Chapter 100: The Youth's Suspicion and Suspicion + Extra 8: The Malfoys' Hobbies (Narcissa's Perspective)
The chance encounter with Hermione in the small town of Eze was just a breeze in Draco's long summer life.
After that day, Draco quickly reunited with his parents and returned to Malfoy Manor; Hermione continued her trip around France with her parents.
But this breeze inadvertently created ripples in his heart and a faint sense of melancholy.
In mid-August, Draco Malfoy's teenage melancholy was compounded by several new issues.
He was reading a book called "Encounter with the Faceless Monster" on a bench in the atrium when June landed in front of him in a very impressive manner.
He looked through the letter he had just delivered with an expressionless face, and even forgot to give the hard-working messenger a little owl treat. Joan cried out in dissatisfaction with him and flew away over the rose hedge.
The letters read:
"Draco,
Black House looks brand new. I don't know what happened, but Kreacher seems to have changed his soul and has kept Black House looking pristine. I suspect it's something to do with the incident in the headmaster's office.
Anyway, Sirius said I was fat, which made perfect sense, because Kreacher's French onion soup and steak and kidney pie are so good, you absolutely have to try them next time you're here...
Sirius always seemed so busy he didn't even have time to go to the Quidditch World Cup. It was ridiculous! Still, on my birthday, he took me to visit number 4, Privet Drive, saying he wanted to thank them for raising me. You should have seen Uncle Vernon's face; I'd bet my Firebolt he was terrified by Sirius...
Something... My scar hurt recently. The last time it hurt was in first year, when I met Quirrell in the Forbidden Forest... Ron wanted to ask his father what was going on, but I stopped him - I didn't want to make it public. On the other hand, Hermione was a bit surprised when she found out... Don't you think this is a sign of something?
P.S. Are you going to the Quidditch World Cup? Ron has invited Hermione and me to the Burrow; his dad got some of the best tickets.
Harry
"Draco,
Excuse me, Draco, I'm already at the Burrow, and so is Harry. Have you heard about his scar? I've been looking up Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions to try to figure it out, but I've come up empty-handed. It's not just any scar, is it?
I think he should write to Professor Dumbledore.
Mom and Dad had already left for Africa. They'd caught the wildebeest migration season and planned to stay a few days longer (what a shame! I'd really liked to see it!). Fortunately, the Weasleys were very welcoming and were happy to let me stay until school started. Here, I discovered the perks of a wizarding home: you could practice magic freely and preview spells for next term—something you'd never imagine in a Muggle family.
'Do whatever spells you want, just don't let Mrs. Weasley find out,' the Weasley twins told me. They were a real pair of clowns, playing a trick on Ron or Ginny at least three times a day, and occasionally on Harry, but never on me—which was a real relief.
Yes, thank you! That book you recommended, "A Review of Magical Education in Europe," answered my question—it turns out Hogwarts isn't the only magic school. Those European magic schools look quite interesting, too. I'm curious about where they were located. Also, I found something very interesting in that book I bought over the summer. However, I don't think I can explain it clearly in a letter, so I'll tell you when we meet!
Hermione
A humble house?
Is it really that interesting? Is it as interesting as Malfoy Manor?
He had introduced so many things to her in vain! Draco thought bitterly.
No matter what he thought, Draco knew that Hermione's choice was to go to the game through the Weasley family's connections.
Draco knew very well how Lucius and Narcissa viewed Muggle-born girls. If he asked Hermione to come now, given his father Lucius's personality, he would probably immediately find a way to curse her or something.
If Hermione wants to become a guest of honor at Malfoy Manor, there is probably still a long way to go.
However, deep down in his heart, he couldn't help but feel unhappy.
This emotion troubled him.
Since his rebirth, Draco has unknowingly entered his fourth year.
As time goes by, his mentality is more and more easily influenced by the present moment, and he forgets his actual inner age more and more frequently.
The three years he had spent at Hogwarts were taking a profound toll on him.
Sometimes, Draco would feel that he had nothing to do with the messes of his past life. He was just like any other fourteen-year-old boy, worrying about schoolwork, making a few friends, and caring about the girl he liked...
But every time he woke up from the nightmare of his past life in the middle of the night, he would remember those suffocating memories again.
These memories were too heavy and overbearing, always fighting with him in the present, making him breathless.
To him, the shadow of the Dark Lord was like the sword of Damocles in Muggle mythology, which would fall from his head and pierce him if he was not careful.
He must be very vigilant and work very hard. He has to race against time, against fate, and even more so, against the Dark Lord.
This is a very terrifying experience, because you have to fight against an unprecedented evil spirit, who seems to have three heads and six arms and can never be completely eliminated. If you neglect him even a little, you will step into an abyss of no return. But if you don't fight hard, what awaits you is to be slaughtered and eaten alive by a group of jackals.
There are so many things he needs to be vigilant about!
The whereabouts of the Dark Lord's black gem ring were still unknown; Quirrell, who had escaped at the end of last semester, and the Dark Lord's soul attached to the back of his head, although very weak, would one day rise again - not to mention that they were currently wandering around and their whereabouts were still unknown.
Who knows if the Dark Lord will make a comeback one day?
At the beginning of his rebirth, Draco didn't think too deeply.
He just wanted to hinder and hinder the resurrection of the Dark Lord.
But as things developed to this day, he gradually realized one thing: this alone is not enough.
The Dark Lord's methods were far more complex, cunning, and inhumane than he had imagined.
At first, he simply thought that as long as he captured Quirrell and handed him over to Dumbledore, and figured out the matter of the diadem, everything would be fine. But then, the diary appeared, and then the golden cup and the locket appeared one after another. They were all Horcruxes, and they were all evidence of the Dark Lord's evil. In addition, the Death Eaters in the dark never stopped supporting the Dark Lord, and Peter Pettigrew and the manipulators behind him made him wary...
He reiterated to his own wandering heart:
You have to use all your strength to fight against the Dark Lord!
Nip in the bud any signs of his resurrection!
Only in this way can he protect the Malfoy family and protect her.
He sighed, put the letter in his pocket, and left the courtyard filled with the scent of roses. He walked through the garden gate, walked down the jet-black stairs to his potion-making room, and continued his little research with an uneasy mind.
He was trying to recreate a potion to cure dragon pox. He remembered someone had made an improved version of the potion, and because of his grandfather's story, he was very interested in it and had studied the improved potion manual.
In his previous life, his grandfather, Abraxas, had died of dragon pox—before Draco's sixth year began. Now, that time was drawing closer, and he had to do something, to try and see if he could save his grandfather's life.
But this memory is a bit old after all. There are several recipes that he is not sure about the dosage and he is still trying.
That is, a young master from a wealthy family like Draco who is not afraid of squandering money can do this - add different doses of the same material to a whole row of crucibles, observe the subtle differences, and find the one with the most similar color change.
And so on, the cycle repeats.
He wouldn't give up until the potion turned the right color.
Unfortunately, he was completely out of shape today.
Today was another fruitless day. Not a single potion in a crucible had changed color to match the instructions in the manual I remembered.
He walked menacingly from the worktop to the armchair by the fireplace, turned around, leaned against the back of the armchair, and said to the air with a stern face, "Dobby, clean them up."
"Yes, little master!" Dobby squeaked, appearing almost instantly. He was dressed in a green suit with large red roses patterned all over it, like a moving, cheap rose garden.
Dobby seemed a little absent-minded today, and did not express his feelings excitedly with Draco or share his life with him as usual.
It quietly packed up the crucible, the only sounds in the room being the moving potions and utensils. Suddenly, the elf let out a scream, its fingers burned by a crucible that had not yet completely cooled.
Draco finally came to his senses - he was still thinking about the letters. He waved his wand and a glass of water with ice cubes appeared in front of the poor elf: "Dobby, put your hand in."
The elf put his unfortunate finger into the ice water and then breathed a sigh of relief.
"What's wrong with you today?" Draco finally noticed Dobby's abnormality. "It's rare to see you so clumsy."
"Dobby... Dobby..." The elf glanced at him secretly, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.
Draco said impatiently, "I command you to tell me everything."
"Dobby went on vacation a few days ago, and Dobby wanted to go see his friend... Winky. She is the Crouch family's elf, and she has always been very friendly to Dobby. Winky's family has only one master who needs service, and that is Mr. Barty Crouch. He went to work at the Ministry of Magic. Yes, Dobby saw him leave in person, and thought he would go find Winky after he left. But Dobby heard Winky talking to someone outside the window that day, and called him 'little master'. Dobby went in to see, and there was no one there, only Winky." Dobby told the whole story about this troubling situation like a bamboo tube pouring beans.
"Barty Crouch? The Director of the Department of International Magical Exchange and Cooperation?" Draco asked.
"Yes!" Dobby said anxiously, "Dobby asked Winky! But Winky insisted that Dobby had misheard. She said nothing and hurriedly kicked Dobby out! Dobby... Dobby was very worried about her!"
Draco looked at Dobby's anxious expression, a thoughtful look in his eyes.
Barty Crouch.
He was a man in his fifties, with a straight back, stiff movements, short black hair, and a toothbrush mustache. His entire appearance seemed like a mold made with a ruler, without a soul.
Draco knew him, of course. Lucius often spoke of him with disdain at the dinner table, calling him "pretentious," and it was clear that he was not the kind of person who could be bought with money.
"He's in charge of organizing the Quidditch World Cup together with Ludo Bagman, that stupid old fogey. He caused a lot of trouble for the Malfoy family back then." Lucius said unhappily at the dinner table that night.
Draco could roughly guess what kind of trap this was—Barty Crouch had been Minister for Magical Enforcement, advocating for tough measures against the Death Eaters when Voldemort led them, and he had shown no mercy to the Death Eaters during the subsequent liquidation. The Malfoys had arranged for many people to escape punishment, so they certainly knew who would be the toughest nut to crack.
Narcissa pursed her lips in disgust, a glint of gloating in her eyes. "His son isn't exactly stuffy, is he?"
"Yes, an outstanding graduate of Hogwarts back then, with 12 OWLs... a clever, brave, and loyal servant..." Lucius said, a hissing sound between his teeth. "He was really generous with his praise for young Barty. When I think of Barty Crouch's dumbfounded look in court, I feel relieved..."
Draco glanced up at his father quickly. Narcissa noticed her son's action and frowned, as if she had just realized that this was not a topic that should be discussed in front of a child.
"In short, Lucius, you can't make everyone like you." Narcissa quickly cut off the topic. She said arrogantly, "He's just a small fry, he can't control us. The title of Director of the Department of International Magical Exchange and Cooperation is just impressive. In fact, his future career has come to an end. Maintaining a good relationship with Cornelius Fudge is much more important than caring about him..."
"Of course!" Lucius said to his wife with a gleam of pride in his grey eyes. "Fudge was very helpful - he got me tickets for the Quidditch final in the top box."
Draco silently sipped his bouillabaisse as he listened to his parents continue their favorite dinner table activity—assessing the Ministry members and identifying those who would be of benefit to them.
He remembered that after the Triwizard Tournament, a grand event that would take place after the start of the school year, Barty Crouch's bones would be found buried in the Forbidden Forest. Draco vaguely remembered that the school had not announced the cause of his death, and the Ministry of Magic's explanation was very vague.
At that time, almost all the wizards focused on the bad news of the "return of the Dark Lord" brought by Harry, rather than the mysterious death of the Director of the Department of International Magical Exchange and Cooperation, a stern, serious and unpopular person.
Draco once thought the same.
Now it seems that Crouch's death may have something to do with this secret of his family?
The invisible man... Draco suddenly remembered the snowballs Harry threw at him while wearing the Invisibility Cloak in Hogsmeade last year.
Maybe someone was wearing an invisibility cloak. Maybe there really was another person in that house, not just Dobby's imagination or hallucination.
But why did Winky call him "little master"? Was he referring to Crouch's son, or something else?
Didn't his son die in Azkaban a long time ago? Could it be that Crouch has an illegitimate child?
Also, how did Crouch die in the Forbidden Forest in his previous life?
Did he have any mortal enemies at Hogwarts?
The sorrow had not yet been sorted out, and doubts were gradually rising. They shrouded the young man's heart and would not dissipate for a long time.
Extra 8: Malfoy's Hobbies (from Narcissa's perspective)
It was a sunny summer morning. Narcissa, dressed in a white lace walking dress, walked leisurely out from the lush manor woods.
Unlike the noble, indifferent and pale appearance she appears to the outside world, her face glows a healthy pink after her morning walk.
Any of Narcissa's personal house-elfs would tell you that if Narcissa didn't wear red lipstick and makeup, she looked quite approachable. Not like the aloof and noble mistress of the Malfoy family, but more like a bunch of delicate and gentle daffodils blooming by the pond in Malfoy Manor.
This description was not meant to be malicious. In fact, in private, Narcissa's attitude towards her personal house-elves could be described as kind, which made her much more likable than Lucius, the master.
But as the mistress of the Malfoy family, she is in charge of so many people inside and outside - house-elves, Muggle managers, Muggle tenants responsible for taking care of the estate and fields, etc. Her delicate style like dodder often makes the people working under her become arrogant and disobedient.
It will be difficult to convince others if you don't show some charisma.
After enjoying a leisurely morning walk, on the way back to the mansion, Narcissa passed by the greenhouse on the side of the garden and decided to go and see what her husband was busy with.
Lucius was directing the house-elves to work on his own daffodil. He had already attempted the Animagus transformation three times, but always failed due to one problem or another.
Once for swallowing a mandrake leaf; once for an overcast day under a full moon; and once for collecting dew—which had to be collected after seven full days without sunlight or human contact—which was no easy task.
"Cissy, you're here," Lucius turned around and looked at his wife. A smile finally appeared on his face, which had been stern all morning. "You're beautiful even without makeup."
Narcissa was in a good mood. Lucius's sharp tongue was merciless to outsiders, but fortunately, he always knew how to use words to please his wife.
She walked lightly to her husband's side and watched with him for a while the house-elves busying in and out, as well as the row of weeping angels being carried into the dark room.
"I have to say, Cissy, this is a very clever idea. I hadn't thought of it before." Lucius praised her. "I should have asked you earlier."
Narcissa smiled guiltily. She had only learned about this method after writing to Sirius Black.
To her surprise, Sirius actually told her the trick honestly, instead of the arrogant and unruly ridicule he used to give her - this rude attitude was especially common when she was a girl - mocking her for being a beautiful, vain, narcissistic, and brainless vase of the Black family.
"You're a clueless, useless womanizer from the Black family! You're far inferior to your sister Andromeda!" he always said. "Please be more careful! If you're not careful, you'll end up on the same level as your crazy older sister."
Who would appreciate such an evaluation? Therefore, Narcissa never had a good impression of Sirius. It seemed that Azkaban had made him grow up a lot.
(Sirius: No, I haven't made much progress in my character. I just felt guilty about having screwed you over—and your son is furious with me for it.)
She watched for a while, sincerely wishing Lucius's Animagus transformation to be successful as soon as possible, and then walked to the dungeon door of the mansion to see what was going on.
Her son had recently developed a new hobby - learning some kind of fighting technique from Muggles. According to her, this strange thing called Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu was not as convenient as a wand, and she didn't even understand where Xiaolong's strange idea came from.
"Mom, if I'm disarmed, or if I'm facing a species that's not afraid of magic, I have to be able to protect myself." Her son smiled gently. "No one can guarantee that they will always be invincible."
What kind of bizarre logic is this?
However, not long after, she and Lucius heard something from the school directors: the third-year Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Remus Lupin, might be a werewolf!
Moreover, his son seemed to have encountered some danger, or at least had a narrow escape from it. Otherwise, why would he appear in the school hospital with the wounded Harry Potter on a full-moon night?
"No, I was just passing by and lent a hand. I was not hurt." Xiaolong always said firmly.
However, this decisive attitude was not very convincing, and she felt that her son was being vague. His unusual interest in fighting skills made Narcissa feel that he had indeed encountered danger and was actively considering possible solutions.
"Okay. Tell me which teacher you want to teach you." Narcissa finally gave in to her son.
Although it was a bit embarrassing to learn Muggle things, since her son wanted to learn, she didn't bother to care as long as other pure-blood families didn't know.
Now, she peered into the dungeon to see what was happening. The cold, eerie dungeon had been completely renovated, its newly connected Muggle lights illuminating the place brilliantly. A custom-made dark green fighting mat, hers for the sparring, covered the floor, and some of the walls, too, giving the dungeon the appearance of a Muggle fighting arena.
If Arthur Weasley were to come and inspect again, he probably wouldn't be suspicious or judgmental, Narcissa thought with satisfaction.
At that moment, the Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu teacher named Gracie was saying to his son, "We emphasize ground attacks, using the principle of leverage, using small forces to defeat large ones. We're like snakes, once we get involved, we can't escape. The techniques are extremely complex. In actual combat, without rules, the opponent is very likely to fall to the ground. Once they fall, we have the upper hand..."
Her little dragon, wearing a white jujitsu uniform, stood tall in front of the jujitsu teacher and seemed to be listening with great interest; Narcissa listened for a while and felt bored.
What could be more useful than a magic wand? If you can't win, just run away, why bother with a head-on fight? She curled her lips and returned to her newly opened perfumery room, focusing on her special little hobby.
The perfume factory that Lucius bought for her has to be put to good use, right?
The art of perfume making is quite fascinating, Narcissa thought.
By combining the scents of rose and cedar, adding some vanilla root and musk, it is possible to create a beautiful atmosphere that blends empty mountain cedars, roses under the forest, and misty morning frost.
She thought of her fourteen-year-old son.
Next school year, Hogwarts requires formal wear, perhaps for a ball.
How can I live without perfume?
"Little Dragon, come here, tell me, what scent of perfume do you want?" Narcissa couldn't wait to ask him when Draco finished his training sweating profusely and came to greet his mother.
"Do you have... watermelon flavor?" Draco hesitated for a long time before finally asking hesitantly. Hermione seemed to like that flavor. At least she wouldn't be disgusted by it.
"Watermelon?" Narcissa laughed. "Dear Draco, I must say your taste is a little unorthodox. Although it tastes good, no girl would be attracted to a boy who smells of fruit! It's... too childish."
"Really?" Draco frowned.
Narcissa looked at her son's rare silly expression and couldn't help laughing. "Since you've entered adolescence, I recommend a cedar-scented cologne. Girls will definitely like it."
Draco casually took the towel on his shoulder to wipe the sweat off his face, and with his other hand he took the bottle of perfume half-doubtfully.
Does this... really work?