Ch: 1-8
Chapter 1: Transmigrating into Harry Potter
Ma Tianlong had recently become obsessed with the Harry Potter movies, primarily because he was captivated by the proud and adorable Hermione. If the casting had followed the Original Novel, the success of Harry Potter might have been greatly diminished.
Just how obsessed was he?
Let's just say he was watching the Harry Potter movie even while walking, which resulted in a tragedy.
The next second, he missed a step and fell rapidly. The sewer was incredibly deep, and he hit the ground with a bang.
The second before he passed out, a thought flashed through his mind: Which son of a bitch stole the Manhole Cover!
The sound of his landing vanished before it could even escape the bottom of the well. He was twenty years old... At this moment, someone groggily woke up, slowly opening their eyes and looking around, realizing they were lying on a luxurious large bed.
Ma Tianlong was surprised to find that he hadn't died. Had he been rescued, or what?
That's not right. If he had been rescued, he would definitely be in a hospital, and this place clearly wasn't one.
I lowered my gaze and examined my body, finding that I now had slender arms and legs, like a child. Could I have been reborn?
That's also wrong. The decoration style of this room clearly suggests a foreign country.
Could I have reincarnated? Reincarnating as a human is fine, but if I had reincarnated as a chicken or a duck, wouldn't I be destined to be slaughtered?
He heard there were many handsome guys abroad. Ma Tianlong rolled out of bed and walked barefoot to the Full-Length Mirror to examine himself.
He didn't know until he looked, and when he did, he was startled. He touched his face with both hands, and the person in the mirror moved along with him.
That's right, it was him. Ma Tianlong had become a handsome foreign boy.
His face was so smooth and tender. He reached up and smoothed his slicked-back golden hair. So this was what it meant to comb one's hair like an adult.
He was absolutely stunning! He was sure to charm thousands of girls, and foreign girls often had C-cups or larger—a true benefit for a 'ball fan.'
After admiring his handsome profile for a while, Ma Tianlong calmed down.
Upon closer inspection, Ma Tianlong suddenly realized something: Wasn't the person in the mirror Draco Malfoy from *Harry Potter*?
The son of the Death Eater Lucius, a stepping stone on the protagonist's path to growth.
Now Ma Tianlong finally understood. He had transmigrated. He couldn't help but feel a little annoyed afterward.
Why couldn't he have transmigrated as Ron, that unremarkable guy? At least he could have 'eaten the Big Cabbage.'
Fortunately, Draco had many advantages. Besides being handsome, he was super handsome, as long as he didn't act like that fool Snape.
Relying on his impressions of the original Harry Potter novel and the movies, winning over Hermionewould be easy.
Ron, I can only say sorry to you here. Hermione is mine.
After figuring things out, Ma Tianlong accepted his identity as Draco Malfoy.
He felt that transmigrating into Draco was a good thing; at least his Ox-and-Horse Worker brothers on the other side of the sky had one less competitor.
But now Draco had to think about the future. A pure-blood Death Eater family—everything was a long and arduous journey!
What was it like having a Death Eater father? It meant starting out on the opposite side of the Protagonist Group. Marrying Hermione would face many obstacles. So how should he break the situation? Should he cling to the protagonist's thigh, stick to being the villain to the end, or take a different path?
Draco thought for a moment and stopped worrying. He was him, a Different Kind of Fireworks.
Just follow his heart.
Anyway, he was their only bloodline; being an only son was capital.
Forget it, why think so much? He should continue to admire his delicate appearance. The only drawback was that his smile was a bit stiff, probably influenced by the original body's dark psychology.
Draco thought to himself, 'I'll take care of the handsome part.'
Because being handsome is a lifelong commitment!
After a moment of self-motivation, Draco left the mirror and found two Admission Letters on the bedside cabinet.
One was from Hogwarts, and the other was from another school of magic, likely Durmstrang. Since that school recruited many pure-bloods, receiving a letter wasn't unusual.
Draco picked up the Hogwarts letter to examine it. The thick, yellowed Parchment felt classic and solemn.
The letter was sealed with wax, and a School Crest Stamp was pressed onto the joint. A large 'H' was centered on the crest, surrounded by four animals representing the houses: a Lion, a Snake, a Badger, and an Eagle.
Draco eagerly opened the letter. The text was written in Emerald Green Ink, addressed with his name, and signed by Professor McGonagall. The content listed the Items List required by the student, which was pretty much the same as in the movie.
Draco then resealed the letter. He picked up the Durmstrang letter and saw that the material was Dark Metal Foil, cold and firm to the touch. As expected of a pure-blood noble school, even their letters were so distinguished.
Did he even need to choose? Draco immediately put the Durmstrang Admission Letter into the drawer, kept the Hogwarts Admission Letter, and after closing the drawer, a voice came through.
"Son, dinner is ready," a gentle and caring woman's voice said. He figured it must be the mother of the original body coming to call him to eat.
"Coming," Draco replied, put on his shoes, and left the room.
Standing outside the door was a tall, slender woman. She smiled broadly and said to Draco, "Son, eat first, then go back to sleep."
"Alright, Mother." Draco felt no resistance toward this mother; no matter what, she doted on him greatly.
Narcissa placed her hand on Draco's shoulder, and they walked together to the dining table and sat down.
Lucius Malfoy, who was already seated, began lecturing Draco as soon as he sat down: "You don't even know to come eat when it's time? Do you still think you're a child?"
Narcissa interceded, saying, "Our son is only 11 years old. You don't need to be so harsh."
Draco pulled his chair in, sat down properly, and said, "Who isn't a child in front of their parents?"
This retort left Lucius speechless, while Narcissa's smile bloomed again.
After a few seconds of silence, Lucius picked up his Knife and Fork and said, "Let's eat first."
The two immediately followed suit and began dining together.
During the meal, Lucius turned his gaze toward Draco and asked, "Have you decided which school you want to attend?"
Chapter 2: Persuading My Parents to Let Me Go to Hogwarts
On the long table, silver plates reflected the candlelight, and the aroma of roast goose filled the dining room of Malfoy Manor.
Draco put down his cutlery, looked up at Lucius in the head seat, and said casually, "Hogwarts, then."
Lucius's hand holding the glass paused slightly, causing faint ripples in the deep purple Firewhisky.
He set down the glass, his fingertips lightly tapping the smooth tabletop as he looked at Draco. "I, however, feel that Durmstrang would be more suitable."
At these words, the transmigrated Draco's heart skipped a beat, and he thought to himself that things were looking bad.
If he went to Durmstrang in Northern Europe, far away from Hogwarts, his beloved Hermione would become a mere illusion, and the plot details he remembered so well would be completely useless.
As he was thinking, he heard Lucius ask again, "Why do you want to go to Hogwarts?"
Draco organized his thoughts before slowly speaking, "Father, Hogwarts is quite close to home. If I miss Mother in the future, I can return to visit at any time. Furthermore, as you are a governor of Hogwarts, you can look after me more within the school."
His tone carried a hint of perfectly measured obedience and filial piety.
Hearing this, Lucius's eyebrows arched slightly, a flicker of approval flashing in his eyes.
Such cleverness was indeed in the style of the House of Malfoy.
Beside them, Narcissa was even more delighted. Her gaze toward her son was full of affection, the smile on her lips never fading as she nodded repeatedly. "Draco is right; it's better to be close to home so I can check on him often."
"You are indeed sharp," Lucius nodded, but his tone suddenly shifted, becoming somewhat displeased. "It's just that the current Hogwarts, under Dumbledore's control, is far too inclusive and indulgent. It even admits those muggle-born students, which is truly a loss of dignity for a Pure-blood wizard."
Narcissa, who hadn't voiced an opinion yet, immediately agreed upon hearing this. "That is exactly my greatest concern. Son, if you go to Hogwarts and spend every day with those Muggle descendants and people of mixed-blood, who knows if you'll pick up some messy bad habits."
Lucius nodded heavily, deeply in agreement.
Draco grumbled inwardly: Utterly ridiculous. If I hadn't transmigrated here, the original Draco would have already been full of arrogant and overbearing faults, a hundred times worse than those so-called 'mixed-blood' students.
But he didn't dare say this out loud, so he had to listen patiently.
Narcissa took Draco's hand and said earnestly, her tone almost like an admonishment, "Son, if you truly go to Hogwarts, remember to stay away from those with complex bloodlines. Do not associate with them."
Draco nodded obediently on the surface, but he had his own plans: I'm the one going to school, not you. It's not like you can follow me around every day, right?
His parents' pure-blood supremacy mindset probably wouldn't be changed anytime soon.
If he really ended up with Hermione in the future and these two found out, they would probably blow the roof off.
Seeing his son agree, Lucius spoke again of the benefits of Durmstrang, trying to win him over. "Actually, Durmstrang is truly not bad. It only admits Pure-blood wizards and doesn't have those mixed crowds, which saves us many concerns."
Draco had known very little about this school previously, so he took the opportunity to ask, "Father, what is so extraordinary about Durmstrang that you recommend it so highly?"
A hint of pride flashed in Lucius's eyes as he explained slowly, "Durmstrang is situated on the Northern European ice plains. It is a sanctuary for Pure-blood wizards and never accepts Muggle descendants. More importantly, what they teach is true magic!"
"True magic?" Draco feigned confusion, though he muttered to himself, 'Could it be that everything Hogwarts teaches is fake?'
Then he looked up and followed with a face full of bewilderment, "Father, what is true magic?"
Lucius pondered for a moment before saying slowly, "It is magic used for actual combat—sharp and domineering—the only way to truly manifest a Wizard's strength."
Fearing her son wouldn't understand, Narcissa added, "To put it bluntly, it's the Dark Arts. No one will teach those mild and useless spells at Durmstrang."
Draco realized suddenly and complained inwardly: So it's the Dark Arts. I thought it was something rare.
Unaware of his son's thoughts, Lucius continued to boast, "The Principal of Durmstrang, Igor Karkaroff, is a Wizard with strong methods and extraordinary strength. There, you will come into contact with the descendants of the oldest and most noble Pure-blood families in Europe, allowing you to build truly valuable connections. This will be of great benefit to you when you take charge of the House of Malfoyin the future."
Once Lucius finished, Draco had already prepared his argument. His tone was calm and his reasoning clear: "What Father says is absolutely right. The connections at Durmstrang are certainly remarkable. But no matter how powerful those connections are, they are only resources over there. After I graduate, I can't stay in Northern Europe forever and never return to England, can I? At that time, wanting to visit Father and Mother would be extremely difficult. A person must eventually return to their roots; I will ultimately return to assist Father in managing family affairs and building our home. Besides, you have already established a foundation and network here. It will be much more convenient for me to operate here than in a foreign land."
These words both saved Lucius's face and appealed to reason. Narcissa praised him repeatedly, "Our son is so right. Returning to one's roots—it's better to be in one's hometown."
Lucius remained silent for a moment. After thinking it over carefully, he found he couldn't refute it.
Every word his son said made sense. The House of Malfoy's foundation was in England. If Draco were far away in Northern Europe, it would indeed be detrimental to the family's long-term development.
Finally, he made the final decision, saying in a low voice, "Very well, we shall do as you say. You will go to Hogwarts."
Chapter 3: Activating the System, the Rhythm of Rising to Life's Peak
After persuading his parents to let him go to Hogwarts, Draco was ecstatic: fortunately, his transmigration hadn't changed his destiny of attending Hogwarts.
Draco just wanted to say one thing.
Hermione, this time, you won't escape my grasp.
Meanwhile, in the suburbs of London at the Granger household, Hermione, who was excitedly flipping through her Hogwarts Admission Letter, suddenly let out a loud sneeze.
She rubbed her nose, a trace of unease inexplicably rising in her heart, feeling as if something bad was quietly approaching.
Just as Draco was secretly gloating, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly rang out in his mind.
[Ding! Mission accomplished—Persuaded parents to attend Hogwarts. System successfully activated!]
"System?" Draco's heart jolted, his eyes filled with unbelievable ecstasy.
He actually had a system too?
The winds of systems had finally blown to England, to Malfoy Manor!
In his extreme excitement, the silver fork in his hand trembled slightly, nearly falling onto his dinner plate.
Narcissa was the first to notice her son's odd behavior. Setting down her cutlery, she asked with concern, "Draco, what's the matter? Your expression is so strange. Are you feeling unwell?"
Draco quickly composed himself, hiding his excitement behind a shy smile. "Mother, I'm fine. I'm just too excited at the thought of going to Hogwarts soon."
Hearing this, Narcissa smiled tenderly and reached out to gently stroke his hair. "Silly child, that's normal. Once you're actually at school and away from home, you might start missing the comforts here—and your mother's roast goose."
Draco's heart stirred, and he asked with feigned curiosity, "Mother, what do you mean by that? Is there something bad about Hogwarts?"
Narcissa only smiled mysteriously, not explaining further. She just said, "You'll find out for yourself once you're at school. Telling you now would spoil the fun."
"Alright." Draco nodded obediently, lowering his head to pretend he was eating, while eagerly communicating with the system in his mind. "System, system, how exactly do you work? Tell me quickly!"
[Ding! Hello, Host. This system is called the 'hogwarts luck system'. Currently, two main functions are open: the luck value panel and the exchange mall. luck value can be used to exchange for various items in the mall; the higher the luck value, the rarer the items available for exchange.]
Draco quickly pulled up the luck value panel, only to see that the luck value column prominently displayed "0".
His lip twitched, and he asked again, "Then how do I earn luck value? It can't stay at zero forever, can it?"
[Ding! There are two ways to obtain luck value: 1. Change the Canon Plot, rewarding 10 luck valueeach time; 2. Add new original plot, rewarding 20 luck value each time.]
Draco understood; these two methods weren't overly complicated.
He impatiently clicked open the exchange mall and was instantly stunned by what he saw—the mall was filled with a dazzling array of items, everything one could imagine.
There were spells, rare Potions, and various Bloodlines... Draco was dazzled, his desire to shop exploding instantly, wishing he could exchange for everything right away.
But when he saw the luck value required for each item, it was like a bucket of cold water had been poured over him—even the lowest-level Basic Spell required 10 luck value, and those rare items required thousands or even tens of thousands.
"Sigh, poverty is holding me back." Draco sighed inwardly. It seemed the top priority was finding a way to earn luck value.
Suddenly, he remembered the newbie benefits other systems had and quickly asked, "System, system, other Hosts have Newbie Gift Packs. You wouldn't happen to be without one, would you?"
[Ding! Detecting that the Host's luck value is zero—so poor you're practically begging—a system Newbie Gift Pack is hereby issued. Would the Host like to open it immediately?]
Draco's lip twitched. Although he was quite dissatisfied with the system's roasting, he still urgently thought, "Open it! Open it now!"
[Ding! Congratulations to the Host for opening the Newbie Gift Pack and receiving the following rewards: 1. 10 luck value; 2. legendary spell—Occlumency.]
"That's it?" Draco was instantly dumbfounded, his heart full of disdain. "This is way too stingy, it's like throwing scraps to a beggar! 10 luck value can't buy anything, and just one Occlumency?"
[Ding! Detecting the Host's disdain for the rewards, the system permits the reclamation of the Newbie Gift Pack. Do you confirm reclamation?]
"No, no, no! I was wrong!" Draco instantly caved, shouting in his mind, "I'm not disdainful, not at all! Occlumency is a great thing. With it, I won't have to worry about people like Dumbledore or Snape, who know Legilimency, prying into my thoughts. It's incredibly useful!"
No joke, Occlumency was a legendary spell. If it were taken back, he wouldn't even have a place to cry.
As for those 10 luck value points, though few, they were better than nothing. It was best to save them for now.
Draco looked through the exchange mall once more and found that 10 luck value really wasn't enough to exchange for anything, so he could only give up for now and decided to learn Occlumency first.
He thought to himself: "Learn Occlumency."
As soon as he finished the thought, a massive torrent of knowledge flooded into his mind. The principles, incantations, casting techniques, and even various advanced applications of Occlumencywere imprinted clearly in his brain.
It was as if he had studied this spell for decades, reaching a state of perfection and mastery.
At this moment, Draco sincerely felt that no one in the world understood Occlumency better than he did.
The ecstasy in his heart was irrepressible. He couldn't help but curl his lips into a bright yet eerie smile, his eyes filled with triumph.
But this scene appeared exceptionally strange in the eyes of Lucius and Narcissa.
Narcissa, full of worry, reached out and gently patted his shoulder. "Draco, don't scare your mother. What's gotten into you? Why are you laughing so strangely out of nowhere?"
Hearing this, Draco suddenly snapped back to his senses. He quickly pulled back his smile and said, pretending nothing was wrong, "Mother, I'm fine. I just suddenly thought of something very funny and couldn't help laughing."
"As long as you're okay," Narcissa said softly, letting out a sigh of relief.
Lucius frowned, his gaze solemn as he looked at him. "You're this happy just to go to Hogwarts? Let me be clear: if you go to school and your grades are poor, shaming the House of Malfoy, I will bring you back immediately to reflect in isolation, and you won't be allowed to return to school."
Draco blurted out in a moment of haste, "Old Man, don't worry. With my talent—which I got from you, right?—my studies will definitely be top-notch. I definitely won't shame you!"
As the words fell, the dining room instantly plunged into silence.
Both Lucius and Narcissa looked at him with strange expressions, their eyes filled with confusion and incomprehension.
Draco's heart went cold, and he quickly covered his mouth, cursing his luck. How could he have let a Muggle world catchphrase slip out?
If Lucius knew the true meaning of the term "Old Man," he would probably draw the wand at his waist and beat him until he was looking for his teeth on the floor.
Lucius's brow furrowed, his tone carrying a hint of displeasure and curiosity. "Draco, what did you mean by that 'Old Man' just now?"
Chapter 4: Preparing to Head to Diagon Alley
Faced with Lucius's questioning, Draco panicked for a moment, his mind racing.
Having thought of an excuse, he immediately put on a well-behaved and filial expression, explaining in a low voice, "Father, this 'Lao Deng' is a respectful title for a father. It means 'Respected Old Father.' It's my way of thanking you for all the hard work you've put into raising me over the years."
This explanation, though far-fetched, happened to strike a chord with Narcissa.
The doubt on her face vanished instantly, replaced by a sense of profound relief, her eyes reddening slightly. "My good son, you've grown up. You even know how to be considerate of your father now."
Hearing this, the displeasure on Lucius's face gradually dissipated, and his expression softened significantly.
He looked at Draco, his tone carrying a hint of praise. "Your talent is beyond doubt; after all, you are the son of Lucius Malfoy. But while talent is important, effort is even more crucial. If you want to become an outstanding Wizard like me and take charge of the House of Malfoy, both talent and effort are indispensable."
Draco's mouth twitched, and he grumbled inwardly: Good grief, this 'Lao Deng' really knows how to flatter himself. If he knew the real meaning of the term, he'd probably explode on the spot.
On the surface, however, he kept nodding with a submissive look. "Yes, yes, Father, you're absolutely right. I will definitely study hard and live up to the expectations of you and Mother."
Seeing Lucius looking so pleased with himself after the praise, Draco felt amused but didn't dare say more, simply continuing his meal obediently.
Lucius and Narcissa resumed their previous conversation. Lucius picked up his glass and took a sip of whiskey, his tone heavy and a flicker of gloom in his eyes. "I have a feeling that old man Dumbledorewill surely be the greatest obstacle to our Pure-blood wizard cause. He blindly indulges those Muggle descendants and supports that fellow Arthur Weasley everywhere—that fool who is obsessed with Muggle trinkets and spends his days mingling with them. It's truly detestable. To promote the ideology of pure-blood supremacy, we must find some means to deal with Dumbledore."
Hearing this, a trace of worry appeared on Narcissa's face, and she quickly asked, "Are you planning to deal with Dumbledore directly? But his power is unfathomable. I'm afraid no one in the entire Wizarding World can match him."
Lucius shook his head, his expression dark. "I am well aware of Dumbledore's strength. Aside from those students he misjudged who eventually went astray, there is no one else in the world who can contend with him. In a direct confrontation, we have no chance of winning. However, we can take our time and start with his foundation, gradually shaking his position at Hogwarts and dismantling his influence."
Draco listened quietly from the side, his heart unruffled.
He knew full well that his father Lucius's schemes would ultimately end in total failure.
Dumbledore's wisdom and power were far beyond anything Lucius could reach.
As for Draco, the only thing he needed to do now was to earn luck value as quickly as possible and improve his own strength, so that he could provide a safety net for his stubborn parents in the future.
Furthermore, he was quite curious about what methods Lucius would use and how he would eventually end up suffering a setback.
But Narcissa, having heard Lucius's fantasies, didn't think that way. Her eyes instantly lit up, and she looked at Lucius with full approval. "If we can shake Dumbledore's position, then Hogwarts will be dominated by our Pure-blood families in the future. The children's education can also be carried out according to our wishes, and they'll no longer be influenced by those messy ideas."
Draco was silently speechless: In the end, his mother only had her child's best interests at heart, but couldn't she just let him grow up freely?
Draco didn't want his life to be planned out so clearly by them; he had his own plans and his own path to follow.
Midway through the conversation, Lucius looked at Draco, his tone much gentler. "Draco, get up early tomorrow. I'll take you to Diagon Alley to prepare everything needed for school—wand, Cauldron, magic books, Owl, and school uniforms; we must get them all ready."
A strong surge of excitement instantly welled up in Draco's heart, and he nodded repeatedly. "Okay! That's great! Thank you, Father!"
The current Draco had never truly come into contact with the Wizarding World outside the Castle.
Diagon Alley was a microcosm of the magical world, a place all wizarding students yearned for.
At the thought of stepping into Diagon Alley, choosing his own wand, and purchasing all sorts of magical items, Draco couldn't contain his joy.
The candlelight flickered, reflecting the figures of the three. The conversation in the dining room gradually subsided, leaving only the aroma of roast goose still lingering in the air.
As the night deepened, Malfoy Manor was immersed in tranquility. Meanwhile, the Hogwarts journey of the transmigrator Draco, and his path with the luck system, had only just begun.
Chapter 5: A Momentary Impulse Grants Dobby Freedom
The dinner concluded, the residual warmth of the silverware not yet dissipated as Draco prepared to rise from the long table.
The kitchen of Malfoy Manor would be tidied by the house-elves; there was no need to spare it a thought.
Yet, the mention of house-elves suddenly brought Dobby's image to mind—that House-elf who would later become deeply entangled with Harry Potter. Perhaps he could gain some luck value from it. With this thought, he decided to wait quietly in the corridor beside the dining room.
Before long, a small, thin figure slowly emerged from the shadows in the corner. It was Dobby.
This was the first time Draco had truly seen a House-elf since his transmigration, and he felt a strange sense of impact.
It was short, only about two or three feet tall, so emaciated it seemed a gust of wind could blow it over. It was wrapped in pieces of coarse, patched-together cloth, tattered like discarded rags and stained with grime.
Its head was grotesquely large, disproportionate to its slender frame. Its arms and legs were as thin as dead branches, swaying as if they might snap. A pair of large, bat-like ears drooped on either side, trembling slightly. Its bulging eyes were a turbid brown, currently cast downward timidly, not daring to meet Draco's gaze. A long, flat nose sat prominently on its gaunt face. Combined, it all conveyed a somewhat monstrous strangeness.
As soon as Dobby appeared, it immediately bowed deeply, its nose almost touching the cold marble floor, its posture the very picture of humility.
When it glanced up and saw Draco showed no intention of leaving, its whole body shuddered violently. Its high-pitched voice was full of terror and self-reproach: "Dobby... Dobby did not know the Young Master had not yet left. Dobby has disturbed the Young Master. Dobby deserves to die ten thousand deaths!"
Before the words fully left its mouth, it abruptly turned and charged headlong towards the nearby stone wall.
Caught off guard, before Draco could react, he heard a heavy, dull *thud*. Dobby's frail body slammed hard into the wall, then fell heavily to the ground, its head ringing from the impact.
It shook its dazed head, its eyes still unfocused, but struggled to its feet. Ignoring the blood seeping from its forehead, it prepared to charge the wall again.
In the past, seeing such scenes in films, he had only found them absurd and ridiculous, laughing at the foolish obedience of house-elves.
But witnessing it firsthand, with each thudding impact striking his ears, a heaviness settled in Draco's heart. He suddenly understood the helplessness Harry Potter must have felt witnessing this scene back then—this self-destructive loyalty had long been twisted into a pitiable shackle.
"Dobby, stop!" Draco immediately shouted to halt it, his tone urgent. "I have finished eating. There is no need to wait!"
But Draco's words seemed to vanish into a void. Dobby, deaf to them, stubbornly continued throwing itself at the wall—colliding, falling, rising again—repeating its self-destructive actions, each impact carrying a resolute ferocity.
Draco's heart tightened. Thinking quickly, he barked sharply, "I command you to stop, Dobby! If you damage this wall, could you possibly afford to pay for it?"
These words finally had an effect. Dobby's motion towards the wall halted abruptly. Its body froze in place. Its bulging eyes glanced timidly towards the long table in the dining room, as if considering whether to punish itself elsewhere.
Seeing this, Draco hastily added, "And don't crash into the table either! You are not to damage any object in this house through your self-harm. You have no wages at all. You couldn't possibly afford it. Do you understand?"
Dobby trembled all over, slowly turning around, still bowing, its head hanging very low. Its high-pitched voice, trembling uncontrollably, was full of fear: "H-honorable Little Master, please forgive this lowly, insignificant elf Dobby... for disturbing your peace."
"As long as you know. No more randomly breaking things." Draco breathed a sigh of relief, his tone softening a little.
Dobby paused, its voice growing even more timid. "Dobby wishes to ask... has the Little Master truly finished his meal? May Dobby... may Dobby begin to clean up?"
"Don't clean up yet!" Draco then ordered. "Go to my room and fetch a piece of clothing for me. Remember, the worst one in my wardrobe."
Upon hearing this, Dobby's body shook even more violently. It hastily waved its hands, its voice filled with panic. "N-no, that won't do! Dobby is dirty, covered in stains. Dobby would soil the Young Master's clothes. Dobby dares not..."
"Go when I tell you to go!" Draco deliberately lowered his tone, assuming some of the authority of the Malfoy family's young master. "Do you dare disobey your master's words?"
"Yes! Yes, Master! Dobby will go immediately! Right away!" Dobby, terrified, quickly assented. Before the words fully left its mouth, its figure abruptly vanished from the spot—the unique Apparition of house-elves, so fast the traces were indiscernible.
In the blink of an eye, it returned, carefully holding out a grey garment to Draco, its eyes still evasive, not daring to meet his gaze.
Draco reached out and took the clothing, his fingertips touching the rough fabric. Then he handed the garment back to it, saying calmly, "This piece of clothing is yours now."
"No!" Dobby stumbled backward several steps in horror, its eyes wide, staring fixedly at the garment as if it were not clothing but a venomous snake that could kill it.
"The Young Master is joking! He must be joking! The Master would not give Dobby clothes! Dobby is a bad elf, unworthy of possessing the Master's things, unworthy!"
As it howled, it fiercely lowered its head, smashing it against the floor. The *thump thump* sounds were especially jarring in the silent corridor. "No! Young Master! Take the clothes back! Bad Dobby is unworthy! Please, I beg you, take them back!"
Blood streamed from Dobby's forehead from the impacts. Tears and snot mixed with the dust on the floor, sliding down its gaunt cheeks, a pitiful sight.
Previously, Draco had explicitly forbidden it from damaging the manor's objects, so it could only direct all punishment onto itself, not daring even a hint of resistance.
Seeing it in this state, Draco felt full of helplessness. He slowly spoke, his tone deliberately stern: "Dobby, you must understand, you are the property of our Malfoy family. I command you to cease your self-harm! If you are seriously injured, or die by accident, who will manage the trivial affairs of the manor for us? We would have to purchase a new House-elf, incurring an unnecessary loss of property. Do you want the Malfoy family to suffer a loss?"
This indeed worked. Dobby's head-banging against the floor stopped instantly. Its hands hung stiffly at its sides, with nowhere to place them, just shaking its head repeatedly. "No! Bad Dobby never thought of such a thing! Dobby is an incompetent, bad elf, not only failing to serve the Master properly but also making the Young Master worry for Dobby. Dobby deserves to die..."
"Enough, no more of this nonsense." Draco interrupted it, his tone softening a bit. "If you obey obediently and don't harm yourself recklessly, I won't need to worry about you. I give you clothes, yet you refuse them. Do you intend to repeatedly disobey your master's commands?"
Dobby jerked its head up, its turbid large eyes full of shock and doubt, looking timidly at this young master, its gaze filled with uncertainty.
It had never imagined the honorable Young Master Malfoy would actively give it clothes. It couldn't believe this was real, thinking only that the Young Master was testing its loyalty.
It cautiously asked in a trembling voice, "M-Master... you... are you... sending Dobby away?"
Looking at its terrified and uneasy appearance, Draco couldn't help but smile, saying lightly, "This isn't sending you away. It's giving you freedom. Haven't you always longed for freedom? Why, when true freedom is before you, do you shrink back?"
Draco's smile, in Dobby's eyes, only made it more frightened. Its eyes darted about as it shook its head repeatedly, its high-pitched voice full of panicked denial: "No! Bad Dobby has never had such thoughts! Dobby only wishes to serve the Master for a lifetime, to work well for the Malfoy family! Dobby dares not aspire to freedom!"
It was now convinced the Young Master was definitely testing its loyalty—the former Draco rarely showed a smile even to Lucius and Narcissa. For him to be so gentle now was surely a trap.
Draco was completely unaware of the convoluted thoughts Dobby was spinning in its mind. Had he known, he likely wouldn't have been able to hold back his laughter.
Seeing it still hesitating, Draco had no choice but to urge again: "Dobby, freedom only comes once. If you miss this chance, it won't come again. Do you truly not want it?"
Dobby stood in place, its face a mask of conflict. Its large eyes were full of struggle—on one side, the obedience and fear ingrained in its bones; on the other, the yearning for freedom buried deep in its heart. It was a difficult choice.
Draco's arm holding out the clothes was growing sore. Deciding not to wait any longer, he simply tossed the garment onto Dobby.
Chapter 6: Understanding the luck value Situation
The moment Draco threw the clothes onto Dobby, he heard the system's notification sound.
[Ding! Altered original plot, added original plot, luck value increased by 30]
He was instantly overjoyed; it really worked.
The clothes fell onto Dobby's shoulders, instantly enveloping his small frame.
He subconsciously pulled off the clothes, clutching them tightly in his hands, but the moment his fingertips touched the fabric, a violent pain suddenly swept through his entire body.
The House-elf's contract with its Master was being severed, and the tearing pain caused his body to convulse violently, stiffening like stone. It was as if he had been struck by a powerful electric current, his entire body curling up on the ground, unable to move.
Seeing this, Draco quickly stepped forward, made a shushing gesture at him, and urgently whispered, "Don't make a sound! If my father comes, neither of us will have a good outcome!"
Dobby endured the severe pain, biting his lip tightly and clenching his mouth shut, not allowing himself to make a single sound. Cold sweat rolled down his forehead, soaking the ground beneath him.
He collapsed to the ground, curled into a ball, trembling incessantly, enduring the pain of the contract's severance.
A moment later, the excruciating pain gradually faded, but he suddenly grabbed the clothes that had just appeared on him and frantically tore at them, crying softly as he tore, "No! Take it off! These bad clothes! Young Master, take them back! Dobby is a bad elf! Bad elves don't deserve freedom!"
"I command you, do not damage this clothing!" Draco sharply reprimanded, his tone brooking no argument.
Dobby's tearing motion abruptly stopped. He looked up at Draco in disbelief, his large, murky eyes filled with confusion and incomprehension, his voice trembling with a hint of a sob: "Y-Young Master... Dobby... Dobby is free? Why... why did you do this?"
The corridor was silent, save for Dobby's suppressed sobs intertwined with the occasional evening breeze rustling outside the window.
He held the clothes, a symbol of freedom, his eyes complex, filled with the bewilderment of being freed from bondage, the fear of the unknown, and a hint of imperceptible gratitude. For a moment, he didn't know what to do.
Draco looked at Dobby's terrified expression, then suddenly grinned, a hint of teasing in his voice: "Dobby, it seems you've long harbored a desire for freedom, but you hid it well. If it were any other House-elf, freed by its Master, it would probably be heartbroken and distraught, not conflicted and struggling like you."
Upon hearing this, Dobby's face instantly turned pale, and he forced out an expression uglier than crying.
He hastily knelt, holding up the clothes symbolizing freedom with both hands, his high-pitched voice filled with urgent explanations: "No! Young Master is mistaken! Dobby never meant that! Bad Dobbyonly wants to serve the Young Master and the Malfoy family for life! If the Young Master doesn't wish to free Dobby, Dobby is willing to sign a magic contract again, to be the Young Master's elf for all generations, without a single complaint!"
"Alright, stop kneeling." Draco waved his hand, dropping his teasing expression, his tone softening. "I was just playing with you earlier, there's no need to take it so seriously."
Seeing Dobby still tense, Draco slowly spoke his true thoughts, "As for why I freed you, perhaps it's because I felt a bit guilty. I've seen all the suffering you endured in the Malfoy family, and I truly can't bear to see you treated that way anymore—after all, only a twisted pervert would wantonly abuse a living being."
These words came from the heart. Although House-elves are born into servitude, they are still living beings with independent consciousness. Their self-mutilating obedience and arbitrary harsh treatment naturally evoke pity.
Dobby slowly stood up, his face not showing the joy of being freed, but rather a complex expression. His bulging eyes churned with various emotions: bewilderment, gratitude, and even a hint of worry: "Young Master, but if Master and Mistress find out that you privately freed me... they will surely not let you off lightly!"
Draco raised an eyebrow and smiled, a hint of cunning in his voice: "That's up to you. Will you let them know about this?"
Upon hearing this, Dobby shook his head like a rattle-drum, his large eyes filled with determination, his tone so solemn it was almost a vow: "Never! Dobby would rather be torn to pieces than betray the Young Master who gave Dobby freedom! Dobby will repay this kindness with his life, even if it means going through fire and water!"
"No need for that." Draco said lightly, cutting off his vow. "I freed you not to seek repayment. But you must remember, until I take charge of the Malfoy family and become its head, try not to reveal that you have gained freedom. You wouldn't want the Young Master who freed you to be severely reprimanded by his parents because of this, would you?"
Dobby's eyes widened suddenly, as if he hadn't expected Draco to still be thinking of him. He nodded vigorously, his expression extremely solemn as he said, "Young Master, don't worry! Dobby will be very careful, play the role of a House-elf well, and never show any flaws. Dobby will be loyal to the Young Master for life and never let anyone discover anything!"
"You don't need to be loyal to me for life." Draco looked at him, his tone calm. "If one day I treat you badly, or if you truly wish to leave, you can turn and go, without any worries."
Dobby's eyes reddened, and he nodded repeatedly, deeply moved. Tears welled up but he held them back, secretly vowing in his heart: That day will never come! My Little Master treats me with such kindness; I will never leave him in this life!
Seeing his emotions gradually calm, Draco spoke again: "Since you have gained freedom, your treatment while working in Malfoy Manor should naturally no longer be the same as before, no different from an ordinary House-elf."
With that, Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out ten shining Galleons, offering them to Dobby.
These Galleons were what he had just reluctantly exchanged with his luck value, each one feeling heavy and substantial.
"This is your wages for the next ten weeks, take it for now. The rest, I'll give to you when I return from Hogwarts for the holidays. After all, I'll be starting school soon, and I won't have much time to attend to these matters normally."
Dobby stared blankly at the Galleons Draco offered, his pupils slightly constricted, full of disbelief.
He trembled as he extended his slender fingers, carefully taking the Galleons. The cold touch sent a shock through his heart.
[Ding! Added original plot, luck value increased by 20]
This Little Master not only freed him without any harshness but also proactively gave him wages, even prepaying so much, not worrying at all that he might abscond with the money.
This trust and generosity instantly brought tears to his eyes, moving him beyond words. A thousand words were stuck in his throat, yet he didn't know how to express them.
Dobby could only bow deeply to Draco, snot and tears streaming down his face, his forehead almost touching the ground, and said with a choked voice, "Th-thank you, Young Master... my Master! Dobbywill definitely work hard and never betray the Young Master's trust! The wages... the wages really don't need to be so urgent; it's not too late to give them to Dobby when the Young Master has the means later!"
Watching Dobby's moved expression, Draco secretly rejoiced.
It seems this expenditure of luck value wasn't in vain. Not only did it change Dobby's fate, but it also earned his true loyalty. Perhaps he could gain even more luck value from this later.
Draco patted his shoulder, saying with certainty, "Don't worry, this money is all mine, unrelated to the family. There's no need to worry, just take it and keep it safe."
"This..." Dobby was even more moved to tears upon hearing this, crying even harder.
How could he believe that this money was the Little Master's own? Clearly, the Little Master feared he would have reservations and deliberately used the family's money to comfort him. This level of thoughtfulness made him wish he could immediately go through fire and water for the Little Master.
He clutched the Galleons in his hand, feeling as though each one weighed a thousand pounds, carrying the Little Master's profound kindness.
Seeing Dobby's cries growing louder, almost uncontrollable, Draco quickly lowered his voice and urged, "Stop crying, Dobby! If my old man of a father finds out, I'll be done for! Not only will I not be able to protect you, but I'll also be punished myself!"
Only then did Dobby snap out of it, quickly stopping his sobbing and wiping the tears from his face with the back of his rough hand. His eyes were still red, and he looked at the Little Master with profound emotion, his gaze filled with determination and gratitude.
"Alright, no more melodrama here, go on and get busy." Draco waved his hand, instructing, "Remember what I just said, absolutely do not reveal anything. Go about your daily tasks as usual, so as not to arouse suspicion from others."
Dobby nodded heavily, carefully hiding the Galleons close to his body, and then tightly clutching his own clothes, he bowed deeply to Draco once more.
Only then did he turn, his steps light yet cautious, and left the corridor, presumably to find a hidden place to safely store the proof of his freedom and his wages.
Draco watched his retreating back, a faint smile playing on his lips, then turned and walked towards his own room.
Ten Galleons, though his heart ached when exchanging them, as luck value was hard-earned, it now seemed this investment was definitely not a loss.
Now that Dobby's original fate had been changed, he would not only receive luck value rewards, but perhaps also gain a reliable helper in the future. Why wouldn't he?
Back in his room, Draco's thoughts stirred, and he brought up the system panel. The luck value column clearly displayed "50," significantly more than before, evidently the reward for freeing Dobby.
Having made a small profit, he couldn't help but open the System Mall again, wanting to see if there were any suitable items to exchange for.
The mall was still dazzling with a wide array of spells, Potions, and magical items, but the luck valuerequired for each desired item was astonishingly high. The current fifty points were simply not enough, so he decided to save for now.
Draco browsed for a long time, but ultimately closed the mall with a sigh.
He secretly grumbled to himself: The items in this mall are too damn expensive, they're practically highway robbery! It seems if I want to exchange for desirable items, I'll have to really brainstorm and earn more luck value.
After much effort, it was already late, and weariness gradually set in.
Draco shed his clothes and lay on the soft, large bed, contemplating his future plans at Hogwarts and methods to earn luck value. Unbeknownst to him, he drifted into a deep sleep.
As night deepened, Malfoy Manor was silent, with only the moonlight filtering through the windowpanes, casting a clear glow on the reborn new life and the unknown path ahead.
Chapter 7: Old Man, You Wouldn't Understand
The morning light of July 15th had not yet fully dispersed the morning mist, but the courtyard of Malfoy Manor had already taken on a hint of warmth.
Draco rose early, properly stowed away his Hogwarts Acceptance Letter into an inner pocket, and set off with Lucius and Narcissa, who were waiting in the hall, to Diagon Alley to purchase the items needed for enrollment.
[Ding, Diagon Alley visit time changed, original plot altered, luck value increased by 10]
'It's today?' Draco thought to himself. He vaguely remembered that the original host was supposed to go to Diagon Alley around the end of July. He figured it was a minor variable brought about by his soul-crossing, which was hardly surprising.
Once ready, Lucius raised his hand to grasp Draco and Narcissa's wrists. A faint glimmer from the tip of his wand caused a pale gold magical aura to envelop them.
When the power of Apparition suddenly swept over him, Draco felt the world spinning, a strong sense of dizziness rushing straight to the top of his head.
Next came a suffocating tightness, as if his entire body were being forcibly squeezed into a narrow rubber tube. Every limb and bone felt like it was being compressed and torn by an invisible force, and even his consciousness began to whirl and blur.
Finally, his stomach churned, acid surged upward, and his legs felt so weak he could barely stand. His vision went black in waves; had he not been holding his breath, he would have vomited on the spot.
This sensation was far more difficult to endure than he had imagined, a hundred times more intense than the vertigo of the Muggle world. In just a brief moment, it left him drenched in a cold sweat, his face as pale as Parchment.
Only when his feet finally touched solid ground and the coolness of the cobblestones seeped through his soles did he manage to steady himself. He still couldn't help but sway slightly, his chest heaving violently, taking a good while to catch his breath.
The moment he recovered, Draco couldn't help but mutter to Lucius beside him, "Old Man, let's use the Floo Network next time; this Apparition is just too uncomfortable."
As the words fell, the surrounding air suddenly froze, falling into a brief but extremely oppressive silence.
Lucius's footsteps came to a sudden halt. His body didn't move, only the snake-headed walking stick in his hand turned slightly, the snake's eyes at the top flashing with a cold, sharp glint in the morning light.
He slowly turned around, his grey-blue eyes like ice-quenched spikes piercing straight at Draco. His gaze was as sharp as a blade, carefully weighing the deeper meaning behind those words.
He wondered if it was merely a complaint born of physical discomfort, or a fundamental questioning of the House of Malfoy's way of doing things.
"Draco," Lucius spoke, his tone as smooth as silk yet possessing a steel-like hardness that brooked no argument. "A member of the Malfoy family never chooses to associate with the common masses or the rabble of the public."
He paused, his fingers stroking the serpent carvings on his walking stick, his voice full of contempt. "Apparition may indeed be less than comfortable, but it ensures the maximum privacy and efficiency of our travels, undisturbed by the prying eyes of irrelevant people. The Floo Network?"
At this, Lucius curled his lip in disdain, his eyes full of contempt. "That is merely something for those with no status or position, who must expose their movements to the Ministry of Magic's surveillance, and who do not mind sharing a chimney with all sorts of people and getting covered in filth."
Narcissa, standing to the side, had already noticed Draco's abnormality. Hearing the dialogue between father and son, a flash of worry immediately crossed her face.
She stepped forward quickly, her gaze fixed on Draco's pale little face, carefully examining his expression for fear that he was forcing himself to endure the discomfort.
Narcissa then gently placed her hand on Draco's shoulder, the warmth of her palm transmitting through the fabric, bringing a sense of comfort.
After soothing Draco, she said to Lucius, "Draco is still young, and this is his first experience with Apparition; discomfort is inevitable. Perhaps next time we could use the private fireplace at Borgin and Burkes. The Floo Network connection there is cleaner and safer, and it's quite close to the exclusive second-floor area of Flourish and Blotts, which would save us a lot of trouble."
Draco knew Lucius's temper and understood that his mother was smoothing things over for him. He quickly took the opportunity to back down, waving his hand. "Alright, alright, I'll slowly get used to Apparition. I won't complain next time."
Upon hearing this, the marble-like hardness of Lucius's features finally showed an imperceptible softening, and his tense jawline relaxed slightly.
But his gaze did not soften entirely; instead, it shifted from the icy scrutiny of before to a light as sharp as a torch. He seemed to be evaluating the quality of a rare metal, looking Draco over closely to catch any hint of resilience in his expression.
A moment later, he gave an extremely slight nod, so small it was almost unnoticeable unless one was looking for it.
"That's more like it," Lucius's tone softened a bit, yet it still carried the authority of the head of the household.
He raised his snake-headed walking stick and tapped the cobblestone ground lightly with the tip, producing a crisp sound—a rare sign of his satisfaction.
"A Malfoy is never dominated or bound by mere physical discomfort," Lucius spoke slowly, his tone very solemn, carrying the weight of long-standing family teachings. "Those brief moments of unease and suffering are but minor obstacles on the path ahead that must be overcome."
Lucius gazed at Draco, his eyes deepening as if he wanted to carve these words into the boy's very bones.
"Remember, Draco, true power is often accompanied by discomfort and pain that ordinary people find unbearable. Whether it is mastering powerful, overbearing, and difficult-to-control magic, or maintaining the glory and status of our ancient family, it is all the same. Only by learning to adapt to this discomfort and conquering this pain can you transform it into your advantage, truly shoulder the responsibilities of the Malfoy family, and become an heir worthy of this name."
"I understand, Old Man!" Draco nodded, feeling quite helpless inside.
Seeing that he had taken the teaching to heart, the sharpness in Lucius's eyes finally faded a bit more.
He then turned and gestured with his hand, "Let us go, then. Let's not waste the hour for our shopping."
With that, Lucius took the lead and began walking deeper into Diagon Alley. The sound of his snake-headed walking stick tapping against the ground was exceptionally clear on the bustling street, carrying the unique nobility and majesty of the Malfoy family.
Narcissa gently patted Draco's back, softly advising him to "speak up if you feel unwell," before taking his hand to follow closely behind.
Though Draco found it uncomfortable, looking at this supernatural ability to cross space in an instant, it was certainly something that needed to be mastered. If he could master such magic in the future, he could go anywhere at will—how convenient that would be.
Composing himself, he turned his gaze to the street ahead. The scene before him overlapped with his memories, yet felt even more fantastical because he could actually touch it.
A winding path was paved with rounded cobblestones, and sunlight filtered through the haphazardly hung shop signs, casting shifting, grotesque shadows on the ground.
Above, a giant gilded Cauldron hung from a rope, swaying gently. Several one-eyed Owls screeched on wooden perches, and skeleton ornaments wearing tattered headscarves swayed in the breeze. Everywhere was filled with the eeriness and vibrancy of the Wizarding World.
The shops on both sides of the street were all crooked, huddled together. Wooden beams jutted outward, and walls were covered in dark green vines. They looked as if they might topple over at any moment from being laden with too much magical aura, yet they possessed a peculiar stability settled by time.
"Let's go," Lucius reminded him in a calm tone, seeing Draco staring blankly at Diagon Alley.
He then continued forward, with Draco and Narcissa following closely as they went deeper into the heart of Diagon Alley.
The items required for enrollment were numerous: a Cauldron, Parchment, Quills, magic books, and a pet—everything had to be purchased properly.
As they walked, Lucius glanced at Draco and said slowly, "In the future, if you need to acquire Wizardequipment, you may come to Diagon Alley. This place gathers the most complete collection of items in the Wizarding World, enough to satisfy your needs."
Narcissa spoke up then, her tone gentle. "Son, there are actually places to shop within Hogwarts as well, namely Hogsmeade Village. It is a settlement inhabited purely by Wizards, with shops even more diverse than those in Diagon Alley. When you are tired from your studies in the future, you can go there for a stroll to relax."
"That is a place only students in their third year and above are permitted to visit," Lucius added.
"Hogsmeade Village?" Draco's heart stirred, knowing it was the only Wizarding village Hogwartsstudents could freely enter. He quickly nodded in response, "I understand, Mother."
Arriving at the relevant shops, Lucius instructed, "Very well. Your mother and I will go purchase your magic books, Cauldron, Parchment, and other items, and then go select a pet. You shall go alone to Madam Malkins Robes for All Occasions to have your Wizard robes custom-made, and then to Ollivanders Wand Shop to choose your wand. As the heir to the House of Malfoy, you must have the ability to handle matters independently; your training begins now."
"Yes, Father," Draco accepted readily, without a hint of nervousness on his face.
He was already familiar with Diagon Alley; acting alone was actually more comfortable, as he wouldn't have to worry about as much.
Seeing him so calm and composed, the approval in Lucius's eyes grew, and he nodded with satisfaction.
Narcissa, however, was a bit worried. She held Draco's hand and gave him detailed instructions, finally asking, "Son, what kind of pet would you like to choose? Among the pets permitted at Hogwarts, cats, Owls, and Toads are the most common and easiest to acquire."
Draco pondered for a moment, already having an idea in mind. He smiled and said, "Mother, I want to keep a dog."
Hearing this, Narcissa laughed helplessly. "You child, are you trying to make things difficult for your mother? Although Hogwarts hasn't explicitly forbidden dogs, very few students bring them, and they might be hard to find in the shops. Even if there are some, they are likely the common breeds of the Wizarding World, which might not be to your liking."
Draco grinned. "Mother, the difficulty goes beyond that. If there really are dogs for sale, please help me find a Chinese Pastoral Dog."
Lucius, listening from the side, raised an eyebrow and scolded, "You boy, you certainly know how to add trouble for your mother! Are our native England breeds not good enough? Why must you seek out that Chinese dog?"
"Old Man, that's where you're wrong," Draco blurted out.
Chapter 8: Madam Malkin, Who Knows the Way of Business
Draco finished speaking with a hint of smugness, but seeing Lucius's eyes darken slightly, he quickly restrained his tone. Draco explained with a smile, "Rare things are more eye-catching. In Hogwarts, no one has ever kept a Chinese Pastoral Dog. If I bring one back, I'll certainly become the focus of the whole school; even in the entire England Wizarding World, it would be hard to find a second one! By then, I'll be the most handsome guy in Hogwarts, charming thousands of girls with ease. Finding an excellent daughter-in-law for you and Mother would be a piece of cake, wouldn't it?"
Narcissa was amused by Draco's words and beamed with joy. She tapped his forehead and said, "You child, you certainly have a way with words! If you can really bring back a thoughtful daughter-in-law for your mother, even if I have to travel across the Wizarding World, I will surely find a Chinese Pastoral Dog for you!"
"Don't worry, Mother," Draco guaranteed, patting his chest. "Just look at whose looks I inherited. With such handsomeness, why worry about girls not liking me?"
"Very true!" Narcissa laughed, her eyes crinkling with delight. She turned to glare at Lucius. "Don't always be so stern and preachy. Our son is so outstanding; he can naturally handle both love and studies without neglecting either."
Lucius shook his head helplessly but did not argue further. He only instructed, "At such a young age, do not always think of romantic affairs. Focus on your studies first; making yourself strong is the foundation."
"I understand, Father." Draco agreed with a smile, giving Narcissa a thumbs-up while saying, "Mother, there's no need to go to such great lengths. I believe at this stage, focusing all my energy on enhancing my true capital is best. A pet that requires care and attention, no matter how rare, brings limited prestige. I don't want anything, not even a little feeding time, to dilute the precision of my preparation for the O.W.Ls Examination."
Draco started talking nonsense again; he had already figured out his parents' thoughts.
Lucius raised an eyebrow slightly, showing a cautious approval, and said, "You've finally begun to weigh pros and cons with the mindset of an heir. Your time should indeed be allocated to where the rate of return is highest."
Narcissa showed a relieved and proud smile, walked over, and gently straightened Draco's collar. "My dear, I am very proud that you can be so thoughtful. Your safety and success are always our greatest concerns. Since you have a clearer goal, we will certainly support you."
The three of them reached an agreement and went their separate ways.
Lucius and Narcissa walked toward Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, heading for the bookstore and the pet shop.
Draco turned and headed deeper into Diagon Alley, going first to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Wizard robes needed to be custom-made and took some time, so it was best to get them done early.
The sunlight grew stronger, spilling onto the cobblestone road and reflecting in tiny glints of light. The shouts from surrounding shops and the cries of Owls intertwined, forming the unique bustle of Diagon Alley.
Draco strolled down the street, looking at the magical sights before him with a heart full of anticipation. His Hogwarts journey would officially begin here in Diagon Alley.
When he reached Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions and pushed open the door, the small brass bell hanging on the lintel chimed, its crisp sound piercing through the soft scent of fabric in the shop and breaking the silence.
Madam Malkin was leaning over, organizing stacks of brocade on the counter. Hearing the sound, she immediately looked up from behind the colorful fabrics, pushed up the round-framed glasses on her nose, and glanced toward the door, initially with a hint of surprise.
Seeing that the visitor was a young boy arriving alone, her surprise quickly faded, replaced by a warm and friendly smile, her eyes full of the usual thoroughness of a businessperson.
"Oh, a Young Gentleman!" she said brightly, her short and stout figure emerging from behind the piles of fabric. Her signature mauve robes trailed down to her ankles, making her expression look even gentler. "I assume you're here to prepare your school robes for Hogwarts? Where are your parents?"
"My parents have gone to buy other items and let me come alone to have my robes made," Dracoreplied calmly, his gaze discreetly sweeping over the shop.
The space was not particularly large, but it was packed with various magical fabrics—silks, velvets, and linens were arranged in layers, and the air was filled with the warm, gentle scent characteristic of cloth.
In another corner, a girl was already standing on a high stool, while a silver Magical Tape Measure flew nimbly around her, carefully taking her measurements.
Beside the girl stood a man and a woman, dressed properly and looking gentle. They were likely her parents, watching their daughter with smiles full of expectation.
"No matter, no matter, coming alone is just as well," Madam Malkin waved her hand with a smile and came forward enthusiastically, her tone becoming even warmer. "Welcome to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. I am the owner, Madam Malkin. You're here to get your Hogwarts school set, I presume?"
"Exactly, beautiful Madam," Draco nodded slightly and stated his name frankly. "I am Draco Malfoy. Money is no object; please use the best fabrics to tailor the full set of Hogwarts robes for me. They must be appropriate and decent."
"So it's the Young Master of the Malfoy family!" A flash of realization and respect instantly crossed Madam Malkin's eyes, and her smile became even more sincere and eager. "No wonder you're so handsome and clever, and your words are so sweet. Rest assured, my Magical Tape Measure is the most precise. I will certainly tailor the most satisfactory robes for you, Young Master. I guarantee you'll be pleased. Quick, please come this way."
With that, she stepped aside to lead the way, guiding Draco to a more spacious high stool on the other side of the shop.
The stool was specifically designed for measuring; its height was just right for the Magical Tape Measure to operate.
Draco stepped steadily onto the stool. Just as he stood firm and before he could react, a silver automatic Magical Tape Measure shot out of a nearby wooden box with a 'whoosh.'
The tape measure moved as nimbly as a darting little snake, carrying faint glints of magical light as it quickly flew up and down around Draco's body.
Its movements were swift yet meticulous, passing over his arms to measure their length, wrapping around his waist to determine the circumference, and gliding down his legs to measure their length, precisely capturing every dimension.
In an instant, it had finished the measurements and flew back into the wooden box with another 'whoosh,' quietly retracting as if it had never appeared.
Once the measuring was done, Madam Malkin approached with a fabric catalog in one hand and a pair of fine leather gloves in the other.
With a gentle smile, she checked the list carefully. "Alright, Young Master Malfoy. Three sets of Plain work robes, one Black pointed hat, one pair of Protective gloves, and one thickened Winter cloak—those are the items on the Hogwarts list. Is there anything missing?"
"Nothing missing, Madam has recorded it very clearly," Draco nodded in agreement and then asked, "How long will it take to have them ready? Can I pick them up today?"
"Of course," Madam Malkin promised immediately, her tone certain. "Rest assured, Young MasterMalfoy, we will have all the robes ready before afternoon tea time, ensuring it doesn't delay your further shopping."
"That would be for the best," Draco said with a smile.
He then added a casual joke: "Madam, you needn't strive for absolute perfection. Just make sure that when I wear them, I look handsome and decent enough to highlight my outstanding style—and if they could make the little girls at Hogwarts' hearts flutter, that would be even better. I have always trusted your aesthetic and the quality of your shop's workmanship."
As those words left his mouth, the smile on Madam Malkin's face faltered slightly.
Her body even froze for half a second, and an extremely sharp light flashed in her eyes, which instantly turned into a deep and transparent look of appreciation.
She was incredibly perceptive and sharp; having run this robe shop for many years, she had dealt with all sorts of people in the Wizarding World and was an expert at reading customers' minds. She instantly understood the multiple layers of meaning behind those words.
This was by no means a polite remark intended to lower requirements; rather, it was a high-level compliment wrapped in a humble exterior.
It both affirmed her aesthetic and skill and subtly set an even higher standard: the robes should complement the person, rather than the person complementing the robes, making the clothing a boost to one's own style rather than a burden that masked it.
After a brief pause, Madam Malkin quickly regained her composure, her face wearing a proper and solemn smile as she frankly accepted this special 'trust.'
Then, with a hint of playfulness and a touch of gravity, she said, "Oh, dear Young Master Malfoy, you truly were born knowing how to make one feel the weight of responsibility. Such a request requires much more care than simply striving for the 'best.'"
With that, she lightly waved her wand. With a faint glow from her fingertips, a roll of Parchment and a Quill from the counter slowly floated over, hovering in front of her.
The Quill automatically dipped itself in ink and slid across the Parchment. Madam Malkin said with a smile, "Then, please allow me to record this special request for you—'Not for the best, but for the most fitting.' From now on, this will be the unique tailoring standard for Young Master Malfoy, one of a kind."
She lifted her hand to open the fabric catalog, her fingers gliding over the delicate pages with a rigor that seemed more like discussing academia than simple commercial promotion. "I understand what you mean, Young Master Malfoy. Overly complex embroidery and overly gaudy patterns can sometimes overshadow the wearer, stealing their natural brilliance and becoming inferior. Truly appropriate robes should be low-key and restrained, yet able to perfectly highlight the wearer's temperament and style; that is the true essence of tailoring."
Finally, Madam Malkin added almost casually, her tone carrying a hint of subtle closeness and recognition, "Rest assured, Mr. Malfoy. Letting the clothing complement the master rather than masking them is itself the highest art of tailoring. Your father, Mr. Lucius, has always been well-versed in this; when he used to come for custom robes, he had the same transparent way of thinking."
Hearing Madam Malkin's detailed interpretation, Draco felt a bit of a chill in his heart.