Ch: 67-75
Chapter 67: I Have Even More Explosive News
"The third Horcrux is Salazar Slytherin's Locket." Draco met Albus Dumbledore's gaze and said calmly, "It is hidden in a cave. I do not know the exact location, but I imagine you should know."
When Albus Dumbledore heard the word "cave," his eyes suddenly darkened.
In that deep gaze, long-buried memories seemed to be surging.
"The cave..." he repeated in a low voice, his gaze drifting to the scenery outside the window, as if piercing through time and space to land on a corner he was reluctant to revisit. "Yes, I think I know where it is."
"That is a corner filled with unpleasant memories. Tom has always favored such symbolic locations, using pain as a barrier to protect his ridiculous obsession with immortality."
Albus Dumbledore's voice remained steady, but beneath that calm, there seemed to be an undercurrent slowly churning.
Draco didn't pause and continued, "The fourth Horcrux, Helga Hufflepuff's Cup, was hidden by Lord Voldemort in the Lestrange vault at Gringotts."
"Gringotts... the Lestrange vault." Albus Dumbledore stroked his beard, a sharp light flashing in his eyes. "Shrewd, and bold."
He paced slowly, saying with a hint of analysis, "Tom knows the rules of Gringotts well. Hiding a Horcrux there is tantamount to placing it in one of the most heavily protected places in the entire wizarding world, second only to Hogwarts."
Hearing this, Draco couldn't help but chuckle. "The safest place? Didn't Gringotts just get robbed?"
Albus Dumbledore was clearly stunned for a moment, and the expression of a strategist in control on his face momentarily went blank.
Soon, an extremely complex emotion flashed through his eyes, eventually turning into a wry smile woven with helplessness, amusement, and deep concern.
He even shook his head slightly, as if lamenting the irony of fate. "Ah... yes, not long ago, a theft occurred at Gringotts that caused a stir in the wizarding world. Although the Goblins tried their best to deny and downplay it, the news has already spread like wildfire."
He changed the subject, his tone becoming serious again. "However, this by no means implies that breaking into Gringotts to seize the cup will become easier. On the contrary, after this incident, the Goblins' vigilance and protection levels will only rise to unprecedented heights."
"Using Polyjuice Potion, perhaps it's feasible?" Draco suggested.
A gleam of assessment quickly flashed in Albus Dumbledore's eyes.
At this moment, the look he gave Draco contained both scrutiny and a bit of encouragement.
"Polyjuice Potion," Albus Dumbledore mused. "It is indeed a classic means of disguise, with significant effects in certain situations. What specific application scenario do you envision? Who do you plan to disguise yourself as?"
"Bella," Draco said succinctly.
"The core of this method lies in two key issues." Albus Dumbledore held up two fingers.
"First, one needs to obtain the target's hair or body tissue. Second, and more crucially—Polyjuice Potioncan only change appearance and voice; it cannot replicate memories, magical signatures, or behavioral habits, nor can it bypass blood-based or contract-based verification magic."
He concluded, "Therefore, Polyjuice Potion cannot serve as an independent solution, but it can be incorporated into a complex action plan as a key component."
Draco spread his hands and said with a hint of playfulness, "Well then, I'll leave this headache for you to figure out yourself."
Hearing this, Albus Dumbledore shook his head helplessly, but a very faint smile quickly passed through his eyes. "I am indeed having a headache, but your words have greatly alleviated my troubles. Let's continue; tell me about the fifth Horcrux, and I'll leave the rest for this old man to worry about."
"The fifth Horcrux, Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem, is hidden in the Room of Requirement."
As soon as these words were spoken, Albus Dumbledore's body stiffened as if struck by an invisible bolt of lightning.
"The Room of Requirement!" he repeated, his voice full of shock, as if confirming an unbelievable fact.
On his face, besides shock, there was also a mix of regret and cold anger.
"It's actually right here in this Castle!" Albus Dumbledore's voice carried a hint of imperceptible trembling. "Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem... not only did he find it, but he also turned it into a Horcrux!"
He took a deep breath, a flash of understanding in his eyes. "He hid the Horcrux here as both a provocation and the ultimate disguise."
"The most dangerous place is indeed sometimes the safest place."
He suddenly looked up, his gaze falling on Draco, his expression exceptionally serious. "This means that every student at Hogwarts is sharing a Castle with a Horcrux."
"This Horcrux must be prioritized! It's right here with us and could be accidentally triggered at any time, with unimaginable consequences," Albus Dumbledore said firmly, his tone carrying unquestionable decisiveness.
"It's very easy to find," Draco added casually. "It's just sitting on a plaster bust in the Room of Requirement."
Albus Dumbledore stood up abruptly. He didn't pace back and forth but just stood still, his gaze seeming to pierce through layers of stone walls and floors, precisely locking onto that elusive space on the eighth floor.
"The search area has narrowed from the infinite possibilities of the entire room to a specific target." His voice carried the coolness and sharpness of a hunter locking onto prey. "Draco, this is a key detail, absolutely crucial."
Draco rubbed the tip of his nose and said, "Old Dumbledore, this can also be considered a major piece of evidence that what I'm saying is true. However, do you think we should wait until we've found all the Horcruxes and destroy them all at once?"
The moment Albus Dumbledore heard this proposal, his movements suddenly stopped.
He didn't respond immediately, but just stared fixedly at Draco with those deep eyes, his gaze complex and hard to decipher.
"That is a... very bold, and very dangerous proposal."
After a long while, Albus Dumbledore finally spoke slowly.
"Are you worried that if we destroy the diadem now, or destroy each one as soon as we find it, Lord Voldemort will realize his Horcruxes are being eliminated one by one, making him alert, strengthening the protection of the remaining ones, or even taking extreme retaliatory measures we can't foresee?"
Hearing this, Draco shook his head, his tone blunt to the point of being casual. "No, it's just for convenience."
Albus Dumbledore laughed in spite of himself, then wiped the smile away and said seriously, "The advantage of this method lies in the suddenness and thoroughness of the action."
He changed the subject, his tone becoming extremely serious again. "But its risks are equally enormous."
Albus Dumbledore analyzed point by point:
"First, searching for all the Horcruxes might take years, or even longer.
"During this period, we must keep these Horcruxes properly to ensure they aren't lost, stolen, or accidentally triggered, and more importantly, we must guard against them influencing or controlling their keepers in turn."
"Second, concentrating the control of all Horcruxes in a few limited locations means that if the storage site is leaked or breached, all our efforts will be in vain, and the Horcruxes might even fall back into Lord Voldemort's hands."
"Third, we are assuming Lord Voldemort is unaware of any changes to the Horcruxes, but that is, after all, just an assumption."
"Fourth, keeping so many extremely evil and highly tempting objects in the world for a long time, even under strict supervision, means we will continuously bear the immense responsibility for any accidental harm they might cause."
Draco nodded thoughtfully. "Looking at it this way, the benefit of destroying them one by one is indeed greater."
"However, in my judgment, there shouldn't be a direct connection between the main soul and the Horcruxes. If there were, Lord Voldemort's methods would be far too formidable."
"A very pragmatic choice." Approval shone in Albus Dumbledore's eyes. "The strategy of 'divide and conquer' might indeed alert Lord Voldemort, but it allows us to gradually weaken his guarantee of immortality under relatively controlled risks, and it enables us to accumulate experience and adjust our strategy throughout the process."
He changed his tone and began to explain with academic rigor, "As for your judgment regarding the connection between the Horcruxes and the main soul, it coincides with my own deductions based on the principles of Horcrux creation."
"The essence of a Horcrux is to seal a torn soul fragment within a container, allowing it to exist independently of the main soul."
"This 'independence' is the core characteristic of a Horcrux. If there were an instantaneous and clear connection, the Horcrux would lose its purpose as a 'hidden' object and instead become a burden and a weakness to the main soul."
Albus Dumbledore changed his tone again, saying with more caution, "However, the issue of detection must still be treated with care."
"The Horcruxes and the main soul may have no direct link, but the complete destruction of a Horcruxand the annihilation of a soul fragment—Lord Voldemort might not be unable to sense such a 'loss'."
"Especially when multiple Horcruxes are destroyed in succession, he will certainly feel weak and uneasy."
"More importantly, the Horcruxes themselves are very likely to be placed under alarm spells that would trigger a signal if anyone touches or attempts to destroy them."
His gaze suddenly became sharp, and he said unquestionably, "Therefore, we must prepare for the worst and assume he will eventually find out."
"Every action must be swift and concealed, while also having thorough contingency plans ready for his retaliation."
Albus Dumbledore quickly organized the current tasks:
"So, the current tasks are very clear. The diadem is in the Castle, the threat is most urgent and needs priority; the Diary is in Malfoy Manor, we must wait patiently for the right time; the Ring is in the Gaunt Shack, we need to make thorough preparations; the cup is in Gringotts, the situation is most complex and requires long-term planning."
Draco stretched and said with a lazy tone, "This will be hard work for you, Old Dumbledore. As for the final Horcrux, I won't say it; I imagine you already know in your heart."
A brief but almost suffocating silence fell over the office.
After a long while, Albus Dumbledore nodded very slowly, his voice low and raspy, carrying an exhaustion and sigh as if the dust had settled. "...I think I understand."
Both understood tacitly what that final Horcrux referred to, and the heavy, cruel fate it carried.
Albus Dumbledore's gaze moved from Draco's face to the dancing flames in the fireplace.
His eyes became distant and complex, swirling with pain, resolve, affection, and an indescribable, deep sense of helplessness toward the arrangements of fate.
In this quiet atmosphere, Draco suddenly curled his lips and said with a hint of playfulness, "Actually, I have even more explosive news. Do you want to hear it?"
"...Even more explosive news?" Albus Dumbledore slowly repeated the phrase. His voice seemed steady, but beneath that steadiness was a tension like steel.
He was already numb from the succession of shocking secrets; he truly couldn't imagine what news could be more staggering than the truth about the Horcruxes.
Chapter 68: Endless Explosions
Draco looked at Albus Dumbledore's held-breath, focused expression, the corner of his mouth curving into a playful arc as he said slowly, "Looking at you, it seems you're very eager to hear it."
He paused deliberately, keeping the other party in suspense, before finally speaking: "Then I shall be merciful and tell you—actually, Lord Voldemort is planning a resurrection."
Albus Dumbledore's eyes darkened, and a sharp light instantly flashed through them. "So, let me interpret your words in another way."
"You don't just mean the general conclusion that 'he is planning a resurrection'."
"But also that you possess specific, verifiable, and ongoing detailed intelligence regarding this 'resurrection plan'."
"Exactly," Draco nodded calmly.
"He possessed Professor Quirrell specifically to steal the Philosopher's Stone and use it to reconstruct a powerful physical body."
"I imagine you've already noticed this point."
"However, what you don't know is that he has another means of resurrection."
The moment Albus Dumbledore heard this, his pupils suddenly contracted as if struck by an invisible bolt of lightning.
"Yes," Albus Dumbledore's pace of speech suddenly quickened, much more urgent than his usual steady tone, his mind racing at high speed.
"He would never pin all his hopes on a single path, especially when that path—the Philosopher's Stone—is full of variables and under my close supervision."
Draco's words were like a key, prying open the hidden doubts in Albus Dumbledore's heart.
He finally realized that Lord Voldemort's chessboard was far more complex than he had imagined, and the layout went much deeper.
Quirrell and the Philosopher's Stone were perhaps just the bait on the surface; the true fatal blow had already been hidden in the shadows, waiting for its chance.
"As far as I know, there is a Rebirth Ritual that can help him reconstruct his physical body," Dracocontinued.
"But this ritual requires someone to help him prepare and concoct it."
"So, this brings us back to our initial topic—Peter Pettigrew!"
At the mention of Peter Pettigrew, Albus Dumbledore's aura suddenly fluctuated like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, instantly creating a layer of extremely complex ripples.
A flash of realization crossed his eyes, and he sighed heavily, as if clearing a long-standing mist.
"A Rebirth Ritual..."
Albus Dumbledore repeated in a low voice, his tone carrying a hint of disbelief yet also a sense of expectation.
"A ritual that needs someone to concoct it to reconstruct a physical body. And that preparer is Peter Pettigrew."
Albus Dumbledore murmured to himself.
Seeing Albus Dumbledore still unable to fully regain his composure, Draco felt a secret thrill in his heart.
This omniscient perspective of holding the whole board and looking down on everyone was truly exhilarating.
"Exactly."
Draco met Albus Dumbledore's gaze.
"To perform this Rebirth Ritual, three requirements must be met: blood of the enemy, flesh of the servant, and bone of the father."
"We've already cut off one of his paths. Next, we just need to protect Harry well and dig up his father's grave..."
A faint, half-smile played on his lips. "Though it sounds a bit immoral, it will ensure Lord Voldemort can never rise again."
"Blood of the enemy... flesh of the servant... bone of the father..."
Albus Dumbledore was still murmuring, his face turning pale at a visible rate, his deep eyes churning with unspeakable shock and coldness.
Such a sinister and ruthless ritual was truly evil to the extreme.
"I know of this ritual," Albus Dumbledore's voice was very soft. "This ritual originates from the oldest and most forbidden Dark Arts; it requires extreme hatred, total enslavement, and the desecration of the deceased."
"As for digging up the grave..."
He changed the subject, looking sharply at Draco as he solemnly rejected the proposal to dig up the grave.
"That is not just a matter of being 'immoral'. Desecrating a grave will trigger unpredictable magical backlash, and might even play right into Tom's hands—it might very well be part of the ritual itself."
Draco rubbed the tip of his nose and shrugged nonchalantly. "I was just speaking casually."
He knew full well in his heart that he couldn't actually go and dig up someone's grave himself.
Doing such a thing would likely invite divine retribution.
I don't even make a few hundred a month; why should I be putting my life on the line!
Albus Dumbledore pondered for a moment, the panic in his eyes gradually fading, replaced by the calm and determination of a master strategist.
He was always able to quickly organize a plan of action.
"What we must do: First, absolutely ensure Harry's safety. He is the key 'blood of the enemy' in the ritual and must never fall into Lord Voldemort's hands."
"Second, pursue Peter Pettigrew with all our might to sever the arm preparing the ritual for Lord Voldemort."
"Third, strictly monitor Riddle's graveyard, but remember not to perform any acts of desecration to avoid falling into the opponent's trap."
"Fourth, continue to accelerate the destruction of the Horcruxes; that is the fundamental way to strike at the root."
He looked deeply at Draco, his solemn tone carrying an earnest warning: "Remember—when fighting the darkness, we cannot allow ourselves to trample over our own bottom line."
"Once we take that path of fighting evil with evil, the difference between us and Tom will become smaller and smaller."
"I understand," Draco nodded.
He secretly grumbled in his heart; of course, if he really did that, wouldn't it become the cliché plot where the dragon slayer eventually becomes the dragon?
Albus Dumbledore nodded with relief, a tired but relieved smile appearing on his aged face. "Very good, child. Everything you brought tonight might change the entire trajectory of this war."
Hearing this, the smile on Draco's lips deepened.
"Actually, I have even more explosive news. Do you want to hear it?"
Albus Dumbledore's body suddenly froze. He couldn't imagine that Draco could possibly bring even more shocking news.
This time, the look he gave Draco was no longer concealed, no longer the gentle scrutiny of usual, but a soul-piercing stare.
In that gaze was a mix of unbelievable suspicion, a high alert pushed to the edges of cognition, and a hint of deep-seated wariness toward the unknown abyss that even he was reluctant to admit.
These words meant that everything revealed before—
The secrets of the Horcruxes, the truth of the possession, the Rebirth Ritual—those shocking secrets that were already enough to overturn the course of the war were actually not the end.
In the deeper darkness, there was still some even more subversive and unimaginable truth buried.
Seeing Albus Dumbledore lose his composure like this, Draco felt absolutely fantastic.
In the entire Wizarding World, there was likely no one else who could make this master-strategist Hogwarts Principal so mentally unsettled.
Chapter 69: The Conversation with Old Dumbledore Ends
Draco looked into Dumbledore's eyes, which were filled with shock. His tone shifted abruptly, becoming as calm as if he were stating a common occurrence:
"Because I suddenly remembered something—Salazar Slytherin's locket has already been taken."
"The one who took it was someone who opposed Lord Voldemort. His name is Regulus."
Upon hearing the name "Regulus," Dumbledore's body actually trembled slightly.
In those eyes that were usually calm and unruffled, a flash of deep astonishment instantly flickered, as if the name pulled at a long-buried past.
Draco didn't pause and continued, "He originally wanted to destroy this Horcrux himself, but unfortunately, he lacked the strength, so he entrusted it to his House-elf, Kreacher."
"However, Kreacher's abilities are limited after all, and he was simply unable to completely destroy the Horcrux."
"So now, we should go and ask Kreacher for this locket. Given his loyalty to his master, he should hand it over to us."
"Regulus Arcturus Black..." Dumbledore repeated the name in a low voice.
He let out a long, distant sigh.
"Sirius's younger brother. A Slytherin who chose a different path covered in thorns when everyone thought he had completely fallen and become a minion of the Dark Lord."
His expression suddenly became extremely complex—shock, realization, deep sorrow, and another bone-deep understanding of the seemingly innate tragic fate of the House of Black.
"So the situation is not completely out of control." After a long while, Dumbledore's voice finally regained its usual clarity,
"The locket was swapped and taken out by Regulus at the cost of his own life. He ordered the House-elf Kreacher to destroy it, but the elf was ultimately limited by his own abilities and could not complete this feat."
"Correct." Draco nodded.
Dumbledore looked at Draco again, quickly sorting through the key information in this new intelligence:
"Then the current situation is—the locket should be in Kreacher's hands right now, or at least, Kreacherknows its exact whereabouts."
"Kreacher has the intention of destroying the Horcrux but is limited by his abilities to carry it out."
"And the location where he hid it is most likely within the territory of the House of Black—the most probable being 12 Grimmauld Place."
"That's right," Draco replied.
Dumbledore looked at him with a solemn expression: "Your addition is crucial. While it doesn't fully make up for your negligence in providing the information late, it indeed reverses a dangerous misjudgment we might have made previously, avoiding the needless waste of manpower and resources."
Draco's expression tightened upon hearing this, and he said in an extremely sincere tone: "Professor, I solemnly apologize to you for my oversight regarding the information on the locket just now."
"I fully understand what kind of catastrophic risks the delay and fragmentation of such critical intelligence could bring in this life-and-death game with Lord Voldemort."
"I accept your apology, Draco." Dumbledore nodded slowly. There was no trace of reproach on his aged face, only the tolerance and expectation of an elder.
"This is by no means an excuse, Professor," Draco quickly added, trying to explain his unique way of obtaining information.
"I want to clarify that the way I obtain this information isn't through systematic study or research. Instead, it's more like scattered fragments that need specific clues to trigger before they gradually become clear in my mind."
"Cognitive fragments needing specific clues to be triggered and connected—this indeed fits the characteristics of certain ancient prophecies or deep magical resonances." Dumbledore mused for a moment.
Then his tone shifted abruptly, becoming increasingly serious,
"But Draco, this means your responsibility is even greater. You must learn to actively sort through these fragments and repeatedly ask yourself if there are any omissions, rather than passively waiting for a 'trigger' to occur."
"You must know that in this war, every delay in information could cost blood and lives."
Draco promised with a solemn expression: "I assure you, from now on, I will do my best to ensure the completeness, timeliness, and clarity of the information I provide."
"If my memory becomes blurred, or if the information itself is still fragmented, I will clearly state its uncertainty rather than choosing silence or adding it later."
"Remember your promise," Dumbledore said. "In the fight against Lord Voldemort, the completeness and timeliness of information are as important as the truth itself."
"A fragmented disclosure or a vaguely phrased statement is enough to make all correct preparations come to naught and plunge countless people into a place beyond redemption."
Draco nodded heavily, firmly etching these words into his heart.
He knew in his heart that for Dumbledore, who carried the safety of the wizarding world on his shoulders, this was indeed no laughing matter and allowed for no carelessness.
Dumbledore gazed at him, seemingly confirming that he had taken this warning to heart, before slowly asking, "Are there any other key pieces of information that need to be added?"
"No," Draco shook his head.
A thought actually flashed through his mind.
Perhaps he could take this opportunity to have Dumbledore give his wavering old man, Lucius, a hand and help him escape the quagmire of the Death Eaters.
But on second thought, such an action would somewhat smack of "intelligence kidnapping," which would be a subpar move.
Forget it, he would eventually have to find a way to save his own father himself.
"Well then, Draco." Dumbledore's voice finally regained the gentleness and steadiness he usually had when seeing off students.
"Let our conversation for tonight end here."
"Alright, Professor, then I'm off," Draco responded, turning to push the door and leave.
"Off?"
Dumbledore was clearly taken aback for half a second by this overly "Muggle-ized" and casual phrasing.
Having taught at Hogwarts for decades, he had probably never heard any student use such a nonchalant word to describe their departure after finishing such a high-level conversation concerning the fate of the wizarding world.
A very faint smile quietly crept onto the corners of his mouth, but it quickly vanished.
Before Draco's hand touched the doorknob, Dumbledore's voice came slowly from behind him.
He said with a bit of concern and a bit of instruction: "Stay safe, Draco."
Draco paused, looked back, and raised an eyebrow. With a bit of youthful cunning and a hint of seriousness, he responded: "Don't worry, I'm very afraid of dying, Old Dumbledore."
The door closed softly behind him with a dull click.
Inside the office, Dumbledore did not immediately return to sit behind that large desk.
He stood alone in the center of the room, his gaze fixed on the spot where Draco had just been standing, remaining silent for a long time.
Chapter 70: Ron, Who Looks More Like a Villain
Draco returned the way he came, taking the lift to the third floor; after exiting the lift doors, he walked slowly toward the Great Hall.
He had only walked a few dozen feet when the surrounding air quietly changed.
Several fragments of gazes fell upon him like searchlights.
Then came a wave of pointing and whispering, mixed with irrepressible, excited murmurs.
"Look, it's Malfoy!"
"He just came out of the Principal's office!"
"I heard his father rushed into the school this morning like a black whirlwind, I wonder what for..."
"Has he been expelled? Otherwise, why does he look so strange?"
"No way, his father is a School Governor. How could he be expelled so easily?"
"Then why does he look like he's been hit hard by a bludger? His complexion isn't great."
"Shh! Don't talk nonsense, he's looking over!"
The whispering Young Wizards quickly averted their gazes like startled sparrows the moment their eyes met Draco's.
Some pretended to examine the tapestries on the walls, others feigned a leisurely gaze out at the Forbidden Forest, and some lowered their heads to whisper with companions.
But the corners of their eyes remained glued to Draco, not moving an inch.
Draco didn't care at all and continued forward with a steady pace.
Wherever he passed, the fragmented conversations would eerily pause for half a second.
Once he passed by, they would start up again at a lower volume and faster pace, surging behind him like a tide.
Before long, the heavy doors of the Great Hall appeared before him.
Draco reached out and pushed the doors open.
The moment he stepped inside, the originally boisterous noise vanished instantly, as if someone had cast a powerful "Quiet Whisper" spell, turning into an eerie silence.
Only the soft clinking of plates and the faint sound of swallowing food echoed in the vast space.
Hundreds of gazes, like physical searchlights, swish-focused simultaneously from the long tables of the four houses onto Draco.
In those gazes, there was shock, curiosity, Slytherin's loathing, bystanders' sympathy, schemers' calculations, and the pure mockery of those just watching the show.
Draco's expression remained normal; he didn't care.
However, keeping a low profile was clearly impossible for the moment.
A moment later, the dead silence was broken, replaced by a "buzzing" sound that was lower in volume but ten times more dense and excited than before.
Near the entrance at the Gryffindor table, several first-year students almost spilled their Pumpkin Juicewhen they saw Draco approach.
Each one stared with wide eyes, their expressions looking as if they had seen a Troll dancing ballet in the middle of the Great Hall.
"He's really coming over!" a first-year student excitedly tugged at a companion's sleeve and whispered in shock.
"merlins beard! A Malfoy actually dares to approach the Gryffindor table!"
"Fred and George are over there, look at their expressions!"
Draco turned a deaf ear and walked straight through the whispering tables, his gaze scanning the surroundings before finally landing on an empty seat not far from Hermione.
He stopped and spoke in a tone so calm it was almost abrupt: "Is this seat taken?"
Before the words had even faded, and without waiting for a response from Hermione or those around her, he sat down composedly.
Then, Draco reached out for the silver cutlery and began to serve himself food onto the empty plate before him, as if all the noise and gazes around him were nothing but insignificant dust.
Instantly, a silence even more absolute than before enveloped this area of the Gryffindor table.
"Wow, for real?" George raised an eyebrow and exchanged an incredulous look with Fred beside him.
The brothers briefly stopped their joking, their eyebrows arched high, faces full of the wonder of watching a show.
Lavender leaned into Parvati's ear and whispered rapidly, her voice trembling slightly with excitement:
"He chose Hermione! He actually sat right there! He completely ignored everyone's stares! This is so aggressive! It's practically masculine! Is he making a public declaration?!"
Parvati was also full of wonder, instinctively lowering her voice: "Do you think Draco is doing this on purpose to get Hermione's attention? Or is he trying to provoke Harry?"
Hermione, sitting in her seat, stiffened instantly as if hit by a Petrificus Totalus; even her hand holding the knife and fork paused slightly.
She took a deep breath, turned her head to look at Draco beside her, and said with a hint of restrained displeasure:
"First of all, this is extremely impolite behavior—occupying someone else's social space without obtaining explicit permission."
As Hermione spoke, she frowned, her gaze gradually sharpening.
"Secondly, Mr. Malfoy, the seat you've chosen has already caused quite a stir and invited countless criticisms."
"I believe you need to explain the logic behind your actions."
"Did you choose to sit here out of some specific intent, or simply because it was the closest empty seat?"
Draco put down his cutlery, looked up at Hermione, and said quite frankly, "There were no other empty seats around, and I'm a member of Gryffindor too. I want to make friends with you, is that not allowed?"
In fact, there were quite a few empty seats at the long table; his words were merely a casual excuse.
"First of all," Hermione countered logically, "the long tables in the Great Hall are used rotationally; there's no such thing as 'no seats'."
"You could have easily chosen any area with a gap to sit in, or waited for someone to finish their meal and leave."
"But choosing to sit here was an active choice, not a passive result."
Saying this, her gaze pierced directly into Draco's eyes: "Secondly, being a Gryffindor only means we have an obligation not to attack each other based on house affiliation and to fight side-by-side in Quidditch matches and house activities."
"But this absolutely does not automatically create an obligation for personal friendship, nor does it mean you can ignore basic social etiquette and personal boundaries."
Hermione took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling slightly; clearly, she was not at peace internally.
"As for 'making friends', Mr. Malfoy, the establishment of friendship is based on mutual understanding, trust, and shared values. It can never be easily achieved through a unilateral declaration."
As she spoke, she moved her body slightly away from Draco; this subtle movement was undoubtedly a clear signal of defense and rejection.
"Given your behavior so far, including but not limited to sitting down uninvited and making such a request at a time that clearly causes public outrage and wariness."
"I believe this is more of a social probe or a strategic move, rather than a sincere invitation for friendship."
Hermione finally concluded: "If you really want to change people's perception of you, Mr. Malfoy, what you need is consistent and coherent words and deeds that align with basic social norms, not... this."
Just as Hermione finished speaking, Ron beside her "popped" up from his seat, the movement so large he nearly overturned the bench beneath him.
He glared, pointed at Draco's nose, and shouted at the top of his lungs: "You! Did you hear what Hermione said?! Get lost! Stay away from us!"
Draco slowly looked up at the fuming Ron, a faint curl appearing at the corner of his mouth: "I say, Ron, you've been aggressively targeting me from start to finish. Speaking of being aggressive, don't you look more like a villain?"
Chapter 71: No One Understands Hermione Better Than Me
Fred and George exchanged a knowing look, then both pursed their lips and let out a loud whistle.
The whistle was full of amusement, hiding a mischievous "loving the drama" playfulness.
"Whoa, a counterattack! The Little Viper has finally shown its fangs!" Fred spoke up, his volume just right for everyone around to hear clearly.
"And that bite was quite accurate! Look at our little Ronniekins, his face is as purple as a beetroot!"
George's gaze fell on Ron's flushed face, the teasing in his tone growing stronger.
The two brothers chimed in together, clearly finding this farce at the Gryffindor table to be getting more and more exciting.
Ron's face indeed flushed from the previous angry liver-color to a deeper purplish-red in an instant.
He clearly hadn't expected Draco to strike back like this, let alone point directly at his loss of composure.
He stood with his mouth open, momentarily at a loss for words.
Draco's words undoubtedly struck an extremely delicate point.
Under the watchful eyes of everyone, he, Ron, had shouted at a new classmate who hadn't made any substantial attack to get lost.
Such behavior, in Hogwarts where "fairness" and "etiquette" were ostensibly valued, was hardly justifiable.
"I—you—!" Ron pointed a trembling finger at Draco, and after a long while, only managed to squeeze out a few broken syllables.
Hermione's brow furrowed instantly, and a flash of realization quickly crossed her intelligent eyes.
She saw through Draco's strategy at a glance.
This was a diversion, an attempt to use Ron's loss of composure to blur the abruptness and suspiciousness of his own uninvited seat.
Composing herself, Hermione immediately said at a very fast pace, "This has nothing to do with Ron's behavior!"
She tried to pull the conversation back into her own logical framework.
"What we are discussing is your behavioral logic and social boundaries, Mr. Malfoy. Simply blaming others does not provide any legitimacy for your own ill-timed actions."
Draco put down his knife and fork, looked up at Hermione, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Miss Granger, I know you have many questions about what happened this morning. I also know that these questions are based on rigorous logic, rather than groundless prejudice."
Hearing this, warning lights instantly went off in Hermione's brain.
But while being alert, she was also subtly pleased by Draco's precise description.
Hermione raised her eyebrows slightly, the pure resistance on her face fading a bit, replaced by a look of scrutiny and inquiry.
She subconsciously crossed her arms, a posture that was both defensive and a signal of readiness to listen.
"Well, you've got at least one thing right," Hermione spoke calmly, her tone still somewhat detached, but no longer completely pushing him away.
"I'm sitting here for a reason," Draco continued unhurriedly.
"From now on, rumors about me, and things that might involve many others, will surely run rampant."
"Instead of letting everyone get information from those distorted and false rumors, it's better to get the first-hand truth, however limited, from the source—which is me."
Hermione's gaze became more focused, and her slightly furrowed brow gradually relaxed; she had clearly begun to seriously consider the feasibility of Draco's words.
"If you're willing," Draco changed the subject and threw out his proposal.
"During lunch, I can answer three of your questions."
"The scope of the questions is limited to my being taken away this morning and matters related to my whereabouts afterward."
"But the premise is that it must not involve privacy or secrets, and it must be logical."
Having said this, Draco paused slightly; he could clearly perceive that Hermione's brain had already begun to work rapidly.
Indeed, Hermione was already constructing a list of questions, even the order of the questions had been set in her mind.
Sure enough, a moment later, Hermione nodded slightly, signaling him to continue.
"As an exchange, I need a relatively peaceful dining environment," Draco said frankly.
Hermione's gaze quickly swept over the noisy long table, where countless inquisitive eyes fell on them like searchlights, then back to Draco's face, a faint touch of irony curling her lips: "You call this 'peaceful'?"
Draco shrugged nonchalantly, speared a piece of steak and put it in his mouth, chewed twice, and gave a clear response: "Mm-hmm!"
"Fine," Hermione mused for a moment, finally relenting. "At least here, compared to the direct provocations that might occur elsewhere, it might be considered a kind of 'orderly' hostility."
Draco put down his knife and fork and looked up at her, his eyes carrying a hint of persuasion: "Do you think this proposal... logically, is more efficient than letting me go elsewhere and allowing the rumors to ferment?"
Hermione fell into a brief silence for about two or three seconds before she slowly spoke: "If I accept this... information exchange agreement, it must be based on the following revised terms."
She held up her fingers, listing them one by one: "First, the number of questions is increased to five. Three is not enough to cover the necessary information dimensions."
"Second, I have the right to determine whether your answer constitutes an 'effective answer'. Being perfunctory or answering beside the point will be considered invalid."
"Third, as a preliminary show of sincerity for verification, you need to proactively provide a piece of information that can be verified by a third party."
"Fourth, the definition of a 'peaceful environment' is: during the Q&A, you remain quiet unless it's your turn to answer. No interrupting, and certainly no changing the subject."
Hearing this, Draco let out an exaggerated sigh: "These terms of yours are far too unequal."
Hermione looked him straight in the eye, her arms subconsciously hugging tighter, but she said decisively: "These are necessary corrections based on logic and risk control. Accept, and we begin. If not, then please suit yourself."
As this conversation concluded, Lavender and Parvati nearby were already so excited they were about to faint.
The two leaned together and whispered, their voices full of excitement.
"Oh my god! He's negotiating with her! Just like a Ministry of Magic official in a negotiation!" Lavendercovered her mouth, her eyes wide.
Parvati nodded repeatedly, her gaze full of admiration: "Hermione is amazing! She's completely in control of the situation! Malfoy can't get the slightest advantage!"
Meanwhile, Ron's jaw had already nearly dropped in shock.
He stared at Hermione, then suddenly turned to stare at Draco, his expression looking as if he couldn't believe what was happening.
How did this confrontation, which should have been at daggers drawn, turn into a solemn "negotiation"?
He suddenly reached out and grabbed Hermione's sleeve, urgently growling, "Hermione! Are you crazy?! He's playing you! This is clearly a trap!"
Hermione just shook her head slightly at Ron's tugging, her gaze still firmly locked on Draco, her expression calm as she waited for his answer.
At this moment, she had already entered a focused state of "problem-solving," and the distractions from the outside world seemed to be blocked out.
Draco took all this in, the smile on his lips deepening. He turned to look at the frantic Ron and teased:
"Mr. Weasley, aren't you tired of standing? I'm sitting next to Miss Granger, not next to you. If you don't want to sit here, then please leave, alright?"
As soon as these words came out, Lavender and Parvati once again covered their mouths in sync, their eyes wider than before, full of disbelief.
"He actually told Ron to leave! Who does he think he is?!" Lavender's voice was full of shock.
Parvati was full of wonder, lowering her voice, "But he makes so much sense! He's using Hermione's rules to strike back at Ron! So cunning!"
Ron was as if hit hard by a silent Petrificus Totalus; his whole body froze instantly, and he even forgot to let go of Hermione's sleeve.
His mouth hung open, his expression a mixture of disbelief, absurdity, and the utter rage of being completely provoked.
He probably hadn't heard such "outrageous" logic in his life. At the Gryffindor table, a Malfoy actually dared to tell him to leave?!
"I—you—!" Ron stalled again, this time because of extreme anger, his voice becoming sharp and distorted, "This is our table! You're the one who should get lost!"
Hermione's brow furrowed deeply, and her face darkened a bit.
Draco's words had indeed struck a logical nerve.
This agreement was reached between her and Draco.
Ron's continuous interference, theoretically, was indeed breaking the premise of the agreement she had just established, which required a "relatively peaceful environment."
"Ron!" Hermione finally pulled her sleeve back forcefully, her tone carrying a hint of undeniable impatience and seriousness.
She still didn't look at Draco, only said in a low voice to Ron, "Sit down! Don't let him distract us! Remember the terms of the agreement, I need to focus!"
Ron suddenly turned his head to look at Hermione, his eyes wide as saucers, full of unbelievable shock: "Hermione?!"
He blurted out Hermione's name.
His voice was filled with hurt and confusion, "You're actually speaking for him?!"
Ron really couldn't understand why, in the face of such obvious provocation from Malfoy, Hermionedidn't join him in a common front, but instead seemed to "stand on the other side."
He no longer tried to pull Hermione, but instead spun around abruptly and sat back down on the bench with a heavy "thud," the force of it making the whole bench shake violently.
He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his body extremely stiff as he leaned back against the backrest, deliberately distancing himself from Draco and even Hermione, building a fortress of isolation and anger.
Ron didn't look at Hermione again, but stared fixedly at Draco with a gaze that wished to swallow him whole and tear him to pieces.
Chapter 72: Ron Broken by Hermione
Hermione's body stiffened for a moment, as if an invisible Petrificus Totalus had swept over her.
Then she suddenly whipped her head around to glare at Ron.
In those brown eyes that usually sparkled with clear, intelligent light, there was now an unbelievable shock, further wrapped in a cold indignation from being severely misunderstood.
She looked at Ron, the familiarity and warmth in her gaze completely gone, as if the person standing before her was a stranger who only knew how to make a scene without reason.
"Speaking up for him?" Hermione's voice rose sharply. "Weasley, your logical reasoning is simply astounding!"
"I am not 'helping' anyone!" Her speech became increasingly rapid. "I am dealing with an information input problem! In the most efficient and direct way possible!"
She didn't even give Ron a moment's breathing room, her sharp gaze sweeping fiercely over his face, which was distorted by anger and a sense of being wronged.
"Aside from creating noise and distracting me, do your shouting and baseless accusations have any constructive meaning?"
"If you have a more efficient method of obtaining information about him—"
She shot a quick glance in Draco's direction, continuing in her cold, hard tone.
"...to obtain verifiable information about his whereabouts this morning and the Sorting anomaly, then please propose it now! If not, please keep quiet and don't interfere with my execution of this logically superior plan!"
Hermione took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling slightly as if suppressing all the irritability before her last shred of patience ran out.
But the words she spoke became increasingly resolute:
"This has nothing to do with personal likes or dislikes, Weasley! This is about method and efficiency! If you can't even distinguish that, then I suggest you properly review the chapters in 'hogwarts: a history' regarding how house disputes should be mediated by prefects and Professors, rather than venting your emotions pointlessly here!"
With those words, she didn't look at Ron again, turning her body and her full attention back to Draco.
As if Ron were merely a piece of annoying background noise that had already been dealt with.
Beside her, Ron's world seemed to shatter silently at that moment.
Hermione's cold words were like invisible slaps across his face, one after another.
The slaps drained all the color from his face, leaving only a deathly pallor.
Those eyes, usually full of straightforward emotion, were wide with disbelief, shock, and hurt.
He couldn't seem to believe that such words would come from Hermione, who was supposed to be on the same side.
These words were like red-hot irons searing his pride, causing him more extreme humiliation and embarrassment than any of Draco's previous provocations.
Ron's ears and neck were quickly flooded with the flush of shame and anger, turning so red they looked ready to bleed.
He whipped his head around, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Draco.
But Draco looked quite innocent.
In fact, Draco really hadn't done anything.
Ron's eyes surged with overwhelming hatred, as if all this trouble had been caused single-handedly by the boy from Slytherin.
But in the end, he didn't say another word; his lips trembled, but nothing came out.
Then, he moved.
Ron stood up abruptly, the bench scraping harshly against the floor with a piercing screech, breaking the dead silence that followed Hermione's words.
He didn't look at Hermione again, nor at Harry, whose eyes were filled with complex emotions and who seemed about to speak. He just spat out a few stiff words: "Fine, you two talk."
With that, Ron shoved the bench back and, under the gaze of countless shocked, sympathetic, or excited eyes, walked toward the heavy doors of the Great Hall without looking back.
Behind him, the Gryffindor table fell into an even deeper, unsettling silence; even the air seemed to stagnate.
Seamus and Dean exchanged an awkward glance and silently moved to the other end of the bench, lowering their heads to pick at their food, wishing they could bury their faces in their plates.
Lavender and Parvati gripped each other's wrists, a mix of excitement and tension making their eyes sparkle, yet they didn't dare make a sound.
Neville shrunk his neck, almost trying to hide under the tablecloth, doing his best to minimize his presence.
The usual playful grins on Fred and George's faces had vanished without a trace.
They watched their younger brother leave, their eyes showing a rare seriousness and worry.
When their gaze slowly shifted back to Draco, that bit of worry faded away.
Leaving only a cold, scrutinizing assessment, as if weighing whether this Malfoy who had suddenly intruded upon Gryffindor was a blessing or a curse.
Harry hesitated for a moment, then finally gritted his teeth and quickly chased after him, his figure soon disappearing behind the heavy doors.
Many watched this scene, lowering their heads and whispering like the buzzing of mosquitoes:
"That muggle-born Witch is so fierce... she doesn't even give face to people from her own house."
"Is she being a bit too arrogant? Even if she's right, she shouldn't be so hurtful."
"But what she said seems to make sense... she's just too ruthless."
"Stay away from her, lest you get stung by her sharp tongue."
[Ding—]
[Original plot added, luck value increased by 20!]
Draco listened to the system notification, thinking to himself.
Ron, oh Ron, you were the one who kept pressing and targeting me first; I haven't said anything out of line from beginning to end.
It's just as well if you and Hermione have a falling out. It saves you from staying by her side and potentially badmouthing me behind my back.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a cold gaze fall upon him.
Looking up, he saw Hermione shot him a quick, unmistakably stern look.
That look revealed a silent dissatisfaction with his act of "sowing discord."
She didn't dwell on it and immediately brought the topic back on track: "Mr. Malfoy, the reactions of irrelevant personnel are not within the scope of our agreement discussion."
"Now, you can state your intentions. Do you accept the revised terms I've proposed?"
Draco shrugged, a faint curve forming at the corners of his mouth, and said with a hint of helplessness and playfulness: "Fine, since you're Hermione."
As soon as those words came out, Lavender gasped sharply.
Then Lavender let out a short shriek and quickly covered her mouth: "He called her 'Hermione'! He gave in! But in that way! Merlin!"
Parvati also excitedly added: "This is even more ambiguous than a direct acceptance! His tone sounds like he's saying 'I can't do anything about you'!"
The gossip radars of the two had already redlined; they were dying to pull out their Quills and record this scene right then and there.
And Hermione, upon hearing "since you're Hermione," felt her brain go silent for three seconds as if it were overloaded.
The next moment, her face flushed red from her ears down to her neck at a visible speed.
This wasn't the shy blush of a young girl in love, but a flush of humiliation and anger.
Chapter 73: Rumors Come True
"Miss Brown, Miss Patil!"
"If your ears and brains have any function other than spreading baseless and ridiculous fantasies, you should listen clearly—"
Hermione's voice was full of unabashed reprimand and correction.
She spoke at a speed like reciting a rapid incantation: "This is a conditional dialogue protocol based on maximizing the efficiency of information exchange! It's not some—"
She seemed to find it hard to say, but still gritted her teeth and forced the rest of the sentence out: "—vulgar plot fabricated in those stupid magazines of yours!"
"Put away your romantic fantasies!"
Hermione's voice grew a few degrees colder, her sharp gaze sweeping over the two girls, whose faces were flushed.
"If you still want to learn anything real at Hogwarts, instead of focusing all day on this illogical noise that wastes brain cells!"
With that, she turned back with a hint of disgust, locking her gaze firmly on Draco once more.
It was as if taking one more look at Lavender and Parvati would pollute her logical thinking.
Only the slight reddening of her ear tips and the unmistakable rise and fall of her chest betrayed that her inner state was not as calm as it appeared on the surface.
Hermione's merciless outburst shocked those around her once again.
Her cold words toward Ron just now had already shown her sharpness; now, she was equally biting toward these two "innocent" gossiping girls.
This further reinforced everyone's impression of her as "brilliant but extremely biting and difficult to get along with."
Many people instinctively shrank back, afraid of touching her sore spot.
Lavender and Parvati were scolded until their faces were bright red, feeling both humiliated and somewhat fearful; they could only huddle together, not daring to discuss loudly anymore.
But the two still couldn't help huddling together, quickly exchanging words: "See, her secret was hit upon, so she flew into a rage!"
Parvati nodded repeatedly, though the light of gossip still flickered in her eyes, even if she didn't dare show it anymore.
Hermione completely ignored the whispering behind her, staring intently at Draco as she corrected him through gritted teeth: "It's 'Miss Granger,' Mr. Malfoy."
She deliberately emphasized the surname, attempting to re-establish the distance between them.
"Since you... agreed to the terms." Hermione's speaking speed suddenly increased, clearly wanting to cover up her previous loss of composure as quickly as possible.
"Then, please first provide that snippet of information that can be verified by a third party."
Draco put down his utensils and said calmly, "As you wish, Miss Granger."
"At breakfast today, Professor McGonagall had Percy the prefect find me personally and take me away. The destination was Dumbledore's office on the eighth floor of the Castle. We had a conversation there."
"Dumbledore."
These words were like a silent thunderclap, striking hard at this corner of the Gryffindor table.
In an instant, the surrounding air seemed to freeze.
Then the aftershocks of this thunderclap spread through the entire Great Hall with incredible speed, and wherever they passed, all whispers were extinguished.
Hermione's pupils suddenly contracted at that moment.
Her brain almost instantly entered a state of overload.
Dumbledore? The Principal of Hogwarts himself?
On the morning of the first day of school?
This was definitely not an ordinary conversation! It meant the level of this matter completely exceeded the scope of rule-breaking or house conflicts... Was it related to Harry Potter?
No, the temporal logic didn't hold up at all.
Was it because of the House of Malfoy's stance? Or was it involved in a more significant secret, enough to alarm the Principal?
Hermione fell into a rare silence.
A few seconds later, her gaze locked onto Draco again as she repeated word for word: "...Professor McGonagall, outside the entrance to the Great Hall, took you to see Headmaster Dumbledore. At... breakfast time."
"This information, logically, has the possibility of being indirectly verified by a third party. I accept it for now."
As she spoke, Hermione's eyes silently declared: this was only the beginning; the questions hitting the core were about to come.
The silence was like ripples on a lake after a stone is thrown, quickly spreading from the center of the Gryffindor table to the entire Great Hall.
Lavender and Parvati took a sharp breath in unison again, then covered their mouths tightly, almost screaming on the spot.
Those previous thoughts of "ambiguity" and "romantic fantasies" were instantly thrown to the winds, leaving only extreme shock.
"merlins beard! It's Dumbledore!"
Parvati's voice also trembled with excitement: "This is absolutely huge! What on earth did he do to have the Principal summon him personally?"
The gloom on Fred and George's faces, cast by the insult to their brother Ron, was instantly replaced by the excitement of discovering a shocking secret.
The brothers exchanged a knowing look; Fred silently made an exaggerated 'wow' shape with his mouth, his eyebrows raised high.
George strode his chin, his eyes sparkling as his gaze toward Draco shifted from 'a troublesome kid who needs a lesson' to 'a mobile source of prank inspiration and a Hogwarts headline generator.'
Further away, between the previously silent long tables, whispers rose again like a tide, but more turbulent and urgent than before.
"Dumbledore," "Malfoy," "Headmasters Office"... these words seemed to grow wings, quickly passing between the tables of each house.
Countless gazes shifted from initial curious observation to a substantive focus of inquiry and scrutiny, landing on Draco.
Several older students also finally showed truly 'interested' expressions, rather than just finding the farce amusing.
A Ravenclaw girl raised an eyebrow slightly and whispered to her companion: "Dumbledore... the nature of this is completely different now. That Granger girl really caught a big fish."
Hermione suppressed the shock in her heart, quickly organized her thoughts, and threw out the first formal question:
"Was this meeting with Headmaster Dumbledore at his request, or was it a proactive request from you or your father?"
"What was the primary nature of the meeting—notifying a decision, conducting an inquiry, giving a warning, or something else?"
Facing the focused gazes of the entire hall, Draco calmly gave his answer: "My father asked for me to go; he wanted to take me back."
A single sentence, earth-shattering.
This brief answer instantly confirmed the rumors Fred and George had spread that morning, as well as the various speculations in everyone's minds.
It turned out that the head of the Malfoy family, Lucius, had indeed come to Hogwarts in person, wanting to forcibly take his son away.
Hearing this, Lavender and Parvati had long forgotten their previous argument, their faces full of wonder and sympathy.
Lavender clutched her heart, her voice carrying a hint of exaggerated sentiment: "Merlin! I didn't expect it was really his father trying to take him away by force! Just because he got into Gryffindor? That's too cruel!"
Parvati's eyes were astonishingly bright: "Resisting paternal authority! Standing one's ground! This is much more story-worthy than a simple summons by the Principal! It's practically a legendary plot!"
Fred and George exchanged a 'just as suspected' look, though their previous excitement had slightly receded, replaced by a deeper sense of amusement.
George whispered to Fred in a breathy voice: "Old Malfoy came in person to grab him, but didn't manage to take him. He's really lost face."
Fred grinned, but his gaze held a bit more evaluation: "He didn't take him; ten to one Dumbledoreintervened. What reason would the old fox use? School rules can't stop a father from taking his son, unless..."
Unless this matter involved more fundamental principles or a more massive secret.
Seamus, Dean, and other Gryffindors who heard snippets of the conversation also had subtle changes in their expressions.
Being rejected by family just because of house placement?
To the vast majority of students who took pride in being in Gryffindor, this was unimaginable and even repulsive.
A faint sense of resistance, based on house pride, quietly sprouted in their hearts.
Even though the object of this emotion was the Malfoy they had always disliked.
Neville shrank his neck even further, burying his head lower, as if he had remembered his own grandmother, who was strict to the point of being harsh.
Now, in the gaze he directed at Draco, there was a flash of panic from a shared plight.
But this trace of panic was quickly and completely covered by the fear brought by the name 'Malfoy.'
The Ravenclaw girl who had been whispering earlier gave a soft 'Heh,' her tone carrying a hint of mockery:
"Lucius Malfoy... that is indeed something he would do. Is face more important than his son's wishes? Truly typical pure-blood supremacist behavior."
The interest in her eyes grew a few degrees stronger as she whispered to herself: "So, Dumbledorestopped him? With what reason? I'm afraid the water behind this is very deep."
This realization made many quick-witted students in the Great Hall instinctively prick up their ears, their eyes burning as they stared at Draco and Hermione.
Expecting Hermione to throw out the second question, and even more wanting to know Draco's answer.
Chapter 74: Hermione Pushing Her Luck [Bonus Chapter]
Hermione, the person in question, furrowed her brows tightly the moment Draco finished speaking.
The chain of logic was confirmed at this moment.
It fit perfectly with the vague rumors the Weasley twins had spread in the Great Hall earlier.
But even as it was confirmed, a greater doubt surged like a tide, circling in her mind and refusing to dissipate.
Her brain was like a high-speed magical gear, rapidly sorting through the causal relationships.
A moment later, with the extreme calmness of one analyzing facts, she slowly began to summarize.
"So, the core conflict is that your house placement fundamentally clashed with your father's expectations, which led him to barge into Hogwarts on the very first day of school in an attempt to forcibly take you away."
As soon as she finished, she didn't give Draco time to answer, immediately shifting the topic to address the deepest doubt in everyone's hearts and posing a second question.
"Then, what role did Headmaster Dumbledore play in this?"
"Did this meeting approve of your father's actions, attempt to mediate the conflict between the two parties, or make some sort of decisive ruling that ultimately allowed you to remain sitting here?"
"Dumbledore naturally disagreed."
Draco Malfoy's voice remained steady and emotionless, even carrying a hint of elusive coldness, as if he were stating an ordinary fact that had nothing to do with him.
But his next words stunned everyone: "However, I agreed to go back with my father."
When these words landed, the effect was comparable to a silent thunderbolt.
But it didn't create a deafening roar; instead, it stirred an almost suffocating silence throughout the vast Great Hall.
The previous chatter and whispers about family conflict and patriarchal oppression were suddenly cut short, as if an invisible hand had abruptly seized their throats.
Lavender and Parvati covered their mouths almost simultaneously, their wide eyes filled with shock and the extreme excitement of a sudden plot twist.
The tragic protagonist image of 'resisting patriarchy and staying true to oneself' they had just built in their hearts was instantly cast in a heavy shadow of suspense, becoming blurred and confusing.
"Why?" Lavender's voice was filled with an excitement that felt like being betrayed by the plot. "Why did he agree?! Even Headmaster Dumbledore disagreed!"
Parvati's imagination was already running wild as she guessed, "There must be a hidden hardship! A massive, unspeakable secret! Maybe... it's to protect someone? Or perhaps a vicious curse was placed on him that can only be broken by leaving Hogwarts?"
Their imaginations were like runaway horses, galloping once again toward an even more melodramatic and convoluted abyss.
The usual playful smiles on Fred and George's faces had vanished without a trace.
The brothers glanced at each other, both seeing genuine, unprecedented surprise in the other's eyes, followed by a surging, intense interest.
This was no longer a simple family farce; there were clearly deeper calculations and hidden details within.
"Was his head stepped on by a Troll?" Seamus scratched his head, muttering in confusion.
Dean and the other surrounding Gryffindors also showed obvious confusion, even tinged with a slight hint of disdain.
In the Gryffindor value system, which prizes bravery, resistance, and staying true to oneself, this act of 'obeying paternal will' or even 'walking into a trap' was truly difficult to understand, even bordering on cowardice.
The gaze of the entire Great Hall focused once again on Draco in unison.
The meaning in those gazes had shifted completely from the initial curiosity, sympathy, and scrutiny into a unified, heavy sense of confusion and inquiry.
Their eyes seemed to want to pierce through his calm exterior to see his true inner thoughts.
The expression on Hermione's face froze completely at this moment.
Her brain, which was always operating at high speed and trying to analyze the logic of everything in the world, seemed to have encountered the most troublesome garbled code, experiencing a rare, brief blankness.
Her lips parted slightly, but she couldn't immediately voice the next question; her brown eyes were filled with unbelievable shock.
Dumbledore disagreed.
But Draco agreed to go back.
These two seemingly simple short sentences collided frantically and echoed repeatedly in her mind, forming a complete paradox that overturned all her cognitive models.
A 'victim' who was being treated unfairly and was about to be forcibly removed from the magical worldand Hogwarts.
When the most powerful protector reached out a hand, he should have grasped that lifeline firmly, argued his case, and stood his ground for his right to stay.
"Agreeing to go back"—this choice completely contradicted rational judgment, the courage prized by Gryffindor, and the most basic logic of self-interest.
In Hermione's brown eyes, which always sparkled with wisdom and certainty, a clearly visible confusion emerged for the first time.
This did not fit any known behavioral model; there had to be a deep-seated reason she hadn't yet perceived.
"You... agreed to go back, even when Headmaster Dumbledore explicitly opposed it?"
She asked, repeating it subconsciously, her tone sounding as if she were confirming an utterly absurd fact, for fear that she had misheard.
"Does that count as a question?"
Draco tilted his head slightly, a faint curve appearing at the corner of his mouth.
His gaze, carrying a hint of a playful half-smile, met Hermione's eyes, which were filled with extreme confusion.
"No," Hermione denied almost immediately, afraid he would find a loophole.
"That was just an imprecise repetition for confirmation based on an unbelievable fact; it doesn't consume the quota of five formal questions I'm allowed to ask under our agreement."
She quickly suppressed the shock in her heart, transforming all her confusion into more precise questions, and then threw out the third question.
"What was the primary factor that drove you to make the decision to agree to leave Hogwarts, even when Headmaster Dumbledore explicitly opposed it?"
"Is it some irresistible pressure your father holds and exerts, do you personally believe that leaving Hogwarts better serves some potential interest or hidden goal of yours, or are there other unstated special reasons forcing you to make this choice?"
Draco couldn't help but chuckle after hearing this series of airtight questions.
Then he shook his head and said with a bit of playful teasing, "Miss Granger is really pushing her luck, asking more and more questions. But for Miss Granger's sake, I can answer."
Chapter 75: Definitely a Matchmaker [Bonus Chapter]
Hearing Draco's words, Fred and George exchanged a knowing look.
In the usual playful smiles at the corners of the brothers' mouths, there was now a hint of heartfelt admiration.
George tilted his head slightly toward Fred and marveled, "A beautiful move—retreating to advance, and even giving her a little poke while he was at it. Interesting!"
"This kid... is much more interesting than we thought. It seems he's not just a useless brat who cries to his father; he's got some schemes hidden up his sleeve." Fred grinned, nodding repeatedly.
Just as their whispers faded, Lavender, standing nearby, trembled with excitement again.
"He called her 'Miss Granger'! And with such a teasing tone! Merlin! Does he... does he have feelings for her?"
Her voice was filled with uncontrollable excitement.
Parvati quickly covered her face, her whole being radiating the glow of gossip. "Absolutely special treatment! This has to be special treatment! I knew it! There's definitely something between them!"
The little theaters in the two girls' minds shifted at light speed onto a brand new, more "romantic" track.
The two of them took Draco's single teasing remark and imagined it into a soul-stirring emotional entanglement.
Hermione, however, completely ignored the two behind her who had already fallen into a trance.
She knew that the more she explained, the worse it would get, so it was better to just ignore it.
She suppressed the roiling emotions in her heart and looked straight at Draco. "The answer is enough. Please begin your statement, Mr. Malfoy. What I want to hear is the primary reason."
"Because I felt I could come back."
Draco's voice wasn't loud, as if he were merely stating a self-evident fact that required no proof, like the Great Hall serving Pumpkin Juice tomorrow.
These words were like a stone cast into an absolutely silent deep pool; they didn't cause an exaggerated uproar.
Yet, beneath that seemingly calm surface, everyone's thoughts were tossed into silent, turbulent waves.
The cynicism on Fred and George's faces vanished instantly.
Instead, a sharp look, like that of someone assessing prey, appeared on their faces, as if they were truly seeing the depths of this Malfoy for the second time.
Fred let out a soft, playful whistle.
That crisp sound was exceptionally clear in the deathly silent Great Hall.
"Whoa... that's quite a boast. Utterly boundless." George slowly stroked his chin, sighing in a low voice.
"Either he's a madman," Fred immediately followed up.
His voice no longer held a hint of a joke; he just stared at Draco with a heavy gaze.
"Or... he truly believes he's holding a winning hand and can play everyone like a fiddle."
The moment Hermione heard those words, her mind went blank, leaving only a near-vacant shock.
No external pressure, no internal cowardice, not even complex calculations... just, "I felt I could come back"?
This reason was simple to the point of being crude, yet arrogant enough to be suffocating.
It revealed a near-absurd certainty.
As if he viewed Dumbledore's opposition, his father's iron will, the inherent shackles of the House, and every visible obstacle as mere dust that could be easily brushed aside.
This was completely beyond the scope of understanding and control expected of an eleven-year-old freshman.
Lavender and Parvati covered their mouths in unison again, so shocked their breathing nearly stopped.
But this time, what sparkled in their eyes was no longer simple shock, but a fanatical light ignited by a massive romantic impact and heroic narrative.
They seemed to see the epic prologue of "The Hidden Dragon Returns to the Sea, the King Returns."
Lavender said with extreme excitement, "He's not surrendering... he's planning! He believes he'll definitely come back! What incredible confidence!"
"Confidence! Powerful, fearless confidence! He's leaving for a more glorious return! To... to prove something? Or for..." Parvati echoed.
Her gaze darted frantically between Draco and Hermione.
In her mind, an epic drama of "A youth endures humiliation to leave the campus, only for the king to return for a date with his lady" was already playing out.
They had almost finished drafting the lines for when Draco and Hermione would reunite.
Draco took all of this in, thinking to himself.
These two definitely need to be handled well.
Just based on their heaven-defying imagination and power of association.
Even a boy and girl who have nothing to do with each other could probably be forced together by them.
To win over Hermione in the future, he'd definitely need their help.
Their whispering, like two sets of untimely bells, rudely pierced Hermione's extremely tense headspace.
At this moment, Hermione was fully focused on trying to dismantle the arrogance and mystery behind Draco's words.
Her brain was working at high speed, connecting, analyzing, and eliminating all possible clues, trying to find a logical support behind this absurd answer.
But Lavender and Parvati's whispers were like buzzing mosquitoes that she couldn't shake from her ears.
These two were using a completely wrong, stupid, and romantically overloaded filter to distort the facts she was seriously analyzing—facts that could involve huge secrets or even fatal dangers.
Hermione's patience finally reached its limit, and she snapped her head around.
In those eyes, which were filled with extreme focus, fire and irritation now erupted as she glared fiercely at the two girls immersed in their fantasy world.
Her cheeks flushed again, but this time it had nothing to do with the previous embarrassment; it was purely unbearable agitation from being interrupted by stupidity.
What on earth are they talking about?!
Merlin! Is now the time to analyze such childish and ridiculous romantic fantasies?!
This Mr. Malfoy just threw out a statement that could involve Headmaster Dumbledore, his father, or even internal Hogwarts affairs!
And they actually have the mind to think about love and romance?!
Is their brain stuffed with Treacle Tart?!
A harsh rebuke almost burst from her lips.
But Hermione's remaining rationality, along with her stronger desire to probe Draco's answer, made her force those words back down.
Hermione took a deep breath, short and forceful, her chest heaving as if to exhale all her frustration.
Then she snapped her head back, no longer looking at the two girls lost in their own world.
It was as if looking at them for even a second longer would contaminate her logical thinking.
"Keep quiet with your irrelevant speculations!"
Hermione threw these words in the direction of Lavender and Parvati, her voice thick with suppressed rage.
But her eyes remained fixed on Draco.
The next moment, she quickly refocused her fire on Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, on what basis do you 'feel' that? Your 'feeling' is not supported by any factual evidence."
"This answer of yours is equivalent to no answer at all, and it further deepens the suspicion that you are trying to cover up the truth!"