novelraw Chapter 10: The Staircase, the Forbidden Corridor, and Halloween
Chapter 10: The Staircase, the Forbidden Corridor, and Halloween
Chapter Ten: The Staircase, the Forbidden Corridor, and Halloween
There were as many as one hundred forty-two staircases at Hogwarts.
Draco, who had lived here for seven years, knew them like the back of his hand: some were wide and grand; some were narrow, small, and rickety; some would mischievously move around every Friday, suddenly leading to different places and causing trouble for the students; some would have a step suddenly disappear halfway up, and you had to jump over it if you didn't want to get stuck.
However, for those dizzy and disoriented first-years, these stairs were more tricky than interesting.
Remembering their locations and characteristics wasn't easy; after all, everything seemed to be constantly moving.
Hermione Granger clearly hadn't figured out all the tricks yet.
One Friday night, after the library closed, she was exhausted by the weight of the thick book she was carrying. As she walked up a flight of stairs, her foot sank into a vanishing step simply because she wasn't paying attention.
"This is really bad luck," Hermione frowned.
She wanted to climb out on her own, but that was difficult—she needed someone to help her.
However, she wasn't sure if anyone would pass by.
This staircase was a shortcut she'd recently discovered, hidden behind a door. The sliding panels and hanging tapestries made it exceptionally secluded, and few people used it. It was very quiet—which was why she liked this route, but now it had become a drawback.
Moreover, at this point, most students had already returned to their common rooms, which greatly reduced the chances of her being seen.
"Is anyone there? Please help me, all right?" She tentatively called out a few times up and down the stairs, hoping to get lucky, but there was only silence on both sides.
She couldn't help but notice the wall beside the stairs. Dim candlelight flickered on the stone, adding to the eerie atmosphere.
Hermione's heart pounded. She raised her voice and tried calling out several more times, but all she received were small, hollow echoes from the surrounding walls.
She struggled on the stairs, utterly disappointed, dejectedly flipping through Hogwarts: A History in her hands, trying to find some solution that could help her get off the stairs on her own.
However, the book seemed to assume that everyone could make friends at Hogwarts, and at least no one would lack a friendly hand to pull them up the vanishing steps.
"The all-powerful Hogwarts: A History!" Hermione thought dejectedly. "It couldn't come up with any solutions for her."
After being stuck for about half an hour, she finally heard footsteps—someone seemed to be coming downstairs.
That was the sound of leather shoes hitting the steps, unhurried and leisurely.
At that moment, the sound was like music to Hermione's ears.
This might be one of her few chances to be rescued tonight! Who knew when the next person would come along?
"Hello, can you help me—" She looked up eagerly, but her words stopped abruptly when she saw who it was.
It was Draco.
Oh, Merlin, this was so embarrassing.
She'd been cold and indifferent to him during the day, ignoring his friendly greetings. Little did she expect that Merlin's retribution would come so quickly, not even lasting a night!
This Slytherin boy would surely take this opportunity to humiliate her!
Hermione quickly lowered her head and continued flipping through the book, determined to pretend she hadn't seen Draco.
If she was stuck, so be it. Even if she was stuck all night, she was too ashamed to ask him for help...
Draco had already seen her. He'd just been given the cold shoulder by the Grey Lady and was walking downstairs in low spirits when he unexpectedly ran into Miss Know-It-All, who was stuck in the middle of the stairs.
You little fool!
Typical Hermione Granger-esque recklessness... getting stuck on the steps or something... Draco's lips twitched.
Look at her! Gone was her arrogant demeanor from the daytime. Instead, she was like a cat that had accidentally stepped on a Sticking Charm, holding the book up to her face, looking guilty and ashamed.
His mood immediately improved. He calmly walked to her side, stopped, and tilted his head to look at her. "Need any help?"
"No," she said curtly, her eyes on the pages.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, a slight smile playing on his lips.
"Reading." She waved the thick book in her hand.
"Does reading while stuck on a step make your mind particularly sharp?" He raised an eyebrow.
"It's none of your business," she said firmly, her face flushed.
Her guilty look was rather... cute.
"I can help, if you ask," Draco said good-naturedly, a hint of amusement in his voice that he himself didn't realize.
"I don't accept help from people who don't follow the rules." Hermione didn't look him in the eye, but she could hear the laughter in his voice.
He was definitely laughing at her, she thought angrily.
"Oh, still worrying about that? Nobody's even noticed. You need to be flexible." He spoke casually, as if he didn't care about it at all.
"I have nothing to say to you." She held her head high with false dignity.
Suddenly, the trick staircase began to shake.
It moved swiftly, seemingly bored with the conversation between the two people on its back. In an instant, it mischievously shook them, making them stagger.
No one could remain "dignified" on such stairs; "disheveled" would be a more fitting description.
Hermione's book fell and tumbled down the steps.
However, this wasn't the worst of it.
Worst of all, she fell onto the boy due to the sudden movement of the stairs. She hadn't intended to pay him any attention, but he actually caught her shoulder with lightning speed to prevent her from getting hurt—that was just too much!
Would she have to thank him tonight, feeling ashamed? Hermione wondered, clutching his robes as the terrifying stairs spun around her.
The staircase, which had been spinning with great enthusiasm for a while, finally came to a lazy stop. Once everything returned to calm, the places on either side were no longer the original destinations.
They both caught their breath, exchanged a glance, and then, in a flash of understanding, exclaimed in unison, "Friday!"
On Fridays, some staircases moved erratically, attempting to lead to different places and causing trouble for the students...
This unspoken understanding made Hermione feel less awkward and instead brought a knowing smile to her face. Draco seemed to think the same way, as a fleeting smile also appeared on his.
"Let me help you." He looked around at the direction the stairs led, his smile fading as he frowned. "These stairs aren't safe."
This staircase seemed to lead to the fourth-floor forbidden corridor... if he remembered correctly... this wasn't a peaceful place.
"Yes. Thank you," Hermione said, a slight blush creeping onto her face. "If it's not too much trouble."
"No trouble at all," Draco said curtly. He tilted his head, examining Hermione's feet sinking deep into the step, and casually suggested, "I think you should put your hands on my neck and hold me as tightly as possible..."
Hermione, somewhat bewildered, did as he instructed. She wrapped her arms around his neck, rested her head on his shoulder, and then he pulled her into a full embrace, freeing her from the treacherous step.
Draco placed her safely on a normal step, a smug glint in his eyes as he looked her over. "Much better? Still have nothing to say to me?"
His smug look made Hermione feel somewhat indignant.
She was about to retort when a cat's meow from below the stairs interrupted her thoughts. Then came Mr. Filch's excited voice. "I heard someone talking! Someone's definitely trying to cause trouble on the fourth floor! I'm catching those students red-handed today—no amount of talking will work! I'll try those chains in my office!"
"We have to leave. This staircase leads to the corridor in the forbidden area on the fourth floor." Draco's expression changed. "If Filch catches us, it'll be hard to explain..."
"But my book..." Hermione stammered.
"It fell on the second floor. We'll get it later." He grabbed Hermione's sleeve and ran upstairs.
"But it's the fourth floor! We should go down..." she tried to remind him.
"Go down to the third floor and run into Filch? You're so naive! He's just looking for a few students to make an example of!" Draco rolled his eyes and continued pulling her upstairs.
"But we have nowhere to hide if we go up there..." Before she could react, he inexplicably pulled her to the right-hand corridor on the fourth floor, where it was pitch black and especially terrifying.
At the end of the corridor was a door—the very door to the forbidden area.
"We can't go in! There's..." Hermione gasped for breath, paused, and then said incoherently, "Professor Dumbledore said so."
There was a three-headed dog inside! She'd already seen it by chance before.
But she wasn't sure whether to tell Draco. If she did, wouldn't it be blatantly admitting that she'd broken the school rules? Hermione was incredibly conflicted.
"I know!" he said impatiently, continuing to pull her toward the door.
To Hermione's surprise, he didn't lead her to open the door but instead pulled her behind a statue not far from it.
By this time, Filch's complaints and threats were getting closer and closer, and she could even see flashes of light at the top of the stairs.
"Are you sure this will work?" she whispered, hiding behind the statue, trembling slightly. "He'll see us."
"No, he won't," Draco said calmly. He then pulled a shimmering silver cloak from his pocket, shook it out, and draped it over both of them.
Hermione reached out and found that her hand had disappeared under the cloak.
"This is—" she exclaimed, her mouth falling open in surprise.
"Invisibility Cloak. Space is limited, come closer to me. Quick, don't give yourself away," he whispered to her.
Hermione was stunned by the magical cloak. She'd never seen such a wondrous magical item before.
Besides, Mr. Filch always looked terrifying. She didn't want to be caught by him, have points deducted, or be treated to chains or something.
In her panic, embarrassment gave way to urgency. As he'd requested, she nestled almost entirely in his arms, carefully moving her feet into the cloak's cover.
"Will this work?" she asked anxiously.
"Don't make a sound," he whispered in her ear.
Hermione dared not move or make a sound, because Filch was getting closer and closer, and his cat seemed to be sniffing around in front of the statue where they were hiding.
What exactly was that cat sniffing?
Hermione involuntarily twitched her nose and caught a pleasant, refreshing scent, seemingly emanating from the neck of the boy named Draco.
She turned her head slightly to look at him.
The boy was staring intently at the cat, and at Filch. Filch was standing beside them, his face stretched out, his eyes almost level with theirs.
She was somewhat uncomfortable with Filch's furious, pale eyes and distorted face, and fearfully clung to Draco's collar. He, however, remained remarkably composed, his expression unchanged, one hand clenched into a fist and gently resting on her back, the other gripping his wand tightly.
Judging from his expression, it seemed as if he were about to cast some kind of Memory Charm to make the nasty caretaker forget everything if Filch found them, Hermione thought, barely daring to breathe.
Fortunately, Mr. Filch found nothing. He called out to the suspicious Mrs. Norris to go and investigate elsewhere.
"Can we—" Hermione asked impatiently, feeling her body stiffen from holding the position for too long.
"Wait a little longer," Draco said softly, pressing his fist against her back.
Filch's greatest skill was launching surprise attacks—he knew Filch's tactics all too well from his previous life.
Hermione sighed almost imperceptibly and wearily rested her head on his shoulder.
Being stuck on the steps for so long, running up and down the stairs at breakneck speed, and the tense atmosphere in the corridor—all these things combined had exhausted a twelve-year-old girl's energy.
In the silent darkness, she felt drowsy and tired. The boy's shoulder seemed reassuring. He'd just saved her from the steps and hadn't made any sarcastic remarks or mocked her as she'd feared.
Draco, this Slytherin boy, was quite friendly to her—friendlier than all the Gryffindor boys combined. He was also quite clever and resourceful, even managing to fool Mr. Filch, who was keen on finding fault with students...
It wouldn't hurt to lean on his shoulder, would it? They couldn't move anyway, and she couldn't lean on anything else, right? Hermione thought drowsily.
Draco felt the weight on his shoulder and glanced at her in surprise. His lips moved, but he remained silent, letting her rest there.
How could she have absolutely no guard up against him? Not long ago, wasn't she still haughtily angry with him? Now she was leaning on his shoulder so absurdly, willingly, and trustingly?
This was something that no one could have imagined in two lifetimes.
This capricious, willful, adorable yet troublesome little girl... he thought, his mind in turmoil.
However, the commotion at the stairwell prevented him from thinking any further—sure enough, Filch was extremely cunning. He returned and lingered there for quite a while before leaving.
Draco was right, Hermione thought to herself. Thank goodness she'd listened to him and waited a little longer, otherwise they definitely would have been caught by Mr. Filch.
This experience was so different from when she, Harry, and Ron had accidentally entered the forbidden area last time. Last time, she'd been nervous the whole time and had to desperately think of solutions—she couldn't count on those boys at all.
However, Draco always seemed unhurried and always did things very well.
She suddenly felt less afraid. With him around, there didn't seem to be anything to worry about—after all, he definitely wouldn't put them in danger.
So Hermione closed her eyes and continued to rest against him. In the small safe space created by the Invisibility Cloak, her mind gradually went blank.
They waited cautiously for a long time, just in case Filch returned again. Only when all was quiet did they slip out from under the Invisibility Cloak and quietly make their way back to the stairs at the other end of the corridor.
"Wait, Draco, can we bring Invisibility Cloaks to school? Are they allowed?" As Hermione descended the stairs, her mind finally cleared a bit, and she suddenly realized, "Do you often sneak out like this in the middle of the night?"
"Otherwise what? What do you think the Invisibility Cloak is for?" Draco said casually, without any shame, and instead strolled leisurely toward the stairs.
Judging from his demeanor, he was clearly a repeat offender.
"This is against school rules!" Hermione caught up with him, admonishing him as they descended the stairs. "You can't do this anymore, it's too dangerous... What if Filch catches you one day? I know you're good at avoiding punishment, but it's still risky! You can't use this Invisibility Cloak to do whatever you want anymore, or I'll tell Professor McGonagall..."
"Let me remind you, if it weren't for this thing, we'd both be done for tonight. You'd be experiencing Filch's chains!" Draco gave her an annoyed look.
That ungrateful girl! She'd used him and then turned on him!
Hermione snorted, clearly not convinced.
She knew, of course, that this thing had saved them today, but breaking school rules was still wrong...
"There's a difference between an accidental mishap like today and a series of deliberate acts, isn't there?" she said stubbornly.
Draco abruptly stopped, staring at her with narrowed eyes, a cold, mischievous smile playing on his lips as he tried to intimidate her. "If you tell Professor McGonagall, you'll be punished too. We're in this together now."
"You're threatening me!" Hermione said angrily. The gratitude she'd felt for being rescued and the sense of security he'd given her in the darkness had vanished completely because of his threat.
"Yes." Draco pursed his lips, walked to the landing at the bottom of the stairs on the second floor, picked up Hogwarts: A History that had been left on the ground, dusted it off with distaste, and then shoved it into Hermione's arms.
Then that exquisite face provocatively moved closer to hers, as if trying to see what was going on in her mind, which startled her.
He said bluntly, "I'm threatening you, so you'd better not talk nonsense to Professor McGonagall."
Hermione was somewhat dazed by his proximity. His arrogant gray eyes were very beautiful, his hair shone in the flickering candlelight, yet the words that came out of his mouth were utterly infuriating, leaving her not knowing what to do.
Finally, a surge of desperate anger welled up inside her. Her face flushed red as she recalled the things her upperclassmen often said about Slytherins.
She angrily said to him, "You ruthless Slytherin!"
Just like in his previous life, he was once again accused of using any means necessary, Draco thought expressionlessly.
"Yes! That's how I am, no matter what. Don't bother reminding me! Go back to your respectable Gryffindor common room and avoid running into any more Slytherins. Goodnight!" He said sternly, making a series of extreme remarks, leaving her on the landing, and strode away.
Hermione Granger was rigid, dogmatic, conventional, and not very lovable.
And quite troublesome.
Draco grumbled as he walked toward the Slytherin common room.
But would this little scatterbrain fall into one of those vanishing steps again?
After all that commotion, it was almost curfew, and Filch, who was obsessed with arresting students, was wandering around... As he thought about it, his pace slowed down, and he walked more and more slowly.
Hermione Granger, the most infuriating little girl in the world! Draco frowned, hesitated, and looked back at the small figure on the next flight of stairs before involuntarily stopping in his tracks.
On the other hand, Hermione, whose relationship with her friends was strained because of her obsession with "following school rules," walked sullenly to the Gryffindor common room on the seventh floor, holding the book he'd picked up for her, looking extremely listless.
After this thrilling night, her heart felt like a spilled paint bottle, with Gryffindor red and Slytherin green scattered all over the place, topped with a touch of blue melancholy.
In short, it was a complete mess.
How should she deal with the Slytherin boy who'd helped her and then proudly admitted to breaking the rules?
He'd also... he'd brazenly threatened and intimidated her. Even though he was somewhat good-looking, he was still utterly wicked!
Those awful gray eyes... were quite pretty. And he smelled really good too.
She stepped through the portrait of the Fat Lady with great hesitation, completely unaware that an invisible boy was quietly following her, his eyebrows twisted in consternation. Only when she entered the Gryffindor common room did he let out a slight sigh—the Fat Lady, who was about to change into her nightgown for sleep, was startled by the sound and fell backward—and slowly went downstairs.
The plump woman, who'd only just regained her composure, frantically clutched her chest and shouted into the air, "Who's there? Is that Peeves?"
For the next few weeks, Draco was in a foul mood and felt no joy whatsoever.
It wasn't that he had any problems with his studies. In fact, the first-year curriculum was rather boring for him. Since the start of term, he'd been doing well academically, and even the professors who'd been unkind to him in his previous life had become relatively lenient with him.
The most notable example was Professor McGonagall. Although she was strict and old-fashioned and didn't particularly like Slytherins, she would still give him an "Outstanding" on a well-written Transfiguration essay—an honor that previously had belonged only to Hermione Granger, the know-it-all.
As for interpersonal relationships, it was nothing more than the same old Slytherin games: bloodline, family background, and a contest of ability. The first-years quickly used these criteria to rank themselves and decide who got to sit closer to the head of the Great Hall.
Most relationships among Slytherins developed from feigned friendliness and sharp-tongued probing, interspersed with fragile childhood friendships and tiny, fleeting moments of genuine sincerity.
This was the kind of relationship Draco was familiar with, far more so than the straightforward and passionate friendships in Gryffindor. He could thrive in Slytherin if he wanted to.
Based on his understanding of his Slytherin classmates from his previous life, Draco made friends within the house at an astonishing speed.
His intimate knowledge of his Slytherin classmates—Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Marcus Flint, and others—made him virtually invincible in social situations.
His sleep problems were also somewhat properly addressed. He'd managed to get his hands on Dreamless Sleep Potion from Madam Pomfrey—thanks to his innocent appearance, clever flattery, and polite manner.
That potion couldn't be taken too often. The misuse of any magical potion carried risks. At this point, the uncommon yet exquisite magical art of Occlumency demonstrated its unparalleled practical value. Using this technique, he froze and hid his terrifying memories of his past life and some emotions he couldn't bear.
"It's rather self-deceptive, isn't it?" He smiled mockingly at the pale boy in the mirror. "But at least you can get a good night's sleep."
Admittedly, such methods didn't solve the fundamental problem, but for Draco, finding even a little peace and tranquility within himself, and thus getting a good night's sleep, was more important than anything else.
However, amidst these seemingly smooth-sailing days, Draco was gripped by a prolonged and intense anxiety—the challenge he'd been trying to overcome had reached a bottleneck.
The experiment to "talk to the Bloody Baron or the Grey Lady" had stalled.
Although she appeared gentle, beautiful, delicate, and graceful, the Grey Lady was notoriously unapproachable. She ignored everyone except a handful of Ravenclaw students.
Draco went to the vicinity of Ravenclaw Tower nearly every day to try his luck, which wasn't easy for a Slytherin—it took him a lot of cunning to avoid those sharp-eyed Ravenclaw students.
However, every time he painstakingly appeared before the Grey Lady, he was treated like a monster.
The moment she saw students from an unfamiliar house, she would flutter away like a startled bird, disappearing into the morning mist or twilight, either through a wall or behind a pillar.
As for the Bloody Baron, the Slytherin ghost on whom Draco had placed high hopes, he'd returned to his vacant stare.
He ignored Draco's repeated attempts to befriend him, humming and moaning obliviously on the Astronomy Tower, completely absorbed in his own melancholy world.
His conversation at the Start-of-Term Feast two months ago seemed to have been just a fleeting illusion.
All of this made Draco feel discouraged.
It couldn't be said that there'd been no progress at all. At least the Bloody Baron had gotten used to Draco's presence in the Astronomy Tower and wasn't averse to him.
The Baron often stared at Ravenclaw Tower, sadly calling Helena's name repeatedly, without any attempt to hide it from Draco.
This wasn't easy for a ghost—most ghosts were extremely sensitive and had deep-seated obsessions, and they weren't easy to talk to. Moreover, this wasn't an ordinary ghost but "the Bloody Baron," whom even Peeves couldn't afford to offend.
However, for Draco, enjoying this preferential treatment tacitly granted by the Baron brought far more pain than pleasure.
He'd always been wary of the Astronomy Tower, and he'd even considered avoiding it.
This place always reminded him of the complicated memories of his past life, plunging him into complex and indescribable sadness.
Among them, the most difficult memory to face was probably that murder, that killing, and the death of Dumbledore that had completely changed the course of his life.
This place could be considered the most ominous spot in all of Hogwarts.
Draco wished he could stay as far away from this place as possible, but he had no other choice—the questions about the diadem urgently needed to be resolved.
He could only suppress his fear and unease, repeatedly coming here to "encounter" this ghost who was immersed in his own world, trying to get some information out of the Baron.
At least the Baron wouldn't run away—he'd stand obediently on the tower. That alone made him much more approachable than the Grey Lady. Draco comforted himself with that thought.
The wind on the tower grew colder day by day, and the weather gradually turned colder.
When Draco woke up early in the morning, he smelled the sweet and tempting aroma of roasted pumpkin wafting through the corridor, which meant that Halloween was just around the corner at Hogwarts.
Just like in his previous life, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms class that the students could now practice the Levitation Charm.
Hermione Granger, as always, was the first student in the class to make a feather float, earning Professor Flitwick's praise and Gryffindor five points. Ron next to her, on the other hand, looked as black as thunder, clearly very dissatisfied.
Draco sat directly opposite them, across the open space in the center of the classroom. He silently watched the girl across from him for a while—she was like a smug cat, her head held high with pride, shaking her wand to control the only feather floating above the classroom, determined to ignore everyone.
So he also raised his own feather and joined the handful of feathers floating in the air.
"Very good! Mr. Malfoy did a fine job too!" Professor Flitwick said happily, turning to continue instructing Potter and Finnigan, whose feathers had caught fire.
Hermione found the boy's feather really annoying. Her feather was floating peacefully in the air, but his feather just had to come and interfere with it, blocking its path.
She manipulated the feather, making it fly higher, and his feather flew higher too. She wanted it to fly lower, and his feather blocked its way from below. Her feather dodged left and right, and his feather followed suit, circling left and right...
Hermione glared angrily at him, but he stared intently at the ceiling, looking as if he were focused on practicing.
Draco was indeed practicing the spell very diligently. He was no longer as arrogant as he'd been in his previous life, thinking the spell was simple and taking it lightly—he absolutely didn't want to experience the same disastrous O.W.L. exam in fifth year again: when he'd dropped his floating wineglass, shattered it into pieces, and been seen and ridiculed by Potter, a truly humiliating moment.
Of course, he did have ulterior motives.
Why did this ungrateful girl repeatedly ignore him? After that incident on the stairs, she seemed even angrier, never giving him a second glance, refusing to be his partner in class, and avoiding him like a flobberworm.
Even Potter could now smile at him, but Hermione still avoided him like the plague.
Were they destined to be enemies, unable to even be ordinary friends? Draco sighed slightly, glanced at the little girl opposite him whose face was flushed with anger—she was probably about to snap her wand in half—and stopped his mischievous feather harassment.
The Great Hall was elaborately decorated with live bats, and enormous pumpkins had been carved into lanterns, large enough to seat three people.
Every year before Halloween, a lavish feast to satisfy the taste buds of the entire school was inevitable.
The students seemed particularly excited. Crabbe and Goyle had been daydreaming during their afternoon classes, whispering amongst themselves about what kind of feast would be at the Halloween banquet.
Although listening to them recite the menu made him a little hungry and he longed to sit down at the Slytherin table and feast to satisfy his empty stomach, Draco decided to try his luck before the meal, as usual, and thus appeared once again on the Astronomy Tower.
The nights at the end of October were already chilly, let alone on the tower. Draco's robes were almost completely soaked through by the cold wind. He cast several Warming Charms on himself, but the strong wind made little difference.
The Bloody Baron seemed drunk today. Several moldy empty bottles lay scattered at his feet, and his eyes were fixed blankly on the tower next door, making his already horrible face look even more grotesque.
Draco objectively commented: "Very festive."
Also, could ghosts get drunk? He was quite puzzled by the basic principles of this matter, but that wasn't the focus of his attention today, so he let it pass.
"The Grey Lady doesn't seem to be up in Ravenclaw Tower today," Draco said lightly, casting another Warming Charm on his robes, as if discussing the weather. He slowly sat down next to the Baron, following his gaze toward Ravenclaw Tower.
"Hmph..." The Baron was clearly not satisfied.
"Didn't she invite you to the ghosts' Halloween party? I saw a lot of ghosts went," Draco said conversationally.
"She will never invite me," the Baron suddenly said, which made Draco look at him with a mixture of surprise and excitement.
"She will never forgive me. She hates me," the Baron said sadly, raising the shackles in his hands and looking at them as if he'd committed some terrible crime. "I... I regret it so much... I will punish myself."
In the past, especially during the time when the Dark Lord had lived in Malfoy Manor, the high-pressure and terrifying atmosphere had honed Draco's observation skills to an extremely sharp level.
At that moment, looking at the Baron's silver-stained robes and shackles, he used his keen observation to guess a possibility.
A chilling possibility.
"You killed her?" he asked tentatively. He knew that the Baron might not have a second chance to open up.
The Baron nodded slowly. Even though he was somewhat prepared, Draco was still surprised. He tried his best to suppress a gasp, afraid of interrupting the Baron's rare outburst.
"I found the forest where she was hiding. She was proud. She didn't love me, and she wouldn't come back with me, so I stabbed her." The Baron lowered his head, looking at his transparent hands. "I regretted it, so I killed myself. I wanted to be with her. Even if she hated me."
How did you find her?
"She was in a dark forest in Albania, where her mother's magic was too far away to reach her. Her mother was ill, very ill. She sent me to find her."
"The Albanian forest," Draco murmured, slowly absorbing the name.
Quirrell claimed he'd encountered trouble in a dark forest, which had led to his current state. There might be a connection—could that dark forest be the Albanian forest?
Don't blame Draco for jumping to conclusions. These past few years had taught him a lesson: there weren't that many coincidences in this world; most coincidences came from carefully planned and hidden arrangements.
Based on this understanding, he'd been able to comprehend the secret of the Vanishing Cabinet in his previous life, which had led to that damnably ingenious design, ultimately making him an accomplice in Snape's murder of Dumbledore.
Admittedly, his purpose and method in applying this principle had been seriously flawed, but the principle itself was innocent. It still shone with unwavering certainty among all the intricate relationships and countless connections within the magical world.
That said, even a great witch like Rowena Ravenclaw couldn't find her daughter in the Albanian forest, despite her magic's range being limited. It was hard to imagine another dark forest as powerful as this one in the world.
When the weakened Dark Lord had needed a place to lie low and spend his long period of recuperation undisturbed, wasn't the desolate and remote Albanian forest his ideal refuge?
"And what about the diadem?" Draco pressed on.
"I didn't find her, nor did I find the diadem." The Baron sighed painfully, his dull eyes turning to Draco, as if he were noticing for the first time that there was a living person beside him.
"Don't wait until it's too late to regret it." He looked at him with a sorrowful expression, inexplicably uttered these words, and silently got up, passing Draco and disappearing into the depths of the tower.
Poor ghost, Draco sighed softly, a tiny, subtle pity rising in his heart.
After his initial sympathy, Draco quickly fell into deep thought. The Baron's use of the phrase "didn't find" was something he couldn't help but worry about. Rowena Ravenclaw had sent the Baron, and the treasures she'd sought to retrieve were likely not just her daughter but also the diadem.
Therefore, it was easy to understand why the Grey Lady had been ashamed to use her original name for many years.
She was ashamed—she'd betrayed her mother, stolen the diadem, and hidden it in the dark forest where even her mother couldn't find it.
Today's cold and hunger weren't in vain. Draco had finally found a clue about Ravenclaw's diadem, which excited him so much that he ignored the cold and paced back and forth on the drafty platform in the bleak autumn night, his mind racing.
If Ravenclaw's lost diadem had been hidden in the distant Albanian forest, how had it ended up in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts?
What role had the Dark Lord played in all of this? And why was he interested in the diadem?
Although many mysteries still lay ahead, Draco's keen intuition, honed over many years, told him that he was one step closer to the truth.
Next came an even more daunting task: to pry open the heart of the naturally sensitive Grey Lady and find out what had happened in that remote Albanian forest.
This was a thousand times harder than getting through to the Baron. First, he had to stop her from fleeing at his approach, and only then could he try to gain her trust—this might only be the beginning of the real test.