Chapter 650: The Thighs... and the Person Draco Cares About While all the young wizards below were following Professor Horace’s instructions and taking out their potion t |
Winning over house-elves was never going to show results overnight.
By comparison, what Draco cared about more right now was the suggestion Hermione had made earlier, about recruiting fresh blood from the other houses.
Naturally, Draco could see the advantages of that as well.
It was worth mentioning that, just a second ago, Dobby had disappeared from in front of Draco and Hermione. Maybe he had sensed the ambiguous atmosphere between them and tactfully taken his leave.
In any case.
Only after Dobby left did Draco lower his gaze back to Hermione in his arms...
“You want to start with someone you know?”
“Luna Lovegood? Or your good friend Ginny Weasley? Don’t tell me it’s that former Head Girl who’s still at Hogwarts.”
Hermione did not answer at once. She rolled her eyes at him in annoyance. “‘Start with’ sounds awful. It’s called inviting them. Inviting them!”
“The people you mentioned are all good choices. With their abilities, I’m sure they could help us a great deal.”
“That’s assuming they’re willing to join us. I don’t think you’ll be able to persuade them that easily. And leaving the others aside, your friend really hates me.”
“...That may not be true.” Hermione muttered it under her breath for some reason.
“Did you say something just now?”
“If you didn’t hear it, forget it!”
Draco looked baffled by Hermione’s sudden flare of temper.
He genuinely had no idea what he had said wrong.
But while Draco looked blankly confused, the one whose expression turned strange was actually Hermione in his arms.
A second later, he understood why...
Hermione pressed down on the hand that had been getting increasingly improper, then tilted her head up and shot Draco a coquettish glare. “As far as I’m concerned, our organization has a very promising future, as long as you remain our Boss.”
“Oh?”
“So as long as there are smart students in the other houses, and with the reputation you’ve built lately, I think the chances of persuading them to join us are actually pretty high.”
Hermione had been showing more and more signs of thinking with her heart, especially whenever it involved Draco. She always ended up mixing too many personal feelings into anything related to him. But in this matter, what she said was indeed true.
After all, Draco’s potential was obvious to anyone.
Seeing Hermione’s little face practically glowing, Draco, who occasionally had a mean streak, could not help undercutting her a little...
“Your trust makes me very happy, but you seem to have forgotten one thing.”
“What?”
“You seem to have forgotten that our fight with the Dark Lord still hasn’t been decided. Until the war is over, these people won’t place their bets so easily.”
“........”
“More importantly, compared to me, Dumbledore is still their first choice, not the arrogant Malfoy family in their eyes. Isn’t that right?”
As he spoke, Draco reached out, pinched Hermione’s small pointed chin, and lifted it.
When Draco turned serious, he was devastatingly attractive.
Especially those aggressive gray eyes, and the warmth of his breath that seemed almost capable of setting her on fire. Hermione’s head was spinning by now.
The moment made Hermione think of a certain familiar scene again.
Here we go again!?
Her reason was screaming at her to shove him away at once.
But for some reason, the instant she met those deep eyes, all the strength in her hands vanished, and the thought of resisting him disappeared with it.
What made Hermione even more furious was that she had actually closed her eyes in embarrassment, even putting on a posture of complete surrender…
Pale blond hair.
A handsome face and bright gray eyes.
Anyone could see that Draco had inherited all the best traits of the Malfoy family.
Especially that elegance that only a great family could cultivate, combined with Draco’s own mature bearing. It made him the most dazzling person wherever he went.
Looks, temperament, background, strength.
Draco’s existence was almost like that of a protagonist chosen by fate.
And with all of that on top of the already overwhelming affection she felt for him, Hermione having no power to resist when she was this close to Draco seemed almost inevitable...
Just as Hermione could not bring herself to push Draco away.
Draco also found it hard to ignore the Hermione in his arms, especially the soft feminine charm she was unintentionally giving off, which gradually made his breathing heavier.
In fact, the unfocused haze in Hermione’s eyes, along with her faint little pants and that heart-catching sway as she breathed...
Hermione was so adorable, and so tempting to bully, that Draco, who had originally only meant to tease her a little, was starting to lose control of his own heartbeat.
Come to think of it.
From the beginning, Draco had never intended to do anything improper to Hermione.
And yet the way things had developed, along with Hermione’s reaction, had both gone completely beyond his expectations.
Who could have guessed it would turn out like this...
“I mean... Hermione.”
“Mm?”
That soft, sweet little sound from her throat made Draco’s eyes redden slightly even though he had been trying to calm himself down.
Without any of the usual pride, with only softness and sweetness left, Hermione was someone no one could easily resist.
And while his heart stirred despite himself, Draco could not help grumbling inwardly.
Here we go again?
Lately, Draco had started to realize that he seemed less and less able to withstand this kind of temptation.
It had been the same last time.
Was it because he was already seventeen?
Just as he stared at those slightly trembling beautiful lashes and those faintly pursed lips, and was about to lose control and kiss her in the next second, a terrifying voice like a devil’s suddenly rang out beside them.
“Ah!”
“Hehehe... care to explain what exactly you two are doing right now?”
Draco: ......
Hermione: ......
The person bold enough to interrupt Draco and Hermione was definitely not Goyle and Crabbe, who were currently huddled in the corner of the room with their backs turned to Draco, not daring to look over at all.
It was Miss Parkinson, whose whole body seemed to be giving off a faint black aura.
As for that.
Draco and Hermione, who had just been completely wrapped up in their own world, had not noticed Pansy approaching at all.
And that also explained why someone had only stepped in to stop them now.
Because Pansy had not been here until just a moment ago...
...
Pansy’s sudden appearance.
Neither Draco nor Hermione was remotely prepared for it.
The moment they heard that light, airy voice full of resentment, both of them jumped, and at the same time felt that guilty unease of being caught in the act.
Draco, shameless as ever, managed to keep his... ahem, expression under control.
Hermione, on the other hand, nearly bit her tongue when Pansy appeared.
But very quickly, after that initial guilt passed, what filled Hermione instead was annoyance at being interrupted...
In fact, if this had been the old tsundere Hermione, the moment Pansy showed up, she would definitely have slapped away that large hand that had left her body weak, then shoved Draco away without a word.
Then, after putting some distance between them, she would have acted as if nothing had happened at all, as if that girl who had just looked so utterly at his mercy had nothing whatsoever to do with her...
That was what Pansy had assumed too.
But what happened next took everyone by surprise.
Now that Hermione had already “broken through” her own barrier, under Pansy’s gaze she did something utterly out of character. She wrapped her arms around Draco’s neck and flashed a huge, triumphant smile at the newly arrived Pansy.
It was a bright, dazzling smile.
Her eyes curved like little crescents when she smiled.
If not for the provocation in Hermione’s eyes, and the dark look on Pansy’s face, one might really have thought that smile was sincere, instead of a deliberate attempt to needle Miss Parkinson in front of her...
A slightly trembling body.
A face full of disbelief.
A chest rising and falling with anger.
Those three lines were enough to describe Pansy at that moment.
Seeing that Hermione not only had not let go, but had actually become even bolder, Pansy instantly bristled like a little animal whose tail had been stepped on...
Grabbing Hermione by the arm, Pansy ground out through clenched teeth, “Hey! Granger, get away from Draco right now!!”
“Get away? I still have things I need to discuss with Draco.”
“Do you take me for a three-year-old? Discussing things is one matter, but do you really need to stick your whole body to Draco while you do it?!?”
“Yes.”
“?????”
Pansy marched right up to Hermione with heavy steps, bickering with her while also trying to pry Hermione’s hands off Draco’s neck.
But the more agitated Pansy became, the more excessive Hermione’s smile and movements grew, as if she found the whole thing a wonderfully amusing game.
Caught between the two girls, Draco silently enjoyed the soft, fragrant closeness pressing in from both sides…
…
With the O.W.L. results out, it was now time for Draco and the others to finalize their class schedules for the coming year.
This year’s studies were different from before, when you could simply choose whichever classes you liked.
Starting from sixth year, if your grades did not reach a certain standard, you could not take the more advanced N.E.W.T. courses.
Take Neville Longbottom, for example. Because he had only received an “Acceptable” in Transfiguration, he would not be able to continue into Professor McGonagall’s advanced N.E.W.T. class.
Even though Neville Longbottom wanted to continue, Professor McGonagall still refused him.
That meant Neville Longbottom’s achievements in Transfiguration had reached their limit. Without the talent for it, he would only ever be able to conjure a few needles for the rest of his life.
That was exactly why O.W.L. grades mattered so much.
And it also showed just how remarkable Hermione was for earning nine Outstandings, and how much greater an advantage she held over everyone else...
Mm... at the very least, that meant she could choose nine advanced classes.
In any case.
After breakfast, Hermione caught up to Draco and waved a schedule packed full of classes at him. “You chose Defence Against the Dark Arts too, right?”
“Hmph!”
The one who answered for Draco was Pansy, who was staring at Hermione from beside him.
Apparently still angry, Pansy did not deny it, but she did pout at Hermione.
That guarded look in her eyes made it seem as if she suspected Hermione might pull something like yesterday again.
Little did she know that after Hermione returned to the Prefect dormitory that day, she had rolled around on her bed in embarrassment several times. Every time she closed her eyes, she would think of what Draco had done to her.
Her face had turned red.
Her thighs rubbed together restlessly.
Naturally, Hermione had lost sleep that night.
And if you looked closely now, you could still faintly make out the slight dark circles under her eyes...
Draco, who had no good way to comment on the quiet battle between the two girls, simply headed for the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.
And so the three of them, still relatively peaceful along the way, slowly arrived at the classroom on the fourth floor of Hogwarts.
The moment they stepped inside, it was immediately obvious that the classroom now bore Snape’s taste and style.
The curtains on both sides were drawn tightly shut, not a single ray of sunlight allowed through.
Only the dim candlelight barely maintained the room’s illumination.
Honestly, the dark atmosphere made it feel as if they had somehow wandered back into Snape’s old Potions classroom...
Even more in line with his nasty sense of humor, there were now murals on the walls that had not been there before. Every one of them depicted people in agony, savage wounds, and bizarrely twisted bodies.
As Draco and the others sat down, the young wizards from all four houses were all twisting around in their seats to stare at those gloomy, terrifying murals.
One thing worth noting was that Harry Potter, not far away, was the only one staring fixedly at Draco, who had just entered the room.
It was as if those murals were not nearly as interesting as Draco was…
…
In the eerie classroom, Pansy and Hermione, who had been glaring at each other, both unconsciously edged a little closer to Draco.
Only after feeling the sense of security Draco gave off did Hermione turn with curiosity to look at the strange murals on the wall...
She frowned in discomfort. “These paintings... aren’t they a little too realistic? It’s like...”
Before Hermione could finish, Pansy said the rest for her. “It’s like they really happened.”
Pain.
Bloodstains.
Screams.
Although the paintings had not been enchanted, the people in them still conveyed their pain and struggle to everyone present.
For young wizards who had never come into contact with darkness, that was very hard to take.
The more timid students had visibly gone pale after only a few glances.
And that eerie silence only started to ease when Snape appeared, his black robes swishing behind him.
Much as they hated to admit it.
Compared with facing those terrifying, sinister murals, these young wizards would much rather face Snape standing in front of them...
...
Although an entire holiday had passed, and Snape had finally gotten his wish to become the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, it still didn’t seem to change the man standing before them, Severus Snape, who radiated gloom from head to toe.
At the very least, there wasn’t the slightest hint of a smile on his face, as though becoming the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor had never been his long-cherished goal at all.
Or perhaps Snape simply had no desire to look at the foolish young wizards sitting below him...
Standing at the front of the classroom, Snape swept his pitch-black eyes across the upturned faces before him. Draco noticed that Snape’s gaze lingered on Harry Potter a little longer than it did on anyone else.
The moment Draco looked away, that cold, cutting voice rang out.
“I have not yet told you to take out your books.”
At those words, Hermione, who had already taken hers out, silently put it away again.
“Before that, I have something to say to you... and I expect your full attention.”
That last part had clearly been added only after Snape noticed Harry Potter looking somewhat distracted.
What made Snape’s expression darken, however, was that Harry Potter didn’t seem to realize it at all. He simply kept his head lowered, lost in his own thoughts.
Draco saw Snape frown once, then step down from the platform and begin stalking around the classroom. His gloomy voice made it clear exactly how bad his mood was.
“To date, this course has already had five professors.”
That sentence sounded like a declaration to everyone present that he, Snape, would absolutely not be the next one.
He was confident he would keep this position for a long time.
His calm tone made it sound as though he were merely stating a fact that was bound to come true.
And just as everyone began wondering where that confidence came from, Snape let out a cold laugh.
“Needless to say, all of those professors had their own teaching methods and areas of focus. Under such chaotic circumstances, I am surprised that so many of you still managed to scrape through your O.W.L.s in this subject.”
“......”
The young wizards stared at him in shock. It was the first time they had ever heard words that could be considered praise come out of the Black Bat’s mouth, instead of the sort of venom that made you want to cry.
Though, being Snape-style praise, it wasn’t exactly obvious.
Noticing the strange looks on their faces, Snape offered no explanation and instead moved on.
“Dark magic is varied, wide-ranging, ever-changing, and endless.”
“To fight it is like fighting a many-headed monster. Cut off one head, and the next moment another grows back at once, even fiercer and more cunning than the last.”
It was hard to imagine Snape saying so much in one go.
Compared with talking people into understanding or teaching them through words, this Black Bat much preferred using knowledge to toy with foolish students, trying to make them aware of the ignorance in their own heads through sheer sarcasm...
Once he saw that everyone’s attention had been drawn in, Snape gave his wand a sharp flourish.
“So what you are about to face is a kind of magic that is unpredictable and indestructible!!”
The young wizards below parted their lips slightly.
They didn’t know whether to agree or argue, because in Snape’s words they sensed something elusive, a powerful conviction that, at their current age, they simply could not grasp.
Snape believed in powerful dark magic.
And he loved these dangerous dark arts.
Draco, who understood that all too well, murmured under his breath, “Rather than treating dark magic as something dangerous, does our Professor Snape actually want us to face it and understand it?”
But...
Draco glanced around at the students from the other houses, especially toward the area where Harry Potter sat.
But, Professor, your dear Mr. Potter doesn’t seem to agree with that in the slightest...
...
If this had not been a N.E.W.T.s Advanced Class, and if these young wizards were not long past being hot-blooded first-years, then perhaps the air around them would not have remained so silent and still the moment Snape said those words.
Even Harry Potter merely fixed Snape with a deeply disapproving stare...
“Therefore, your methods of resisting dark magic.”
Snape raised his voice slightly.
“Must be as flexible, as changeable, and as inventive as the dark magic you are fighting. And those murals your ignorance-filled eyes are looking at...”
As he pointed toward the wall, Snape still found time to lace his lecture with a few barbs.
Walking along, he casually indicated several of the paintings.
“They vividly depict the condition of the victims, for example... the Cruciatus Curse!”
Following the line of his finger, they saw a witch screaming in agony.
The artistry was so accomplished that anyone who looked at her could almost hear her cries and feel the despair in them.
The next moment, Snape pointed at another mural.
“The Dementor’s Kiss, or an attack by an Inferius!”
Only after Snape’s explanation did everyone understand what kind of attacks were being shown in those paintings.
The murals gave a striking record of the effects of being hit by dark magic, and the scenes it created...
In contrast to the shock on the faces of the students around them, Pansy looked utterly bored, absently playing with Draco’s fingers.
One moment, her little hand was pressed against his palm.
The next, she was studying the lines on his hand and the length of his fingers.
The sweet, almost silly look on her face made it seem as though Draco’s hand were the most interesting toy in the world.
And Pansy, who kept letting out the occasional foolish little giggle, was undoubtedly one of the strangest people in the classroom.
Just last night, when she had parted from Draco, she had looked pitiful and wronged, like a little animal about to be abandoned by its master.
But now she was brimming with energy again, as though she had just replenished herself with some mysterious power from Draco...
Just as Pansy began taking an interest in Draco’s fingernails, his hoarse voice drifted into her ear.
“Don’t you think it’s strange?”
That rough voice made her heart suddenly beat faster, as if someone were brushing the tip of her heart with a feather. The odd sensation made her feel strangely unsettled.
Tightening her hand a little, Pansy tipped her head up. Her faintly pink eyes turned toward Draco’s profile.
“Strange?”
“These murals feel like they’re reminding everyone... what kind of methods the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters under him would use against you.”
“You mean...”
“No. Maybe I’m overthinking it. Besides, knowing a little more is never a bad thing.”
Draco’s gaze followed the black robes swaying behind Snape.
An Inferius...
...
Because this was an advanced class, there were only sixteen students in the room.
And whether by coincidence or not, exactly four students from each of the four houses had met Snape’s cutoff for the advanced class.
In any case, compared with their previous lessons, the number of students in this class had dropped sharply.
That change alone made it obvious that from sixth year onward, Hogwarts had begun moving toward a more elite form of education.
It also meant the professor could keep much better control over every student in the advanced class.
Even so, Snape, standing at the front of the room, didn’t seem to notice the little movements going on between Draco and Pansy below.
Of course, that was probably because most of Snape’s attention was focused on mocking Harry Potter.
It had to be said, Snape really was remarkably “persistent” when it came to Harry Potter...
...
The focus shifted to Draco.
More precisely, to Pansy.
After first fussing over the length of Draco’s fingers, Pansy suddenly began studying the silver patterns on his robe instead. The seriousness of her movements made it seem as though she were examining something incredibly important...
As her fingertips gently traced the fabric, as though she could sense the fierce power hidden beneath the robe, Pansy spoke softly.
“Draco, did you notice?”
“Hm?”
“Have you noticed the way Potter looks at you? It’s kind of hateful. He was always like that before, but lately it’s gotten even worse.”
As if she had sensed someone looking over, Pansy, who had still looked sweet and dreamy just a moment ago, instantly straightened up. The cool, aloof air on her face made it hard to connect her with the Pansy from just now.
But that was the Pansy Parkinson most people knew.
Not the little puppy who looked as though Draco had just slipped a collar around her neck...
But if you looked closely, you could still see the faint flush on Pansy’s cheeks and the uneasy way her body shifted.
Because resting on her soft thigh was a heat that felt capable of melting her, along with a strange sensation darting through her like an electric current.
It was Draco’s hand.
And it was the culprit behind the unusual look on Pansy’s face...
Under the table.
The feel of that expensive magic ice silk made Draco reluctant to let go. As his hand moved, he even had the illusion that his thoughts were becoming clearer.
Well... whether the magic ice silk on Pansy’s legs really had that kind of effect, no one knew, but doing something like this in class really was unlike Draco.
It had to be said, Draco had seemed as though some switch had been flipped lately. His behavior had grown noticeably bolder.
Especially now that, in the mind once filled with nothing but the pursuit of knowledge and thoughts of resisting the Dark Lord, there were also impulses born of pure instinct.
Just like what Draco was doing to Pansy right now.
Though to be fair, Pansy had been the one to provoke him first...
...
A body that shifted and yet stayed stiff.
Eyes full of anticipation, yet mixed with pleading.
Pansy couldn’t understand how such contradictory feelings could exist inside her at the same time.
And as time passed, the unfamiliar sensations rising from deep within her body slowly left her mind blank. The hand gripping Draco’s arm unconsciously tightened as well.
Just as Pansy was on the verge of letting a soft sound slip from her throat, Hermione, sitting beside them, finally sensed that something was off and looked over.
Naturally unwilling to let Hermione notice anything, Pansy hurriedly bit down and forced her expression back under control...
“W-What are you looking at?”
“You seem weird.”
“Ugh... you’re the weird one... ah!”
“Ah?”
When Hermione saw Pansy suddenly let out that soft cry and then drop forward onto the desk, a clear look of astonishment crossed her face.
What was this woman doing?
Of course, Hermione, unable to see Pansy’s expression clearly, had no idea what was actually happening.
And she would never have guessed that Draco would dare do something so improper right under Snape’s nose, something no one else could see.
But a girl’s intuition, along with that subtle little cry Pansy had just made, still made Hermione turn a suspicious glance toward Draco at once...
Meeting Hermione’s gaze, Draco, whose face showed no trace of guilt, reminded her, “Stop looking around. Don’t forget Snape would love nothing more than to strip Gryffindor of every last point.”
“.......”
Other than matters involving Draco, points were Hermione’s weak spot. So the moment she heard that, she immediately withdrew her gaze and put on the serious face of someone paying close attention in class.
What she didn’t know was that Snape had already noticed the commotion on Draco’s side.
The main reason he ignored it, however, still had to do with Harry Potter...
Just as Pansy had said earlier.
Harry Potter had seemed far more irritable than usual lately. Whether that was because his good friend Ron hadn’t shown up at school, no one knew.
At the front of the room.
“Pathetic, Potter. You can’t even manage a spell as simple as a Nonverbal Spell?”
“......”
“Come here. Let me show you.”
It turned out that while Hermione had been distracted, Harry Potter had already been called to the front by Snape.
And from the sound of it, Harry Potter was being picked on because of his performance with Nonverbal Spells.
Originally, everyone had assumed Harry Potter would endure Snape’s venom the same way he always did, and today’s lesson would end there.
At worst, Harry Potter might snap back a little, and then Gryffindor would lose points as usual.
But today, Harry Potter did the very thing every wizard wanted to do but didn’t dare...
In an instant, Snape suddenly pointed his wand at Harry Potter. Harry Potter reacted on instinct and completely forgot all about the Nonverbal Spell.
He raised his wand and shouted, “Expelliarmus!”
Harry Potter, who truly was skilled in this area, caught Snape completely off guard. Snape only had time to lift his wand in defense before the blow knocked him off balance and sent him crashing hard into the table beside him.
Bang!
A vase and books crashed to the floor.
Snape staggered there in disarray.
As that scene unfolded, the air turned heavy and still.
And sure enough, Snape’s face was twisted with fury.
“Do you remember that I told you we were practicing Nonverbal Spells, Potter?”
“I do.”
“Yes, sir.”
“There is no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.”
If what had just happened could still be called an accident, then Harry Potter’s deliberate provocation afterward truly shocked everyone.
The next second.
Draco clearly saw the look on Snape’s face, twisted, yet still restrained as he fought to keep from losing control.
It seemed that this time, Snape had really been enraged by Harry Potter...
...
Draco and the others’ first Defence Against the Dark Arts class of the year ended with Gryffindor losing twenty points and Harry Potter being assigned detention.
Even so, what had happened in class drew far less attention from the other students than anyone might have expected. In less than a day, no one was talking about it anymore.
Rather, the terrible relationship between Harry Potter and Snape had long since ceased to be news. There was nothing particularly surprising about it.
At most, people were only a little taken aback by Harry Potter’s nerve.
And with Draco having become the new idol of this year’s first-years, apart from those Gryffindors who already disliked Snape, hardly anyone cared about the incident at all.
What Draco and the others were more concerned about instead was Harry Potter’s strange behavior...
As they walked out of the classroom, Hermione brought up what she knew.
“Actually, at the start of term, Ginny already mentioned to me that Potter seemed a little off, and that it might have something to do with you.”
“Because of me?”
“Ginny didn’t say much in detail, but I’m guessing it has something to do with what The Daily Prophet has been reporting, right?”
Lately, The Daily Prophet had either been reporting disappearances in the wizarding world or singing the praises of the Ministry of Magic’s power.
And in its efforts to crack down on Dumbledore’s influence, the Ministry had made Harry Potter one of its main targets.
It seemed the Ministry had completely given up on the idea of trying to win Harry Potter over.
That was why Hermione had brought up The Daily Prophet...
But Draco didn’t seem to care much about any of it. At that moment, he appeared somewhat distracted.
To be precise, of the few of them there, Hermione was the only one acting remotely normal.
Ever since they had left the classroom, Pansy, walking on Draco’s other side, hadn’t said a single word. She had simply kept her head lowered, lost in her own thoughts the entire way.
If one looked closely, it was easy to see that Pansy’s steps were a little unsteady, and she seemed rather weak in the knees.
As for the reason...
That definitely had something to do with the magic ice silk on her legs having ended up in a bit of a mess...
...
Afternoon.
After lunch, it was time for Potions.
Following the familiar route down to Hogwarts’ underground classroom, they arrived at the room that had always belonged exclusively to Snape.
When Draco and the others reached the door, they saw that only around a dozen students had come for today’s advanced Potions class.
Compared with the other subjects, Potions clearly had a higher threshold, and its grade requirements were far stricter.
Perhaps it was just as Snape had said before...
There would be no foolish wand-waving here, so most people would never believe this was magic. Nor would they ever truly appreciate the wonder of a cauldron simmering gently over a low flame, white steam curling upward with waves of fragrance, or understand the mysterious magic of liquids slipping into human veins, the kind that could stir the heart and cloud the will.
To put it bluntly... Potions was not a subject fools and idiots could master.
In other words, every student who could appear here was a clear-headed and intelligent wizard...
Naturally, there was no sign of Goyle and Crabbe here, nor was Neville Longbottom anywhere to be seen.
Worth mentioning was that Pansy did not seem to be here either.
What surprised Draco, however, was seeing Harry Potter among the students. Draco had never noticed any particular talent in him when it came to this subject.
He could not help wondering whether Harry Potter had received some special treatment from someone...
In any case.
The moment Draco appeared, the other wizards, who had just been chatting and greeting one another, immediately quieted down. The looks they turned on him carried faint traces of awe and tension.
As expected of students chosen by Professor Horace.
Compared with other more impulsive students, the wizards here were far more cautious, and they understood how to treat someone stronger than themselves.
At the very least, they were not like Harry Potter, incapable of hiding their emotions at all...
Hermione was in a very good mood, probably because Pansy was not here.
Even Harry Potter’s unnerving stare from not far away seemed unable to put a damper on her cheerfulness.
Holding her books, Hermione sat down beside Draco with complete ease.
“Professor Horace. Do you know much about him?”
Since the professor had not arrived yet, Hermione wanted to get a little information from Draco first.
But when Draco felt the thigh pressed against his beneath the table, he could not help suspecting that Hermione was not truly interested in learning about Professor Horace at all, and had some other unspeakable purpose instead.
Glancing at Hermione’s slightly flushed face, Draco blinked lightly.
“You mean Slughorn? How should I put it... that man... you could say he’s a very pure Slytherin.”
“A pure Slytherin?”
“He doesn’t care about blood status, and he doesn’t care what kind of background you have. The only thing he cares about is how much value you, as a person, can offer him.”
Simply put, profit came first.
And in Horace’s eyes, outstanding talent was something very “valuable.”
In other words, every wizard who could appear here possessed a certain amount of value...
As he answered Hermione, Draco swept his gaze around the room.
Unlike before, the underground classroom was already filled with steam and rich, tempting scents, the sort of scents that would never appear in Snape’s Potions lessons.
In Draco’s memory, Potions class was supposed to smell unpleasant and feel gloomy.
But this enticing fragrance reminded him of Pansy’s favorite honey pie, and of the scent of sunlight warming his skin...
Wait.
“This feeling of contentment...?”
Draco narrowed his eyes and looked at Hermione beside him, only to see the girl pressing her lips together and smiling at him in a languid, lazy way.
That unusual reaction immediately made Draco understand what kind of potion was inside the golden cauldron in the center of the classroom, the one giving off that fragrant aroma.
Just then, the door to the underground classroom opened...
Before the man had even fully stepped inside, his round belly had already entered first, followed by the great mustache quivering above his mouth. The smiling look on his face made it seem as though he was genuinely eager to see his students.
“Very good, very good, very good. Everyone, please take out the tools and ingredients you’ll need. And don’t forget your Advanced Potion-Making.”
Professor Horace.
This old man with the bulging belly and walrus-like mustache was Draco and the others’ Potions professor for the year...
...
While all the young wizards below were following Professor Horace’s instructions and taking out their potion tools and copies of Advanced Potion-Making, Harry Potter, who had been sitting there with his head lowered in silence, suddenly raised his hand high.
There was no emotion on his face.
“I don’t have a book. I don’t have a scale. I don’t have anything... because I didn’t expect to be able to take your advanced class.”
In other words, Harry Potter’s Potions grade had not reached the required standard.
And since not a single student present was a fool, every one of them immediately caught the key point in Harry Potter’s words.
They understood the problem at once, and all around the room, hands paused in the middle of reaching for books.
No one had expected this.
And it also confirmed what Draco had suspected earlier. For Harry Potter to have made it into this year’s advanced Potions class, he must have gotten in through someone’s influence and received special treatment that belonged to him alone.
As for the reason?
That was not really important. At least, not to these professors.
The mere fact that he was the one who had defeated Voldemort was enough to explain Harry Potter’s special status.
Professor Horace did not seem to have any intention of explaining either.
“Ah, right, Minerva did mention this to me... Don’t worry, my boy, not in the slightest. You can use my supplies for today, and I believe there are still some old textbooks in this classroom that you can borrow...”
That gentle attitude and eager reassurance made it seem as though he was worried Harry Potter might quit his Potions class over this, completely ignoring Harry Potter’s silence.
And it was precisely because of the way Horace treated Harry Potter with such obvious warmth that the other students below began casting strange looks back and forth between the two of them.
Could it be that this new professor was especially easygoing?
While Professor Horace was rummaging around for the things needed for class, Hermione, who was one of the only two people there not concerned about whether Harry Potter would be allowed to stay, shot an embarrassed, annoyed glare at Draco beside her.
“I’m talking to you. Exactly where are you looking?!”
“Ahem...”
Draco gave a light cough and pulled back that heated gaze of his.
Perhaps because of the previous class, Draco kept unconsciously glancing at Hermione’s pale, straight... no, at her calves, exposed to the air because she was sitting down.
Although Pansy had excellent proportions, and the feel of her was so good that Draco found it hard to let go, if one had to say who truly possessed a pair of long, straight, perfect legs, then it had to be Hermione sitting beside him.
That was why Draco kept sneaking glances under the table, only just stopping short of actually reaching out to compare them in person.
Well... by the sound of it, Draco really was walking farther and farther down the path of becoming a scumbag...
Completely unaware of the inappropriate things running through Draco’s mind, Hermione spoke with a mix of pride and shyness.
“P-Pay attention.”
Though Draco could not tell whether Hermione was pleased or annoyed, he still withdrew his gaze and spent a single second reflecting inwardly.
What is wrong with me? Why have I been so fixated on that sort of thing lately?
After exactly one second of youthful distress, Draco remembered the topic they had been talking about earlier.
“Other than Potter, did your friend say anything else?”
“...You mean Ginny, right? Let me think... other than that, she mentioned that her brothers graduated early. It seems they want to open a joke shop.”
Hermione, who clearly could not understand the Weasley twins’ decision, shook her head as she spoke.
Perhaps in the eyes of the know-it-all, nothing mattered more than studying, and there was simply no need to graduate early.
And although that piece of information was interesting enough, it was not what Draco really wanted to know.
What he wanted to know was how Ron Weasley, whose temperament had changed so suddenly on the battlefield, was doing now.
Draco had a strong feeling that the truth of the matter could be found in Ron Weasley...
...
Do not be fooled by the old man on the platform, smiling so cheerfully and looking completely harmless.
In truth, he was not a wizard famous in the magical world for overwhelming strength.
But his eye for talent, together with the vast network formed by his students, gave him a certain status in the wizarding world.
If his actual strength had not fallen short, and if he were not so timid in the way he handled things, then perhaps the position of Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts would not have gone to Minerva McGonagall...
Even so, possessing such sharp judgment and the ability to teach outstanding students still did not mean Horace was a qualified and competent professor.
Because he never paid attention to mediocre students. He would not even spare the time to remember their names.
In a certain sense, any student remembered by him was almost guaranteed to have a good future ahead.
And this somewhat “practical” way of doing things... was Horace Slughorn.
You could say it was a different kind of teaching according to aptitude.
In fact, no one knew that the moment he received the student roster, Professor Horace, standing at the front, had already divided his students into several ranks.
In his eyes, the future Hermione Granger and the present Harry Potter were people worth taking seriously and drawing closer.
As for the rest of the students, they all fell into the next tier, the kind of investments that would not be a loss even if they failed, promising stocks worth keeping an eye on.
But Draco...
Draco was in a tier all his own.
“Draco Malfoy.”
Standing at the front, Horace immediately turned to look toward that pale blond figure from his memory, and in that instant, his eyes seemed to brighten.
In his entire teaching career, this was the second student who had truly amazed him.
No. He was even more outstanding than the last one.
Talent.
Background.
This was a genius wizard truly favored by Merlin.
At that thought, Horace felt a stir of excitement.
He wanted to bring Draco into their circle, just as he always did whenever he discovered an exceptional student.
But just as he was about to open his mouth and invite him, Horace suddenly thought of something and hesitated, closing his mouth again.
Because Draco’s excellence reminded him of his previous student.
And it was that student’s actions that had become the source of the regret and guilt that haunted him in his dreams, again and again.
That student had once been his favorite...
Tom Riddle.
In other words, the current Voldemort!!