A/N:Well, hello there. How are you all doing?
If you enjoy the fanfic, comments, reviews, and power stones would be greatly appreciated.
Thank you for reading!
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There were as many as 142 staircases at Hogwarts.
Draco, who had lived here for seven years, knew them like the back of his hand: some were wide and big; some were narrow, small and wobbly; some would mischievously move around every Friday, suddenly leading somewhere else to cause trouble for the students; some would have a step vanish halfway up, and you had to jump over it if you didn't want to get stuck.
However, for the dizzy and disoriented first-years, the stairs were more tricky than interesting.
Remembering their locations and characteristics was not easy; after all, everything seemed to be constantly moving.
Hermione Granger clearly hadn't figured out all the tricks of the trade yet.
One Friday night, after the library closed, she was exhausted by the weight of the thick book she was carrying. As she walked up a flight of stairs, her foot sank into a disappearing step simply because she wasn't paying attention.
"This is really bad luck," Hermione said with a frown.
She wanted to climb out on her own, but that was difficult; she needed someone to help her.
However, she wasn't sure if anyone would pass by.
This staircase was a shortcut she had recently discovered, hidden behind a door. The sliding panels and hanging curtains made it exceptionally secluded, and few people used it. It was very quiet—which was why she liked this route, but now it had become a drawback.
Moreover, by this hour most students had already returned to their common rooms, which greatly reduced the chances of her being seen.
"Is anyone there? Please help me, won't you?" She tentatively called out a few times, up and down the stairs, hoping to get lucky, but there was only silence on both sides.
She couldn't help noticing the wall beside the stairs. Dim candlelight flickered on it, adding to the eerie atmosphere of the staircase.
Hermione's heart pounded. She raised her voice and called out several more times, but all she got in response were small, hollow echoes from the surrounding walls.
She struggled on the stairs, utterly disappointed, dejectedly flipping through the book "Hogwarts: A History" in her hands, trying to find some solution that would help her get off the stairs on her own.
However, the book seemed to assume that everyone could make friends at Hogwarts, and that at the very least no one would lack a friendly hand to pull them up from a disappearing step.
The all-powerful "Hogwarts: A History"! Hermione thought dejectedly. It couldn't come up with a single solution for her.
After about half an hour of dejection, she finally heard footsteps—someone seemed to be coming downstairs.
It was the sound of leather shoes on the steps, unhurried and leisurely.
At that moment, the sound was like heavenly music to Hermione's ears.
This might be one of her few chances to be rescued tonight! Who knew when the next person would come along?
"Hello, can I help you—" she said eagerly, looking up, but her words stopped abruptly when she saw who it was.
It was Draco.
Oh my god, this is so embarrassing.
She had been cold and indifferent to him during the day, ignoring his friendly greetings; little had she expected that Merlin's retribution would come so quickly, not even waiting until the next day!
This Slytherin boy would surely take the opportunity to humiliate her!
Hermione quickly lowered her head and went on flipping through the book, determined to pretend she hadn't seen Draco.
If she was stuck, so be it. Even if she had to stay stuck all night, she was too ashamed to ask him for help...
Draco had already seen her. He had just been given the cold shoulder by the Grey Lady and was walking downstairs in a low mood when he unexpectedly ran into Miss Know-It-All, stuck in the middle of the stairs.
You little rascal!
Typical Hermione Granger recklessness... getting stuck on the steps or something... Draco's lips twitched.
Look at her! Gone was the arrogant demeanor she wore in the daytime. Instead, she was like a cat that had accidentally stepped on a sticky mousetrap, holding the book up to her face, looking guilty and ashamed.
His mood immediately improved. He calmly walked to her side, stopped, and tilted his head to look at her. "Need any help?"
"No," she said curtly, glancing at the pages of the book.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, a slight smile playing on his lips.
"Reading." She waved the thick book in her hand.
"Does reading while stuck on a step make your mind particularly sharp?" He raised an eyebrow.
"It's none of your business," she said firmly, her face flushed.
Her guilty look was kind of... cute.
"I can help, if you ask," Draco said good-naturedly, a hint of a smile in his voice that he himself didn't realize.
"I don't accept help from people who don't follow the rules." Hermione didn't look him in the eye, but she could hear the laughter in his voice.
He's definitely laughing at me, she thought angrily.
"Oh, still worrying about that? Nobody's even noticed. You need to be flexible." He spoke casually, as if he didn't care about it at all.
"I have nothing to say to you." She held her head high with arrogance.
Suddenly, the tricky staircase began to shake.
It moved swiftly, as if bored with the conversation between the two people on its back. In an instant, it mischievously shook them both, making them stagger.
No one could remain "arrogant" on such stairs; "disheveled" would be a more fitting description.
Hermione's book slipped from her hands and tumbled all the way down to the bottom of the stairs.
However, that was not the worst of it.
Worst of all, the sudden movement of the stairs threw her against the boy. She hadn't intended to pay him any attention; but he actually caught her shoulder with lightning speed to keep her from getting hurt—that was just too much!
Would she have to thank him tonight, feeling ashamed? Hermione wondered, clutching his clothes as the terrifying stairs spun around her.
The staircase, which had been spinning with great enthusiasm for a while, finally came to a lazy stop. Once everything was calm again, the places on either side of the staircase were no longer the original destinations.
They both breathed a sigh of relief, exchanged a glance, and then, in a flash of inspiration, exclaimed in unison, "Friday!"
On Fridays, some of the staircases moved erratically, leading to different places and causing trouble for the students...
This unspoken understanding made Hermione feel less awkward and brought a knowing smile to her face. Draco seemed to think the same way; a fleeting smile also appeared on his face.
"Let me help you." He looked around at where the stairs now led, his smile fading as he frowned. "These stairs aren't safe."
If he remembered correctly, this staircase now led to the restricted area on the fourth floor... and that was no peaceful place.
"Yes. Thank you," Hermione said, a slight blush creeping onto her face. "If it's not too much trouble for you."
"No trouble at all," Draco said briskly. He tilted his head, examining Hermione's feet sunk deep into the steps, and casually suggested, "I think you should put your arms around my neck and hold on to me as tightly as you can…"
Hermione, somewhat bewildered, did as he instructed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder, and then he drew her into a full embrace and pulled her free of the treacherous steps.
Draco set her down safely on a normal step, a smug glint in his eyes as he looked her over. "Much better? Still have nothing to say to me?"
His smug look left Hermione feeling somewhat unconvinced.
She was about to retort when a cat's meow came from below the stairs and interrupted her. Then came Mr. Filch's excited voice: "I heard someone talking! Someone's definitely trying to cause trouble on the fourth floor! I'll catch those students red-handed today, and no amount of talking will save them! I'll try out those chains in my office!"
"We have to leave. This staircase leads to the corridor in the restricted area on the fourth floor." Draco's expression changed. "If Filch catches us, it'll be hard to explain…"
"But my book…" Hermione stammered.
"It fell on the second floor. We'll go and get it later." He grabbed Hermione's sleeve and ran upstairs.
"But it's the fourth floor! We should go down…" she tried to remind him.
"Go down to the third floor and run into Filch? Don't be so naive! He's just looking for a few students to show off with!" Draco rolled his eyes and kept pulling her upstairs.
"But we'll have nowhere to hide if we go up there…" Before she could react, he pulled her, for some reason, into the right-hand corridor on the fourth floor, where it was pitch black and especially terrifying.
At the end of the corridor was a door, the very door to the restricted area.
"We can't go in! There's…" Hermione gasped for breath, paused, and then said lamely, "Professor Dumbledore said so."
There was a three-headed dog inside! She had already seen it once by accident.
But she wasn't sure whether to tell Draco. If she did, wouldn't she be blatantly admitting that she had broken the school rules? Hermione was incredibly conflicted.
"I know!" he said impatiently, and continued pulling her toward the door.
To Hermione's surprise, he didn't lead her to open the door, but instead pulled her behind a statue not far from it.
By this time, Filch's complaints and threats were getting closer and closer, and she could even see flickers of light at the top of the stairs.
"Are you sure this will work?" she whispered, hiding behind the statue, trembling slightly. "He'll see us."
"No, he won't," Draco said calmly. He pulled a shimmering silver cloak from his pocket, shook it out, and draped it over both of them.
Hermione reached out and found that her hand had disappeared outside the cloak.
"This is—" she exclaimed, her mouth agape in surprise.
"Invisibility cloak. There isn't much room. Come closer to me, quick, or you'll give us away," he whispered to her.
Hermione was stunned by the magical cloak. She had never seen such a wondrous magical item before.
Besides, Mr. Filch always looked terrifying. She didn't want to be caught by him, have points deducted, or be given special treatment with chains or something.
In the emergency, panic overcame her shyness. As he had asked, she nestled almost entirely in his arms, carefully moving her feet under the cloak's cover.
"Will this work?" she asked anxiously.
"Don't make a sound," he whispered in her ear.
Hermione dared not move or make a sound, because Filch was getting closer and closer, and his cat seemed to be sniffing around in front of the statue where they were hiding.
What exactly was that cat sniffing?
Hermione involuntarily twitched her nose and caught a pleasant, refreshing scent, seemingly coming from the neck of the boy named Draco.
She turned her head slightly to look at him.
The boy was staring intently at the cat, and at Filch. Filch stood right beside them, his face thrust forward, his eyes almost touching theirs.
She was uncomfortable under Filch's furious, pale eyes and distorted face, and she fearfully clung to Draco's collar; he, however, remained remarkably composed, his expression unchanged, one hand clenched into a fist and gently resting on her back, the other gripping his wand tightly.
Judging from his expression, it seemed to Hermione, inexplicably, that if Filch found them, he was about to cast some kind of spell to make the nasty caretaker forget everything. She barely dared to breathe.
Fortunately, Mr. Filch found nothing. He called the suspicious Mrs. Norris away to investigate elsewhere.
"Can we—" Hermione asked impatiently, feeling her body stiffen from holding the position for too long.
"Wait a little longer," Draco said softly, pressing his fist against her back.
Filch's greatest skill was the surprise attack—Draco knew his tactics all too well from his previous life.
Hermione sighed almost imperceptibly and wearily rested her head on his shoulder.
Being stuck on the steps for so long, running up and down the stairs at breakneck speed, and the tense atmosphere in the corridor—all of it combined to exhaust a twelve-year-old girl's energy.
In the silent darkness, she felt drowsy and tired. The boy's shoulder seemed reassuring. He had just saved her from the steps and hadn't made any sarcastic remarks or humiliated her as she had feared.
Draco, this Slytherin boy, was quite friendly to her—friendlier than all the Gryffindor boys combined; he was also quite clever and resourceful, even managing to fool Mr. Filch, who was so keen on finding fault with students…
It wouldn't hurt to lean on his shoulder, would it? They couldn't move anyway, and she couldn't lean on anything else, right? Hermione thought drowsily.
Draco felt the weight on his shoulder and glanced at her in surprise. His lips moved, but he remained silent, letting her rest there.
How come she had absolutely no guard up against him? Not long ago, wasn't she still haughtily angry with him? Now she was leaning on his shoulder so readily, so trustingly?
This was something no one could have imagined in two lifetimes.
This capricious, willful, adorable yet troublesome little girl... he thought, his mind in turmoil.
However, the commotion at the stairwell prevented him from thinking any further—sure enough, Filch was extremely cunning; he came back and lingered there for quite a while before leaving.
Draco was right, Hermione thought; thank goodness she had listened to him and waited a little longer, or they would definitely have been caught by Mr. Filch.
This experience was so different from the time she, Harry, and Ron had accidentally entered the forbidden area. That time, she had been nervous the whole time and had had to desperately think of a solution; she couldn't count on those boys at all.
Draco, however, always seemed unhurried and always did things very well.
She suddenly felt less afraid. With him around, there didn't seem to be anything to worry about—after all, he would definitely not put them in danger.
So Hermione closed her eyes and continued to rest against him. In the small safe space created by the invisibility cloak, her mind gradually went blank.
They waited cautiously for a long time, in case Filch returned again. Only when all was quiet did they slip out from under the invisibility cloak and quietly make their way to the stairs at the other end of the corridor.
"Wait, Draco, can we bring an invisibility cloak to school? Is it allowed?" As Hermione went down the stairs, her mind finally cleared a bit, and she suddenly realized something. "Do you often sneak out like this in the middle of the night?"
"Otherwise what? What do you think the invisibility cloak is for?" Draco said casually, without any shame, and instead strolled leisurely toward the stairs.
Judging from his manner, he was clearly a repeat offender.
"This is against school rules!" Hermione caught up with him, admonishing him as they descended. "You can't do this anymore, it's too dangerous… What if Filch catches you one day? I know you're good at avoiding punishment, but it's still risky! You can't use this invisibility cloak to do whatever you want anymore, or I'll tell Professor McGonagall…"
"Let me remind you, if it weren't for this thing, we'd both be done for tonight. Go and experience Filch's chains!" Draco gave her an annoyed look.
That ungrateful girl! She had used him and then brushed him off!
Hermione snorted, clearly not convinced.
She knew, of course, that this thing had saved them today, but breaking school rules was still not quite right...
"There's a difference between an accidental mishap like today and a series of deliberate acts, isn't there?" she said stubbornly.
Draco stopped abruptly and stared into her wide eyes, a cold, malicious smile playing on his lips as he tried to intimidate her. "If you tell Professor McGonagall, you'll be punished too. We're in this together now."
"You're threatening me!" Hermione said angrily. The gratitude she had felt for being rescued, and the sense of security he had given her in the darkness, vanished completely because of his threat.
"Yes." Draco pursed his lips, walked to the landing at the bottom of the stairs on the second floor, picked up the copy of "Hogwarts: A History" that had been left on the ground, dusted it off with disgust, and then shoved it into Hermione's arms.
Then he leaned that exquisite face provocatively close to hers, as if trying to see what was going on in her mind, which startled her.
He said bluntly, "I'm threatening you, so you'd better not talk nonsense to Professor McGonagall."
Hermione was so thrown by his closeness that she could hardly collect herself. His defiant gray eyes were strikingly beautiful, and his hair gleamed in the flickering candlelight, yet the words that came out of his mouth were so infuriating that she wanted to hit him, and she simply didn't know what to do with him.
Finally, a surge of desperate anger welled up inside her. Her face flushed red as she recalled the things the upperclassmen often said about Slytherins.
She said angrily, "You ruthless Slytherin!"
Just like in his previous life, he was once again being accused of stopping at nothing to get his way, Draco thought expressionlessly.
"Yes! That's how I am, no matter what. Don't bother reminding me! Go back to your respectable Gryffindor common room and avoid running into any more Slytherins. Goodnight!" He said it sternly, in a string of extreme remarks, then left her on the landing and strode away.
Hermione Granger is rigid, dogmatic, and conventional, and not very lovable.
And girls are quite tricky.
Draco grumbled as he walked toward the Slytherin common room.
But would this little scatterbrain fall into one of those vanishing steps again?
After all that commotion, it was almost curfew, and Filch, who was obsessed with catching students, was wandering around... The more he thought about it, the more his pace slowed.
Hermione Granger, the most infuriating little girl in the world! Draco frowned, hesitated, and looked back at the small figure on the next flight of stairs before involuntarily stopping in his tracks.
Meanwhile, Hermione, whose relationship with her friends had become strained because of her obsession with "following school rules," walked sullenly toward the Gryffindor common room on the eighth floor, holding the book he had picked up for her, looking extremely listless.
After this thrilling night, her heart felt like a spilled paint bottle, with Gryffindor red and Slytherin green scattered all over the place, topped with a touch of blue—the blue of melancholy.
In short, it was a complete mess.
How should she deal with the Slytherin boy who had helped her and then proudly admitted to breaking the rules?
He had also... brazenly threatened and intimidated her. Even though he was somewhat good-looking, he was still utterly wicked!
Those awful gray eyes... were quite pretty. And he smelled really good too.
She hesitated greatly before stepping through the portrait of the Fat Lady, completely unaware that an invisible boy was quietly following her, his eyebrows twisted into a pretzel. Only after she had entered the Gryffindor common room did he let out a slight sigh. The sound startled the Fat Lady, who was about to change into her pajamas for a nap, and she fell backward. He slowly went back downstairs.
The plump woman, who had only just regained consciousness, frantically clutched her chest and shouted into the air, "Who? Is that Peeves?"
For the next few weeks, Draco was in a bad mood and felt no joy whatsoever.
It wasn't that he had any problems with his studies. In fact, the first-year curriculum was rather boring for him. Since the start of term he had been doing well academically, and even the professors who had been unkind to him in his previous life had become relatively lenient with him.
The most notable example was Professor McGonagall. Although she was strict and old-fashioned and didn't particularly like Slytherins, she still gave him an "O"—Outstanding—on a well-written Transfiguration essay, an honor that had previously belonged only to Hermione Granger, the know-it-all.
As for interpersonal relationships, it was nothing more than the same old Slytherin tricks: bloodline, family background, and a contest of ability. The first-years quickly used these criteria to rank themselves and decide who got to sit closer to the front of the Great Hall.
Most relationships among Slytherins developed from feigned friendliness and sharp-tongued probing, interspersed with fragile childhood friendships and tiny, fleeting moments of genuine sincerity.
This was the kind of relationship Draco was familiar with, far more so than the straightforward and passionate ones he had with Gryffindors. He could thrive in Slytherin if he wanted to.
Based on his understanding of his Slytherin classmates from his previous life, Draco made friends within the house at an astonishing speed.
His intimate knowledge of his Slytherin housemates—Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Marcus Flint, and others—made him virtually invincible in social situations.
His sleep problems were also reasonably well addressed. He had managed to get a Dreamless Sleep Potion from Madam Pomfrey—thanks to his innocent appearance, clever flattery, and polite manner.
That potion couldn't be taken too often. The misuse of any magical potion carried risks. At this point, the uncommon yet exquisite magical art of Occlumency demonstrated its unparalleled practical value. Using this technique, he froze and hid his terrifying memories of his past life and some emotions he couldn't bear.
"It's pretty self-deceptive, isn't it?" He smiled mockingly at the pale boy in the mirror. "But at least you can get a good night's sleep."
Admittedly, such methods did not solve the fundamental problem, but for Draco, finding even a little peace and tranquility within himself, and thus getting a good night's sleep, was more important than anything else.
However, amidst these seemingly smooth-sailing days, Draco was gripped by a prolonged and intense anxiety—the challenge he had been trying to overcome had reached a bottleneck.
The "experiment" of talking to the Bloody Baron or the Grey Lady had stalled.
Although she appeared gentle, beautiful, delicate, and graceful, the Grey Lady was notoriously unapproachable. She ignored everyone except a handful of Ravenclaw students.
Draco went to the vicinity of Ravenclaw Tower almost every day to try his luck, which was not easy for a Slytherin—it took a lot of brainpower to avoid the sharp-nosed Ravenclaws.
However, every time he painstakingly managed to appear before the Grey Lady, he was treated like a monster.
The moment she saw a student from an unfamiliar house, she would flutter away like a startled bird, disappearing into the morning mist or the twilight, to the other side of a wall or pillar.
As for the Baron, the Slytherin ghost on whom Draco had placed high hopes, he had returned to his vacant stare.
He ignored Draco's repeated attempts to befriend him, humming and whining obliviously on the Astronomy Tower, completely absorbed in his own melancholy world.
Their conversation at the dinner table two months ago seemed to have been just a fleeting illusion.
All of this made Draco feel discouraged.
It couldn't be said that there had been no progress at all. At least the Baron had gotten used to Draco's presence in the Astronomy Tower and wasn't averse to him.
The Baron often stared at Ravenclaw Tower, sadly calling Helena's name over and over, making no attempt to hide it from Draco.
This was not easy for a ghost—most ghosts were extremely sensitive and had deep-seated obsessions, and they were not easy to talk to; moreover, this was not an ordinary ghost, but the Bloody Baron, whom even Peeves did not dare to offend.
However, for Draco, enjoying this preferential treatment tacitly granted by the Baron brought far more pain than pleasure.
He had always been wary of the Astronomy Tower, and he had even considered avoiding it.
This place always reminded him of the complicated memories of his past life, plunging him into a complex and indescribable sadness.
Among them, the most difficult memory to face was probably that murder, that killing, and the death of Dumbledore that had completely changed the course of his life.
This place could be considered the most ominous spot in all of Hogwarts.
Draco wished he could stay as far away from it as possible, but he had no other choice—the doubts about the crown urgently needed to be resolved.
He could only suppress his fear and unease, repeatedly coming here to "encounter" this ghost who was immersed in his own world, trying to get some information out of the Baron.
At least the Baron wouldn't run away; he would stand obediently on the tower. That alone made him much more approachable than the Grey Lady. Draco comforted himself with that thought.
The wind on the tower grew colder by the day.
When Draco woke up early in the morning, he smelled the sweet and tempting aroma of roasted pumpkin wafting through the corridors, which meant that Halloween was just around the corner at Hogwarts.
Just like in his previous life, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms class that the students could now practice the Levitation Charm.
Hermione Granger, as always, was the first student in the class to make a feather float, earning bonus points from Professor Flitwick; Ron next to her, on the other hand, looked thunderous, clearly very dissatisfied.
Draco sat directly opposite them, across the open space in the center of the classroom. He silently watched the girl across from him for a while—she was like a smug cat, her head held high with pride, shaking her wand to control the only feather floating above the classroom, determined to ignore everyone.
So he also raised his own feather and sent it up to join hers.
"Very good! Mr. Malfoy did a good job too!" Professor Flitwick said happily, bowing his head to continue instructing Potter and Finnigan, whose feathers had been ruffled.
Hermione found the boy's feather really annoying. Her feather was floating peacefully in the air, but his feather just had to come and mess with it, blocking its path.
She guided her feather higher, and his feather flew higher too; she wanted it to fly lower, and his feather blocked its way from below; her feather dodged left and right, and his feather followed suit, circling left and right...
Hermione glared angrily at him, but he stared intently at the ceiling, looking as if he were focused on practicing.
Draco was indeed practicing the spell very diligently. He was no longer as arrogant as he had been in his previous life, when he had thought the spell was simple and taken it lightly—he absolutely did not want to repeat the disastrous fifth-year OWL exam, when he had dropped his floating glass and shattered it into pieces, and been seen and ridiculed by Potter. It had been a truly humiliating moment.
Of course, he did have ulterior motives.
Why did this ungrateful girl keep ignoring him? After that incident on the stairs, she seemed even angrier, never giving him a second glance, refusing to be his partner in class, and avoiding him like a slug.
Even Potter could now smile at him, but Hermione still avoided him like the plague.
Were they destined to be enemies, unable even to be ordinary friends? Draco sighed slightly, glanced at the little girl opposite him whose face was flushed with anger—she was probably about to break the wand in her hand—and stopped his mischievous feather-meddling.
The candlelit hall was elaborately decorated with live bats, and huge pumpkins were carved into lanterns, large enough to seat three people.
Every year, a lavish Halloween dinner to satisfy the taste buds of the entire school was inevitable.
The students seemed particularly excited. Crabbe and Goyle had been daydreaming during their afternoon classes, whispering to each other about what kind of feast there would be at the Halloween banquet.
Listening to them recite the menu made him a little hungry, and he longed to sit down at the Slytherin table and feast to satisfy his empty stomach. Even so, Draco decided to try his luck before the meal, as usual, and so he appeared once again on the Astronomy Tower.
The nights at the end of October were already chilly, let alone on the tower. Draco's wizard robes were almost completely soaked through by the cold wind. He cast several warming spells on himself, but the strong wind made little difference.
The Baron seemed drunk today. Several moldy empty bottles lay scattered at his feet, and his eyes were fixed blankly on the tower next door, making his already horrible face look even more grotesque.
Draco commented objectively, "It has a festive atmosphere."
Also, could ghosts get drunk? He was quite puzzled by the basic principles of the matter, but that wasn't the focus of his attention today, so he let it pass.
"The Grey Lady doesn't seem to be up in Ravenclaw Tower today," Draco said lightly, casting another warming spell on his robes, as if discussing the weather. He slowly sat down next to the Baron, following his gaze toward the Ravenclaw Tower next door.
"Hmph..." The Baron was clearly not satisfied.
"Didn't she invite you to the ghosts' Halloween party? I saw a lot of ghosts going," Draco said approachably.
"She will never invite me," the Baron suddenly said, which made Draco look at him with a mixture of surprise and excitement.
"She will never forgive me. She hates me," the Baron said sadly, raising the shackles on his hands and looking at them as if they were evidence of some terrible crime. "I… I regret it so much… I will punish myself."
In the past, especially during the time when the Dark Lord had lived in Malfoy Manor, the high-pressure and terrifying atmosphere had honed Draco's powers of observation to an extremely sharp edge.
At that moment, looking at the Baron's silver-stained clothes and shackles, he used that keen observation to guess at a possibility.
A chilling possibility.
"You killed her?" he asked tentatively. He knew the Baron might not have a second chance to open up.
The Baron nodded slowly. Even though he had been somewhat prepared, Draco was still surprised. He tried his best to suppress a gasp, afraid of interrupting the Baron's rare outburst.
"I found the forest where she was hiding. She was proud. She didn't love me, and she wouldn't come back with me, so I stabbed her to death." The Baron lowered his head, looking at his transparent hands. "I regretted it, so I killed myself. I wanted to be with her. Even if she hated me."
"How did you find her?" Draco asked.
"She was in a dark forest in Albania, where her mother was too far away to reach her. Her mother was sick, very sick. She sent me to find her."
"The Albanian forest," Draco murmured, slowly absorbing the name.
Quirrell claimed he had run into trouble in a dark forest, which had led to his current state. There might be a connection—could that dark forest be the Albanian forest?
Don't blame Draco for making unfounded accusations. These past few years had taught him a lesson: there weren't that many coincidences in this world; most coincidences came from carefully planned and hidden arrangements.
Based on this understanding, he had been able to comprehend the secret of the Vanishing Cabinet in his previous life, which had led to that damnably ingenious design, ultimately making him an accomplice in Snape's murder of Dumbledore.
Admittedly, his purpose and method in applying this principle had been seriously flawed, but the principle itself was innocent. It still shone with unwavering certainty in all the intricate relationships and countless connections within the magical world.
That said, even a great witch like Rowena Ravenclaw, whose magic could reach only so far, had been unable to find her daughter in the Albanian forest. It was hard to imagine another forest in the world as powerful as this one.
When the weakened Dark Lord had needed a place to lie low and spend his long period of rest undisturbed, hadn't the desolate and remote Albanian forest been his ideal refuge?
"And what about the crown?" Draco pressed on.
"I never brought her back, and I never recovered the crown." The Baron sighed painfully, his dull eyes turning to Draco, as if he were noticing for the first time that there was a living person beside him.
"Don't wait until it's too late and then regret it." He looked at Draco with a sorrowful expression, uttered these words inexplicably, and silently got up, passing Draco and disappearing into the depths of the tower.
Poor ghost. Draco sighed softly, a tiny, subtle pity rising in his heart.
After his initial sympathy, Draco quickly fell into deep thought. He couldn't help worrying about the Baron's words that he had "never recovered" anything. Rowena Ravenclaw had sent the Baron, and the treasures she sought to retrieve were likely not just her daughter, but also the tiara.
Therefore, it was easy to understand why the Grey Lady had been ashamed to use her original name for so many years.
She was ashamed; she had betrayed her mother, stolen the crown, and hidden it in the dark forest where even her mother couldn't find it.
Today's cold and hunger had not been in vain. Draco had finally found a clue about the Ravenclaw crown, which excited him so much that he ignored the cold and paced back and forth on the drafty platform in the bleak night, his mind racing.
If Ravenclaw's lost tiara had been hidden in the distant Albanian forest, how had it ended up in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts?
What role had the Dark Lord played in all of this? And why had he been interested in the crown?
Although many mysteries still lay ahead, Draco's keen intuition, honed over many years, told him that he was one step closer to the truth.
Next came an even more daunting task: to pry open the heart of the naturally sensitive Grey Lady and find out what had happened in that remote Albanian forest.
This would be a thousand times harder than getting through to the Baron. First, he would have to stop her from fleeing in her haste, and only then could he try to gain her trust—this might only be the beginning of the real test.