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The holiday finally drew to a close. In the study of Malfoy Manor, Lucius Malfoy sat behind the enormous mahogany desk, his pale, long fingers stroking the silver serpent head that crowned his walking stick.
He set down the copy of the Daily Prophet he had been reading. It happened to contain an article questioning the management of Hogwarts, especially Dumbledore.
"Hogwarts... hmph. It grows more disgraceful by the day. Anyone can get in, the management is lax, danger breeds."
The house-elf Dobby was trembling as he fastened Draco's last trunk, his tennis ball sized eyes full of fear.
"Dumbledore... he always likes to give people who should not exist in the wizarding world hopes they do not deserve." Lucius gave a cold snort, clearly deeply dissatisfied with Hogwarts's current educational direction, especially the headmaster's methods. "...Those old fossils on the board of governors could do with a shake up too. Perhaps it is time to make certain people understand who truly cares about the... purity of the school."
"In a moment I need to go to Knockturn Alley to deal with... some trivial matters." Lucius rose and walked toward the study door. "Get yourself ready, Draco. You are coming with me. We may as well buy your textbooks for the new term while we are at it."
Draco stood in the centre of the study, his posture straight. He wore a brand new Slytherin cloak, the fabric smooth and expensive. Beneath it was a thin crew neck sweater. "I understand, Father."
Lucius's gaze swept over Draco and landed on Dobby, as if seeing something filthy. His brow furrowed in disgust.
Without warning, he suddenly raised the serpent headed walking stick in his hand and brought it down hard on Dobby's bony head with a dull crack. "What are you dawdling for, you clumsy fool! Get the luggage out!"
Dobby flinched in pain but did not dare cry out. He let out a short whimper, clutched his head, and stumbled away.
Draco watched this scene flatly, long accustomed to it. There was no ripple in his heart.
He had spent almost the entire Christmas holiday in this oppressive atmosphere, full of pure blood social pleasantries and veiled contests.
Endless family gatherings, visits from his father's "old friends" with their hidden agendas.
And Theodore Nott. For some reason, this silent companion had been seeking him out far more often, sometimes to discuss dull History of Magic essays, sometimes to invite him to the Nott family library. That overly deliberate closeness made Draco feel somewhat annoyed and baffled. He vaguely sensed that Theodore seemed to want to confirm something from him.
The only thing that brought him comfort and relaxation was the potion research hidden away in his bedroom.
The special remedy targeting the blood curse Astoria might one day develop had begun to show results in stabilising magical indicators, and this made the weight on his shoulders feel a little lighter.
But on the other hand, every time he tried to probe indirectly, to pry from his father's mouth any hint of the Dark Lord's possible return, all his efforts sank like a stone into the sea.
This filled him with deep unease. In the first few school years of his previous life, he had been at Hogwarts, carefree and domineering, with no idea when or how his father had once again been shrouded and controlled by Voldemort's shadow.
The Malfoy carriage glided silently and finally stopped at the entrance of a gloomy, narrow alley.
The buildings on both sides leaned crookedly, their windows displaying skulls, dried hands, and potion bottles glowing with ominous light.
This was Knockturn Alley. Separated from the bright, bustling Diagon Alley by a single wall, it was a gathering place for dark wizards and lovers of dark magical objects.
Draco pulled his gaze back from the window. For one last attempt, he asked as if casually, "Father, I have been reading The Noble and Most Ancient House of Wizardry recently. It mentions that during the Dark Lord's reign, our family seemed to play a very important role? At that time..."
Lucius's expression paused slightly. A fleeting look, almost of regret, crossed his face, but was quickly replaced by severity. "Those are matters of the past, Draco."
His voice was cold and airtight. "Not something you should concern yourself with at this stage. What you need to focus on..."
Lucius gave his son a meaningful look. "Is your studies. I heard that last term, that... dirty blooded Granger, her marks were very close to yours. I do not wish to see the Malfoy heir surpassed in any respect by someone of that background. That would be a disgrace to the family."
With that, Lucius forcefully shoved a rather heavy ebony box into Draco's arms. "Hold this."
Draco had already expected this outcome. He took the box in silence, his fingertips feeling the cold grain of the wooden surface.
He could sense that his father had some secret dealings with the owner of Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley, and the Ministry of Magic seemed to have recently stepped up its searches for dark magical objects, which could be seen from the occasional Ministry officials hurrying along the street.
He held the box and followed his father out of the carriage. His gaze drifted casually over the dark shopfronts, and suddenly, in the reflection of a window piled with dangerous dark magical objects, he saw a familiar figure who absolutely should not be here.
Messy black hair, round glasses with a shattered lens, and that face he knew all too well.
Draco pushed open the heavy shop door carved with eerie patterns almost without thinking.
"Potter?"
The interior of the shop was dim, crammed with all manner of unsettling objects. A glass eyeball that stared at people, a set of rust covered instruments of torture, and a hangman's rope that seemed to move on its own.
Harry Potter stood before a pile of jars containing questionable biological specimens, his robes covered in ash, one lens of his glasses cracked, and several black smudges on his face. He looked as though he had just crawled out of a chimney.
"Draco?" Harry turned, and surprise flashed first through his emerald green eyes, then pure delight. "What are you doing here?"
After a holiday apart, Harry had clearly grown taller, and his voice carried the huskiness of a boy whose voice was breaking.
"I should be asking you," Draco said, stepping back in disgust and looking him up and down. "How did you get yourself into this state?"
He drew his wand and gave Harry's glasses a light tap.
"Oculus Reparo."
The lens was restored in an instant. Harry blinked and smiled gratefully. "Thanks!"
"Draco!" Lucius Malfoy's cold voice cut off their conversation.
Lucius Malfoy had also entered. His tall figure immediately made the already dim shop feel even more oppressive. He looked down at Harry, those cold grey eyes holding no warmth, only a surface layer of false elegance.
He walked over, his pale face wearing a fake, warmthless smile. "Mr Potter," he greeted in a false, drawling tone. "What a... surprise, meeting you here."
Harry patted the ash off himself a little awkwardly and explained, "Mr Malfoy, I... I was supposed to go to Diagon Alley with the Weasleys, but... it was my first time using Floo powder, and I think I said the wrong place name..."
When Lucius heard the surname "Weasley," the little false elegance on his face was almost instantly replaced by undisguised contempt and disgust, the corner of his mouth curling downward. "Ah, the Weasley family..."
He drew the tone out meaningfully and said no more, but his attitude said everything. He perfunctorily completed this "greeting" that made him uncomfortable, then turned to the counter and began speaking in a low voice with Mr Borgin.
Harry was clearly displeased by Lucius's attitude, but since the man was Draco's father, he pressed his lips together and said nothing.
Draco knew how dangerous it was for Harry to be in Knockturn Alley. It was full of dark wizard sympathisers and former Death Eaters. To them, the Saviour Harry Potter was like the most conspicuous target in the darkness.
"Wait." Draco said quietly to Harry, then carried the ebony box to the counter and said to Lucius, "Father, I will wait for you at Flourish and Blotts."
He set the box on the counter, then took Harry's arm and, almost half forcing him, led him out of Borgin and Burkes.
The moment they returned to the grimy street of Knockturn Alley, several dark wizards in ragged robes with unfriendly eyes slowly closed in like vultures that had caught the scent of blood.
Draco stepped forward at once, half shielding Harry behind him, lifted his platinum blond head, and said in the cold, arrogant tone peculiar to the Malfoy family, "My father, Lucius Malfoy, is in Borgin and Burkes right now. I do not think you would want to disturb a Malfoy's 'friend.'"
His signature platinum blond hair was still conspicuous in the dim light, like a marker. At the surname "Malfoy," the dark figures hesitated, exchanged a few low murmurs, and finally retreated sulkily back into the shadows.
Draco let out a breath of relief and turned to Harry, his face once again wearing that familiar, slightly mocking expression. "Let's go, Potter. You are like a lost little lamb here, liable to be gnawed down to the bones at any moment."
As he walked quickly, he lowered his voice. "Knockturn Alley is not a place you should come to. The name of the Saviour is not a talisman here. It is a death warrant. They would be happier to trade your life for a few Galleons."
Harry seemed to realise the danger too and did not argue. He could feel the malice in those earlier stares, and he understood that Draco's action just now had been to protect him.
The two quickly passed through an archway, left the eerie confines of Knockturn Alley, went through a broken brick wall, and arrived in the sunlit, bustling Diagon Alley, where they successfully found Flourish and Blotts. The bookshop entrance was packed with people, lively and crowded.
"Harry!" Mrs Weasley rushed over with a shriek, giving him an almost suffocating hug full of motherly affection. "Merlin! Where did you go! We were worried sick!"
When she looked up and saw Draco standing behind Harry with his platinum blond hair, she clearly paused, and a flicker of surprise crossed her rosy face.
Harry immediately introduced him warmly. "Mrs Weasley, this is Draco Malfoy! I ran into him in Knockturn Alley just now. He brought me out."
Mrs Weasley quickly exchanged a glance with her husband Arthur Weasley beside her. When she turned back, the surprise on her face was quickly replaced by a mixture of gentleness and tolerance.
Though she held prejudice against the Malfoy name, she still gave Draco a warm smile and even reached out to pat his shoulder affectionately. The gesture made Draco's body stiffen for a moment. "Thank you, dear. What a good boy."
Arthur Weasley stepped forward, looking a little awkward, but still extended his hand. "Er... thank you, Mr Malfoy."
The younger Ginny Weasley did not bother to hide anything at all. Her face red, she glared hard at Draco and turned her head away with clear like and dislike.
Just then, the crowded crowd nearby suddenly erupted into a burst of enthusiastic cheers, mostly the screams of young witches.
Only then did Draco notice that Flourish and Blotts had an unusually large crowd today, almost impassable.
At the centre of the crowd, a man in forget me not blue robes had stepped onto a temporarily built platform. He had golden curly hair and a smile so bright it was almost blinding, revealing a set of flawless teeth.
Gilderoy Lockhart.
Draco silently repeated the name in his mind, and a memory from his previous life surfaced.
This vain, pompous Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, who made his name by stealing other people's memories, had later ended up in St Mungo's for the rest of his life after his own Memory Charm backfired, becoming a happy idiot.
At the thought, Draco could not help but look at the man with a trace of pity.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" he said loudly, waving confidently. "I am Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award... but of course you all know me!"
Another round of sighs and cheers rose from the girls below. Lockhart, wearing a greasy smile as if he had applied too much hair oil, let his gaze wander over the crowd, and then, with precision, he locked onto his target.
"Merlin! Isn't that Harry Potter?"
Before Harry could react, Lockhart dashed down from the platform, pushed through the crowd, grabbed the unprepared Harry, slung an arm around his shoulders, and dragged him to the centre of the platform.
"Smile wide, Harry! The two of us will be on the front page tomorrow!" A blinding flash went off. Harry squinted in the harsh light, looking completely bewildered.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Lockhart announced to the excited crowd, his voice booming. "What a marvellous surprise! Young Harry came to Flourish and Blotts early this morning to queue. He is of course a devoted reader of mine! Look at him, eager to get his hands on my complete works!"
Lockhart shoved the large stack of books into Harry's arms. The flashes crackled, and Harry, looking dazed and forced to hold a complete set of Lockhart's works, posed stiffly for the photograph. Lockhart announced loudly, "Free of charge, my boy! Read them well!"
Harry was pushed up looking blank, then came down clutching a heavy stack of books, dazed.
Draco frowned at the sight and curled his lip in disgust. "You are a fan of his?"
"Of course not!" Harry denied at once, his face reddening as if he had been accused of some serious crime.
Mrs Weasley hurried forward and took the pile of books Lockhart had forced on him, muttering, "Oh, this is really... quite something."
Soon, the crowd began to queue for Lockhart's signature, and Draco and Harry were jostled this way and that by the surging crowd. In the confusion, Harry put a hand at Draco's side, trying to shield him from the press of people.
Just then, Lucius Malfoy arrived late. He parted the crowd and walked over like Moses dividing the sea.
His gaze swept over the Weasley family and finally landed on the cauldron of old textbooks Ginny was carrying. With elegance but utter insult, he picked up a worn copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.
"It seems even the Weasleys can finally afford to buy their children textbooks?" he said slowly, his voice not loud but clearly reaching every ear. "How... worth celebrating."
Arthur Weasley's face turned redder than his hair in an instant. He instinctively stepped in front of his wife and children and confronted Lucius in a fury.
The two immediately launched into a heated exchange of verbal barbs. Lucius mocked the Weasleys' poverty and their "closeness" to Muggles, while Arthur fired back about the Malfoys' entanglement with the Dark Arts.
As they argued fiercely and everyone's attention was drawn to them, Draco clearly saw his father, Lucius, with a movement that was extremely natural and fluid, slip the black covered, worn diary he had been holding under his arm into the pile of old textbooks in Ginny's cauldron along with the copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, all while continuing his sarcastic remarks at Arthur Weasley.
The whole process was so natural that if Draco had not been deliberately and unconsciously watching that notebook which filled him with unease, he probably would never have noticed.
In the end, Lucius and Arthur parted on bad terms.
Lucius walked over to Draco, the lingering bite of his mockery still on his face. After a moment he said in a strange, barbed tone, "It seems you and Mr Potter get along... quite well."
Only then did Draco belatedly notice that Harry's hand was still resting lightly at his waist. He immediately pulled away uncomfortably, but his whole mind remained completely absorbed by the black diary that had been slipped in.
That thing gave off an ominous air. He was almost certain it was the trouble his father had said needed to be "dealt with," and that it was connected to Voldemort.
Before leaving Flourish and Blotts, Draco could not help looking back and taking a deep look at the cauldron of old textbooks, and at the seemingly harmless old diary lying quietly inside.
That was a breakthrough, Draco thought.
He was almost certain of it. A dangerous one, but possibly the crucial breakthrough that would reveal the connection between his father and Voldemort.