HP: Redemption of The Platinum Boy

Chapter 102: Encounter in the Top Box

Hermione Granger was held tightly by Ginny Weasley's arm as they followed behind the elusive Mr. Weasley.

They were crossing a desolate, foggy marsh where nothing could be seen but the thick mist.

Ginny, like her, was covered in dew and looked lost.

"This doesn't look like a Quidditch World Cup venue..." she muttered to Hermione as she stumbled and staggered along, tripping over a hidden rabbit hole.

"That's what I thought too," Hermione said, her face pale, as she slipped on the thick, dark clump of grass. She'd just been rather dizzy from the rapidly spinning Portkey.

Hermione could never get used to the feeling of weightlessness at such heights.

In the brief moment of falling from the sky, she'd almost screamed the boy's name. Whenever she was high in the air, she'd always murmur his name in her heart, as if that gave her some sense of security.

However, Ginny had held her hand the whole time and fallen with her; she'd tried her best to endure it and not lose control.

After staying at Ron's house for only a few days, Hermione had already become much closer to Ginny.

On one hand, they shared a room at night and had many "private topics" to talk about—from Pygmy Puffs to love potions to Ginny's crush; on the other hand, Ginny, as the only daughter of the Weasley family—facing six mischievous brothers who always made themselves filthy—had been praying to Merlin for years for the company of a fragrant young lady.

This summer, Ginny's wish had finally come true to some extent. Overnight, she'd abandoned her secondhand dolls and toys—gaining a brand-new sister whom she could "do whatever she wanted" with; she didn't even have time to play pranks with George and Fred—which relieved Mrs. Weasley, who was fed up with her twin brothers' constant mischief.

"Oh, you're welcome, Hermione. It's so nice to have you here," Mrs. Weasley said kindly to Hermione, who thanked her, as she peeled a potato with her wand. "Ginny has been talking about you ever since summer holiday started. We were worried Ginny wouldn't have any female friends..."

Hermione, an only child who'd never had any siblings, found this "sisterhood" novel.

Shedding her shyness, Hermione discovered Ginny was a sincere and interesting girl. She was willing to share everything she knew about the wizarding world with Hermione—from a girl's unique perspective; and unlike many other Hogwarts students, she didn't think of Hermione as a boring, rigid, serious bookworm.

"Oh, Hermione, you're very clever and talented," Ginny said. "Those vulgar people only care about girls' appearances and are ashamed to admit girls have brains too. I suggest you don't bother with them."

After a while, the two girls hit it off and became inseparable.

After another twenty minutes or so of arduous trekking, Ginny shook her arm and excitedly pointed ahead, saying, "Look, Hermione—the tents!"

Hermione looked up and was astonished to find hundreds of strange tents before them. They were densely packed on a gentle slope, beyond which lay a dark forest.

"Let's hurry up!" Hermione said to Ginny with great enthusiasm, her tiredness and weariness vanishing from her face.

They hurried forward and caught up with the large group of Weasley boys. Mr. Weasley exchanged a few words with a Muggle site manager named Roberts, then led them toward the woods at the far end of the campsite.

Walking between two long rows of tents, marveling at their incongruous appearance, they finally arrived at their destination—the Weasley family's assigned pitch.

Once the tent was erected, they'd officially set up camp. Hermione discovered the Weasleys had an astonishingly low level of familiarity with Muggle tents. In the end, she and Harry, as the only two wizards familiar with the Muggle world, became the instructors for pitching the tent.

What was even more ridiculous was that Mr. Weasley was constantly adding to the chaos. He found the Muggle gadgets fascinating, excitedly holding up the loose parts or the mallet, and bombarding Hermione and Harry with questions, seemingly mesmerized by these little things.

"Don't mind my dad—he's always like that. As soon as Mum's not watching him, he's like he's free and he's always thinking about playing," Ginny said, walking over with a grin and offering Hermione a hand.

"It's all right. My dad has a similar problem in private. He's always interested in some strange things," Hermione said, quickly securing the tent poles and smiling. "The difference is my mum doesn't interfere with him. Instead, she lets him have an even wilder time."

"I really can't tell. I've seen them in Diagon Alley before, and they seemed quite serious," Ginny said curiously.

"That's all an illusion. In reality, they're always overly lively in private," Hermione said, taking two steps back and examining the first tent corner that had been set up with satisfaction.

Over there, with Harry's guidance, the Weasley boys had already erected the first tent. They then ran over to help Hermione and Ginny set up the second one. By the time Mr. Weasley had just worked out the purpose of the tent pegs and guy ropes, the second tent was already up, albeit crookedly.

The two girls had their own slightly smaller tent. Inside was a two-bedroom flat, along with a bathroom and kitchen.

"This is Extension Charm work, isn't it? It's truly ingenious," Hermione exclaimed after walking around the tent.

"You actually know this?" Ginny said with slight surprise. "I don't think you're like a Muggle-born at all. You know more than some pure-bloods."

Hermione smiled. She'd seen many similar things with Draco before, so it didn't feel unfamiliar to her.

I wonder what he's doing now? Has he arrived yet? Where is their tent pitched? Hermione couldn't help wondering.

She knew it wasn't good to keep thinking about him. She needed to think about something else and distract herself.

Right now, Mr. Weasley was playing with the matches—the pile of discarded matches around him was already enormous—and gleefully assigning tasks to the boys and girls: Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in charge of fetching water, as was Ginny, who insisted on following Hermione around.

This task was quite easy for them. Harry and Ron, displaying a bit of gentlemanly manners, each carried a large, dusty water carrier and walked ahead, while Hermione and Ginny followed behind the two boys empty-handed, crossing the entire campsite to find a tap on the other side.

On the way back, the campsite gradually became lively. Hermione encountered some familiar faces: Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, adorned with shamrocks, were incessantly trying to persuade her to support the Irish team; Hufflepuff classmates Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Hannah Abbott waved and greeted them, studying Krum's poster; more Hufflepuff friends—Susan Bones and her stern-looking aunt passed by—smiling and nodding at Hermione; and Ravenclaw's Seeker, Cho Chang, greeted them, and Harry even spilled water on his robes.

"Why is he so flustered—around Cho Chang?" Ginny asked, frowning.

"Oh, ever since he beat her in the last match, he's been acting rather embarrassed around her," Hermione said. A sudden sense of unease crept into her eyes as she watched Harry blush. She glanced at the thoughtful Ginny and quickly changed the subject enthusiastically, "Let's look at these tents!"

So they strolled leisurely among the crowd, marveling at the unusual tents on the campsite: large pyramid-shaped tents, tents with gardens, fountains, sundials, and birdbaths, tents shaped like four-storey buildings with turrets, incongruous tents with chimneys, bell-pulls, and even weather vanes, tents decorated with Bulgarian Seeker Krum, and tents covered in lush green shamrocks for Irish team supporters...

Harry and Ron were already far away. They were carrying large water carriers full of water, but they were walking even faster than when they'd arrived. They wanted to put their things down quickly so they could greet their classmates empty-handed.

Hermione and Ginny were left far behind, unable to keep up with their pace. They simply gave up and leisurely chatted as they looked around the tents, occasionally sharing interesting tidbits of their experiences.

"...that old wizard absolutely refused to change out of that flowery nightdress. He said he'd rather let the healthy breeze blow round his privates," Ginny recounted vividly, making Hermione giggle.

"Oh, Ginny, you're so adorable! I never knew you were such a funny, witty, and cheerful girl," Hermione said. Once she'd finally stopped laughing, clutching her stomach, she seized the opportunity to ask Ginny, "I bet Harry really likes your humor. You can be even funnier than Ron if you want to. But why do you get so nervous and speechless when you're with Harry? You're definitely not like this in private..."

"You don't understand! I want to act normal too," Ginny said, blushing immediately when Harry was mentioned. "But I just can't control myself. My mind always goes completely blank when I see him..."

Hermione advised her, "This won't do. At least you need to be able to say something properly!"

"I'll try my best!" Ginny sighed, then suddenly became distracted.

It seemed the conversation was too heavy for Ginny. Even the most prominent striped silk tent in the center of the campsite held no appeal for her. As she passed it, Hermione glanced back at the lavish and ornate tent—it was practically a small palace—thinking to herself.

Ginny, though shy, was no pushover. She immediately shifted the focus, bringing up Hermione. "Speaking of which, what's your relationship with your study partner—that Malfoy—now? Did you see him at the campsite? Didn't you smell..."

"No, we have nothing to do with each other! I was rather silly back then, but I've worked it out now! Draco—he's just a friend from the neighboring House!" Hermione said, blushing slightly and quickly turning around to deny it to Ginny.

She no longer cared about the tent and instead pulled Ginny along, hurrying back. "Let's go, let's get back... I bet Mr. Weasley and the others are getting impatient..."

As luck would have it, their conversation reached Draco's ears—he'd just come from the striped silk tent to feed the live peacocks tied at the entrance when he saw the girl hurriedly darting past him.

These words made him frown slightly.

A regular friend from the neighboring House?

Her definition of him was truly—utterly indifferent. What a heartless girl!

He felt a surge of annoyance, his pale gray eyes fixed on the departing figure, yet he couldn't help being drawn to her again. Look at her—wearing Muggle jeans and a light-colored denim jacket, she looked youthful and vibrant.

She really knew how to make friends; she was nothing like the little girl from last summer who'd claimed she "couldn't make a single friend in Bath."

In just a few days, she was already intimately linking arms with someone else, acting as if she and that red-haired girl were destined to be together forever, yet she shamelessly claimed she and he were just ordinary friends.

He sighed in frustration, put the peacock food bowl on the ground, and a question swirled in his mind—was she trying to develop all the redheads into "friends"?

Did she really like red hair that much?

George and Fred didn't give Draco much time to think or fret. The red-haired twins suddenly leaped up from behind him, startling Draco. He jerked his wand at them, and the peacock feed bags fell to the ground.

"Oi—calm down, calm down, it's us!" Fred said, raising his hands in surprise. "Aren't you overreacting rather?"

"Can't you just walk up to me like normal people?" Draco grumbled, putting away his wand. "Why do you always play these pranks?"

"We couldn't resist," they said. The two of them, one on each side, tilted their heads and looked at him with smiles, their identical faces bearing the same sly expression.

"This isn't funny at all!" he said, frowning, as he bent down to pick up the feed bag from the ground.

"All right, enough chat. We need to talk to you. Come with us," George said, looking around and whispering. "There are too many people here."

They walked through the bustling crowd, chatting about how "the roads to the campsite were too crowded" and gossiping about "where the Weasleys had pitched," until they reached a secluded, deserted grove before getting to the point.

"The Shield Hats are a success!" Fred exclaimed eagerly. "We've found a consultant who's an expert in Defence Against the Dark Arts!"

"Yes, you'll be very surprised when you see him!" George said, smiling slightly at Draco.

"I'm so looking forward to it..." Draco said, leaning against an oak tree, looking languid, still annoyed that Hermione had said he was just a "friend."

The twin brothers opposite him exchanged a glance, revealing intriguing expressions.

"He hasn't started work yet. We've arranged to meet at Hogsmeade weekend after the start of term to discuss it in detail. The personnel change needs your confirmation, so you'll have to come," George said mysteriously.

"All right," Draco said, looking at him with a puzzled expression.

Who exactly was this consultant? Why were these two brothers so excited?

"Here you go..." Fred said, taking the Marauder's Map from his jacket pocket. "We don't need it anymore."

"You've already worked out the magic of tracking spells?" Draco asked in astonishment as he took the Marauder's Map.

"No, we've found a better option. Our consultant is no less capable than the Marauder's Map," Fred said with a grin. "He's very knowledgeable about tracking magic, and we're hoping to learn from him and see what innovations we can make using that."

Draco questioned this.

Couldn't they see how ingeniously this Marauder's Map was made? Very few people could surpass its creators.

However, judging from their tone, it seemed the person was somewhat knowledgeable.

"I look forward to your new achievements soon," he said. With a hint of curiosity, he put the Marauder's Map into his pocket and slowly said goodbye to the Weasley twins.

Hermione Granger had no idea she'd just brushed past Draco. She spent the entire day trying to immerse herself in a great deal of novelty and curiosity, attempting to stop thinking about the boy who inexplicably occupied her thoughts.

It must be said that, most of the time, this strategy was quite successful:

The captivating tent decorations were dazzling, and the occasional encounter with a Hogwarts classmate filled her with surprise and delight. In the afternoon, Apparating saleswizards popped up everywhere, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise—badges, rosettes, flags, models, and miniatures. She and Ginny couldn't help lingering before the stalls, completely unable to tear themselves away, until Mr. Weasley, amidst the cheers of the surrounding crowd, loudly urged them to hurry to the stadium.

"Isn't it spectacular? It can hold one hundred thousand spectators from all over the world, and five hundred Ministry of Magic staff worked on it for a whole year. Every inch of this place is enchanted with Muggle-Repelling Charms..." Mr. Weasley said loudly as he led them into the huge stadium.

Passing some shouting wizards, they followed a witch up the purple-carpeted stairs to the upper level. Hermione followed Mr. Weasley and his companions up the stairs to the Top Box. There were about twenty purple-and-gilt chairs arranged in two rows. They looked around curiously, one after another, and sat in the front row.

At this moment, thousands of wizards were taking their seats one after another. The Top Box had an excellent view; they were at the highest point of the stadium, directly facing the golden goal hoops.

Hermione peered down from her seat into the stadium and saw it bathed in a mysterious golden-green light, the pitch smooth and velvety. Opposite them, at eye level, was a huge blackboard flashing with advertisements and promotions.

Over the next half hour, the once-empty box gradually filled with a lively atmosphere. Mr. Weasley was constantly shaking hands with several wizards who appeared to be of high status. Hermione recognized Cornelius Fudge, the portly Minister for Magic, who'd been seen in the pumpkin patch before Hagrid's hut at Hogwarts a few months earlier. He was now speaking kindly to Harry.

Mr. Weasley was dedicated to introducing Harry and Hermione to the Ministry officials—his children were already quite familiar with his colleagues. However, once Hermione understood the duties and responsibilities of the Ministry officials, she gradually lost interest in the officials' tedious small talk.

When her mind was blank, the thought that had been suppressed for so long began rising involuntarily: Draco—where was he?

For the thousand-and-first time, she cast her anxious gaze toward the dark stairwell below, suddenly hoping he'd arrive soon.

Just then, the boy she'd been longing for answered her call. The boy with the pointed chin and seemingly aloof demeanor! His neatly styled platinum hair suddenly illuminated the dark stairs below.

Her lips parted slightly, and she blinked incredulously, only to find that pair of gray eyes suddenly glanced at the Top Box, then shot toward her like arrows, meeting her gaze.

A gentle smile suddenly appeared in his sharp eyes. Hermione looked at him and couldn't help smiling back. He seemed to have grown taller since the last time she'd seen him, possessing a vibrant and upright air unique to young men.

Hermione looked at him and suddenly found it hard to look away. Even more strangely, the noisy conversation around her seemed to have been paused, disappearing completely from her ears.

Draco—he'd cruelly and easily captured her heart. She murmured his name in her mind as she watched him slowly walk up the stairs.

It was like a slow-motion scene from an old film she'd seen, where some details were inexplicably magnified and presented to her gently and exquisitely.

For example, he wore a spotless, crisp black suit with a black shirt, which made him appear somewhat mysterious; another example was that his tie tightly bound his collar, exuding restrained elegance.

Even more strangely, she could hear the slow, steady tapping of his leather shoes against the wooden stairs, a sound that seemed to resonate deep within her heart.

Hermione had to admit he looked very attractive in a suit.

Everything about him was eye-catching. He caught her eye.

Hermione Granger, stop—don't think about this! She told herself, while finding her body stiff as if under a Body-Bind Curse.

She struggled to look away, trying not to appear so infatuated, but failed each time. Finally, filled with frustration, she could only stare at him motionless, speechless, temporarily unable to utter a word.

At that moment, she suddenly understood completely how Ginny felt when she was with Harry.

What right did she have to lecture Ginny?

She was equally unable to control herself; whenever she saw him, her mind would go completely blank.

At that moment, Draco approached her, drawing closer, glancing at her briefly and raising an eyebrow slightly, as if secretly greeting her. However, Hermione couldn't be sure if this was just her imagination, since he didn't stop and continued walking steadily past her.

The only good thing was that his somewhat oppressive gaze had left her, and she could finally shift her gaze. Hermione lowered her head, watching his black trousers sweep past her in the aisle, then hesitantly glide past the armrest of her chair and disappear behind her.

His cufflinks seemed to brush against a strand of hair that fell over her shoulder, sending a tingling sensation through her scalp where the hair rested. She was bewildered once more; perhaps it was yet another of her fantasies.

The only certainty was that a strange yet pleasant scent of cedarwood suddenly wafted into her nostrils, slid down her windpipe into her chest, and cunningly stirred her heartstrings.

"Hermione, why is your face so red?" Ginny, always eager to stir up trouble, tugged at her sleeve and whispered in her ear. "What's wrong? Are you smitten with Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes..." she mumbled, her nostrils still lingering with his faint scent of cedarwood. After a few seconds, her heart pounding, she suddenly realized what a foolish thing she'd done. She quickly whispered to Ginny, "Oh, no! Of course not!"

However, Ginny gave her a knowing look that made Hermione's cheeks burn. She heard Ginny say in a knowing tone, "Just a friend from the neighboring House? Now I can finally feel better."

"We're really just ordinary friends," she said softly, giving Ginny a guilty smile, suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable.

Was she making it that obvious? She sat up straight, determined not to look back at him, lest she reveal any flaws in her expression.

Draco Malfoy spotted Hermione in her seat immediately. She seemed rather lost, her mind wandering, her lips slightly parted, her eyes fixed blankly in his direction. Next to her sat the red-haired girl, and beside them were Harry, Ron, and many more red-haired Weasleys.

If his parents hadn't been there, he might have greeted them. However, given that his father, Lucius, who was walking ahead of him, had always been at odds with Mr. Weasley, he didn't want to invite trouble on this day.

He could only catch a few more glances at her as he climbed the stairs. Her eyes were bright, and she kept looking at him, giving him a kind of smile.

Did her definition of "a normal friendship between people from neighboring Houses" mean she could smile at him so sweetly?

He'd originally wanted to show his displeasure to this irresponsible girl, but in the end he couldn't help himself and raised an eyebrow at her. She seemed flustered about something and suddenly lowered her head.

He wanted to touch her hair but felt it was inappropriate to do so in public, so he reluctantly brushed his sleeve across her hair and restrained himself.

Without exchanging a word, he walked past her.

Draco was rather annoyed. He knew he couldn't show any annoyance at this moment. His every move was being watched by Lucius and Narcissa, and he didn't think it was a good idea to draw their attention to Hermione now.

So he suppressed his temper, followed behind his parents, exchanged pleasantries with Fudge, and finally sat in the second row. He crossed his long legs and sat coldly in the aisle seat, directly in front of Hermione.

The seating arrangement inexplicably pleased him. He could lean forward and reach out to grasp her thick hair. Perhaps she could turn around and look at him.

However, the red-haired girl beside her kept talking in her ear, which was quite annoying.

Had she and Ron's sister gotten to the point of whispering in each other's ears? What were they saying that didn't even give her a chance to turn around and look at him? These thoughts swirled uncontrollably in Draco's mind.

She never turned around, sitting upright and proper. It was as if a stranger was sitting behind her, not him.

Hermione Granger, that heartless girl!

How heartless!

Draco's lips drooped in disappointment. He remained silent, like a statue, glancing at the others in the box. Just as in his previous life, they were mostly high-ranking officials in the Ministry; he even spotted the Bulgarian Minister for Magic.

In the corner, a house-elf that looked somewhat like Dobby sat in the second-to-last seat in the back row, its face buried in its hands.

Whose house-elf was this again? Was it saving a seat for its owner? Draco didn't seem to remember it.

At this time in his previous life, he'd focused most of his attention on "fighting with Harry and the Golden Trio."

Draco was distracted and wanted to take another look at the house-elf, but Ludo Bagman, wearing a Wimbourne Wasps jersey, interrupted Draco's thoughts about the house-elf.

He strode into the Top Box like a bumblebee, exchanged a few pleasantries with the wizards, and then, laughing heartily, quickly got to the point.

He pressed his wand to his throat and used the Sonorus Charm to announce to the entire stadium: "Ladies and gentlemen... welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The stadium erupted in cheers and applause.