novelraw Chapter 101: Ignorance, Showing Off, Eye-Catching
Chapter 101: Ignorance, Showing Off, Eye-Catching
Past Life Story Part 8: The Ignorant Granger Time: Summer holiday after fourth year, during the Quidditch World Cup Location: Top Box of the Quidditch World Cup stadium, campsite woods
Draco Malfoy always believed that Professor Trelawney's words were not to be taken seriously. She'd never actually said anything right.
So, after a brief period of panic, he secretly resolved to continue being the young master of the Malfoy family and let Granger continue to fend for herself and be arrogant.
Ignore her. That's what he thought as he walked into the Top Box at the Quidditch World Cup stadium.
When he saw her, Draco was certain that he'd completely let go of the prophecy. He followed his father into the box, and as usual, glared at Potter, Weasley, and Granger.
Granger glared back at him without any politeness, and back at his father.
Ignorant Granger. She never knew how to respect the head of the Malfoy family, and she was always recklessly testing Lucius's limits. If it weren't for the Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge, Lucius would definitely have gone up to her and ridiculed her based on that one look from her.
She and he were not on the same wavelength at all, not at all. He told himself.
Didn't she know what "powerful and wealthy" represented?
They'd keep to themselves. There was no need to take her to heart. He wore the new robes his mother had given him, a smug smile on his face as usual, and gave her jeans a critical look—determined never to admit that such clothes could convey any youthful energy—before walking past her, completely unmoved.
Draco Malfoy, as always, in control of the entire situation.
On the night the Quidditch World Cup ended, Lucius and Narcissa rushed back to their tent and took their son to the edge of the woods.
"Draco, try to go deeper into the area and avoid getting caught in the crossfire," Narcissa said.
"Where are you going?" Draco asked.
"There are some things to do," Narcissa said softly to her son, exchanging a glance with Lucius.
"Don't ask unnecessary questions," Lucius said. "If things don't look right, just say your surname, and no one will bother you."
They left.
Draco peered through the gaps in the trees at the chaotic scene at the camp and frowned.
He could see what had happened to the Muggle campsite manager and his family. They were floating in the air. The manager's wife was hanging upside down, her nightdress hanging down. Below, hooded people were screaming and jeering.
Even a mischievous boy like Draco found it disgusting.
His father and mother had never raised him this way. Even when facing enemies, one must maintain a certain level of dignity and principles. Intrigue, trickery, and framing were understandable, but such despicable methods were utterly shameful.
In an instant, he thought of Granger.
This ignorant and reckless witch. If she dared to talk back to anyone now, or even reveal the slightest hint of her Muggle origins, probably not everyone would just give her a disdainful glare like his father did.
She might be in serious trouble—he inexplicably frowned.
Then he heard Granger's voice.
The sound was easy to recognize. It was similar to the sound she'd made when she was looking for her cat by the lake last year—anxious and panicked.
"What's going on?" she said nervously, followed by footsteps. "Ron, where are you? Oh, we were so stupid—Lumos."
Through the light from the tip of her wand, he could see that she was wearing outer robes. Underneath the robes, he could vaguely see a white lace nightgown, a slender leg, and bare ankles.
This was hardly a presentable outfit. If she were to become a target for any Death Eaters—he hoped she was at least wearing something underneath.
Before he could even figure out why he cared about Granger's attire, he'd already jumped from the bushes and started provoking Potter and Weasley.
Weasley was furious and even swore a vulgar insult. Normally, Draco would have argued with him. But today, he had no desire to fight.
"Watch your mouth," Draco said pointedly. "I think you'd better hurry up and run. You don't want her to be spotted, do you?"
He nodded arrogantly to Granger, not intending to speak to her directly.
He just wanted to make her aware of the danger—it didn't mean he wanted to have any direct involvement with her.
"What do you mean by this?" she asked him first, defiantly.
Draco couldn't help but glance at her again. Their eyes met.
Her eyes shone so brightly in the darkness, like a cat's. A kind of innocent fearlessness flickered within them.
He suddenly remembered her saying to him, "You still have some compassion, even if it's just a teaspoonful. After all, you're not completely hopeless." Back then, they'd worked together to save an egg.
He felt he must be going mad—he suddenly didn't want the light to go out so easily, at least not tonight.
"Granger, they're looking for Muggles," Draco said, trying to appear nonchalant and hide the ridiculous emotions swirling within him—certainly not worry.
He gave her calves a fleeting look, noticing how slender they were. "Would you like to be showing off your knickers in mid-air?"
Was she wearing knickers or not? This was too dangerous. He forced himself to avert his gaze from her calves and blinked as he thought.
To conceal his thoughts, he shifted his gaze toward the camp and uneasily discovered that the hooded crowd was already moving in his direction.
Merlin, the situation was more critical than he'd imagined. His tone became urgent and even more frightening. "If you want, stay here... They're coming this way, and we can all have a good laugh."
"Leave, Granger, get away from here," Draco thought.
"Hermione's a witch!" Potter roared angrily.
Draco was utterly exasperated. Talking to Potter and the others was always a struggle—they had no idea what was going on. He glanced at them, his heart pounding with anxiety—they had no idea how dangerous tonight was for Granger.
He probably needed to step up his game.
"Have it your way, Potter," Draco forced a sneer. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."
"Watch your mouth!" Weasley shouted.
Then came another round of verbal sparring. Draco maintained a smile on his face, but his words became increasingly rapid, vicious, and ruthless, while waves of irritation washed over him.
Why couldn't they understand his instructions?
They had to get out of here quickly, quickly, with her. His hand, which was in his pocket, clenched tightly, and his calm facade was almost cracking.
Finally, Granger seemed to understand. Thank Merlin! Although she didn't have the bloodline to ensure her safety tonight, at least she had a clever mind.
His unnecessary provocation hadn't been in vain. Of course, it didn't earn him any gratitude. On the contrary, she gave him a disgusted look and said to Potter and the others, "Come on, let's go. Let's go find the others."
Several loud explosions came from the woods. Draco didn't know if his father was inside, or if he'd recognize her. Draco also didn't know if his father's companions, those ruthless Death Eaters, would be so cruel to a little witch.
"Keep that big, hairy head down, Granger," Draco said with a mocking tone as they walked away.
Keep your head down, Granger. Arrogance won't help at a time like this. It's not shameful to play it safe.
Keep your head down, Granger. Whatever you do, don't let anyone recognize you, Granger.
"Come on." Granger pulled Potter and Weasley along as they continued on their way.
He watched them walk away in silence, his eyes gleaming.
Yes, hurry up and leave, you ignorant Granger.
Past Life Story Part 9: The Showing-Off Granger Time: Fourth Year, First Week of School Location: Care of Magical Creatures classroom
After entering fourth year, all the students found that they had significantly more homework to do that term.
When the students complained loudly about the excessive amount of Transfiguration homework Professor McGonagall assigned, she declared, "You are entering a crucial period of your magical education! Your O.W.L. exams are fast approaching—"
"We don't take the O.W.L.s until fifth year!" complained a Gryffindor student.
"You need to be fully prepared! In this class, only Miss Granger has ever been able to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion..." Professor McGonagall's eyes gleamed authoritatively behind her square glasses.
Draco glanced at the witch who'd been praised by Professor McGonagall. Her face was flushed, and she was trying her best not to show too much pride.
"That witch who loves to show off her cleverness—she practically dominates the entire classroom!" Draco thought resentfully.
Professor Binns—the ghost who taught them History of Magic—praised her essay on the eighteenth-century goblin rebellion in class.
Professor Flitwick—the Head of Ravenclaw—who taught Charms, required his students to read three books on Summoning Charms, and used her as an example to motivate them: "You should look at Miss Granger—she's already finished all three books, and even read several more!"
Not to mention Hagrid. In Hagrid's lessons, she behaved like a real Care of Magical Creatures professor.
When Draco publicly mocked Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts for "burning, stinging, and biting," she suddenly jumped in and retorted, "Just because they don't look good doesn't mean they're useless. Dragon blood has amazing effects, but would you want to keep a dragon as a pet, yeah?"
He heard Potter and Weasley laughing foolishly—but he didn't care.
He shouldn't have lingered next to her, especially since she'd just publicly contradicted him.
But he was only focused on scrutinizing her defiant eyes, certain that she was implying something. She already knew his opinion of dragons, didn't she?
"And what do you know? All you do is show off those technical terms, isn't it?" He gave a disdainful smile. "Do you even know the uses of dragon blood?"
Then Draco was shocked to hear her recite all twelve uses of dragon blood without a single stumble.
This was a question that had once daunted many—a question Draco had always considered difficult—yet she answered it with such ease.
She was the only witch he'd ever met who could recite this obscure piece of knowledge fluently and completely.
"Very good, this is truly eye-opening." He feigned a lazy demeanor to conceal his inner shock. "This answer was completely copied from some book, wasn't it?"
She merely glanced at him haughtily and ignored him, instead attempting to lure the Blast-Ended Skrewt with ant eggs, frog livers, and grass snakes.
What was she doing now? After showing off her clever mind, was she going to show off her fearless courage?
"Granger, if your brain is really as smart as you seem, you should realize that nothing on a Blast-Ended Skrewt is of any use and is nothing compared to a dragon," Draco said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Maybe there's one similarity: they probably both grow very fast. Before you even figure out what they like to eat, they're already six feet long."
"Shut up, Malfoy," the witch said, her face flushed, looking somewhat uneasy, as if her secret had been exposed.
"Oh, so you don't like them either." Draco smiled disdainfully, looking at the slippery frog livers with disgust, feeling that her fingers were too close to the blasting tails, so close that it was blinding.
"What's it to you?" she said, raising her voice without looking at him.
"Of course it's my business. If you don't like them either, it means that what you just said was purely to shut me up temporarily." Before leaving her, he coldly tossed out a sentence, "If you don't want them to blow your face to smithereens and send you to the hospital wing, you should stop them before they attack you, instead of stopping me from telling the truth!"
Past Life Story Part 10: The Eye-Catching Granger Time: Fourth Year, shortly after Harry Potter became a Triwizard Tournament champion, he and Draco attacked each other outside the Potions classroom. Draco's spells bounced off Harry, hitting Hermione and Goyle Locations: Slytherin Common Room; Library; outside the Potions classroom; Hospital Wing
Granger eventually ended up in the hospital wing.
Surprisingly, it wasn't because of Hagrid's three-foot-long crawling molluscs, but because of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter's spell rebound.
Draco had originally intended to teach Potter a lesson with his Densaugeo hex.
Who told him to break the rules and use some secret means to put his name into the Goblet of Fire, thus becoming the second champion of Hogwarts?
To go to such lengths just to participate in the Triwizard Tournament? Even he, a Slytherin, thought it was too unscrupulous!
Potter! He was completely taking advantage of Dumbledore's favour to do whatever he wanted, showing no regard for anyone or Hogwarts' reputation.
Now, everyone considered this a scandal, corruption, and a disgrace.
His idol, Krum, had been gloomy for days, giving no friendly look to any Hogwarts student—including Slytherin students.
Everyone kept their distance from Potter—even Weasley, who always considered himself Potter's "best friend," distanced himself from him.
"In my opinion, Potter deserves it!" Draco shouted in the Slytherin common room, though he was also curious about how Potter had got in. "He deserves to be isolated!"
"Exactly!" Pansy agreed, plopping down on the sofa opposite him. "My friends are furious! Compared to Cedric, Potter's like a beansprout! Cedric is the true warrior who represents Hogwarts!"
"Since when have you lot come to approve of a Hufflepuff like this?" Draco rolled his eyes at her.
"Oh, Draco, don't tell me you didn't notice! Cedric is so handsome—straight nose, dark hair, grey eyes... Hogwarts's heartthrob, the Seeker for the House team, and a pure-blood, who wouldn't love him? My friends are practically obsessed with him..." Pansy grinned foolishly, earning a disdainful look from Blaise who was passing by, "You lot are fangirls!"
"What did you say?" Pansy said angrily.
"I'm telling you, you're all hopeless romantics. Hopeless romantics who only care about looks!" Blaise said with a gloomy face.
"You said we're all fangirls? That one sentence insults all the witches in the school!" Pansy jumped up indignantly, confronting Blaise. "I don't believe there's a single witch in the whole school who doesn't like him!"
"Have you forgotten Granger? She's always with Potter, inseparable," Blaise said disdainfully. "She doesn't seem like she's infatuated with Cedric at all."
"That Mudblood? Is she even a witch? She hides behind a pile of thick books all day. Besides a tangle of messy hair, what can you even see of her? Her big front teeth? I bet she looks like a chipmunk when she finally shows her face!" Pansy chuckled. "Is she dating Potter? Potter certainly doesn't discriminate!"
Granger.
Very good.
That witch who stung his eyes.
A witch who always went against him.
The only witch who still spoke to Potter didn't ignore him because of his little actions. Instead, she stood by his side and fought against the world with him.
People even thought they were in love. Draco frowned in disgust.
"So, you're dating Potter, yeah?" He couldn't help but ask Granger when they bumped into each other in a corner of the library.
"Of course not! He's my friend!" She stopped flipping through the thick book and looked at him warily.
"Friends? You make it sound like Potter cares about you! I wonder who it was that ignored you last year? All because of a broken broom, right?" he said slowly, glancing at the books about house-elves piled on her desk.
House-elves? Had Professor Binns assigned any homework on this topic?
"That's a Firebolt, the best broomstick in the world!" She frowned, seemingly refusing to pay attention to his question and trying to correct him.
"I didn't know you knew about broomsticks... Have you ever used a broomstick since your first-year flying lessons?" Draco wrinkled his nose, mocking her.
"None of your business," she retorted, a wary look on her face. "Malfoy, what do you want by coming up to me and asking me these questions?"
"I'm a little curious," he said slowly. "Even his best mates know to lay low and stay away from that arrogant Potter. But you're always hanging around Potter? What's the point? Have you lost your mind, or are you just trying to stand out?"
"Because I believe him. He didn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire." She raised her chin, her eyes shining brightly. "I believe him!"
Her words left him speechless. The light in her eyes was dazzling.
Damn Potter! After all that dirty stuff he'd done, how was he so lucky to be believed in like this—be believed in by anyone—be believed in so sincerely and passionately by her?
You silly little thing!
Draco narrowed his eyes, looking at her coldly. "I don't believe Potter did anything. He's a ruthless thief who steals the honour of champions. You shouldn't believe him. You'll regret it."
"A Slytherin who's willing to do anything dares to accuse others of being unscrupulous?" She glanced at him sideways and said haughtily, "Malfoy, were you behind this? Trying to frame him?"
"How dare you say that?" Draco exclaimed, furious. "Does he deserve it? Does he deserve all this effort from me? I don't even consider him a threat!"
"Don't take him seriously? Aren't you the one who's always provoking him? Who was it that tried to ambush Harry the other day and ended up being turned into a ferret by Professor Moody? Do you want to try again?" Hermione retorted.
"Shut up, Granger!" he said bitterly, a slight blush creeping onto his face. He was furious at being reminded of the incident, recalling Pansy's insults and applying them in a new way, "You ungrateful chipmunk!"
"You big, bouncing ferret!" she retorted, glaring at him.
He was so angry he was practically fuming.
She seemed determined to ignore him, and opened a box beside her to examine the colourful, silly badges inside.
The way she ignored him was more irritating than the way she looked at him.
This eye-catching sight suddenly triggered a rebellious feeling in him—he wanted to correct her incorrect behaviour.
He wanted her to open her eyes wide and look at him.
"What's this?" He suddenly picked up a badge from the box, wanting to see what was written on it, but she snatched it back from him.
Her hand touched his hand—for a fleeting moment.
A faint electric current spread the moment their fingers touched—Draco froze.
"It's none of your business!" She cautiously put the badge away, seemingly unaware of what she'd done to him.
Draco's hands were trembling slightly. He looked at her, puzzled, while she glared at him angrily.
"Is there anything else?" she asked, giving him the impression that he should leave. "Are you waiting for me to turn you into a ferret?"
The boy's face turned red.
He hesitated for a few moments, but ultimately couldn't utter a word. He could only glare at her fiercely before turning away.
Draco Malfoy's hand appeared to be experiencing some kind of aftereffect.
Whenever he thought of Granger, his hand would recall that strange electric current, or rather, that stinging sensation. He felt as if he might have been pricked by her.
Granger—she not only stung his eyes, but also his hands.
That's right, she was like a hedgehog, covered in thorns, pricking people everywhere!
She must have cast some kind of curse on him! Right the moment she'd snatched the badge! Yes, that's it. He thought resentfully.
His fingers had been numb for a while, and washing them didn't help. In the common room, Draco sat in an armchair, lost in thought. He stared at his damned fingers for a long time—they still had a slight tingling sensation.
He sighed in frustration, and once again thought of her glaring eyes, her hair, and even her repulsively intelligent mind.
He'd intended to have some quiet time to think about what was going on. Pansy, however, was making a huge fuss in the common room—she was cursing Potter as a stinking turd for the one hundred and first time and mocking Granger's teeth.
Draco, thoroughly annoyed, impatiently offered her a suggestion: "Stop wasting your breath. Aren't you tired of talking? Can't you come up with some clever ideas? The kind that express your thoughts without saying a word?"
"What do you mean by that?" Pansy asked suspiciously.
"Badges," Draco said, recalling the eye-catchingly large box full of badges in Granger's hand. "Get some badges, pin them on your robes, and you'll show your stance, won't you?"
"Great idea!" Pansy exclaimed excitedly. "I'll go design them right away!"
This badge triggered a series of chain reactions, ultimately leading to the mismatched duel outside the Potions classroom.
Back then, all Slytherin students wore a large badge on the front of their robes. The bright red lettering read "Support Cedric Diggory," while the green lettering read "Potter Stinks."
"Oh, very funny," she jumped out and said sarcastically to Pansy and the others, "really witty."
Oh, Hermione Granger, she was at it again, sticking her nose out and defending that wretched Potter.
This made him feel suffocated.
Since she liked badges so much—
"Want one, Granger?" he said maliciously, holding up a badge. "I've got loads of them."
In the dim light of the dungeon corridor, he realized that she was looking at him with disdain.
The disdainful look in her eyes was so blatant that it ignited a fire within him.
How dare she look down on him? He didn't even look down on her!
He pretended not to notice her expression, his strange hand tightening its grip on the badge. "But don't touch my hand. You see, I just washed my hands and don't want a Mudblood sliming them up again."
That's it! He'd figured it out! It must be because he was allergic to Mudbloods! That's why his hands were acting strangely! He thought angrily.
He had no time to look at Granger's expression, because the furious Potter had already pulled out his wand.
Draco also drew his wand. His anger was no less than Potter's.
Come on, let's fight!
The foolish git Granger trusted!
The next second, Granger was hit by the rebounding spell, struck by his Densaugeo.
What had he said? She shouldn't have gone near Potter! Draco thought arrogantly, continuing to glare at Potter without turning back to look at her.
He heard Pansy and the other infatuated witches laughing in hushed tones, saying cheerfully, "Look, her front teeth are already past her collar!"
He heard Weasley yelling over there, forcing Granger, who was covering her mouth, to show her teeth to Professor Snape.
That Weasley idiot! He really knew how to humiliate witches! Did he expect Professor Snape to say something mean and give Granger a good telling-off?
As expected, Professor Snape said coldly, "I see no difference."
He heard her cry out in pain. Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer. He turned his proudly held head and glanced at her, only to find her eyes filled with tears.
Then she turned around and ran away, disappearing without a trace down the corridor.
He remained defiantly standing there, not moving an inch, pretending that her tears didn't bother him.
She'd brought this on herself. He hadn't originally intended to deal with her.
She wasn't innocent. She was Potter's friend—she didn't deserve sympathy. Draco frantically pressed the badge, provoking Potter, thinking viciously to himself.
Yes. She deserved it. She shouldn't have trusted Potter, and she shouldn't have hurt him, hurt his hands, hurt his heart.
Her teeth were like that—it had nothing to do with him. He told himself with a sullen face.
"Professor Snape," he suddenly raised his hand after fidgeting in the classroom for about five minutes, feeling like he must be going mad, "I think I need to go to the hospital wing to see Goyle. He probably can't explain what curse he's been hit with."
Professor Snape was always lenient with Slytherin students. He nodded and let Draco go.
Draco then steadily walked out of the dungeon classroom.
After closing the door, he suddenly started running, for reasons unknown.
He rushed to the hospital wing, pushed open the half-closed door, and immediately saw Granger.
She still covered her mouth, sitting on an empty hospital bed with tears in her eyes.
"Miss Granger, it's all right, don't worry, I'll help you shrink them in a bit," Madam Pomfrey's voice came from beside a bed with the curtains drawn. "After I remove these big boils from Mr. Goyle's nose."
Granger grunted in response, looking ashamed and uneasy.
If Draco were sitting here, he'd feel ashamed and uneasy. There were no barriers, not even curtains drawn—anyone passing by the hospital wing could peek through the crack in the door and satisfy their perverse sense of humour and curiosity.
Besides, the tooth was still growing. Even if the poor witch tried desperately to cover the ever-growing tooth, it was all in vain.
"Stop covering it up." He walked over slowly and suddenly pulled the curtains on the side of the bed closest to the door shut. He looked at her teeth, which she couldn't hide, and found them extremely eye-catching. "They can't be covered up at all."
He'd wanted to take advantage of the chaos as he always had, to say a few vicious things, but he couldn't bring himself to say them.
A sense of vulnerability stirred within him, making it impossible for him to laugh at her with a clear conscience.
It wasn't guilt at all! He just wanted to remember what she looked like now, so that the next time she called him a "ferret," he could use it to mock her! That's right, that's exactly it.
At this moment, because of that overgrown tooth, she could no longer speak. Her face flushed red as she glared at him, tears welling up in her eyes, but she held them back.
He glanced at her, casually grabbed a clean, large towel, and tossed it before her. "Cover yourself!"
She hurriedly covered the lower half of her face with the towel, leaving only her large, watery brown eyes exposed.
He casually pulled up a chair, sat down, and leaned on the back of the chair to look at her.
"Go 'way!" she mumbled, glaring at him angrily.
He was quite certain that she meant "go away."
He should have been annoyed—no one dared to speak to him so rudely. However, her garbled remarks made him laugh.
"Listen, I didn't mean to do anything to you." He looked her up and down, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Given that you suffered a little because of my momentary lapse—"
He ignored the witch's angry grumbling coming from under the towel, which sounded like gibberish to him.
"Here's a little suggestion," he said with a cheerful smile, then suddenly remembered Pansy's various mocking remarks about her teeth in the Slytherin common room. "When Madam Pomfrey's shrinking your teeth, you could ask her to give them a proper adjustment—to a perfect, tasteful state—right, Miss Perfectionist? I'm so tired of hearing them say you have big front teeth all the time—I can't even concentrate on mocking you for being a Mudblood anymore!"
Then, before she could get out of bed and kick or punch him, he stood up, gave her a wicked smile, swaggered out of the hospital wing, slammed the door shut, and didn't even have time to say goodbye to his excuse—Goyle.