Draco hadn't expected to see Granger a second time so soon.
It happened on the platform at King's Cross Station.
In his past life, he had been so full of anticipation for his upcoming Hogwarts school life, so focused on finding the barrier to Platform 9¾ and boarding the express train as soon as possible, that he couldn't remember whether he had met Granger.
However, in this life, once he had become sensitive to her name, she seemed to be everywhere.
He spotted her immediately—who could ignore her hair?
That clump of messy brown hair, its owner's back to him, had been standing on the platform for a long time—long enough that Draco found it an eyesore. Beside her were probably Granger's Muggle parents; he could vaguely see their anxious expressions as they tried to describe something to the platform attendant, but to no avail.
A knowing look crossed Draco's face.
Foolish first-years! Can't find the Hogwarts platform?
Every year, there were always a few confused Muggle-born first-years who asked for directions everywhere, and they always managed to annoy the Muggle station attendants. Draco smirked inwardly; ever since he had become a prefect in fifth year, these first-years' silly questions had been a real headache.
He decided to do something to help the flustered little girl find her platform as quickly as possible, before the Hogwarts Express departed.
He was certainly not naive enough to think that he could simply walk over and help her.
Lucius and Narcissa would think he had gone mad.
However, an eleven-year-old boy who was excessively spoiled by his parents had many natural, if unpleasant, advantages. For example, he could engage in annoying and uncontrollable behavior, such as shouting and disturbing the peace.
Alright, let the embarrassing performance begin. Draco shook his head helplessly, deliberately pushing his trolley along the route closest to the Grangers. Turning to his mother, he dutifully played the role of a spoiled eleven-year-old boy and complained loudly, "Mum, there are so many Muggles here!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Granger turn her face and glance at him curiously.
Very good. Granger, you have excellent hearing.
"It's Platform 9¾, right?" Draco continued to shout.
"Draco." Lucius glanced at his son expressionlessly, clearly displeased by this sudden over-excitement. "Mind your manners in public."
Narcissa, on the other hand, was much gentler. She took Draco's hand and whispered, "My dear little dragon, don't be so loud. Don't attract their attention."
Draco nodded obediently, pretending not to notice Granger's gaze, and followed his parents, pushing the trolley full of trunks quickly through the barrier.
The moment he stepped through, he glanced back at Miss Know-It-All, whose mouth was agape in surprise. It was fair to say that his embarrassing performance had been entirely worthwhile; her comical, wide-eyed, clueless expression was truly something to behold.
To think she was always so smug and all-knowing!
Draco was unaware that the corners of his mouth had turned up slightly.
Steam began to billow from the locomotive, thick smoke swirling above the chattering crowd. Once aboard, Draco easily found Vincent Crabbe and also met Gregory Goyle. Just like in his previous life, the three of them shared a compartment.
The Crabbe family had always claimed to be old friends of the Malfoy family, which implied a relationship of equals and "friendship." However, the Malfoy family often viewed the Crabbe family as dependents. As for the Goyle family, to be precise, they were not as powerful as the Crabbes, and Goyle wasn't even Draco's childhood playmate.
He was a "new friend" that Draco discovered on the train to Hogwarts.
Influenced by the previous generation—his grandfather's domineering and authoritative manner toward the heads of the Crabbe and Goyle families, and his father's arrogant and indifferent attitude—Draco in his previous life had never truly regarded Crabbe and Goyle as equal friends.
To put it bluntly, the Crabbes and the Goyles belonged to the faction of Draco's grandfather—Abraxas Malfoy, the "Shadow Minister" of the Ministry of Magic—and had originally been Abraxas's subordinates. Therefore, as the juniors of that generation, Crabbe and Goyle were naturally defined as "Draco's henchmen."
Imagine a proud and unruly boy surrounded by two slow-witted idiots whose minds seemed to be focused only on eating and sleeping—it would be difficult for anyone to consider them equal friends.
The Malfoys only had eyes for those who were exceptionally capable—intelligent people, or confident people—and Crabbe and Goyle were neither.
Even the qualities most expected of Slytherins—ambition and shrewdness—were lacking in these two, which was disappointing.
He wondered whether that outdated Sorting Hat still worked at all. What on earth did it use to sort students into Houses?
Later, in the Room of Requirement, Crabbe had ignored his objections and, in order to win the Dark Lord's reward, recklessly unleashed Fiendfyre, a high-level dark magic, in an attempt to burn Potter alive, which demonstrated a bit of the Slytherins' ruthlessness.
Unfortunately, ambition outweighed ability. Crabbe had put everyone in danger, even costing himself his life. The thought of Crabbe perishing in the fire in the Room of Requirement, and of the consistently foolish and useless Goyle, gave Draco a headache.
How come Potter's henchmen were all so smart, while his own were all so stupid—one of them had even managed to die of sheer stupidity.
Not only foolish, but arrogant. So arrogant that he never took Draco's words to heart and didn't respect him at all. Yes, that was Crabbe.
Thinking back to his past life, Draco remembered Crabbe's undisguised ferocity and his words: "Who cares what you think? I'm never taking orders from you again, Draco. You and your father are finished…"
When the Malfoys lost power, Crabbe had already gradually broken free of Draco's control in his own mind, and this loss of control had reached its peak in the Room of Requirement.
Looking back on it all, Draco couldn't say he harbored no resentment toward Crabbe. He was still very angry about it. But this also proved that deep down he still considered Crabbe a trustworthy friend in some sense.
After his rebirth, while reflecting on and reviewing everything alone, he had tried to explain the reasons for the betrayal from Crabbe's perspective.
On the one hand, friendships bound together by the ties of the previous generation and the interests of the next were inherently fragile; on the other hand, his own attitude toward them at that time had not been very good. He had been contemptuous and domineering, arrogant and smug, humiliating and mocking their clumsiness.
He had never learned how to be a normal, equal friend.
They had been with him for many years. By the time he gradually came to appreciate the significance of this irreplaceable companionship, it was too late.
Now everything was back to square one, and he was willing to try to change something, even just a tiny bit.
He could try to shed some of his domineering attitude. He was also too lazy to resort to the usual tricks of humiliation and contempt.
However, Draco could no longer treat them with the same unguarded, open-hearted trust as before.
He would not give anyone a second chance to betray him.
He lazily gazed at the pastoral scenery flashing past the train window and instructed Crabbe and Goyle, who were eating and drinking ravenously across from him, "You two watch the luggage here. I'm going to take a walk around the train."
Crabbe and Goyle, who were enjoying their meal, readily agreed.
There were hardly any snacks left on the table. Draco tossed a few Galleons to the smiling witch pushing the snack trolley down the train, asking her to bring him a little more of each kind.
He then closed the compartment door behind him.
The world was finally quiet. Draco sighed, standing in the corridor at the back of the train, staring blankly at the passing fields outside the window.
In his past life, he would have been on his way to "meet" Potter at this moment. In this life, he was too busy dealing with other things to waste time looking for Potter.
A shrewd Malfoy never stirred up unnecessary trouble. He figured that Weasley, that redheaded brat, wouldn't have anything nice to say about him either, just like always.
Was Potter enjoying a meal with his new friends, unaware of the danger that was about to befall him?
Dangerous signs were already emerging, and they had lingered constantly in Draco's mind since his rebirth.
It had been a full month since he was reborn. Throughout August, he had been busy getting used to his young body, observing his parents' condition, and playing the role of a proper eleven-year-old boy.
This brought him no joy, only some exhaustion. He felt keenly the awkward mismatch between his mind and body. A weathered soul had been forcibly poured into a vibrant body; he was in the prime of his youth, yet his heart was as withered and lifeless as a dead tree.
The intense memories of his past life overwhelmed him almost every night in his dreams. Pain, struggle, and anger would spread uncontrollably if he wasn't careful. Those dark past events, those foolish choices, those unforgettable memories… He used Occlumency to lock them away time and time again, sinking them into the depths of his heart, casting them into the ruins of his mind.
During the day, he feigned cheerfulness, pretending everything was fine. Only he knew that deep down he was utterly despondent. If it weren't for one lingering piece of unfinished business, he would likely have been crushed by overwhelming panic long ago.
With a glimmer of hope, he had to do one thing, the only thing he could do at that moment: do everything he could to protect the people he cared about.
He wanted to make the most of his memories from his past life, to bind the Dark Lord hand and foot and prevent him from destroying the beautiful things that had once filled his heart.
He wanted to nip any signs of danger in the bud, so that they would never emerge.
Right now, at Hogwarts, who would believe that the Dark Lord's soul was hidden beneath Quirrell's turban?
What could he do about it?
Dumbledore's elaborate traps, including hiding the Philosopher's Stone at Hogwarts like bait on a hook, were either due to his awareness of Quirrell's unusual behavior, or to something deeper, such as his awareness of the Dark Lord.
Looking back on his years at Hogwarts, it seemed that something big had happened every year. Hogwarts had never truly known peace.
For example, next year, a secret chamber would suddenly appear in the school, belonging to the "Heir of Slytherin," and inside it was a terrifying monster that could turn people to stone.
Draco also remembered the diadem that Potter had cared about so much in the Room of Requirement in seventh year, something Potter had been willing to risk his life to get.
There must be something fishy about it.
Danger didn't only exist at Hogwarts; sometimes, deadly danger came from within the family itself.
Draco's father, Lucius, a former Death Eater, desperately needed to change his mindset. Among his relatives, his aunt Bellatrix was still trapped in Azkaban, a complete madwoman; and his distant uncle Sirius Black, whom he hadn't seen in years, was still half-dead in Azkaban, having taken the blame for that Peter Pettigrew.
Professor Snape, the head of Slytherin House and a master of Occlumency, wavered between the two opposing camps of good and evil. Even now, Draco still didn't understand whom he truly served or what he was really thinking.
Professor Snape had killed Dumbledore! At the same time, he had saved Draco more than once—making it impossible for Draco to conclude that Snape was a heartless Death Eater.
As for Professor Dumbledore, Draco couldn't trust him rashly. Firstly, Dumbledore's death in his previous life had been too shocking, and Draco still couldn't adjust his emotions and found it difficult to face Dumbledore directly. Secondly, while Dumbledore's power was indeed formidable and truly feared by the Dark Lord, he was also a very cunning and unfathomable man.
Without being able to guarantee the safety of the Malfoy family and prevent them from being exploited by malicious individuals, Draco could not rashly reveal everything he knew to Dumbledore.
He mustn't act hastily. He had to plan carefully before taking action.
He had to investigate all of this thoroughly, so that he would have enough leverage in negotiations.
The various clues and mysteries were giving Draco a major headache. So many things needed to be done, so many loose ends needed to be untangled…
The setting sun shone through the window, casting a warm glow on his body. Draco closed his eyes wearily and leaned against the wall of the carriage. His chaotic thoughts and the overwhelming pressure made him frown.
This was the scene that Hermione Granger saw when she walked into the corridor.
Amid the rumbling of train wheels clattering on the tracks, a boy with a pointed chin and dazzling platinum blond hair caught her eye, prompting her to take a second look.
The dim, yellowish sunlight of the setting sun fell on his trembling eyelashes, casting a shadow on his cheeks and making him appear extremely arrogant.
However, he was pale and leaning against the wall of the carriage, seemingly frowning in discomfort.
Hermione had seen the boy before; in fact, she had seen him twice.
The first time had been at the wand shop, where his platinum blond hair stood out. He was clearly the kind of boy who came from a well-mannered family, evident from his refined attire and the way he moved. He had seemed a bit aloof, but not unpleasant.
The second time, not long ago, he had unintentionally shouted loudly, which had helped her out; otherwise, she definitely wouldn't have been able to find Platform 9¾.
He didn't seem to be feeling well, perhaps due to motion sickness or something else. She decided to say hello and, if necessary, help him out.
"Hey, are you feeling unwell?" she asked carefully and gently.
Draco opened his eyes and saw a pair of brown eyes, the color of fine chocolate. Her eyes were very close, filled with concern.
Granger was everywhere. They had finally met face to face, at the most unexpected moment for him.
She had changed into flowing black Hogwarts robes, looking nothing like a Muggle-born child, but just like any princess raised in a pure-blood wizarding family.
"It's nothing." Draco straightened up, a faint blush rising on his pale face. "Just a little stuffy. Came out for some fresh air."
Hermione was briefly captivated by his suddenly opened gray eyes—they were a beautiful color.
Then she suddenly realized that staring at someone was very impolite. So she took a step back, tossed her thick brown hair, and, to hide her dazed expression, put on a slightly haughty one. "It's good that you're alright. I was going to say that there's a school doctor at the back of the carriage, and if you're not feeling well, I can help you over there."
This sudden concern made Draco feel awkward. He paused for a moment, then said succinctly, "No need. But thank you anyway."
Granger's concern was rare. In the past, whenever they met, they would inevitably be on the verge of conflict; such a peaceful exchange was uncommon.
Now she had suddenly reverted to being a polite stranger, even subtly showing concern for him. Draco was very uncomfortable with this.
"Since you're alright, could you please help me look for Neville's toad? His toad is missing, and I've already asked almost everyone in the carriage." Hermione changed the subject when she saw that he was alright.
The familiar tone. The real Granger. Always compassionately concerned with the plight of the vulnerable, she had immediately pinpointed the weakest link in the entire carriage—Neville Longbottom.
"Oh, I see." Draco slowly fiddled with his wand and asked her, "What's the toad's name?"
"Trevor."
"Accio Trevor!" Draco casually cast a Summoning Charm.
The lost toad, like an arrow released from a bow, flew through the carriages and landed in his hand. He raised an eyebrow, looking at the ugly toad with disdain—who would want to keep such a thing as a pet?
Hermione's slight arrogance vanished instantly. This boy was amazing!
"My God! You are truly amazing. I thought I was a pretty smart student, and I was just showing off my few immature little spells in the next carriage, which I practiced at home during the holidays. But compared to you, I'm far inferior!" she said in astonishment.
If it had been Draco in his past life, being praised like that by a little girl—especially when she was Hermione Granger, the top student in her year—he would probably have been as smug as a rooster with its tail held high.
But now, he knew perfectly well that he had only gained the advantage of a second chance, and there was nothing to brag about. He quickly handed her the toad, which was wriggling unwillingly, and whispered, "Keep it a secret. I don't want anyone to know I cast a spell."
"If it were me, I'd probably brag about it quite a bit," Hermione said, puzzled. She shrugged, deciding to respect his decision. "However, I think I'll keep it a secret for you. By the way, my name is Hermione Granger."
She gracefully extended her hand to him. "You can call me Hermione. What's your name?"
"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," Draco answered her, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. He hadn't expected things to turn out this way.
That didn't mean he was unwilling to shake her hand. Like a snail's antennae, he slowly reached out and tentatively took her soft, warm hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Draco." She shook his hand warmly and said excitedly, "I really don't understand what's so secretive about this. If I could cast such a spell, my parents would be overjoyed. And it must be a very profound spell, right? I bet it's not something a first-year student could possibly know."
Hermione Granger's little mouth was like a seed pod he had accidentally bumped, spilling out one cheerful bean after another, blooming into lively flowers for him.
Draco should have been annoyed. But surprisingly, spending time with Hermione helped him temporarily forget those troubling memories; her endless chatter pushed his chaotic thoughts to the back of his mind.
"What I mean is, I've memorized all the first-year textbooks, but obviously I haven't seen any spells that can summon things. It seems that just memorizing the textbooks is not enough at all—I hope Hogwarts has a library, so I can broaden my knowledge even more…" Hermione continued to ramble on about her thoughts, her eyes sparkling with longing.
Draco hadn't had such a vibrant expression in a long time. It wasn't that he couldn't fake one, but it wouldn't have been genuine.
His heart was like withered wood, and he occasionally envied this real, unrestrained, and vibrant scene.
"Yes." Draco recalled how much this know-it-all girl had loved spending time in the library in his past life. Nine times out of ten, when he passed by, he would see her engrossed in a stack of books.
"You'll love the Hogwarts library; the collection there is vast," he said, noticing her expectant gaze.
"It sounds like you know a lot about Hogwarts." Hermione's joy lasted only a few seconds before a worried expression appeared on her face. "You must be from a wizarding family. I was born into a Muggle family, and I'm always worried that I'll fall behind."
"Don't worry. You'll catch up soon." Draco shook his head, clearly unconvinced that she had anything to worry about.
What do you have to be anxious about, you girl who has been at the top of the grade for years?
The ones who should be anxious are those children from wizarding families who can't pass your exams.
Are you really not just showing off your intelligence and hard work?