When the bell finally rang on schedule, signaling the blessed end of History of Magic, Draco was practically the first person to spring out of his seat.
He irritably brushed nonexistent dust from his robes, as though trying to shake off the stale atmosphere Professor Binns had left behind.
As they followed the stream of students out of the classroom, he quickened his pace until he was walking alongside Henry.
His gray eyes were filled with curiosity.
“Your Highness,” he lowered his voice, his tone somewhere between casual and probing, “we’re finally done with classes for today. Yesterday, you said we should have a proper chat? About the house, or something else?”
He clearly couldn’t stop thinking about Dumbledore summoning Henry during breakfast, nor about the many mysteries surrounding him.
Henry turned his head and gave him a knowing, gentle smile.
“Of course. As it happens, I’ve prepared some refreshments. There’s a quiet empty classroom on the second floor. Why don’t we sit there? It’s better than being interrupted in the corridor or common room.”
Draco raised an eyebrow, surprised by the suggestion of prepared refreshments and an empty classroom, but even more curious.
“An empty classroom? Are you sure?”
“House-elves can sometimes provide rather convenient guidance.”
Henry said it casually without elaborating.
“Just the two of us? Or do you think Miss Parkinson might be interested as well? I wouldn’t mind having another person join us.”
Draco froze for a moment, not expecting Henry to bring up Pansy himself.
He quickly weighed the situation.
Pansy could be rather talkative, but her family’s position was clear, and she was extremely sensitive to social signals.
Bringing her along could actually be a good choice.
“Pansy? Hmm… She’s usually interested in this sort of thing. I’ll ask her.”
He turned toward Pansy, who was standing with several girls, and quietly said a few words to her.
Pansy’s eyes immediately lit up.
She quickly glanced at Henry over Draco’s shoulder before nodding without hesitation, looking extremely excited.
The abandoned classroom on the second floor had clearly been carefully cleaned.
There was no trace of dust.
Several tall windows allowed the afternoon sunlight to pour inside, casting warm patches of light across the worn but spotless floor.
In the center of the room, several desks had been pushed together and covered with a thick dark-green tablecloth embroidered with the Slytherin crest.
A dazzling bone-china tea set had already been arranged on top.
The porcelain was so thin that light passed through it, and the edges were decorated with delicate platinum trim.
A three-tiered silver dessert stand stood proudly on the table.
The bottom tier held neatly arranged finger sandwiches with their crusts removed—cucumber, smoked salmon, and jam.
The middle tier held scones radiating an enticing buttery aroma, accompanied by Devonshire clotted cream and homemade strawberry-rose jam.
The top tier was filled with miniature French pastries, including fruit tarts, macarons, and cups of chocolate mousse.
Two high-backed armchairs and a small-backed chair had been arranged around the table, clearly prepared moments earlier.
When Pansy entered the classroom, she inhaled sharply and instinctively covered her mouth with her fingers.
“Merlin…”
She murmured, her eyes moving from the tea set to the desserts and finally settling on Henry’s utterly composed expression.
This was definitely not something ordinarily served by the Hogwarts kitchens.
It wasn’t even something one could easily purchase in Diagon Alley.
It was an extremely expensive silent statement.
Draco tried desperately to maintain his composure, but the astonishment in his eyes was equally difficult to conceal.
It wasn’t that he had never seen luxury.
But producing such a complete, ceremonial afternoon tea inside the castle so quickly and without making a sound was beyond anything he could comprehend.
“Please sit, Miss Parkinson. Draco.”
Henry gestured like a host, taking the main armchair himself with smooth, natural movements.
“I hope the tea is still at a suitable temperature.”
He picked up the silver teapot and poured tea into all three cups.
The tea was a beautiful amber color, with steam rising gently from it.
Henry then added a small amount of milk to his own cup.
Every movement was extraordinarily elegant, carrying an effortless sense of refinement.
“If you’d like anything else, help yourselves.”
Pansy almost reverently lifted the feather-light bone-china cup and cautiously took a sip, nearly losing her grip because of how light it was.
“This is incredibly exquisite, Your Highness.”
Her voice was much softer than usual.
The sharp, loud quality had disappeared, almost as though someone had twisted her usual voice into a completely different shape.
“It’s simply what I’m accustomed to.”
Henry smiled as he used silver tongs to place a jam finger sandwich onto his small plate.
“At Hogwarts, maintaining a few old habits can be rather comforting. Especially…”
He paused and glanced at Draco.
“…after being subjected to Professor Binns.”
Draco gave an awkward laugh.
But he absolutely loved this atmosphere.
“Certainly more interesting than listening to all those ancient names.”
He took a bite of the scone and spread the cream and jam over it according to Henry’s example.
The taste was surprisingly good.
“You said we’d talk about the house…” Draco began.
“What do you think of Slytherin? Is it what you expected?”
“Very orderly, and very structured.”
Henry put down his teacup and leaned forward slightly, appearing focused and sincere.
“For example, the dormitory arrangements are rather interesting. I can sense that everything here follows some kind of invisible set of rules. I have to admit, Miss Farley is quite capable.”
Pansy immediately joined in, speaking a little faster.
“Oh, Miss Farley! She’s one of the top students in fifth year. Everyone says she’ll be able to enter the Ministry of Magic directly after graduation. Perhaps even the Minister’s office! She never leaves anything to chance. Almost everyone in Slytherin likes her.”
“Power always favors orderly people, regardless of where they are.”
Henry commented gently before smoothly shifting the subject.
“What about the classes? Draco seems to have quite a few complaints about History of Magic.”
“I’m looking forward to Potions on Friday. That’s where a wizard’s true worth is demonstrated.”
Draco straightened his back, returning to familiar territory.
“Those complicated formulas and precise procedures aren’t something you can master through rote memorization or reckless behavior.”
He pursed his lips meaningfully, clearly thinking of a certain red-haired Gryffindor.
“My father always says that Potions is the culmination of intelligence, bloodline, and patience.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
Henry nodded without arguing and turned toward Pansy.
“What about you, Miss Parkinson? Is there any subject you’re particularly interested in?”
Pansy hadn’t expected to be asked directly.
Her face reddened slightly.
“I… I think Defense Against the Dark Arts should be interesting. Although this year’s professor, Quirrell, seems a little strange.”
She wrinkled her nose.
“But I’ve heard that some ancient spells are very elegant, almost like…”
She glanced at the silverware on the table.
“…like this tea set.”
“An excellent comparison.”
Henry praised her.
“Elegance and power existing side by side—that is precisely the essence of many ancient arts.”