My name is Draco Malfoy, and I’m panicking a little right now.
Sitting here like an outsider, Malfoy listened to Raven lay out his plans for the Gryffindor trio.
Only now did he realize that Raven hadn’t been intentionally isolating him earlier; this topic simply wasn’t something he should be part of.
They were plotting against his Head of House—a professor who happened to be on quite good terms with his father.
The Malfoy family helped Professor Snape source rare potion ingredients, and Professor Snape paid them back with master-grade potions that were nearly impossible to acquire otherwise.
It was a win-win arrangement.
If his Head of House found out he was involved in this and mentioned it to his father…
he didn’t even dare to imagine.
But since he was already here, all he could do was pretend to be deaf.
With a look of intense focus, he transformed into a refined gourmand, quietly stuffing himself with Doxie pie.
Ignoring Malfoy’s inner turmoil, Raven continued the conversation with the Gryffindor trio.
“First, let me explain why I want to target this Head of House. Mainly, it’s because he has never liked Gryffindor. And as it happens, my brothers are all in Gryffindor—practically star figures there. So from Bill down to Fred and George, none of them have escaped his special ‘attention’ over the years. Settling the score is my bounden duty. Though to be fair, aside from his bias against Gryffindor, his teaching ability is top-notch. When Bill or Percy went to ask him questions, he didn’t target them maliciously. So I called you over because I just need a few small favors from you. I’ll handle the heavy lifting myself.”
“Raven, you’re not treating us like friends if you talk like that,” Harry said with fierce loyalty, immediately trying to pull his two friends in to show solidarity.
“How could you leave us out of something that involves you and Ron? Right, Hermione? Draco?”
Hermione covered her eyes, unable to look.
“Harry, it’s one thing to drag me into this—I’m a Gryffindor, after all. But how can you ask Draco to join us? Professor Snape is his Head of House! Didn’t you notice he’s been eating in total silence this whole time?”
Tears nearly welled up in Malfoy’s eyes.
Finally, someone understood him!
Touched, he cast a grateful look at Hermione for speaking up, shoved another Doxie pie into his mouth, and went back to playing dead.
Harry rolled his eyes in disdain at this disloyal coward and was about to give him a piece of his mind.
Raven spoke up, steering the conversation away from Malfoy.
“Because Professor Snape likes to single out the most famous Gryffindor to ask questions. In previous years, it was a Weasley. This year, it’ll probably be your turn, Harry.”
Raven then looked at Hermione.
“Potions is on Friday morning, which gives us two days. Hermione, please help Harry preview this year’s course material over the next couple of days.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll put together an intensive study plan for Harry.”
Raven nodded.
As for Harry’s pained, constipated expression beside her, Raven simply pretended not to see it.
He would tell everyone that Harry was a loyal, brave boy.
Go with confidence, Harry!
“Also, save the seat next to Harry for me on Friday so I can support him.”
The three Gryffindors nodded and promised repeatedly.
With the discussion wrapped up, Raven could finally enjoy his dinner in peace.
He disliked multitasking while eating, as it diverted the focus that good food rightfully deserved.
Taking a sip of orange juice to wet his throat, Raven reached his other hand toward the plate of Doxie pies—only to grab thin air.
He looked up to see Malfoy with his mouth stuffed completely full.
“Draco Malfoy!!!”
In the end, the night concluded with Old Gugg working overtime.
Malfoy learned a valuable lesson from Raven: one must treat fine food with utter sincerity; devouring it greedily was pure waste.
As for the tuition fee…
tsk tsk.
Friday arrived, and Raven was fully prepared.
Today’s morning tea was delivered to the Gryffindor table, where he sat waiting for Harry and the others to head to class together.
As for his foolish younger brother Ron’s role?
Ron’s sole task today was to stay far away from him.
Raven planned to draw all the aggro himself, and he didn’t want Ron getting put on Professor Snape’s blacklist.
By seven o’clock, a few early-rising young wizards had arrived in the Great Hall.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked into the Great Hall, but couldn’t find Raven at the Hufflepuff table.
“Strange. Raven usually gets up early every day,” Ron said.
“Did he get so nervous he couldn’t sleep and overslept?”
Harry was about to suggest an idea when a voice called out their names from the Gryffindor table.
Approaching the person, none of the three could be sure who was sitting before them.
“Are you George or Fred?” Ron asked.
A smack promptly landed on the back of his head.
That familiar weight—it was Raven.
“It really is you, Raven? I thought Fred or George was pretending to be you. But that robe… wow, it’s really… so…”
“So Gryffindor,” Hermione supplied.
It was a robe that blended almost too seamlessly into the Gryffindor aesthetic.
Except for black hems and cuffs, the fabric was a deep crimson, covered in a subtle pattern of overlapping diamond scales.
Most Gryffindor of all was the back, which bore a rearing lion embroidered in gold thread.
While everyone else wore plain black robes, this red robe fit in so perfectly at the Gryffindor table that no one found it strange.
[Gryffindor House Relic Uniform]
The reason Ron hadn’t recognized Raven was simple: wearing this robe, Raven no longer carried his usual calm, wise air, but instead exuded bold, radiant confidence.
Fred and George often played their trick of swapping identities, and Raven’s face was essentially a refined version of theirs—slightly handsomer, with medium-length hair, but otherwise identical.
Small wonder Ron thought it was one of the twins’ pranks.
“Raven, are you going to wear that robe to class today?” Hermione asked.
“Is that really alright? You’re in Hufflepuff, after all—won’t Professor Snape use it as an excuse to pick on you?”
Raven smiled with supreme confidence.
“Don’t worry.”