Chapter 26: Visitors to the Malfoy House
On a hot afternoon in late July, Mrs. Zabini and her son visited Wiltshire.
In the dreamy atmosphere of smoke, they passed through an exquisite Bamberg wrought iron gate and saw the two magnificent fountains that were rumored to be symmetrically distributed on the left and right.
"I've long heard of Narcissa's meticulously designed gardens. Seeing them today, they are truly extraordinary," Madam Zabini said warmly to Draco, who was greeting them at the door. "Is that a white peacock strolling over the hedge?"
"Indeed, ma'am," Draco said to her politely, "we keep a few... purely for ornamental purposes."
"What kind of flowers are planted here? This blend of flowers smells quite pleasant." Mrs. Zabini asked with interest, twitching her nose.
"Mainly roses, wild roses, and bluebells, with some common summer flowers," Draco said, turning his head slightly and raising his chin at Blaise, who was standing behind Madam Zabini. Blaise gave him a lazy grin.
"Mother, if you keep reading, you won't be able to attend Mrs. Malfoy's tea party on time." Blaise narrowed his narrow brown eyes and said to the beautiful black-haired witch who was looking around in an impatient manner, "It's almost time."
"Oh!" Mrs. Zabini exclaimed, smiling at the platinum-haired boy who was waiting patiently for her. "Sorry, dear, please lead me there."
"That's all right. My mother would be delighted to know you've been enjoying the gardens she designed." Draco led Madam Zabini along the neatly manicured garden path towards the mansion. "The tea party will be held in the living room on the second floor. You can see the entire garden from the windows and balcony there."
Mrs. Zabini smiled, pleased with Draco's politeness and respectful attitude. "In that case, let's get going."
Although the lady appeared approachable, Draco did not dare to take lightly this witch who was well-known in the wizarding world for the "increasing number of her husbands dying mysteriously."
He smiled at her politely, glanced at her inconspicuously, and found that she was still as young and beautiful as in her previous life.
Time seemed to have no taint on Mrs. Zabini. It left no trace of its passage on her face; she looked like a sister a few years older than Blaise.
In the pure-blood wizarding community, Madam Zabini's name is well-known to everyone.
Different from Narcissa's outward appearance of nobility, elegance, aloofness and dignity, this lady's outward personality tends to be lively and extroverted, and she is used to covering up her inner indifference with an enthusiastic attitude.
When people look at her charming brown eyes with slightly upturned corners and have a pleasant conversation with her, it is often difficult for them to believe that the deaths of her six husbands had anything to do with her. They may even sympathize with her unfortunate experience from the bottom of their hearts, thinking that she is an innocent beauty who is cheerful and sincere but has a miserable life.
Gossip and extraordinary beauty often make people overlook the hidden edge of Mrs. Zabini, Draco thought.
Based on his understanding of her previous life, most of her slightly exaggerated exclamations of admiration and the innocent look she gave when she looked around were just pretenses.
In fact, this lady is very good at networking and integrating resources, and is a very influential figure in the business world of the wizarding world.
By utilizing the wealth she inherited from her six deceased husbands' families and combining it with her slick tactics, the Zabini family has been rapidly rising in recent years as one of the new pure-blood wizard families in the wizarding world, and is living a much better life than some of the pure-blood wizard families from the Sacred Twenty-Eight Clans.
Thinking of this, Draco became even more polite, gently answering all of Madam Zabini's wild questions, knowing in his heart that these were all tests of him.
By now, Madam Zabini had already entered the Malfoy residence. The house-elf at the door bowed to them and opened the door for them.
As they walked through the grand, lofty foyer, the lady looked up and said, "Oh, I love this crystal chandelier. It's Baroque, isn't it?"
"Yes," Draco said. "Purchased in France."
Madam Zabini agreed, her critical eyes sliding over the intricately carved marble fireplace, the gilded mirrors everywhere, and the precious carpets covering the entire mansion. She couldn't help but look at the antique furniture accumulated from various eras. In her heart, she had to admit that the Malfoy family was indeed rich in heritage and considerable in strength.
After all, they were one of the ancient Twenty-Eight Sacred Clans, a renowned and wealthy family in the wizarding world, having accumulated wealth and resources over centuries. Their wealth was simply beyond the reach of a few generations of wizards. Half envious and half dissatisfied, Mrs. Zabini sneered, but a fighting spirit stirred within her.
So what if they are "new rich"? They are not bad either.
Even if she was a "new rich," hadn't she been invited by the "old-timers" to enter the gate of this ancient mansion? She raised her head proudly again, and walked into the reception room with a smug smile.
"Narcissa, this place is so magnificent and gorgeous! And the garden outside, I'm almost overwhelmed by it!" Madam Zabini said affectionately to Narcissa who came over, as if this was not the first time she had received an invitation to Narcissa's afternoon tea party, but that she was Narcissa's old friend for many years.
Now she took Narcissa's arm and said cheerfully, "Who would be happy to go out if they had a manor like this? They would definitely spend their days at home..."
"Pleasure," Narcissa said, glancing at her son with a hint of surprise, and seeing a subtle "yes, she treats me the same way" expression on his face.
Several ladies sitting in the reception room with cold and arrogant attitudes also showed the same surprised expressions as Narcissa, as if they did not expect someone to behave so abruptly.
Narcissa had no acquaintance with Madam Zabini. It was only because her son became friends with Blaise Zabini that she decided to invite the "notorious" but wealthy Madam Zabini to her house for a gathering.
It wasn't that she suddenly changed her ways and wanted to develop some kind of "lady-like friendship" with Madam Zabini. In Narcissa's view, this kind of relationship could truly be considered a "deception of human nature."
In her opinion, the friendships between the best ladies in the wizarding world often started with pleasant conversations and ended with poison, blades and curses. The reasons were nothing more than the same few things - men, money and jealousy.
But at least, parents of fellow Slytherin students can occasionally sit down and have a cup of tea, discuss their sons' educational issues, and share information with each other, which is also beneficial.
However, Narcissa had never expected "arm in arm", an intimate gesture that should only be allowed after knowing each other for many years.
"Is this Blaise?" She gave a fake smile, suppressing her inner dissatisfaction. She didn't break free from the arm of the "familiar" Madam Zabini. Instead, she cast her gaze on the dark-skinned, high-cheeked boy next to Draco and verbally praised him, "What a handsome man."
Blaise bowed slightly to Narcissa as a greeting.
"Draco is the most impressive! He's so well-mannered at such a young age. He's a patient, handsome young gentleman..." Madam Zabini winked at Draco and smiled innocently at Narcissa. "He must have put a lot of effort into educating you, right?"
"You're very kind." Narcissa's mood softened slightly—no mother would be unhappy to have her child praised—and she took Madam Zabini's arm and led them to the sofa, saying, "Draco, why don't you take Blaise around the house? To the library, the potion-making room, or the Quidditch pitch? If you're hungry, have the house-elves bring you some tea."
Draco nodded to his mother, bowed to the ladies in the drawing room, and withdrew with Blaise.
"I never thought you'd be this way in your own home, so cautious and restrained, so impeccable." Blaise followed him across the corridor and asked casually, "Aren't you tired of being so reserved and thoughtful all the time?"
"It's okay," Draco said. "You'll get used to it."
"I don't understand you," Blaise shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, take me around, then. I've heard from many people that your private library has a rich collection."
"As you wish." Draco said lightly, walking in front of him and leading the way.
Blaise Zabini.
He was one of the few boys of his Slytherin age who could communicate with Draco on an equal footing, apart from his childhood friend Theodore Nott.
However, in their previous life, they became friends too late - it was not until the fifth grade that they occasionally spoke to each other, and after that, something like "friendship" slowly developed.
In this life, Draco had made friends with him early on.
Why not? During the two years when his family fell on hard times, Blaise Zabini, who always boasted of his "noble status," continued to hang around him, making annoying and sarcastic remarks to him, but he never avoided him.
"So what if your father is in Azkaban?" In his memory, Blaise's face showed a hint of self-mockery as he said to the dejected boy, "My father is still dead! People always say my mother killed him for his inheritance! Look at me, am I not still alive and well, holding my head high?"
"This is different..." Draco said weakly, covering his face.
"It's different! I don't even know whether my mother loved my father or not! But what about you? Even when your father was in prison, your mother still persevered and waited, running around for him. Everyone knows your mother's deep affection for your father! Don't say you never cared, you never noticed it!" Brace said angrily.
At that moment, his arrogant eyes finally showed some other emotions, and he glared at Draco, "Draco Malfoy, you pathetic and spoiled little master! I have always looked down on you! Because you always don't know how to appreciate what you have! Open your eyes and look at the reality. Even if you fall to the bottom, you are much happier than most people! At least your father is not dead! At least -"
"At least—" Blaise twisted his usually indifferent face, took a breath, and said angrily, unable to bear it any longer, "At least they love each other, and it's not just a calculation of interests!"
These words made Draco in his previous life stop crying and stare at him blankly.
Blaise Zabini, a proud, conceited, and often self-centered Slytherin friend, uses harsh, sharp, and self-deprecating words to try to save the weak and dying heart of Draco Malfoy, whom he despises.
Pulling his mind from that memory, Draco smiled at his Slytherin friend. He glanced at the house-elf waiting at the library door, and it immediately understood and opened the door - the two boys, with equally proud expressions, swaggered into the sea of books.
"Charms, Potions, Herbs, Animals, History of Magic, Ancient Languages, Astronomy and Divination, Alchemy..." Draco led him around the library, introducing it in a drawn-out tone. "Ah, there are also some books on the Dark Arts, some obscure and niche magical texts, and some ancient books in the corner."
Blaise followed closely behind, wandering through the 360-degree, all-encompassing, exquisite wood-grained bookshelves and the occasional mahogany carved desk. Although he tried to maintain a casual demeanor, he couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the antique, truly extraordinary magical tomes.
"Merlin's Shroud! Now I understand what Pansy said." After a pause, Blaise said, "She said that all the bookworms in the British wizarding world would be willing to come here to see it. They would be immersed in it and unable to extricate themselves..."
"Look at what you're saying, as if our library is an insect trap." Draco raised the corner of his mouth, with a bit of complacency, and said calmly, "Sit down and try my mother's new sofa."
So the two boys sat on the leather sofa in the middle of the library, drank the Earl Grey tea brought by the elves, and ate a few freshly baked Welsh cakes with care.
Blaise lazily leaned against the back of the sofa, looking up at the intricately patterned Renaissance-style ceiling for a moment, then turned to ask him, "You've been spending your summer vacation here? I guess you've already finished your homework."
"Yeah. Those assignments weren't too hard, were they?" Draco said, and Blaise gave him a haughty grin of approval.
Draco had already finished something as simple as summer homework.
His attention was elsewhere entirely—he was searching for additional ways to counter the Horcruxes.
Besides the Sword of Gryffindor, Fiendfyre, and the fangs of the Basilisk, is there nothing else that can destroy a Horcrux? Ideally, something so destructive that it cannot be repaired by magic, or something with a powerful curse?
However, he searched through books such as "Selected Eighteenth-Century Spells", "Curses and Counter-Curses", "A Guide to Medieval Witchcraft", and "Forgotten Ancient Magic and Spells", but found nothing.
It can't be said that he gained nothing, after all, he learned some useful evil spells. Although he didn't have any use for them in this area, it could still satisfy his thirst for knowledge and curiosity.
"Is this the room your mother remodeled for you?" Blaise asked, examining the large central processing table with interest. Crucibles of all sizes—brass, pewter, gold, silver, and black—were placed in one corner.
"Right," Draco said. "She's exaggerating a bit, isn't she?"
At this moment, he was showing Blaise around the potion-making room in a corner of the basement of Malfoy Manor.
"Not just a little, but very much." Blaise twitched his face and carefully examined the walls of the room.
On the walls on both sides of the room, various rare and hard-to-find potion ingredients are neatly placed on marble shelves, preserved in different ways - soaked, dried, kept at room temperature, low temperature, etc.
He turned around and looked at the bookshelves on the wall where they came in. There were many books on potions stacked there, and judging by the titles, they were even more ancient, difficult, and incomprehensible than those in the library upstairs.
"I guess our dean would be very happy if he visited here?" Brace whistled with a teasing tone.
"Maybe." Draco's fingers slid lightly across the row of potion books, and he couldn't help but think of the scene when Professor Snape came to visit his home a few days ago.
At that time, Professor Snape accidentally discovered a long-lost banned book among this row of bookshelves. His usually cold and gloomy face revealed an expression of joy that was difficult to conceal.
"What is this?" Brace walked over to the processing table and asked, looking at a crucible where something was boiling.
"Some private research." Draco said casually, blocking his hand that was trying to open the lid. "Not worth mentioning."
Brace raised an eyebrow, withdrew his hand, and didn't ask any more questions. He walked a few steps forward, finally reaching the most eye-catching wall. He seemed mesmerized by the strange and bizarre bottles there—transparent test tubes of various sizes and hundreds of dazzling crystal bottles, empty or full. Each of them reflected an ever-changing aura under the flickering candlelight.
Better keep him away from the cauldron - no, away from the Potions room, Draco thought.
Blaise Zabini wasn't the type of visitor to obediently follow his host's instructions. He seemed intently examining the crystal bottles, but perhaps he was actually trying to figure out how to sneak a peek at the potion in the cauldron.
"Would you like to go check out the pitch behind the manor?" Draco asked with a rare hint of enthusiasm. "Would you like to play some Quidditch?"
"Lead the way!" Speaking of Quidditch, the allure of potions and cauldrons immediately faded. Even a self-proclaimed proud boy like Blaise couldn't help but tinge with excitement. "Do you have any extra broomsticks at home?"
"There are several, take your pick." Draco calmly made way and followed Blaise out, closing the door of the potion-making room with the black runic symbols painted on it tightly.
"That's when I realized you weren't just some academic nerd, but a genuine 12-year-old boy." Blaise yelled into the air, throwing a Quaffle at Draco.
The latter made no reply, but caught it nimbly, and at a rapid gallop, flung the Quaffle into the hoop.
"Not bad!" Blaise exclaimed. "You've been practicing this at home, haven't you?"
"You're not bad either." Draco flew to the other side of the hoop, caught the Quaffle, and threw it back at Blaise.
Draco certainly practiced a lot. At this time in his previous life, he'd spent nearly every day on his broomstick, practicing with all his might, hoping to join the Slytherin house team as a Seeker, his single-minded goal being to defeat Harry Potter.
In this life, he would still fly on the newly opened Quidditch pitch behind his house every morning, but after all, he could not be as enthusiastic as in his previous life.
It's not that he didn't want to gallop and fly freely on the court seven days a week, but because he had some urgent small tasks to complete to resist the Dark Lord: the investigation of Horcruxes and the study of the Elder Wand; in addition, the Chamber of Secrets of the Slytherin Heir was a mystery that he couldn't leave alone.
He was past the age of self-will, and he had to remind himself that those "little tasks" were far more important than his beloved Quidditch.
That evening, after seeing off the Zabini family and Narcissa's other visitors in the hallway, Draco said good night to his mother and returned to the potion-making room in the basement.
He glanced at the crucible with a hint of steam peeking out from the lid and secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Since the holidays, he occasionally used the potion books at home as reference and tried to replicate some advanced potions; at this time, the notes that Professor Snape gave him as a Christmas gift came in handy.
He always benefits a lot from the potion master's improved ideas and techniques in the process of brewing certain potion formulas.
To be honest, this notebook is much more useful than the Hogwarts textbook - the bulky "Magical Potions and Medicinal Drinks".
However, what is brewed in this crucible at this moment is not the long-lost holy potion, nor is it related to the improved potion formula provided by Professor Snape.
The potion he brewed was much simpler than those mentioned in those obscure potion books - of course, in Hogwarts, even an ordinary seventh-year student would admit that this potion was an extremely difficult Potions class assignment.
He was trying to brew a mandrake resurrection potion.
The Malfoys had recently acquired a batch of mature mandrakes from southern Europe and sold them to Slug & Giggs's pharmacy in Diagon Alley. Narcissa had mentioned this at the dinner table, specifically wanting to keep a batch for her son, who was obsessed with potion-making, to practice with.
"Cissy, at his age, he doesn't need complex potion ingredients like mandrake. You're only in second grade, how much advanced potion-making knowledge can you possibly learn?" Lucius earnestly advised his headstrong wife, slowly examining Draco. "How much have you learned? Have you learned how to make a swelling potion?"
Draco nodded obediently in front of him.
"Even if he can't use it, my son should have what others have." She said to Lucius proudly, "Remember, let them pick out the best ones and take them home."
"Okay, okay, Cissy, just spoil him..." Lucius said helplessly, glaring at his son fiercely.
Draco's face was expressionless, but he was actually very happy. A mother's pampering, if used in the right place, could be very useful.
For example, this time, he saved himself the trouble. He had originally wanted to get some mandrake, but was worried about how to start the conversation.
Mandrake is an essential ingredient in most antidotes. It can be used to create a powerful restorative potion, which can be used to restore a deformed or enchanted person to their original state, thus being able to cure someone petrified by a basilisk.
Draco prepared some resurrection potion in case of emergency.
He couldn't forget that in his second year, Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets was about to be opened and something terrible was about to happen. Although he, as a pure-blood wizard, was not in any danger, some Muggle-born students were always caught in the trap, such as that worrying little girl, Hermione Granger.
She had some conscience and wrote him a letter and gave him a birthday present before he left school - a broom kit. Draco's birthday was June 5th, which happened to coincide with the Hogwarts exam season.
If he hadn't received Hermione's gift, he would have almost forgotten about his birthday.
What was there to remember? He didn't know if he was celebrating his second physical 12th birthday or his emotional 18th.
However, it always feels good to be remembered by others, especially her.
She actually remembered his birthday, which was very different from her in her previous life.
Out of the consideration of reciprocity, he had to take special care of this know-it-all lady who cared about him.
No other meaning. Just in case.
He simply didn't appreciate the sight of Hermione Granger reduced to stone. He also didn't think those spirited eyes would look any better if they were transformed into some emotionless substance like stone.
At this moment, Draco rubbed his brow tiredly and put down the stirring stick.
His progress was not very smooth, because he found that certain slight differences, such as one gram more or less of an ingredient, the size of mandrake, and slight fluctuations in the temperature, would have fatal and immeasurable effects on the final result of the potion.
People always say that this resurrection potion is hard to swallow, and there's a reason for that.
It requires extremely precise and strict ratios, not even a little more or less will do.
Come again.
You can't give up like this.
He could no longer bear the lifeless look of those vivid eyes.
Not even for a moment.
The platinum-haired boy gritted his teeth, waved his wand, replaced it with another clean crucible, and continued to torture the dwindling pile of mandrakes.