The news that the Malfoy couple would be attending the Quidditch match at Hogwarts spread like wildfire, quickly passing through Draco's mouth and across the entire school.
Lucius Malfoy, a pure-blood wizard known for his wealth and influence, spared no expense in equipping every member of the Slytherin team with the latest Nimbus 2001 broomsticks.
Such luxurious gear allowed Slytherin to dominate this year's House Cup.
The Slytherin players, high-spirited and confident, vowed to beat the Gryffindor team soundly in the match, determined to prove to Mr. Malfoy, their generous sponsor, that his investment was worth every Galleon.
However, this news was nothing short of disastrous for the other House teams.
Especially Gryffindor. They mocked Draco, saying the only reason he became Slytherin's Seeker was because he had a rich father, and that his actual skill was laughable.
Unlike Harry, who had earned his position as Gryffindor's Seeker in his first year through raw talent and merit.
Draco was furious at their taunts, his face pale with a flush of rage.
He swore he would prove himself in front of his parents and silence those who mocked him.
Besides, he felt he had one advantage over Harry—his parents would be there in person to watch his match, while Harry, the orphan, had no such support.
And Harry?
What could an orphan like Harry possibly compare? He was probably curled up in bed crying.
Harry truly was upset—especially on the day of the match, when the Malfoy couple arrived at Hogwarts.
Draco was embraced lovingly by his mother, and that warm image pierced Harry's heart.
Harry admitted it—he was jealous. He desperately wished his parents could watch his matches too, that he could receive a warm hug like that.
Hermione, quick to notice Harry's downcast mood, gently patted him on the shoulder and encouraged him, "Beat him on the pitch, Harry. Make him lose face in front of his parents."
Her words were like a warm current that rekindled Harry's fighting spirit.
Before the match, Dumbledore invited Lucius for a talk.
Naturally, Lucius refused—he was here to watch his son's match, how could he leave now?
But Dumbledore leaned in and whispered in his ear: "The diary."
Then he turned and walked away. Lucius trembled as though struck by lightning.
"What's wrong, dear?" Narcissa asked, her beautiful face full of concern.
"Dumbledore needs to speak with me about something," Lucius replied, trying to keep his voice calm. But the slight tremble in his lips gave away his unease.
"Why now, of all times?" Narcissa frowned.
Lucius forced a light tone. "Who knows what that crazy old man is thinking."
He managed a weak smile.
Narcissa felt something was off, but trusted her husband. "Be quick."
"Of course. I wouldn't want to miss Draco's performance."
He had no choice but to follow Dumbledore away, leaving a worried Narcissa behind.
The two walked in silence, a tense atmosphere hanging in the air.
In the Headmaster's office, Lucius was surprised to find Professor Wes Elwin already present.
A sense of dread rose in his chest. Pretending not to recognize Wes, he asked, "Dumbledore, and this is?"
"Mr. Malfoy, you have quite the forgetful memory. We met at Flourish and Blotts," Wes said plainly, pointing to a diary on the table. "I found this diary at the bookstore. It looked like it might be yours. But I didn't have your contact information, so I asked the Headmaster to get in touch."
Lucius first gave the diary a quick glance, then quickly averted his gaze and said nervously, "I think you've got the wrong person. A shabby little diary like that couldn't possibly be mine."
"Looks like I was mistaken."
Wes extended his index finger toward the diary. At once, it burst into flames.
Scarlet fire blazed upward in an instant.
Silent spellcasting—combined with wandless magic!
Lucius was stunned by Wes's magical prowess. He had only seen such refined techniques from Dumbledore and Voldemort. Just who was this Professor Elwin?
Despite the storm churning in his heart, Lucius moved swiftly.
In a flash, he lunged forward to the desk, swatted the burning diary to the floor, and stomped out the flames in several frantic steps.
Only after confirming the diary was still intact did he exhale in relief.
"Why so nervous, Mr. Malfoy? It's just a diary. If it burns, it burns," Wes said lightly, his voice tinged with subtle mockery.
Lucius quickly changed his tune. "Ah, now that you mention it, I do recall losing a diary recently..."
The urgency in his eyes made it clear: he wanted to get out with the diary as soon as possible.
So long as there was no chaos at Hogwarts, recovering the diary might be enough to avoid punishment, he thought.
But Wes stepped in front of him.
"Professor Elwin?" Lucius said cautiously.
"Well, if this is your diary, Mr. Malfoy, then I'm afraid there's a problem."
Wes pointed his wand at him.
"What are you doing? I'm a school governor!" Lucius barked, but Wes caught the panic in his eyes.
"Seems like you know this diary isn't just some innocent object."
"I don't know what you're talking about. It's just a misplaced diary, that's all," Lucius said, forcing composure. But the tremor in his voice betrayed him.
"He didn't tell you, did he? That this is a Horcrux." Wes no longer beat around the bush.
"A Horcrux???" Lucius dropped the diary in shock.
Smack! The sound snapped him out of his stupor.
He bent to retrieve it—but Wes stepped on it.
"Mr. Malfoy, care to explain why your diary happens to be a Horcrux? Could it be that you've taken a life?"
Wes's words cut like blades.
Lucius recoiled as if burned. He was speechless.
"Mr. Malfoy, kindly answer the question."
Wes loomed over him, his presence suffocating.
Lucius couldn't think of any excuse to placate him.
Wes picked up the diary. "So, Voldemort entrusted you with a Horcrux... but didn't tell you the truth. Seems he doesn't trust you."
Lucius wished he could silence Wes right then and there. His face went deathly pale.
"What do you think your master will do when he finds out you lost his Horcrux?" Wes pressed on.
Lucius nearly collapsed on the spot.
"Oh, wait—not lost. You saw the light and willingly handed it over to Headmaster Dumbledore," Wes said.
Dumbledore chimed in, "Indeed. Today, Mr. Malfoy brought the Horcrux to me personally and expressed deep remorse for his past actions."
"No!" Lucius screamed in despair. "You can't do this!"
"Oh, we can. After all, the Horcrux is in our possession. Think Voldemort will believe you?" Wes's tone was sharp, every word a dagger.
Lucius sat there lifeless, like his soul had fled.
He knew all too well—once Voldemort heard of this, with his paranoid and volatile nature, Lucius's fate would be sealed in misery.