novelraw Chapter 79: Instruction on the Patronus Charm
Chapter 79: Instruction on the Patronus Charm
On a Sunday in mid-September, Neville Longbottom was about to step through the portrait of the Fat Lady when he opened it and froze.
Draco Malfoy stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe, regarding him with a sideways glance.
Merlin! His eyes were exactly like Professor Snape's—like hail in a blizzard.
Neville pulled back his outstretched foot, intending to turn and flee, but was stopped by this formidable Slytherin.
"Longbottom—" he drawled arrogantly, "is Hermione here?"
"Yes, yes, she is…" Longbottom said tremulously, feeling the same fear the Potions Professor inspired.
"Call her out," Draco said, giving him a malevolent look. "Otherwise, I'll cast a Leg-Locker Curse on you, sticking your legs together so you have to hop around."
Neville's face quickly turned ashen and he disappeared behind the Fat Lady's portrait.
"Darling, that's rather rude," the plump lady said, fanning herself with her right hand. "In my opinion, young ladies won't appreciate that tone."
"Has anyone asked for your opinion?" the platinum-blond boy said lazily.
The plump lady looked affronted, turned her head away, and ignored the boy wearing the unusual silver and green tie.
Draco waited aimlessly for a while before he saw the girl excitedly step through the threshold, nearly tripping over it.
As she cried out in alarm, he reached out and caught her, thus averting disaster.
"Reckless girl…" he murmured softly, quickly steadying her.
"Draco!" She straightened abruptly, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushed. "Were you waiting long? Sorry, Harry and the others just threw a celebration for me. You know—cutting the cake, blowing out candles, making wishes and all that…"
She glanced at the item in her hand and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it was intact.
It was an exquisite porcelain plate bearing an avalanche of strawberry cake.
"I've saved the best piece for you!" she said cheerfully to Draco. "A birthday gift—take it!"
Draco raised an eyebrow, surprised to receive such a present. He accepted the porcelain plate and followed Hermione slowly down a quiet corridor.
Looking out from the corridor, one could see endless valleys surrounding the castle. They sat on a ledge along one side of the corridor, where the warmth of the setting sun still lingered, offsetting the chill of the autumn breeze.
Hermione was struggling with the birthday hat on her head—her hair had become somewhat windblown and was tangled in the hat.
"Oh goodness, it's always like this!" she complained, wrinkling her nose like a helpless kitten tangled in yarn.
"Let me help." Draco chuckled softly as he placed the porcelain plate beside him and moved closer to her.
Hermione stared blankly at him. He was getting closer and closer. A refreshing scent wafted through the air, reaching her nose. In that instant, she lost the ability to refuse.
She had no choice but to look up at his slightly curved lips and whisper, "Thank you."
The boy's fingers were elegant and long. He was extremely patient, a slight smile playing on his lips, as he gently smoothed down strands of her brown hair tangled in the birthday hat.
The process proceeded smoothly until a particularly stubborn strand protested. It stubbornly clung somewhere in the hat and wouldn't release, eliciting a small cry of pain when he tugged at it.
The boy before her suddenly panicked. He loosened his grip and hurriedly leaned forward to examine the crimson and gold hat at the back of her head, his fingertips inadvertently brushing her cheek. He murmured, "Sorry, sorry."
"It's all right," Hermione said softly, staring at his ears that had turned red instantly.
In the twilight's glow, she tilted her head slightly so he could see more clearly. She resisted the urge to touch her cheek, even though she could feel a slight tingle, even a burning sensation, where his fingers had grazed.
"It's caught in the decorations," he said quietly after examining it for a moment.
Then, in silence, he began untangling the wayward strands, his fingers working through a long, gentle adjustment with the scarlet and gold embellishments. The only sounds in the air were the rustling of hair and his soft breaths falling on the tips of her curls.
He never let her feel pain again.
Finally, he breathed a sigh of relief, removed the birthday hat, and said cheerfully, "All done."
"Thank you." She thanked him again.
She seemed to have been thanking him all day. She seemed to have nothing else to say.
Hermione let out a quiet breath, glanced at him, and quickly turned her gaze back to the valley scenery. His gaze was as gentle as fingers untangling her hair, covering her face and making her cheeks burn even hotter.
Draco looked at the girl gazing at the valley. Perhaps it was the sunset's glow, but her profile was tinged with a soft rosy hue.
He discreetly tossed the birthday hat behind her—he still couldn't abide the combination of scarlet and gold—and then pulled a silver-green decorated gift box from his pocket and handed it to Hermione.
Hermione accepted the palm-sized box, curious about its contents.
"Open it." He gestured encouragingly.
She opened the gift box, and a gorgeous crystal-beaded bag appeared before her.
"Happy birthday," Draco said. "I don't know if you'll like this style. It's actually an heirloom. It was left to me by my grandmother. Look—" He showed her. "It's a beaded bag with an Undetectable Extension Charm, the largest capacity I could find…"
"Oh!" She gazed at the rhomboid crystal beads—which refracted light in a gradient from forest green to Prussian blue—and a look of radiant joy spread across her face. "I love it, I really love it—it's beautiful."
"I'm glad you like it." He smiled, looked up at her, and felt an unprecedented sense of peace.
She stroked the silver leather chain on the small bag and couldn't help asking, "How much can it hold?"
"I think it could probably fit a small house," Draco said casually, taking a small bite of cake. "Perhaps three hundred square meters?"
"Three hundred square meters! You still think it's small?" She shook her head, looking helpless. However, the smile on her lips betrayed her good mood, and she continued, "How did you manage to extend such a large space?"
"The size of a beaded bag's expandable space is primarily affected by the material. An ordinary small bag, even with a charm, cannot expand to this extent," Draco said meaningfully. "Crystal beads are beautiful, but they're merely beads. The most important element is the inconspicuous inner lining—that's the truly rare component."
"What kind of hide is that?" Hermione asked with interest.
"If I recall correctly, it's made from Occamy hide, Runespoor skin, and Swedish Short-Snout dragon hide. Oh, and it seems to have fire-resistant and anti-theft properties too—you'll have to discover those yourself," Draco said.
"This gift is so precious! I can't imagine anything more delightful." Hermione's face showed appreciation. "Thank you, Draco. But why did you think to give me this?"
"I won't press you about the oddities in your schedule. I just hope you stop carrying around mountains of books and frightening people at Hogwarts," Draco said lazily. "I can't accompany you to every class anyway."
—*I can't carry that pile of books for you every time.*
As he thought this, he glanced subtly at her neck, where a thin gold chain was faintly visible through her slightly open collar.
He knew what it was.
His grandfather had written to him, mentioning that the Ministry of Magic had a batch of Time-Turners.
"That item is extraordinarily rare, and the application requirements are very strict, but if you're determined, Hogwarts isn't beyond the realm of possibility," Abraxas had written. "Want one? I can acquire one for you."
Draco had quickly written back to his grandfather, telling him he wasn't particularly interested.
He was interested in the owner of the Time-Turner.
The owner, completely unaware her secret had been discovered, was still examining the beaded bag's internal structure, indulging in fantasies about becoming a library thief.
"If—I mean if—I were to rob the library, how many books could I fit in?" Hermione asked him, genuine mischief appearing on her face.
"You know you can't use Summoning Charms in a library, correct?" Draco reminded her. "Think about it—you'd have to put the books in one by one. You shouldn't be worrying about whether your beaded bag has sufficient space, but rather whether you have enough time to commit the crime…"
"You're right." She thought for a moment, put away her beaded bag, and her eyes darted about, as if plotting something.
*Is she planning to use the Time-Turner to pilfer some books?* Draco chuckled inwardly, observing her expression and imagining her sneaking off to the library like a squirrel hoarding acorns.
He glanced again at the thin gold chain, which had pressed a faint pink mark onto her collarbone, disappearing into a depth he couldn't see. His face flushed slightly, and he quickly looked away, gazing into the valley below.
The sun suddenly vanished, and darkness surged violently—this wasn't merely due to the change of time, but for another reason entirely.
"What's happening?" Hermione asked in surprise. "Why is the sun setting so quickly?"
"Look down," Draco said quietly.
A group of black shadows roamed below in the valley—the Dementors.
A shadow suddenly fell across Hermione's bright face. Draco noticed.
He understood that she was afraid, and he understood what she feared.
He carefully considered his words before speaking. "You once said you wanted to learn the Patronus Charm. Are you still interested?"
She turned to look at him, her eyes suddenly lighting up.
At three o'clock on Monday afternoon, Draco Malfoy strolled lazily toward an abandoned, disused classroom on the fourth floor.
He opened the door, and confusion immediately appeared in his arrogant grey eyes—there were many students standing in the room.
Harry, Ron and his sister Ginny, the Weasley twins, the Gryffindor boy who always followed Harry around with a camera… Finnigan, who loved exploding cauldrons, and that idiot Longbottom, who was eager to steal his study partner (Neville: I wasn't, I wasn't)… several students wearing Gryffindor ties… several people he didn't recognize, with Ravenclaw crests embroidered on their robes… Susan Bones from Hufflepuff, who had once cheered with Hermione… even Ernie Macmillan, the Hufflepuff boy who'd once mocked his Seeker status… they all turned to look at him.
"Sorry, wrong classroom," he said to the group of students who were smiling at him in a friendly manner, then took two steps back and slammed the door shut.
After a few seconds, he opened the door again—because he realized this was the agreed-upon location—and asked with slight doubt, "Excuse me, where is this—"
"Draco, this is it, that's correct!" Hermione squeezed through the crowd and ran up to him, announcing excitedly, "They're all here to learn the Patronus Charm."
Draco's face immediately showed utter disbelief.
He glanced at the group—they were all looking at him with unsettlingly benevolent gazes—which made him very uncomfortable.
They shouldn't have gathered together and stared at him like that.
He leaned closer to Hermione and muttered, "I didn't expect there to be so many people."
*Wasn't it supposed to be one-on-one tutoring? This is completely different from what I expected.*
"Oh, I just mentioned it casually, I didn't expect them to be so interested. Later, more and more people wanted to learn it..." She raised her chin, as proud as the world's most beautiful cat.
Hermione would never admit she'd deliberately invited so many people.
With him frequently disturbing her peace of mind, she was somewhat hesitant to spend extended periods alone with him.
She was afraid she'd fall into sudden panic or experience another racing heartbeat; however, she also genuinely wanted to learn the Patronus Charm, and she also wanted to see him.
This conflicted feeling prompted Hermione to do something remarkable: mobilize the masses to learn his Patronus Charm collectively.
"Why don't they see dear Professor Lupin?" Draco swallowed hard and asked hesitantly.
"He said this spell is too difficult for students our age to learn; besides, he hasn't been feeling well lately," Hermione explained quietly.
Of course Lupin would be unwell—Draco knew it—the full moon had only passed a few days ago.
At that moment, the Weasley twins ran up, each grabbing one of his arms and dragging him into the classroom.
"Why didn't you two tell me? We just saw each other yesterday!" Draco asked in a low voice, his arms held fast and unable to move.
"We wanted to give you a surprise!" Fred said with a grin.
"We never miss one of your priceless shocked expressions!" George winked at him.
He was forced into an awkward situation by the two brothers and dragged to the room's center.
Draco wanted to rebel against them—he even instinctively wanted to hex them—he wasn't accustomed to being manhandled.
But Hermione stood right beside him, her eyes wide with interest; everyone else was gathered around him.
He was as if his resolve had been drained, unable to be fierce and aggressive in front of her innocent, trusting eyes.
"Stop talking nonsense, don't be so stingy, Draco," Fred said with a grin.
"We can't wait to see your Patronus Charm!" George said.
"We want to frighten the Dementors—" Fred said with a sly smile.
"Or we could capture one and conduct some research," George said to his brother in agreement.
"See what's under its cloak—" Fred said with great interest.
"Or examine its mouth—" George said.
"No, this is no joke," Draco quickly interrupted their banter. "I advise you not to capture one for research. Especially its mouth—it's extremely dangerous! It drains people's souls through its mouth, which is equivalent to murder, leaving the body intact but the soul gone."
"We can frighten it away with our wands, can't we? Or even destroy it with a Patronus Charm?" Lee Jordan asked. He was a boy with an alarmingly long dreadlock, and Draco knew he was close friends with the twins.
"Actually, we can only repel them," Draco said sternly. "Even the corporeal Patronus Charm can only repel them, not destroy them. They cannot be killed by physical means."
A gasp came from within the room.
"Then what are we waiting for? Let's start teaching!" Ron urged him.
"Listen, I haven't fully mastered the Patronus Charm—I can only produce the incantation's effect… I don't know much about Dementors either… and I'm not skilled at teaching…" Draco said uneasily to the group of students with burning eyes, trying to edge toward the door.
He desperately wanted to retreat at that moment.
But Hermione stretched out her arms, blocking his path. She said matter-of-factly, "But you've already been teaching us. You've been telling us about the dangers of Dementors, haven't you?"
Draco was dumbfounded.
"You're already brilliant, far better than those of us who can't do anything," Hermione encouraged him, raising her voice. "You even conjured that silver mist and held off the Dementors for quite a while."
"Ah, that's right," Ron said gleefully to the somewhat disappointed students around him. "I can testify. He did conjure it. The Dementor stood frozen at the door, too afraid to enter the compartment."
Draco turned to look at him, too irritated to speak.
*Ron Weasley, the eternal blabbermouth, always contradicting me.*
"Draco, teach us." While the group of students, who'd regained their interest, surrounded Ron with questions, Hermione looked at him with an almost worshipful gaze and whispered, "Please, you promised."
How could anyone possibly resist Hermione Granger's adoring gaze?
Her large eyes stared at you intently, a slight smile on her face, as if regarding something precious.
Draco sighed.
"All right. I need to make this clear beforehand: successfully casting the Patronus Charm is extremely difficult. Conjuring a corporeal Patronus requires even greater talent and skill." He said in a tone suggesting he feared trouble. "If I can't teach you, I'm not responsible."
He glanced at Longbottom, seemingly casually.
Longbottom hadn't noticed his gaze. He was listening intently to Ron's description of the silver mist, a hint of eager anticipation appearing on his round face.
"Of course," Hermione said happily, giving him a slight smile. Then she turned to the crowd and called out loudly, "All right, time to begin! Focus, and be quiet!"
The room fell silent.
Looking at the group of eager students who'd gathered around him again, Draco found it difficult to flee, for whatever reason.
He cleared his throat resignedly, trying hard to recall the points Narcissa had taught him, and summarized them in simple, comprehensible language:
"The Patronus Charm is one of the most powerful and ancient defensive spells in the wizarding world, and also the most famous. It can defend against Dementors and Lethifolds… Different people have different Patronuses. Only a few wizards can summon an advanced corporeal Patronus through the Patronus Charm; this Patronus can be used for communication. Most people will only summon a silver shield or a wisp of mist…"
Draco hadn't expected everyone to listen so eagerly.
They didn't dislike him or avoid him simply because he was a Slytherin.
No one was frightened away by his cold attitude and indifferent expression—not even Longbottom, who continued listening to the lecture, trembling.
The students in this classroom were unusual. They were unlike the Slytherin classmates he'd encountered before, who required strength, power, status, or even threats and blackmail to force submission.
They looked at him with more benevolent eyes, their gazes filled with equal respect, rather than the contempt, mockery, fear, and avoidance he'd previously experienced from them.
This was a completely new experience he'd never had in his previous life. A strange sense of accomplishment and joy spread through his heart.
When he regained his senses, he suddenly found himself standing tall, pacing back and forth in the circle's center, saying:
"When casting the spell, you need to concentrate, think of your happiest memory, and say 'Expecto Patronum!' Now, everyone, take out your wands and practice with me…"
He noticed Hermione looking at him with a pleased expression and a smile on her face.
Perhaps it was this smile that inspired him; he became interested and even walked around the crowd, attempting to guide the students who were only half-familiar with him.
He even went so far as to personally instruct Longbottom, whose brain was barely larger than a walnut—it was outrageous. He even resisted the urge to snap at him, refrained from glaring, and simply said expressionlessly to the slow-witted Longbottom, "Don't panic even if there's no mist. You need more practice and time."
Neville looked at Malfoy's impassive face and thought of Professor Snape. Then he remembered how, not long ago, this dreadful Slytherin had waited outside the Gryffindor common room, threatening to cast a Leg-Locker Curse on him. He quickly adopted a mournful expression and stammered his agreement to Malfoy, just like Quirrell, his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in first year.
"What's wrong? What are you laughing at?" After practice, Draco walked over to Hermione and asked her quietly.
He'd noticed her chuckling to herself earlier.
"It's nothing," Hermione said meaningfully. "I was just thinking that a Slytherin classmate once advised me not to help others."
"Yes, that's still my opinion. I still think you shouldn't be so helpful in Potions class," Draco said stiffly, hastily hiding his pleasant mood and adopting an arrogant expression. "Take the advice of a study partner… a Slytherin classmate, and don't do things that don't benefit you."
He'd originally meant to say study partner, but then he suddenly realized that even his position as study partner wasn't secure, and he was frequently abandoned by her.
"Oh, really? That's what you think?" She was shocked by this argument and asked him, bewildered. "Then what benefit does it bring you, Slytherin, to teach someone the Patronus Charm?"
He finally smiled for the first time that day, didn't answer her, and slowly left the classroom with his hands behind his back.
"Benefits, hmm—" His voice echoed mysteriously in the empty corridor, fading into the distance.
*What are the benefits?*
His mind was filled with her gaze and her smile, and he was too content to think about "what benefits this could bring."
In early October, Draco's attention was largely focused on Quidditch.
One Thursday evening, Slytherin captain Marcus Flint called a meeting to discuss tactics for the new season.
In the chilly Quidditch changing room, Draco heard resolute determination in Marcus's suppressed voice. Quidditch seemed to be the only thing on his mind all year.
"This is my final chance, and I want to end in glory." A fierce light shone in his eyes. "We had a chance to win last year, but the Quidditch season was cancelled. This year, we must take the Cup!"
"That's right, Marcus, we'll definitely be fine this year," said Chaser Adrian Pucey. "Our team is very strong this year." Chaser Graham Montague beside him nodded in agreement.
"Peregrine, Lucian, what do you say?" Marcus asked, looking at the two Beaters.
"Of course—as long as I have a bat in my hand, I won't hold back," said Beater Peregrine Derrick, weighing the club in his hand.
"Even if the bat falls, we'll still try to knock someone down," Beater Lucian Bole said with a grin.
"Miles, Slytherin's best Keeper! Keep our goal secure, keep Slytherin's honor intact—can you manage it this year?" Marcus said with deep emotion.
Miles Bletchley nodded, his face twitching, and said, "That being said, there's no need to phrase it quite that way—"
Marcus ignored Miles, patted Draco on the shoulder, and looked at him intently. "And Draco, my favorite Seeker. Never lost a Golden Snitch. Keep it up this year."
Draco shrugged and smiled at Marcus. Peregrine made faces at everyone behind Marcus's back, and the team members, trying to suppress their laughter, had to maintain serious expressions in front of the brooding Marcus.
"Oh, Peregrine, don't do that," Marcus said abruptly without turning around, startling Peregrine. "This isn't a trivial matter. What I care about is that the Quidditch Cup, which Slytherin has kept for so many years, shouldn't be lost on our watch!"
This statement was very effective; it evoked a sense of honor and competitiveness in the other team members.
So the team members stopped joking and started chanting slogans together, resolutely approving the "three times weekly" training plan.
They endured mud, gales, torrential rain, and omnipresent cold air currents as they fought for Slytherin's honor this year.
The Patronus Charm training day had to be moved to times outside of Draco's Quidditch training schedule. The students accepted this well, and no one raised objections.
"It's all right," Harry told him. "I have to train for Quidditch those days anyway."
After a period of practice, most students receiving Patronus Charm training were able to produce a wisp of silvery-white mist in a fairly convincing manner.
That day, Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw girl, conjured a translucent, silvery-white animal. It darted about on the old classroom's ceiling like a ghost in the mist; it appeared to be a hare.
"Very good," Draco said expressionlessly, with a hint of approval in his tone.
Luna Lovegood was an eccentric girl. She wore radish-shaped earrings and a necklace made from Butterbeer cork. She was close to the Grey Lady and had even helped Hermione last year.
Upon hearing Draco's assessment, she smiled absentmindedly, her prominent eyes revealing surprised joy.
"How did you manage that? Conjuring animals or something?" Hermione asked, pursing her lips.
She wasn't making much progress and could only conjure some silvery-white mist, just like Draco.
"Essentially, it's about finding happiness. You need to find the thing that makes you happiest. I changed it several times before I succeeded… Also, you need complete faith in your Patronus…" Luna shared her experience with those around her in her ethereal, dreamy voice.
"Finding happiness…?" Draco pondered.
With a thought, he tried waving his wand, and a blurry silver-white shadow emerged from the tip, seemingly attempting to solidify into some shape.
*It's still slightly short.*
He let out a soft breath, knowing he wouldn't get a second chance to practice, given that he'd been tremblingly begged for help by that damned Neville Longbottom once again.
Neville Longbottom—a diligent, hardworking potions disaster and cauldron destroyer.
On the Friday before Halloween, Professor Snape, as usual, wandered among the students with a gloomy expression, mocking and humiliating their potion-making achievements.
Draco had reason to believe that Professor Snape hadn't recovered from the cross-dressing incident in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, since he was still hovering around Longbottom the most and didn't restrain his insults.
Then, something unexpected yet perfectly logical occurred—in his panic, Longbottom's hand trembled, and he exploded a cauldron.
The potion and its residue splashed everywhere, especially onto Professor Snape, who was closest to the epicenter; his black robes were covered in a wet, sticky mixture.
This was the gravest offense to Professor Snape, a Potions Master.
He stood there furiously, his eyes flashing with a menacing glint.
"What happened, Neville? What did you add?" Hermione rushed over from the front of the classroom, looking alarmed. "I just went to the sink to wash my hands! It was only half a minute!"
*Yes, precisely,* Draco thought. *You can't control a potions disaster like that.*
*Give up, Hermione Granger!*
"Miss Granger, you should be grateful you escaped. Longbottom, stay and clean the Potions classroom! Potter and Weasley, why didn't you remind Longbottom beside you that he added the wrong ingredients? Was it to show how intelligent you were?" Professor Snape said slowly, a malicious glint in his eyes. "Detention tomorrow. All day."
"But, sir, Saturday is the Hogsmeade weekend," Harry said.
"That's truly unfortunate," Professor Snape said gleefully. "I'm afraid you won't be able to go."
"I have never seen such a shameless person…" Ron watched Professor Snape's figure disappear like the wind, his eyes blazing with fury.
On Halloween eve, Harry and Ron came downstairs for breakfast looking rather dejected. Hermione tried to comfort them for an extended period, but to no avail. In the end, they could only watch helplessly as Hermione left the castle, all the way to the castle gates, where they were stopped by Mr. Filch.
"Students who aren't visiting Hogsmeade, stop here!" he said gruffly to them.
"I'll bring back lots of sweets from Honeydukes for you," Hermione said. She felt terribly sorry for them.
"Bring us back a whole load," Ron said in a nonchalant tone, but his face betrayed his envy; Harry gave her a forced smile, which looked more like a grimace.
"The main group has already departed! Is this your first time going? You'd better hurry, or you'll get lost," Mr. Filch said impatiently to Hermione, his mind filled with images of leaky lavatories, ceilings smeared with frog spawn, and classroom doors with Peeves blocking the keyholes.
Hermione looked back and saw that the students had already disappeared into the thick morning mist, becoming tiny black dots appearing and disappearing in the distance. She was somewhat anxious, but she couldn't bear to leave Harry and Ron; their expressions were too tragic.
Just then, Draco strolled out of the castle and casually greeted them.
Harry, as if seeing a savior, quickly pulled him aside. "Do me a favor, Draco."
"What kind of favor?" Draco lazily ran his fingers through his platinum-blond hair, looking as if he hadn't woken yet.
"Sirius… he's been in a dreadful state lately," Harry said anxiously. "I've written him several letters, but he hasn't replied. I… I'm very worried about him."
Draco pursed his lips.
He still harbored resentment over the Hufflepuff Cup. He also didn't want further dealings with that troublesome Sirius Black. Last time in Dumbledore's office, he'd tried to avoid direct conversation or eye contact with him.
"I finally managed to arrange to meet him at the Three Broomsticks today. But, you know, I can't make it," Harry said, frustrated. "Could you go for me? And while you're at it, could you try talking to him?"
"Why do you think he'll listen to me? I've only met him twice!" Draco finally perked up, an expression of disbelief appearing on his face.
"Of all my friends, you're the only one who's genuinely close to him! You spend the most time with him, don't you?" Harry glanced up at the clock hands on the tower and said quickly, "Draco, please. I have to go to your Head of House for detention."
Before Draco could think of a single word to mock his "delusions," Harry and Ron had already hurried off toward the castle.
"Hey, wait, I haven't agreed yet!" he yelled irritably at their backs; Harry, hearing this, ran even faster, waving his hand haphazardly at him with his back turned.
So Mr. Filch was finally able to slam the magnificent cast-iron school gates shut and hurry off to clean a leaky lavatory.
Only Draco Malfoy remained standing outside the school gates, staring in disbelief at Harry's retreating figure; and Hermione Granger, now alone, stood beside him at the gates.
*Good heavens! Are they the only two left?* Hermione glanced back at the misty fog on the road, then looked at the frowning boy beside her, and suddenly realized something.
*Are they going to walk this road alone?* She silently repeated this fact, and a sense of tension rose involuntarily in her heart.
He simply yawned lazily beside her, and she started experiencing breathlessness again.
She stared intently at the stone pillars flanking the school gates, pretending to study the winged boars atop them—supposedly siblings of Chrysaor, Pegasus's brother—while trying to remain calm by recalling obscure passages from *Hogwarts: A History*.
Draco stood there for a moment, until Harry was out of sight.
He scratched his head in annoyance and sighed. He should have just stayed in the common room and enjoyed the peace and quiet.
He already knew Hogsmeade village inside and out, and there were secret passages to follow. For him, going or not made little difference.
However, after glancing at the flustered young witch beside him, he suddenly became somewhat interested in Hogsmeade village again.
"Shall we go?" He relaxed his brow and asked, looking at her pinkish profile.
"All right—" Hermione said hastily, glancing at him furtively, "but I don't know the way."
"It's all right. I happen to know it very well." Draco smirked, hands in his pockets. "Come with me."