novelraw Chapter 74: The Astronomy Tower on a Stargazing Night
Chapter 74: The Astronomy Tower on a Stargazing Night
Chapter Seventy-Four: The Astronomy Tower on a Stargazing Night
Draco Malfoy, dragging his weary steps, was climbing the steep spiral staircase of the Astronomy Tower.
If it weren't for his Astronomy lesson that evening, he wouldn't have wanted to approach that ominous, lightning-struck tower—a place that cast a shadow over the depths of his heart.
He wasn't feeling well today.
He'd only taken a short nap in his dormitory, and he'd had countless nightmares.
In his dreams, Morfin would always lunge at him with a sinister grin, screaming as he tried to strangle him, accusing him of being the thief who'd stolen the Slytherin locket.
What wicked dreams.
He'd quickly fled the dream, fled the four-poster bed, fled the room at the bottom of the Black Lake filled with eerie shadows and whispers, as if fleeing a man-eating monster.
With the soft thud of his shoes against the stone steps, he took a deep breath of the fresh night air in the tower and finally felt a long-lost sense of clarity.
There was no moonlight tonight, but plenty of stars—perfect for an Astronomy lesson.
The Bloody Baron was groaning and drifting downstairs—when students came to class, he always chose to temporarily leave the tower to avoid their curious or fearful gazes.
Just as the two passed each other, the ghost suddenly raised his dull eyes and murmured expressionlessly, "You've come."
Draco nodded silently to him, wondering why he'd suddenly spoken.
"You have an evil smell about you," he said abruptly, then returned to his moaning and slowly drifted away.
Draco, puzzled, raised his sleeve and sniffed himself, but detected nothing unusual.
He should have devoted more thought to the meaning of the Baron's words, but today he was truly exhausted and felt numb and desolate.
Let's just assume this is another of the Bloody Baron's ravings. He thought lazily as he slowly entered the classroom where a huge astronomical model hung.
When Hermione arrived at the Astronomy Tower, she saw this scene: a pale-faced boy gazing melancholically at the sky, his platinum-blond hair appearing somewhat dull in the flickering candlelight. He leaned against an iron railing, frowning, staring through the huge arched windows at the inky black night sky.
There was a kind of beauty about him that seemed on the verge of collapse, as if he might be carried away by the wind at any moment or plummet to the bottom of the tower. Hermione shook her head, trying to dispel this ominous feeling.
"Draco, are you all right?" She held her breath and spoke softly, as if afraid of shattering his fragile peace.
"I'm fine." He didn't look back at her, his tone as indifferent as distilled water.
"You seem troubled." She stared at him intently, secretly hoping he would turn around and look at her instead of staring into the dark void.
"It's nothing serious," Draco said listlessly, letting out a sigh.
He forced himself to look at Hermione. Her cheeks were flushed with soft pink, and her slightly damp hair draped over her shoulders, suggesting she'd just bathed.
Unlike before, she held nothing in her hands except a small pair of omnioculars, and the lines of her neck and collarbone were finally freed from their constraints, liberated from behind heavy books.
Her expression was initially somewhat serious, but when she saw him turn around, she gave him a faint smile.
Draco felt considerably better.
A faint scent of green apples wafted in the air, which neutralized the heavy bitterness in his heart. He suddenly felt an emptiness in his stomach.
"Tell me, Draco, why didn't you eat dinner?" Hermione asked him, regarding him with a suspicious gaze.
"I did eat," he said, fabricating an excuse.
"Nonsense—you weren't even at the staff table!" She glared at him. "I saw you in the corridor! You went back to the Slytherin common room around dinner time, didn't you?"
"I wasn't hungry," Draco said, turning his face away.
"Nonsense! Look at your face—it's so pale you look like a ghost!" Hermione said indignantly.
Draco touched his face in a daze, looking at Hermione with a puzzled expression.
"I've always been fair-skinned—"
"Wrong! Completely wrong! What you're experiencing is called hypoglycemia in the Muggle world. When you're truly healthy, your face is rosy, and you look vibrant after eating..." Hermione began lecturing. Draco tried to avoid her, but she followed him relentlessly.
"All right. What can I do? I've already missed dinner." He shrugged, striking an innocent pose.
Her interruption had completely erased his troubling and terrifying hallucinations. His eyes and mind were now filled with her relentless and angry expression.
"Here." Hermione furtively pulled a bulging brown paper bag from her robes, inside which was a green apple, a warm pumpkin pasty wrapped in parchment, and a large piece of chocolate cake.
Draco looked surprised, his expression freezing momentarily.
It felt wonderful.
When you stood atop a tower, surrounded by profound loneliness, utterly despondently recalling filth, sin, sharp blades, and thorns, feeling as if the entire world was impossibly distant—this spirited girl suddenly appeared, bringing her unique liveliness and the sweet aroma of food, boldly capturing all your attention and gently pulling you from your despondency.
"I used a Warming Charm," Hermione said smugly. Like a small Niffler that had stolen treasure, she pulled him to a gap beneath the observatory. "Look, it's still steaming! Eat quickly before class starts and Professor Sinistra arrives."
For some inexplicable reason, the young Malfoy heir, imitating Hermione, sat cross-legged on the floor, ignoring the dust, manners, and propriety.
Under her encouraging gaze, he took a large bite of the sweet, warm pumpkin pasty.
"Thank you. It's delicious," Draco said softly, suddenly feeling a lump in his throat.
Then he watched her magically produce a strange Muggle container from her other pocket and pour hot tea into the lid.
"What is this peculiar thing?" He was somewhat overwhelmed by her actions, and the stinging sensation in his nose instantly subsided.
"It's a thermos flask—invented by Muggles. The principle is somewhat like placing a permanent Warming Charm on the tea," Hermione explained to him, then urged him on, a hint of delight in her eyes. "Drink up—it's your favorite black tea, isn't it?"
"Of course. It's my favorite." He smiled slightly at her, inhaling the fragrant aroma of the tea, his eyes brighter than the stars in the night sky.
"I think your mental age should be one now. You're far more willful than I am, skipping meals whenever you fancy... Don't you always claim you're hungry? Are you planning to starve yourself? Do I have to force-feed you every day?" Hermione said to him with a stern face.
Draco didn't notice her feigned fierce expression. With experience reading his awkward father Lucius, Hermione's underlying concern for him was as transparent as glass.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I made you worry."
Hermione frowned at him, wanting to scold him further, but she didn't know what to say—his attitude of admitting fault was too perfect, leaving her no room to maneuver.
Draco chuckled softly at her troubled expression. He reached out and smoothed the furrow in her brow.
Without any apparent reason, he said softly, "The moonlight is beautiful tonight."
Hermione looked surprised.
In a moment of strange intuition, she felt that he was touching not only her brow, but also her heart.
She didn't have time to dwell on this strange notion, because his words today were clearly somewhat nonsensical. So she glanced at the night sky and chuckled, "Draco, are you hallucinating from hunger? There's no moon tonight. But the wind is quite gentle."
He simply looked at her and smiled, saying nothing.
Amidst the increasingly noisy chatter of arriving students, he quickly finished his warm meal.
The food rekindled his warmth and energy, and even strangely diminished the fear and heaviness the tower had instilled in him. He felt his soul lighten again, his heart warm.
"How did you find this place?" He'd wanted to ask this question for ages. Few students would discover the hidden nook beneath the observation deck.
"Under very coincidental circumstances," she smiled mysteriously.
"Another 'unspeakable' secret?" He frowned slightly.
"That's right. Class has already started—let's sneak back quickly," Hermione said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Under cover of darkness, they quietly slipped back to the astronomical observatory, hiding behind other students, and listened as Professor Sinistra enthusiastically explained the learning objectives for the new school year:
"...You've already mastered the names of different stars and the trajectories of planets. Starting this year, you'll learn about the motion of galaxies and how to draw star charts."
Professor Sinistra flicked her wand at the ceiling, and the previously still metallic galaxies began accelerating, demonstrating the mysteries of galactic motion to the students. "I know you've already started taking Divination or Arithmancy courses, so this will make it easier for you to combine your studies, predict the future, and foresee destiny..."
Various galaxies, constantly changing and unpredictable, appeared above the classroom. This was a truly breathtaking scene for the third-years. The students were completely mesmerized, uttering gasps of amazement.
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Hermione said softly.
Draco gazed lazily at the stars, letting out a casual "Mm" through his nose.
"I think I see you, Draco," Hermione said suddenly with a smile. "I've found the positions of Gamma Draconis and Beta Draconis. They're very bright, aren't they?"
Following Hermione's pointing direction, Draco attempted to identify them and finally expressed his agreement. "I think you're right."
"What's your favorite star?" Hermione asked, looking at his sharply defined profile—a question that seemed rather silly.
Normally, Draco would probably tease her, saying, "This doesn't sound like a question a top student who prefers rigorous and rational subjects would ask."
But tonight, warmed by tea and food, and looking into those bright, sparkling eyes, he had more patience: "When I was little, my favorite star was Vega—Alpha Lyrae, the famous one. You see, Draco isn't easy to find; sometimes it's rather dim—"
"Indeed," Hermione said meaningfully. "It's a rather cunning constellation."
"Indeed, somewhat cunning." Draco smiled enigmatically at her, gazing at her silently with his cool grey eyes. He said softly, "If you can't hit the target directly, try a roundabout approach. If you can locate the bright Vega, look around it, and you'll more easily identify the four stars that form the dragon's head."
"A roundabout approach?" Hermione asked with interest. "That's an intriguing term."
Draco said lazily, "Slytherin's usual tactics."
"Are you teaching a Gryffindor to use Slytherin methods?" Hermione chuckled. Skeptical, she tried observing the stars using his method, and after a moment, she exclaimed in surprise, "I actually found them!"
"You found them quickly, didn't you? Faster than finding Draco directly, correct?" Draco asked her softly, looking at her animated profile and surprised expression.
"Well—" she stammered. Although it was effective, the young Gryffindor witch still had her pride and was unwilling to directly admit that Slytherin methods were superior.
So she observed her Draco constellation and rambled about other topics: "I've discovered that the study of names is truly fascinating. Not only can it be used for Arithmancy, but some ancient magical families also favor using stars for names. Like Draco, Sirius..."
"You're right." Draco wasn't looking at the stars—he was staring at her.
He said softly, "The Black family particularly favors naming their children after stars, which reflects the parents' hopes for the next generation. For example, there are Bellatrix—Gamma Orionis, the Amazon Star—Regulus, Alpha Leonis, and Arcturus, Alpha Boötis. Most of them are very bright stars in the galaxy—although the fates of wizards who received these names weren't necessarily brilliant."
As he explained, Hermione observed the celestial trajectories near the North Celestial Pole with great interest, seemingly mesmerized by the stars, and remained silent.
Professor Sinistra was lecturing about something else now.
Draco found the lecture, which he'd already attended once, rather uninteresting. He absentmindedly adjusted his omnioculars, lost in thought.
The vision of parents is just that—a vision.
The brighter the star, the sooner it falls. For example, Regulus Arcturus Black.
Regulus was the brightest star in the constellation Leo, meaning "the heart of the lion." Draco glanced at the star—it was already dim and lifeless in the autumn night sky.
Arcturus was the brightest star in the constellation Boötes and the brightest star in the northern hemisphere's night sky.
Draco could hardly imagine how much of the Black family's expectations must have rested on someone who bore two such dazzling names.
This prodigy, however, had a brief lifespan, like a fleeting flower—he'd disappeared more than a decade ago, when he was only eighteen years old.
This drove Great-Aunt Walburga to the brink of madness. According to his mother, Narcissa, Walburga had once been a dignified young lady, popular among pure-blood wizards for her elegant and intellectual demeanor. But after this blow, she'd withered away, transforming into a foul-mouthed, hideous old woman.
"My cousin Regulus was once a staunch supporter of the Dark Lord and enjoyed his deep trust. This made Aunt Walburga incredibly proud," Narcissa had once told Draco. "But in the end, her beloved son's remains were never found, and only her most despised, rebellious son Sirius inherited the Black family townhouse. How ironic."
Sirius Black, that troublemaker! A self-centered libertine who never considered the storm his actions would bring to his family. Draco thought bitterly in that moment.
He finally understood his mother's fear and disapproval of approaching him. Sirius Black didn't care how much harm his actions caused others. He was incredibly arrogant!
A wave of frustration washed over Draco again. He shouldn't have let his mother provoke that rebellious son of the Black family—he was ruthless in his schemes!
I need to subtly hint at this to Mother later.
Even the slightest contact with this Black family heir should be avoided. Draco made up his mind.
After midnight, students who'd finished their Astronomy lesson walked down the towering tower in twos and threes.
After saying goodbye to Hermione, Draco returned to his dormitory, his mind heavy with worries, and collapsed heavily onto the soft mattress.
He was plunged into nightmares again.
This time, he seemed to be at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, walking past the portrait in the entrance hall where his great-aunt Walburga was calling him a "traitor."
He ran up to the drawing room on the first floor, where the incredibly ancient house-elf Kreacher leaped out. Like Morfin had choked Ogden, it grabbed him by the neck and snarled fiercely, "You took Master's things, you filthy thief! Master wanted to throw away Mistress's things and all his things. He'd be so heartbroken! Kreacher must stop him..."
He was suddenly awakened at two in the morning, Kreacher's words echoing in his mind.
"Master wanted to throw away... Master's things!" He chewed on these words, as if a candle flame flickered dimly in his mind.
Master wanted to throw away Master's things.
That seemingly nonsensical statement was actually perfectly logical.
Kreacher had two masters.
He clearly despised Master Sirius and deeply loved Master Regulus.
Regulus Arcturus Black, of noble birth and deeply trusted by the Dark Lord.
Like Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy, of noble birth and trusted by the Dark Lord.
Perhaps you trust them enough to entrust them with safeguarding a Horcrux.
Regulus had gone missing.
Kreacher repeatedly hid things and tried to disobey orders to protect Master Regulus's belongings.
The known details were like scattered puzzle pieces, slowly assembling into a shape through countless connections. Draco stared at the thick curtains above him, using his imagination to slowly sketch the final piece of the puzzle in the darkness.
What was the relic that Kreacher cherished so dearly? Whatever it was, it must have been extremely important.
He thought of the countless gold and silver ornaments and piles of rings in the Black family's ancestral home.
Could there be some hidden secret within?
Could there be a special relic inside?