By the end of Hogwarts’ first week, the confrontation everyone had been watching for—Gryffindor against Slytherin, Potter against Malfoy—had ended with Potter losing fifteen points and Draca earning fifteen for Slytherin.
What truly caught Draca’s attention, however, was Hermione Granger’s performance.
The Gryffindor prodigy had earned ten points for Gryffindor across Transfiguration, Charms, and Herbology.
Her sudden rise also drew the school’s attention toward the unpopular Muggle-born girl.
The second week of classes continued much the same way.
Draca and Hermione kept earning points for Slytherin and Gryffindor respectively.
Harry Potter, meanwhile, became almost synonymous with enormous fame and thoroughly average performance.
That lasted until Thursday of the second week, when Flying finally arrived.
Crabbe, who had always been restless, had been talking about the lesson for days.
Even the usually quiet Goyle could barely hide his excitement, while the first-year boys had been making a racket about it nonstop.
“Why don’t they just ask who actually wants to play Quidditch?”
“Then only the people who want to play could take the class.”
Early that morning, Pansy had already washed and dressed before barging into Draca and Daphne’s dormitory to complain while the other two were still refusing to get out of bed.
“Mm…
we actually have an empty bed in here.
Why don’t you just move in?”
Still half asleep, Draca buried her face in the pillow and ignored the rest of Pansy’s complaints.
Before she could fully wake up, Daphne let out a startled cry from the neighboring bed.
Apparently, Pansy had already thrown herself onto it and crawled under the covers to laze around with her.
The three of them stayed there chatting and refusing to get up for quite a while before finally dragging themselves out of bed, washing, and heading to the Great Hall.
There, Draca was once again greeted by a sight that never failed to irritate her.
By now, everyone had gradually realized that Harry Potter’s performance during his first week had been nothing special.
Yet his fame alone was still enough to draw students around him wherever he went.
Among the already eye-catching first-years, Harry Potter remained the brightest star.
On the morning of their first Flying lesson, the differences between the students’ backgrounds became especially obvious.
Children raised in wizarding families were so excited or nervous about finally being allowed to ride broomsticks legally that many of them had barely slept.
Those from Muggle families, on the other hand, were anxious in an entirely different way.
They looked forward to flying with equal parts anticipation and fear, wondering what it would actually feel like.
“Have you noticed?
Potter’s only gotten one letter in the entire two weeks.”
At breakfast, ignoring the restless first-years around them, Draca curiously glanced toward the Gryffindor table before turning to Pansy and Daphne.
The owls had just delivered another round of letters and parcels.
As usual, Draca opened the snacks her father had sent and passed them around among the Slytherin students.
Amid a wave of grateful flattery, she posed the question to her friends and the two boys who followed them around like bodyguards.
Crabbe and Goyle, sitting across from them, shook their heads first.
Daphne narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.
Then Pansy suddenly seemed to realize something and snickered.
“So you’ve been paying that much attention, Miss Malfoy?”
“Shut up, Parkinson.”
Once she’d confirmed that they were all nearly finished with breakfast, she rose together with Daphne and Pansy.
Crabbe and Goyle, naturally, were still bent over their honey pancakes.
They had barely started toward the aisle between the four long tables when a boy’s boastful voice came from the Gryffindor table across from them.
“It’s a Remembrall!
Gran knows I’m always forgetting things.”
Draca glanced over and recognized the Longbottom boy.
Although she couldn’t help feeling disappointed by how mediocre the Longbottom heir seemed, they were both descendants of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.
Since he was also in her year, she naturally paid at least some attention to how the children of the other families performed.
Even so, hearing him loudly show off such a useless little object was still embarrassing.
Unable to hide her disdain, Draca raised an eyebrow and exchanged a look with Pansy and Daphne.
Since when had a descendant of the Sacred Twenty-Eight become this delighted over a meaningless Remembrall?
Her irritation deepened.
In her mind, whatever remaining regard she’d had for Longbottom quietly disappeared.
A faint sneer had already appeared at the corner of her lips as she prepared to simply walk past.
Then, as she passed their table, she happened to hear Harry exclaim,
“Wow!”
“If this thing turns red, that means…
that means…”
“You’ve forgotten something.”
For some reason, Draca stopped.
She narrowed her eyes.
“But it doesn’t tell you what you’ve forgotten, does it?”
“Then what’s the point?”
Before she even realized it, the mocking words had already left her mouth.
“Honestly, Longbottom.”
“As another descendant of an old wizarding family, I truly don’t understand…”
“…how bored someone would have to be to get excited over a magical object with absolutely no practical use.”
Her voice was cold.
For some reason, hearing Harry Potter admire the Remembrall had filled her with an inexplicable irritation.
“D-Draca!”
Daphne spoke in surprise.
Pansy’s eyes widened as well.
Neither of them was used to hearing Draca insult someone so directly.
Longbottom’s face instantly went pale.
Harry Potter and Weasley shot to their feet.
At the Slytherin table, Crabbe continued eating without looking up, while Goyle had already crossed the distance in a few long strides.
Before the confrontation could begin, Professor McGonagall came down from the High Table and demanded loudly,
“What is going on?
What are you doing?”
“M-Malfoy insulted my family, Professor.” Find the original chapter at g.com.
Longbottom stammered out the accusation at Professor McGonagall.
What kind of baseless slander was that supposed to be?
Draca narrowed her eyes.
Then she noticed Severus watching from the High Table.
“I only pointed out that a Remembrall doesn’t tell him what exactly he’s forgotten.”
She explained quietly.
Professor McGonagall frowned deeply.
Draca caught sight of Potter’s displeased expression, raised a brow, flicked the ends of her hair, and walked out of the Great Hall without looking back.
She headed toward the Quidditch pitch.
Unexpectedly, the Flying lesson wasn’t held on the Quidditch pitch at all.
Instead, it took place on an open stretch of grass located on the opposite side of the grounds from the Forbidden Forest.
After Draca left the Great Hall, the other Slytherin students hurried after her.
As a result, by the time all the Gryffindors finally arrived for class, the Slytherins were already standing calmly beside the broomsticks waiting for them.
Madam Hooch, who taught Flying and also served as a Quidditch referee, was already waiting in front of the rows of brooms.
“What are you lot waiting for?”
“Everyone stand beside a broom.
Quickly.
Get into position.”
The moment the Gryffindors arrived, Madam Hooch barked at them.
She wasted no time whatsoever introducing either herself or the lesson.
Draca still couldn’t help lowering her gaze toward the standardized broom beside her.
The handle looked slightly dry and worn.
From its deliberately sharpened, streamlined tail alone, she could tell it belonged to the Comet series commonly used in amateur matches.
Looking at the overlapping wood grain, she couldn’t even be bothered to check the detailed model number carved into the handle.
She merely sighed inwardly.
Although she had little interest in Quidditch, she was no different from any ordinary child raised in a wizarding family when it came to recreational exercise.
Naturally, she rode broomsticks.
The only difference was that instead of pretending to play Quidditch, her preferred pastime was to fly through the evening sky between the manor and the lands to the south, crossing the fields and forests of Nottinghamshire while chasing woodland birds and migrating geese.
Almost like hunting.
According to family tradition, it was a pastime left behind by Armand Malfoy, the ancestor of the Malfoy family.
A magnificent wool tapestry still hung in the drawing room of the manor’s main residence.
It depicted William the Conqueror and his courtiers riding horses into the forest to hunt, while their ancestor Armand led a group of wizards through the air on broomsticks, pursuing the prey from above.
Naturally, the hunting lodge at Malfoy Manor also displayed a collection of many rare and valuable broomsticks.
Looking down at the Comet 120 beside her, Draca had never imagined that one day she would actually have to ride such an ordinary broom.
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It really helps the fic grow!