After purchasing all the necessary school supplies, there were still a few days left before term began. Draco Malfoy's daily life remained largely unchanged. The only real difference was the addition of spell practice.
Crabbe and Goyle proved to be quite competent as human punching bags. In the past, when Draco had lacked a wand, he had been limited to theory. Occasionally, he would borrow one of the old wands stored at home for practice, but that was hardly a long-term solution. Now that he finally had his own wand, he could no longer resist the urge to test his magic.
And who better to practice on than his two loyal followers?
"I wonder if I can get Professor Snape's Advanced Potion-Making ahead of time," Draco murmured, glancing down at Crabbe and Goyle, who were sprawled on the floor, victims of a particularly effective Sleeping Curse. His excitement for that spell quickly faded, however, and his thoughts drifted toward more complex magic—spells like Sectumsempra or Levicorpus.
After all, Draco had already mastered nearly all of the standard spells a young wizard could learn. What remained were self-created spells, as well as the forbidden Unforgivable Curses—magic far beyond what he could legally use. For now, all he could do was polish what he already knew.
"I really can't wait to get to Hogwarts," he said softly, eyes gleaming.
Perhaps he wouldn't learn much new material in class, but Hogwarts wasn't just about lessons. The ancient castle held one of the greatest libraries in the wizarding world, and that was what truly drew him. Many things in the magical world could not simply be bought with money—rare ingredients, enchanted artifacts, and out-of-print spellbooks were beyond even the reach of the wealthy.
Wealth and influence had their limits. Without the right reputation and standing, even the richest wizard could find his power restricted. Lucius Malfoy understood this all too well. Since the fall of Voldemort, he had worked tirelessly to rebuild his name and connections among the upper echelons of wizarding society. His efforts had certainly paid off, but he still remained far behind Dumbledore—the most respected figure in the magical world. In the end, Lucius had always been a man forced to act from the shadows.
"Stop pretending. I know you're awake," Draco said suddenly.
The two boys groaned and sat up, looking miserable. No one enjoyed being hit with spells, even mild ones. Crabbe and Goyle might have been slow, but they weren't completely senseless.
"You can both go," Draco said unexpectedly, lowering his wand.
"Go home, pack up, and get ready. School starts in a few days. That's enough for today."
The two exchanged a glance, then hurried off as if they'd been pardoned from a life sentence. Crabbe was in such a rush that he nearly tripped over his own feet.
"Am I really that frightening?" Draco muttered, amused.
Perhaps he was, at least in their eyes. At first, their loyalty had likely come from their fathers' relationship with Lucius, but over the years, Draco's natural confidence and talent had earned their genuine obedience. They might have been foolish, but even fools understood the instinct to follow strength.
If Draco had demanded they continue, they would have—resentfully, perhaps, but without resistance.
"The challenge is too low," Draco sighed. "Real combat doesn't offer such convenient targets."
Wizard duels were unpredictable and fast-paced; there was only so much he could gain from using his friends as dummies. Skill and experience were two very different things.
A low hoot sounded behind him.
"Coo, coo."
Turning around, Draco saw the family's eagle owl—a magnificent creature, the largest and most regal of its kind in Europe. With wide, powerful wings and striking orange-yellow eyes, it perfectly suited the Malfoy family's sense of nobility.
"Let's see what you've brought me."
The owl dropped a rolled magazine into Draco's hands. He unrolled it and smiled. "The Quibbler, huh?"
Despite its reputation for absurdity, Draco found The Quibbler's articles oddly entertaining—so long as one didn't take them too seriously. Reading it had become one of his few forms of leisure. After all, in a world where Muggle technology was largely banned, there were no televisions, phones, or computers to pass the time. Even when such inventions eventually appeared, they were swiftly restricted by the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.
After finishing the latest issue, Draco yawned and stretched. A wave of sleepiness washed over him.
"Honey, come here quickly!" Narcissa's voice called from downstairs.
Draco set the magazine aside and headed out of his room.
"I think this is a little… much," he said, stopping in astonishment at the sight that greeted him in the living room.
Piled high before him was a literal mountain of luggage. Narcissa had clearly gone to great lengths in her preparations. Alongside the required books, robes, and supplies were countless other items.
"Mother, I don't think I need all of this," Draco said, opening one of the boxes. It was filled entirely with his favorite snacks.
"I just thought you might not like the food at school," Narcissa said gently.
"Mother, I'm sure I can survive Hogwarts cuisine," Draco replied, trying to hide his exasperation. "As the heir of the Malfoy family, I can overcome such hardships."
He couldn't bear to sound ungrateful, though. Narcissa's fussing came from love, and Draco knew better than to reject that too sharply.
"Well, if you insist," Narcissa said, her tone dropping slightly.
Draco quickly added, "Perhaps the owl could send me a few things now and then. Just to make sure I don't go hungry."
"I knew you wouldn't waste your mother's efforts," Narcissa said, her mood instantly brightening. She stepped forward and kissed him lightly on the forehead.
Draco sighed inwardly. "Such doting… but doting is better than neglect."
"By the way," Narcissa began casually, "why hasn't that little girlfriend of yours been by lately?"
Draco froze. "Uh… I think—"
"You didn't bully her again, did you?" Narcissa asked sharply.
Before he could answer, she continued, "You know, when your father was courting me, he was—" And with that, she launched into a long, nostalgic story about Lucius's supposed romantic gestures from years past.
Draco tried his best to keep a straight face. It was difficult to imagine his father—cold, composed, and calculating—as a lovestruck youth performing romantic stunts. The image simply didn't fit.
"Ahem," Draco interrupted politely when she paused for breath. "Mother, I think it's not just me who needs to prepare for school."
"Oh, that's right," Narcissa said with a smile. "You're the same age. You'll probably end up in the same house, won't you?"
"I think so," Draco replied.
"I'm sure of it," Narcissa said confidently. "Aside from the Weasleys, there aren't many pure-blood families that would choose any other house." She laughed softly, clearly amused by her own remark.
"Oh, look at the time!" she exclaimed suddenly, glancing at the clock. "It's quite late, dear. You should go rest. We can finish packing tomorrow."
"Alright, Mother," Draco said with a small nod.
As he turned to leave the room, he cast one last look at the pile of luggage, unable to suppress a wry smile.
Life as a Malfoy, he thought, was never dull.