming a serpentine'S' mark.
Draco took it; it felt icy cold to the touch.
He opened the box easily. Inside, there was no evil aura of a Horcrux, only a folded piece of parchment.
He unfolded the parchment and, in front of Kreacher, read it aloud in a completely flat tone.
"To the Dark Lord,"
"I know I will be dead long before you read this..."
"...but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can."
At the end of the letter was a three-letter signature.
R.A.B.
Regulus Arcturus Black.
With every word Draco uttered, Kreacher's body curled in further. By the time the last syllable fell, the old elf was kneeling on the floor, emitting choked sobs.
"Master Regulus... he was a hero... he betrayed the Dark Lord..."
"Hero?"
Draco let out a light laugh, full of mockery.
"A hero played for a fool by a liar?"
He raised the fake locket in his hand, pointing his wand tip at it.
"Spell Analysis."
A faint light swept over the locket.
"Ordinary enchanted metal, with a minor itching curse attached, and a Confundo that induces slight hallucinations."
Draco hammered the analysis results, word by word, into Kreacher.
"Voldemort traded your heroic master's life for this worthless piece of trash."
"He used him from start to finish."
"Your Master Regulus died for nothing."
These words were sharper than knives, piercing Kreacher's heart with precision.
Its lingering awe of Voldemort crumbled in that moment, replaced by uncontrollable hatred.
"The Dark Lord... is a liar! He killed Master Regulus!"
A fire of vengeance ignited in Kreacher's cloudy eyes.
Draco knew the time was right.
"So, where is the real Horcrux?" His voice carried guidance.
"Give it to me, Kreacher. I will avenge your master."
Kreacher did not hesitate for a second.
Trembling, it reached into the tattered loincloth at its waist, fumbling for a long time.
Finally, it pulled out another locket.
Its appearance was identical to the previous one, but its aura was worlds apart.
A sinister, malevolent energy spread out, dropping the temperature of the entire room by several degrees.
The chill could seep into a person's very bones, evoking a deep-seated revulsion from the soul.
This was the real thing.
A fragment of Voldemort's soul.
Draco reached out and took it.
The moment his fingers touched it, the system's notification sounded in his mind.
[High concentration of unclaimed soul fragment detected (Source: Tom Riddle)! This item is highly corrosive to the Host!]
[Option A: Direct Consumption. Forcibly absorb using Host's [Dragon Blood War Body] and [Soul Pressure]. Success: Massive increase in mental power, possibility of gaining new skills. Failure: Severe soul damage, mental confusion.]
[Option B: Strategic Containment. Treat it as a special item, usable for future intelligence trade with Dumbledore, or detonated at a critical moment to backlash against Voldemort's main soul.]
Draco's thoughts raced.
Option A was extremely tempting—a massive surge in mental power and the chance to gain new skills.
But a 75% success rate also meant a one-in-four chance of becoming an idiot.
More crucially, there was Voldemort.
Disturbing this soul fragment would be immediately sensed by the main soul in Albania. There's no need to poke another snake nest when one snake isn't even dead yet.
A living Horcrux is far more valuable than a lump of energy.
"Option B."
Draco had made up his mind.
He took out a silver alchemy box engraved with ancient sealing runes from his Spatial Ring and carefully placed the locket inside.
*Click.*
The lid closed, completely sealing off the evil, chilling aura.
One matter settled.
Draco's gaze turned to the true treasure of this old house.
"Kreacher, take me to the study."
"Yes, Master!"
The Black family study was, as he had imagined, dark and oppressive.
Tall bookshelves reached the ceiling, crammed with all sorts of volumes.
The covers of many books were made of Black dragon hide or the skin of some unknown creature, exuding an ominous air.
[Ding! Detected a large number of lost magical knowledge carriers! System scanning function activated, compiling data...]
A virtual progress bar began to move in front of Draco's eyes.
*Secrets of the Darkest Art*, *Forbidden Explorations of Soul Magic*, *Dark Alchemy*... The knowledge from books whose titles alone were enough to warrant a Ministry raid was being rapidly copied by the system.
[Ding! *Notes on Bloodline Curses* compilation complete!]
[Ding! *Applications of Ancient Runes in Sacrificial Rituals* compilation complete!]
...Draco casually pulled a copy of *The Art of the Jinx* from the shelf and quickly flipped through a few pages.
The content inside was both vicious and profound.
[Ding! Host's knowledge base improved through reading rare Dark Arts texts, triggering passive skill comprehension!]
[Congratulations, Host has obtained the passive skill: Dark Affinity (Intermediate).]
Draco closed the book with satisfaction.
This trip was worth it.
He ordered Kreacher and Dobby to begin cleaning and organizing the entire ancestral home.
In a storage room, a silver Music Box caught his attention.
The Music Box was carved with dancing fairies and looked quite ornate.
But under his [Spiritual Sight], the object concealed an extremely malicious nightmare curse within.
Once opened, anyone who hears the music will suffer the most terrifying nightmares every night for months, until their mind breaks.
Interesting.
A malicious smile spread across Draco's face.
"Dobby."
"Yes, Master!"
"Wrap this up with the prettiest wrapping paper."
Draco handed the Music Box over.
"Then stick on an anonymous label, writing 'To a brave friend'."
He thought for a moment and added.
"Delivery address... The Burrow."
"Recipient... Ron Weasley."
Dobby blinked its tennis-ball-sized eyes. Though it didn't understand, it immediately set about executing the order.
Draco could already imagine the expression on that red-haired Weasley's face when he received this "surprise" during summer break.
It was necessary to occasionally spice up a rival's life.
Chapter 155: Ripples in the Pool! Daphne's Underwater Submission!
Lucius Malfoy looked at the wealth before him, then at his fourteen-year-old son, his expression complex.
"Draco, you've done very well." Lucius's voice carried restrained excitement.
"Even a declining Black is enough to make the Malfoy Family's position within the Ministry of Magicunshakeable."
"Father, our vision shouldn't be limited to just the Ministry of Magic."
Draco's tone was light, yet it made Lucius's heart skip a beat.
"We must assimilate all the wavering pure-bloods. Before the next darkness arrives, we will establish an alliance that belongs solely to the Malfoys."
Father and son looked at each other. A new family strategy was established in the silence.
A few days later, the Greengrass Family carriage stopped at the manor gates.
In the drawing room, Lucius was engaged in a "friendly" negotiation with Mr. Greengrass regarding the supply of Potion ingredients.
Behind the manor, beside the swimming pool built of white marble, another kind of "negotiation" was about to begin.
Draco, wearing Black swimming trunks, leaned back on a lounge chair.
Transformed by the [Dragon Blood War Body], the lines of his muscles were smooth and solid, gleaming with a faint sheen under the sunlight.
The sound of light footsteps approached.
Daphne Greengrass appeared by the poolside, her expression uneasy.
She wore a dark green two-piece swimsuit that made her skin look as white as snow.
The style of the swimsuit had been recommended by Pansy. It used minimal fabric with a bold cut, clearly outlining the budding curves of the young woman.
The face of the flower of slytherin was flushed with a blush of annoyance.
She could feel Draco's gaze sweeping over her body like a searchlight.
"Malfoy, you'd better actually have serious business." Daphne's voice was cold, but there was a barely perceptible hint of tension in its tail end.
"Of course." Draco stood up and made a "please" gesture. "Some collaborations are discussed more frankly in the water."
Daphne bit her inner lip, then descended the steps and submerged into the cool pool water.
Draco slipped in after her, moving like a crocodile, swimming silently until he was right in front of her.
The water reached their chests as they stood facing each other.
"What do you want to discuss?" Daphne asked, her body subconsciously shifting half a step backward.
Draco didn't speak, he just looked at her. He activated his [Natural Affinity] ability, and a faint current of water swirled at Daphne's feet.
"Ah!"
Daphne's foot slipped, causing her to lose her balance. She cried out in surprise as she fell backward.
The next second, a pair of arms, like iron clamps, encircled her from behind, firmly gripping her waist.
"Careful."
Draco's voice sounded right by her ear. The warm breath caused goosebumps to rise on the back of her neck.
Daphne's body froze.
Her back was pressed flush against a warm, solid chest.
Through the thin fabric, she could clearly feel the hardness of the other's muscles, and that steady rhythm... A scent of cedarwood enveloped her completely.
"Let go!" Daphne cried out, both embarrassed and furious, struggling forcefully.
"Don't move." Draco's arms tightened, rendering her completely immobile. "It's the deep end. I'm just helping you stay steady."
His palm rested against her waist, his thumb pressing seemingly unintentionally into the soft flesh at her side.
A tingling sensation shot up her spine. Daphne's body shuddered.
"You!"
"Miss Greengrass, let's discuss business." Draco's tone suddenly became all business.
He turned Daphne's body around, forcing her to face him, but his hands still locked around her waist, not allowing her to retreat an inch.
Their noses were almost touching.
"I heard your father is troubled by the lack of 'African Boomslang Skin' for the 'Wit-Sharpening Potion.'"
Daphne's breath hitched. This was her family's trade secret.
"And the Malfoy Family monopolizes over seventy percent of the European Boomslang skin supply channels."
Draco's finger lightly traced upward along the groove of her spine, stopping at a spot... and pressed down.
Daphne's legs went weak. She nearly knelt in the water, saved from slipping under only by Draco's arm.
The color drained from her face. She was humiliated and furious to the extreme, yet she no longer dared harbor any thought of resistance.
"The Quidditch World Cup is approaching." Draco's lips almost brushed against her wet earlobe.
"All the pure-bloods in Europe will be there. I need an ally among the Slytherin girls to handle matters for me."
A threat, blatant and bare.
"You... are you forcing me?" Daphne's voice trembled.
"This is a transaction." Draco chuckled lightly. "You're a clever girl. You know how to choose."
Hidden beneath the water, his palm grew restless. That irresistible force made his intentions clear to her.
Daphne's breathing became completely ragged.
Her family's interests, coupled with this absolutely humiliating, overpowering control before her, caused her prideful rationality and defenses to crumble together.
She felt as if her throat were being squeezed. She couldn't breathe, and she was powerless to resist.
She didn't know how much time passed.
She abandoned all struggle, her body going limp as she leaned against Draco's chest. A barely audible syllable was forced from her throat.
"...Alright."
The corner of Draco's mouth lifted in a victorious curve.
He lowered his head and planted a light kiss on Daphne's crimson cheek.
"Pleasure doing business."
[Ding! The Host has established a deep ambiguous and interest-based alliance with a high-potential female character (Daphne Greengrass)!]
[Bond successfully established. Reward: Special Skill: Underwater Breathing (Passive).]
[Reward: Special Resistance: Charm Resistance(Beginner). This resistance has a special counteractive effect against the charming abilities of creatures like Veelas.]
The system's notification sounded in his mind.
Draco looked at the flower of slytherin in his arms, who had completely lost her strength, and released his hold.
Another one.