The rest of the summer term was spent in bright sunshine.
"Want to play chess, Blaise?" Pansy said with ill intent on the grass by the Black Lake. "I want to hear someone call me 'sister'."
"I shall never play chess with you again, Pansy Parkinson, you cunning little viper." Blaise put down his book, adopting a smug expression. "Unless my hair catches fire, you are the last drop of water in the Black Lake."
"Oh, really?" Pansy said with a sour face, adopting an arrogant demeanour. "I do not want to play chess with you, Blaise Zabini! Unless I am starving and you are the last pickle on the Hogwarts table!"
Blaise glanced at her, then suddenly smiled knowingly, and gestured with his chin towards her, "How about we have a picnic together sometime?"
Pansy seemed offended, snorted, turned and walked away, her voice carrying a hint of amusement, "Dream on!"
Blaise followed her, his lazy voice carried on the wind: "Midnight snack?"
"Shut up!" Pansy walked even faster.
"Draco, do they not eat face-to-face together every day?" Crabbe asked in a low voice. "Are they arguing?"
"Of course not, they are just flirting," Draco said impatiently. "All right, go about your business and leave me alone."
Crabbe, looking dejected, exchanged a glance with Goyle and headed towards the castle.
After seeing the Slytherins off, Draco took a stroll around the Black Lake, enjoying this rare moment of leisure.
Hogwarts had returned to normal, and all the Petrified students had now been revived.
Draco noticed that Colin Creevey, that clueless chap, was again following Harry around with his ever-present camera, begging for a photo as Harry ran away with his head in his hands. "Just one, Harry, just one, and then give me an autograph, all right?"
One day, as he was passing through the corridor, he overheard Justin Finch-Fletchley stammering an apology to Harry—in a tone that sounded just like Professor Quirrell's from the previous year—"I should not have doubted you, Harry, I am so sorry."
As for Nearly Headless Nick, the resident ghost of Gryffindor, he would happily perform his near-headless experience at the Gryffindor table, filling the Great Hall with a joyful atmosphere each time.
Even Mr Filch seemed quite pleased. The Marauder's Map indicated that he no longer spotted him posing as a statue on the third-floor wall. He now preferred to stroll around the school with his Mrs Norris, unusually ignoring all the mischievous students.
Draco had not been looking at the Marauder's Map as often lately.
Since passing the Horcrux matter to Professor Dumbledore, he finally enjoyed the leisurely days that a second-year Hogwarts student should have, and obtained high-quality sleep that was even more effective than Occlumency. Coupled with a reasonable diet and a lot of training with the Quidditch team, his usually pale complexion gradually showed a bit of rosiness, and he could be described as having rosy lips and white teeth.
Time flew, and Draco Malfoy had already completed his second year at Hogwarts. Time was the best healer. The gloomy memories seemed to be gradually fading, and bright sunlight was faintly peeking through the overcast sky.
As he strolled along the lake in the bright sunshine, breathing in the faint, sweet scent of roses, those dark memories seemed exceptionally distant.
He seemed to be just a boy about to turn thirteen, indulging in joy and sorrow, making close friends, and having a perfect life; the seven years he had experienced, the seven years in which he gradually lost his pride, dignity, and glory, seemed to be just a nightmare with details so precise they were almost mythical.
It was Draco's birthday. Students were soaring and flying across the Quidditch pitch, or chasing and playing on the grass by the Black Lake. Their luggage had already been packed by the house-elves, and in a few hours, they would board the Hogwarts Express and embark on their journey home.
All the students were happy, except perhaps Harry, who was the only one who was sullen.
"I hate holidays," he said to Draco, standing beneath the enormous oak tree, watching the giant squid that was barely visible in the ripples of the Black Lake.
Draco, hands in his pockets, was leaning against a thick, bushy oak tree, lost in thought. Hearing this, he said absentmindedly, "Your uncle's family is certainly not a pleasant one... I am curious how you, growing up in such a family, can remain unaffected by them and maintain such a healthy mindset."
"Maybe it is because they do not value him... Look at what they have done to their precious son Dudley," Harry grumbled.
Draco had been listening to Harry complain about his cousin Dudley for an hour.
In fact, the more he listened, the more subtly guilty he felt—the way Harry's aunt and uncle doted on Dudley was strikingly similar to how Lucius and Narcissa loved him.
In his past life, Draco was oblivious to these kinds of things. Now, thinking about it, perhaps children who were spoiled did indeed have minor flaws such as selfishness, lack of empathy, and inability to express their inner feelings appropriately.
Education had a particularly devastating impact on a child's development. It was not that Draco would complain about them—they had given him the best they could. The parents were indeed very indulgent, but no one was perfect; how could you expect new parents to be perfect in every way?
For Harry, this doting on his own child and the harsh treatment he received created a stark contrast. Draco put himself in Harry's shoes and thought that if he were Harry, he probably would not have been able to stand these Muggles and would have blown their house to the sky.
"Where is your godfather? Has he not contacted you?" Draco glanced at Ron, George, and Fred playing around by the Black Lake, then looked back at Hermione sitting alone in the shade of a tree not far away, diligently flipping through An Introduction to Ancient Runes as a "part-time activity." He wisely chose to change his approach to solve the problem at hand.
"Oh, he has been writing to me several times. The other day, he even—" Harry hesitated, "He invited me to spend the summer at the Black house, and I do not know if I should say yes."
"Why not?" Draco raised his eyebrows.
"I have never met him… I do not know what kind of person he is. I do not know if he will like me…" A look of worry appeared on Harry's face.
"I do not think he can be more annoying than your aunt and uncle, right? He is your godfather, practically a father to you, and your parents' best friend. How could he not like you?" Draco said dismissively.
Harry is worrying unnecessarily.
In his past life, Harry had a deep affection for his godfather, Sirius Black. When Sirius died, Harry was visibly devastated. This suggested that their relationship was very close at that time.
"I know all that you are saying, I am just a little—" Harry hesitated.
"—You feel apprehensive as you get closer to home, right? That is normal, because you care and have expectations, so you are afraid the outcome will not be what you hoped for." Draco understood perfectly.
Harry smiled sheepishly and nodded.
"Do not worry. You are too close to the situation to see things clearly. Actually, I should call Sirius Black 'uncle,' though I would not. The Weasleys and Blacks are related in many ways—in fact, almost all pure-blood wizarding families are related in some way. If you feel uncomfortable staying at the Black ancestral house, you can ask Ron to come visit you, or you can ask me." Draco's tone was relaxed.
"Thank you, Draco." Harry looked much better. He suddenly remembered something and took a small gift box from his robe pocket. "Happy birthday! Hermione told me it is your birthday today."
Draco raised an eyebrow, accepted the gift, and thanked him.
"Can I open it?" he asked Harry, shaking the little box and listening to the sounds inside.
"Of course," Harry said happily. He was somewhat looking forward to the reaction after he opened it.
Draco quickly opened the small box—inside was a miniature Golden Snitch. The pale gold creature, smaller than the usual Snitch, flew out merrily and circled Draco, seemingly tireless. Harry said sheepishly, "I thought, since you are a Seeker too, you would like something like this."
"That is a cool gift." Draco smiled faintly.
The boys' friendship was simple: a shared hobby or a common object of interest, and they became like-minded friends.
He had not expected to receive a gift from Harry. He had approached Harry with impure motives, but now it seemed he had gained a pure and genuine friendship.
With the diary and the Horcrux destroyed, the Dark Lord's soul was sealed inside Quirrell's body. Dumbledore took over the subsequent tasks, and Draco's manipulation of Harry had faded into the past.
Putting aside the arrogant title of "Saviour of the World," Harry was a kind and optimistic child, though he was somewhat foolish, as he should emphasise.
Harry was beaming. He smiled at Draco, then walked briskly to the Black Lake and joined the group of boys who were studying the giant squid.
Draco smiled and carefully wrapped the special gift again, placing it in his robe pocket without counting how many gifts he had received that day.
In fact, he had a hard time counting them. This morning, as soon as he got up, he was startled by the mountain of chocolates and boxes of various sweets piled up in front of his bed.
Since he captured Peter Pettigrew and earned the Order of Merlin, Second Class for it, the Slytherins, who admired strength, had gained more respect for Draco. At the time, the Slytherins were troubled by rumours and considered suspects in opening the Chamber of Secrets, and Draco had cleared their names in time, giving them a much-needed boost.
As a result, students from other Houses also had a much better impression of him.
This indirectly led to a surprising consequence: he passively got to know some students from other Houses—who seemed completely unconcerned about his aloof attitude and would occasionally greet him warmly in the corridors as if they were close old friends.
As a result, the number of birthday gifts he received skyrocketed to a new level.
Most people gave sweets and chocolate as birthday gifts, which had always been hard currency for expressing friendship amongst Hogwarts students.