HP: Redemption of The Platinum Boy

Chapter 54: A Rare Moment of Leisure

The rest of the summer term passed in bright sunshine.

"Want to play Wizard's Chess, Blaise?" Pansy said with ill intent on the grass by the Black Lake. "I want to hear someone call me 'Your Majesty.'"

"I'll never play chess with you again, Pansy Parkinson, you cunning little viper," Blaise said, putting down his book with a smug expression. "Not unless my hair catches fire and you're the last drop of water in the Black Lake."

"Oh, really?" Pansy said with a sour face, adopting an arrogant demeanor. "I don't want to play chess with you either, Blaise Zabini! Not unless I'm starving and you're the last pickle on the Hogwarts tables!"

Blaise glanced at her, then suddenly smiled knowingly and gestured toward her with his chin. "How about we have a picnic together sometime?"

Pansy seemed offended and snorted, turning to walk away, though her voice carried a hint of amusement. "Dream on!"

Blaise followed her, his lazy voice carried on the wind. "Midnight snack?"

"Shut up!" Pansy walked even faster.

"Draco, don't they eat together every day?" Crabbe asked in a low voice. "Are they arguing?"

"Of course not—they're flirting," Draco said impatiently. "All right, go about your business and leave me in peace."

Crabbe, looking dejected, exchanged a glance with Goyle and headed toward the castle.

After dismissing the Slytherins, Draco took a stroll around the Black Lake, enjoying this rare moment of leisure.

Hogwarts had returned to normal, and all the Petrified students had been revived.

Draco noticed that Colin Creevey, that clueless first-year, was again following Harry around with his ever-present camera, begging for a photograph as Harry fled with his head down. "Just one, Harry, just one, and then an autograph, please?"

One day, passing through a corridor, he'd overheard Justin Finch-Fletchley stammering an apology to Harry—in a tone reminiscent of Professor Quirrell from the previous year. "I shouldn't have doubted you, Harry. I'm terribly sorry."

As for Nearly Headless Nick, Gryffindor's resident ghost, he would happily perform his near-decapitation party trick at the Gryffindor table, filling the Great Hall with a cheerful atmosphere each time.

Even Mr. Filch seemed rather pleased. The Marauder's Map indicated he no longer posed like a statue on the third-floor wall. He now preferred to patrol the school with his Mrs. Norris, unusually ignoring the mischievous students.

Draco hadn't been consulting the Marauder's Map as frequently lately.

Since passing the Horcrux matter to Professor Dumbledore, he'd finally enjoyed the leisurely days a second-year Hogwarts student should have, and obtained high-quality sleep even more effective than Occlumency. Coupled with a reasonable diet and extensive Quidditch training, his usually pale complexion had gradually developed a healthy rosiness—he could be described as having rosy lips and white teeth.

Time flew, and Draco Malfoy had already completed his second year at Hogwarts. Time was the best healer. The gloomy memories seemed to be gradually fading, and bright sunlight was faintly breaking through the overcast sky.

As he strolled along the lake in the bright sunshine, breathing in the faint, sweet scent of roses, those dark memories seemed exceptionally distant.

He felt like just a boy about to turn thirteen, indulging in joy and sorrow, making close friends, living a perfect life. The seven years he'd already experienced, the seven years in which he'd gradually lost his pride, dignity, and glory, seemed like merely a nightmare with details so vivid they felt almost mythical.

It was Draco's birthday. Students were soaring across the Quidditch pitch or chasing each other on the grass by the Black Lake. Their trunks had already been packed by the house-elves, and in a few hours, they would board the Hogwarts Express and begin their journey home.

All the students were happy, except perhaps Harry, who alone looked sullen.

"I hate the holidays," he said to Draco, standing beneath the enormous beech tree, watching the Giant Squid barely visible in the ripples of the Black Lake.

Draco, hands in his pockets, was leaning against the thick, gnarled trunk, lost in thought. Hearing this, he said absently, "Your uncle's family is certainly unpleasant... I'm curious how you, growing up in such a household, can remain unaffected and maintain such a healthy outlook."

"Maybe it's because they don't value me... Look at what they've done to their precious Dudley," Harry grumbled.

Draco had been listening to Harry complain about his cousin Dudley for an hour.

In fact, the more he listened, the more subtly guilty he felt—the way Harry's aunt and uncle doted on Dudley was strikingly similar to how Lucius and Narcissa had loved him.

In his previous life, Draco had been oblivious to these things. Now, thinking about it, perhaps children who were spoiled did indeed develop minor flaws such as selfishness, lack of empathy, and inability to express their feelings appropriately.

Upbringing had a particularly devastating impact on a child's development. Not that Draco would complain about his parents—they'd given him the best they could. His parents had indeed been very indulgent, but no one was perfect. How could you expect new parents to be perfect in every way?

For Harry, this doting on Dudley and the harsh treatment he received created a stark contrast. Draco put himself in Harry's position and thought that if he were Harry, he probably wouldn't have been able to tolerate these Muggles and would have blown their house sky-high.

"Where's your godfather? Hasn't he contacted you?" Draco glanced at Ron, George, and Fred playing by the Black Lake, then looked back at Hermione sitting alone in the shade of a tree not far away, diligently reading "Ancient Runes Made Easy" as a "leisurely activity." He wisely chose to redirect the conversation.

"Oh, he's written to me several times. The other day, he even—" Harry hesitated. "He invited me to spend the summer at Grimmauld Place, and I don't know if I should accept."

"Why not?" Draco raised his eyebrows.

"I've never met him... I don't know what kind of person he is. I don't know if he'll like me..." Worry crossed Harry's face.

"I doubt he could be more insufferable than your aunt and uncle, could he? He's your godfather, practically a father to you, and your parents' best friend. How could he not like you?" Draco said dismissively.

Harry was worrying unnecessarily.

In his previous life, Harry had held deep affection for his godfather, Sirius Black. When Sirius died, Harry had been visibly devastated, suggesting their relationship had been very close.

"I know all that—I'm just a little—" Harry hesitated.

"You feel apprehensive the closer home gets, don't you? That's normal. Because you care and have expectations, you're afraid the outcome won't be what you hoped for," Draco said with understanding.

Harry smiled sheepishly and nodded.

"Don't worry. You're too close to see things clearly. Actually, I should call Sirius Black 'uncle,' though I wouldn't. The Weasleys and Blacks are related in multiple ways—in fact, nearly all pure-blood families are interconnected somehow. If you feel uncomfortable staying at the Black townhouse, you can invite Ron to visit, or you can visit me." Draco's tone was relaxed.

"Thank you, Draco." Harry looked much better. He suddenly remembered something and pulled a small gift box from his robes. "Happy birthday! Hermione told me it's your birthday today."

Draco raised an eyebrow, accepted the gift, and thanked him.

"Can I open it?" he asked Harry, shaking the small box and listening to the sounds inside.

"Of course," Harry said happily, somewhat anticipating the reaction.

Draco quickly opened the box—inside was a miniature Golden Snitch. The pale gold creature, smaller than regulation size, flew out merrily and circled Draco, seemingly tireless. Harry said sheepishly, "I thought, since you're a Seeker too, you'd like something like this."

"That's brilliant," Draco said with a faint smile.

Boys' friendships were simple: a shared hobby or common interest, and they became kindred spirits.

He hadn't expected to receive a gift from Harry. He'd approached Harry with impure motives, but now it seemed he'd gained a pure and genuine friendship.

With the diary and Horcrux destroyed, the Dark Lord's soul sealed inside Quirrell's body, Dumbledore had taken over subsequent tasks, and Draco's manipulation of Harry had faded into the past.

Setting aside the grandiose title of "Savior," Harry was a kind and optimistic boy, though admittedly rather foolish, as Draco should emphasize.

Harry was beaming. He smiled at Draco, then walked briskly to the Black Lake and joined the group of boys studying the Giant Squid.

Draco smiled and carefully rewrapped the special gift, placing it solemnly into his robes, not bothering to count how many presents he'd received that day.

In fact, counting would be difficult. This morning, upon waking, he'd been startled by the mountain of Chocolate Frogs and various candy boxes piled before his bed.

Since capturing Peter Pettigrew and earning his Order of Merlin, the Slytherins, who respected strength, had gained considerable respect for Draco. At the time, Slytherins had been troubled by rumors and considered suspects in opening the Chamber of Secrets, and Draco had cleared their names decisively, giving them a much-needed boost.

Consequently, students from other Houses also had a much improved opinion of him.

This indirectly led to a surprising outcome: he'd passively become acquainted with students from other Houses—who seemed completely unconcerned about his aloof attitude and would occasionally greet him warmly in the corridors as if they were old friends.

As a result, the number of birthday gifts he received had skyrocketed to unprecedented levels.

Most people gave sweets and chocolate as birthday gifts, which had always been hard currency for expressing friendship among Hogwarts students.

Some gifts were particularly thoughtful. The one that impressed Draco most was Ron's "200 Ways to Please a Witch," which included a note with the blessing: "Never make Hermione angry again—she always torments Harry and me when she's cross"—which left Draco both amused and exasperated.

The Weasley twins had given him a pair of newly developed Extendable Ears, which looked like long, flesh-colored strings. The instruction card read: "Insert one end into your ear and place the other end beneath a door, enabling you to hear conversations on the other side as clearly as if you were present. However, Extendable Ears will not function on doors enchanted with Imperturbable Charms."

It was rare for the twins to finally invent something more practical than entertaining, and Draco resolved to make good use of them someday.

Brilliant sunlight filtered through gaps in the foliage, dappling Draco's platinum hair. He squinted, enjoying this rare moment of leisure, leaning against the tree trunk, lost in thought. Just then, he noticed Hermione, who'd been reading on the nearby grass, silently standing beside him.

"Draco, I got you a birthday present." She held her right hand behind her back, her face slightly flushed from the sunlight. "I don't know if you'll like it. I bought it when I went to an antique market with my mother. Seeing it reminded me of you..."

Draco's interest was piqued, and he tilted his head to look at her. "I'm intrigued."

"Well, it might be a little... not quite like a gift for a boy... I mean..." she said shyly, extending her right hand before him while still keeping the object concealed.

"Open it and let me see," Draco said, eyeing her hand suspiciously. The object was clearly small enough to fit in her palm.

"All right, don't laugh at me—I really don't know what else you might need..." Hermione used chatter to mask her nervousness. She covered her eyes with her left hand while slowly opening her right.

A silver snake-shaped ring lay in her palm, gleaming with a cold yet gentle light. Draco didn't know why he described the ring that way, but that was his first impression.

Hermione felt his fingertips brush against her palm, sending a tingling, electric current through her.

Then, the palm where the ring had rested suddenly felt light and empty.

She still didn't dare open her eyes, then felt someone approach. He whispered half a sentence in her ear: "A very unexpected gift—"

Then came a moment of silence.

The silence was so prolonged and unbearable that she finally couldn't resist peeking at him through her fingers.

The platinum-haired boy chuckled softly, bending slightly forward, his pale gray eyes meeting hers through the gaps between her fingers. Hermione could see the corners of his mouth slowly curving upward. He dangled the ring, already on his finger, before her, saying with evident pride, "This gift is quite creative. I really like it. Thank you."

"Then why didn't you say anything? You made me so nervous!" Hermione said, looking bewildered.

The boy's smile widened. "I wanted to wait until you opened your eyes yourself. Expressing gratitude requires eye contact to show sincerity, doesn't it?"

Hermione pursed her lips, wanting to retort. She felt he was teasing her. But she couldn't bring herself to argue with that striking face. She held her tongue momentarily but couldn't resist, and finally laughed along with him.

"All right, whatever you say." She picked up "Ancient Runes Made Easy" again and hid her smile behind the book.

Unbeknownst to the boy and girl immersed in their pleasant atmosphere, in the quiet castle behind them, through the enormous window of the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore and Snape's gazes remained fixed on them.

"Draco Malfoy." At this moment, Dumbledore, who'd been rarely seen at Hogwarts for the past two months, stood by the window of his spacious and bright office. His blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Severus, there's a quality about him that reminds me of you."

"Don't compare me to foolish students..." Snape said impatiently. "I see no resemblance to the Malfoys whatsoever. And based on my years of knowing Lucius Malfoy, the chances of him siding with us are extremely slim..."

"We will all age eventually, and one day we shall all embrace death. We should place our hopes in the younger generation, like Harry. And Draco—if my eyesight isn't failing, I seem to see new possibilities in this Slytherin..." Dumbledore smiled at Snape.

"What remarkable imagination... a child who's just turned thirteen overturning an ancient pure-blood family that's existed for centuries... making his Death Eater father reform..." Snape hissed like a disgruntled snake. "Why? Give me one reason."

"I made a promise to someone, and I cannot tell you the reason," Dumbledore said gently, not continuing the topic. He withdrew his gaze, a sharp glint in his blue eyes. "Tell me, Severus, how is your research on Quirrell's body progressing with Professor Flitwick?"

"Not ideal..." Snape's expression turned serious, his brow furrowing. "We still dare not reverse Quirrell's Petrification, nor can we simply destroy him with the Sword of Gryffindor. Who knows if the soul fragment will perish or escape again upon Quirrell's death? Nobody has ever encountered a body containing two souls... We've spent an entire year, yet we still can't determine why Voldemort's fractured soul is trapped in Quirrell's body by a mere Petrification curse... The only thing we can do is properly store his body in the dungeons..."

"This isn't the effect of a Petrification curse alone," Dumbledore said with certainty. "Someone must have cast some other, more advanced spell."

"That's impossible. They were merely first-years... Both Potter and Granger were children raised in Muggle families, with no access to advanced magic. Miss Granger was incredibly fortunate to even cast the Petrificus Totalus curse," Snape said, frowning.

"On the day Quirrell and Voldemort's soul were Petrified, there must have been someone else present besides Hermione and Harry. This person cast another spell, which is why Voldemort's soul fragment couldn't escape," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Who would do that?" A rare look of surprise appeared on Snape's face.

"Mr. Potter was not fully conscious at the time, and the only one aware was Miss Granger. I suspect she told us a white lie to protect someone dear to her... This person must be very special to her. This is merely my speculation." Dumbledore glanced casually at the bustling grounds outside the window, finally settling back into his comfortable armchair with a contented sigh.

He picked up a Sherbet Lemon from the table. "Want one, Severus?"

Snape glared at him, apparently reprimanding his casual behavior given the gravity of the matter. "No. I know what you're implying. Draco Malfoy was also a first-year then, and from what I knew of him previously, he wasn't significantly more capable than Miss Granger."

"But he captured Peter Pettigrew, an Animagus, and rescued Ron Weasley in the Chamber of Secrets, indirectly helping Harry destroy the diary Horcrux. He even brewed the Mandrake Restorative Draught without instruction, reviving Hermione Granger. Forgive my bluntness, but I don't believe Draco Malfoy would make a suitable Death Eater," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, unwrapping the Sherbet Lemon and taking a bite.

The child had even informed him the diary was a Horcrux. Given such profound knowledge of Dark magic, it wouldn't be surprising if he knew a few additional spells.

"Don't drag my students into this. He's simply a spoiled, boastful, and arrogant boy who's talented for his age and possesses modest aptitude in Potions, but otherwise he's no different from any other Slytherin..." Snape said sternly.

"Well then, let's observe a while longer," Dumbledore said enthusiastically, absorbed in his Sherbet Lemon. "After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. To me, he's someone worth attempting to recruit."

Snape snorted, his dark eyes silently fixed on the platinum-haired boy in the sunlight. Even from a distance, that distinctive color was as striking as a lighthouse at sea, impossible to ignore.

"How is the research on the Dark Lord's other Horcruxes progressing?" Snape asked after a moment's consideration.

"I have some leads," Dumbledore said, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather. He smiled. "I've located Caractacus Burke, who was Borgin's former employer; and through certain connections, I've also contacted Bob Ogden, who's retired now but formerly worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"I don't see how these two individuals can assist your research," Snape said coldly. "You should seek out the Gaunt family, if any descendants still survive."

"Of course. I've already obtained a portion of Morfin Gaunt's memories in Azkaban—it took considerable effort to persuade the guards there. But it was worthwhile. After all, he's the only living Gaunt family member." Dumbledore's expression grew serious. "But his memories alone are insufficient. We need to pursue the truth from multiple angles; every clue related to Voldemort merits investigation."