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The first Herbology lesson of the term was held in Greenhouse Three. Compared to the damp cold outside, the greenhouse was warm as spring, filled with the unique smell of rich soil, damp moss, and some sharp smelling herb.
Professor Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff, stood her short, plump figure in front of rows of flowerpots that gave off faint crying sounds, her face glowing with motherly pride and patience. She was going to teach the second years how to repot Mandrakes.
Everyone in the classroom had put on thick dragon hide gloves and soundproof earmuffs.
"Now, everyone!" Professor Sprout had to shout at the top of her voice to be heard over the plants that screamed like tiny demons. "Remember the key! Grab them tightly near the leaves, pull them out fast and firm, then put them in the next size up pot beside you, filled with rich soil and dragon dung compost! Most importantly, do not, do not take off your earmuffs until I say you can!"
Draco Malfoy absentmindedly poked at the rich soil at the edge of his flowerpot with his gloved fingers.
Second year Herbology was taught separately from first year, which meant he had no chance to get close to Ginny Weasley, who was a first year... or that black notebook.
It seemed the only way was...
Draco glanced out of the corner of his eye at Harry Potter beside him, who was clumsily trying to sort out the strap of his earmuffs.
As if feeling his gaze, Harry happened to look up at the same moment, and their eyes met suddenly in the air.
Harry looked away quickly as if burned, the tips of his ears seeming a little red.
Draco leaned over and called through the thick cotton of the earmuffs, his voice a little muffled. "Potter!"
Harry stiffened, his hands stopping. He lifted one side of his earmuffs slightly, revealing a reddened ear, and answered quietly, his voice carrying the huskiness of a boy whose voice was breaking. "Hmm?"
Draco could not directly ask about Ginny. That would be too abrupt. He had to steer the conversation toward poor Ron.
He glanced across the greenhouse. Ron Weasley was pursing his lips, looking deeply wronged as he shoved soil around an especially noisy Mandrake, like he was force feeding a screaming baby nasty oatmeal.
Draco lowered his voice and leaned close to Harry, asking with pretended concern, "Your poor... Weasley friend, how is his family doing? That Daily Prophet yesterday... his father is all right, isn't he?"
He tried to make his tone sound like ordinary curiosity rather than gloating.
Harry's eyes flickered, seeming a little distracted. "W what?"
Draco frowned impatiently. The noise in the greenhouse really was loud. The wailing of the Mandrakes was practically indiscriminate sonic warfare.
He had to lean in closer, almost pressing his lips to Harry's ear, his warm breath brushing the other boy's sensitive skin as he repeated the question. "I said! The Weasley family! They haven't been dragged down by that wreck of a car, have they?"
Harry seemed startled and turned his head sharply. They were extremely close, their noses almost touching. Harry's emerald green eyes were wide with surprise, clearly reflecting Draco's slightly impatient grey eyes.
He could smell something cool and clean on Draco, like expensive shampoo mixed with the green grass of the greenhouse. Harry's heart inexplicably skipped a beat, and the heat that had just faded from his face rushed back up.
Draco was a little baffled by his jumpy reaction and leaned back slightly, impatient. He was just about to say something else.
"Mr Malfoy! Mr Potter!" Professor Sprout's loud voice cut through the earmuffs and the wailing. She stood behind them, hands on her hips, her expression kind but strict. "I hope your private conversation is about how to better soothe these delicate little things, not about the flavor of pudding this afternoon!"
Everyone's eyes turned toward them.
Professor Sprout looked at Draco. "Then, Mr Malfoy, since you seem to have energy to chat, why don't you tell everyone the most important use of the extract from a mature Mandrake?"
Draco stood up straight at once and answered in a clear voice with a hint of showing off. "The Mandrake Restorative Draught from a mature Mandrake can be used to cure people who have been petrified, Professor." This bit of common knowledge was as natural to him as breathing, with his memories of a previous life.
"Exactly right! Ten points to Slytherin!" Professor Sprout nodded approvingly, but then her face turned stern again. "However, since you were whispering in class and disrupting order, only five points. Now, focus on your work!"
Draco curled his lip. He glanced at Harry, who was still dazed beside him, and said quickly in a low voice, "We'll talk at lunch."
At lunchtime, the Great Hall was bustling, full of the smell of food and the noisy chatter of students.
Draco sat at the Slytherin table, but his eyes were like searchlights, fixed on Ron and Ginny by the Gryffindor table opposite.
Ginny kept her head down, sipping her pumpkin juice. Her face looked a little pale, far less lively than when she had seen Harry at Flourish and Blotts.
Harry poked the pie on his plate with his fork and could not help asking, "Draco, what did you actually want to say to me in Herbology?"
Draco pulled his gaze back and answered casually, "Nothing. I was just curious whether the Weasley family has been bankrupted by that flying car."
He paused, then seemingly casually steered the conversation to his real target. "Speaking of which, your red haired friend's sister, Ginny Weasley, what do you think of her?"
Apart from the goal of getting close to her, Draco did hold a bit of curiosity and gossip in his heart. He wanted to know what Harry, at this time, thought of his future wife.
Harry blinked, seemingly not expecting Draco to ask about Ginny. He thought for a moment, his expression natural. "Ginny? She's great, just a little shy." He seemed not to think of her in any other way at all.
Draco thought of that pink, crooked wool hat, and the corner of his mouth curved into a teasing smile. "Shy? I doubt it. At least she's quite bold when it comes to choosing gift colours." He said it with meaning.
Harry blinked, then understood what he meant. "...I see her as a sister." His tone was perfectly frank, with no hint of anything romantic.
Just then, from the Gryffindor table came a huge crash and a chorus of gasps!
A barn owl that looked half blind and had feathers in a terrible mess flew in crookedly like a drunk, crashed into the edge of a large golden bowl filled with buttered popcorn, and landed on the tablecloth in front of Ron, sending up a spray of creamy white crumbs.
The owl struggled out of the popcorn and dropped a scarlet letter, which landed right in the plate of almost untouched mashed potatoes in front of Ron Weasley.
The corners of the letter began to smoke.
"A Howler! That's a Howler!" someone shouted with glee.
The entire Great Hall fell silent at once, all eyes fixed on the letter that was growing redder and redder, as if about to explode at any moment.
Several older Slytherin students were already wearing undisguised gleeful smiles, urging, "Open it, Weasley! Let's hear it!"
Ron pursed his lips in terror. He reached out with a trembling hand, as if the letter were a red hot branding iron.
The opportunity had come!
Draco's eyes lit up. This was the perfect chance to naturally get close to Ginny! He stood up from the bench at once and, without taking no for an answer, grabbed Harry's arm beside him, who was still dazed.
"Come on, Potter," Draco said in a low voice, his tone carrying an unquestionable sort of "concern." "Let's see if your good friend needs help."
Harry stumbled as he was pulled, and before he could say anything, Draco had half dragged him away from the Slytherin table and toward the Gryffindor side.
Draco's eyes locked onto Ginny Weasley. And Harry was undoubtedly his best way to pry open the Weasley circle.
Harry clearly cared about Ron sincerely. After all, they were both responsible for this. He crossed the bench without hesitation and sat down on Ron's right, patting his shoulder and comforting him in a low voice.
Draco, meanwhile, put on a show of just the right amount of "sympathy," walked around to the other side of the table, and sat down elegantly on Ron's left, neatly inserting himself between Ron and Ginny Weasley.
This clearly caused Ginny great displeasure. She jerked her head up, her bright brown eyes burning with anger, and glared hard at Draco as if he were a poisonous snake that had slithered onto the Gryffindor table.
Draco put on an extremely innocent expression, his grey blue eyes widening slightly, his pale, thin face even carrying just the right amount of apology.
To be fair, if one set aside Draco Malfoy's awful, self serving, arrogant personality, his face really was quite deceptive. Pale skin, a pointed chin, and several soft platinum blond strands falling over his forehead now that they were no longer fixed with gel, making him look almost fragile and sincere.
"Miss Weasley," he said very softly, with a soothing tone, "I am sorry. That day at Flourish and Blotts, my father said many... excessive things to your family. Some of his ideas may indeed be too... radical."
He was trying to show a Malfoy style, disguised kindness.
However, Ginny Weasley clearly was not buying it. Compared to this pale, thin Slytherin young lord who talked in circles, she seemed to prefer Harry's type, with his healthy complexion, bright eyes, direct actions, and friendliness.
Besides, the huge crisis and humiliation the Weasley family faced this time came mainly from Lucius Malfoy's report! Draco's apology now, in her eyes, was like a fox comforting the food it was about to eat.
"Save it, Malfoy!" Ginny's voice trembled slightly with anger, but was exceptionally clear. She glared at Draco like an enraged lioness protecting her cub. "Stay away from my brother, Malfoy! Keep your fake act to yourself! Do you think we don't know who is behind this? You hypocrite!"
Draco clicked his tongue inwardly, thinking this little girl was indeed difficult, stubborn and sharp. He could not help grumbling inwardly:
So the Saviour liked this fierce, unyielding type? Could it be that after he became an Auror in his previous life, he was all mighty outside but actually completely under his wife's thumb at home, a henpecked husband.
Remembering the mature Mr Potter the Auror from his previous life, who always wore a stern face and was so serious whenever they met at the Ministry, Draco sent him a belated, time travelling sneer and disdain in his heart.
"Malfoy!!"
At that moment, Ron, who had been comforted by Harry enough to recover a little, finally noticed what was happening on his left.
He saw Draco Malfoy sitting between him and his sister, still trying to talk to Ginny, still wearing that fake expression that made his blood boil. He instantly forgot his earlier shame and fear, bristling like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, and pointed at Draco, shouting, "What do you want with my sister! Stay away from her!"
With that, he forgot all about the Howler still hissing red smoke. Overcome with emotion, he lunged at Draco and grabbed the front of Draco's neatly pressed wizarding robes with both hands!
"Ron, don't!" Harry tried to stop him.
Draco had not expected Ron to attack him so suddenly. Caught off guard, he was pushed backward, his elbow knocking over a Hufflepuff student's goblet beside him. Purple grape juice spilled out, splashing the front of his shirt. He instinctively raised a hand to block, and the plates and cutlery on the long table clattered loudly.
"Stop it! You bloody mad lion!"
"You're the one with bad intentions toward my sister!"
The students around them gasped. Some stood up to watch the show, others tried to get away from this suddenly erupting war zone.
The scene instantly fell into chaos. Harry tried to pull Ron away. Ginny screamed nearby. Hermione tried to rush in to help but was pushed out by the wall of onlookers.
In this chaotic moment, the Howler, forgotten on the table and still unopened, finally reached the limit of its patience.
It exploded open! Its edges burning, it hovered above Ron's head like a huge, scarlet mouth. The furious roar of Molly Weasley, loud enough to shatter glass even without magical amplification, thundered through the entire Great Hall:
"RONALD WEASLEY!! HOW DARE YOU!! STEALING THAT CAR!! YOUR FATHER AND I ARE FACING COMPLETE DISGRACE!!!"
The shout echoed through the Great Hall, making the window glass hum. Ron stayed frozen in the position of gripping Draco's collar, his face as white as paper.
"...IF YOU HAVE ANY MORE DISCIPLINE PROBLEMS, WE WILL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!!" The shout continued, then the voice suddenly became eerily gentle, turning toward Ginny with a note of concern. "Oh, and by the way, Ginny, dear, congratulations on being sorted into Gryffindor. Your father and I are both so proud of you."
After roaring its last word, the Howler seemed to be torn apart by invisible, furious hands. Scarlet fragments drifted down like snowflakes onto the food on the long table and onto Ron's head.
The entire Great Hall fell into dead silence, then erupted with even louder, more undisguised laughter than before.
Draco took the chance to push away Ron, who seemed to have lost all strength, sat up from the bench, and straightened his wrinkled robes. A cold sneer on his face, he said to the distraught Ron in a mocking tone,
"Your mother's... love for you is truly deafening, even more piercing than a Mandrake, Weasley. I hope your ears still work."
Harry looked at Draco and noticed that the front of his white shirt, in the earlier chaos, had been splashed with a large patch of purple grape juice by someone, and was clinging wetly to his body.
"Draco," Harry frowned slightly. He ignored comforting Ron and grabbed Draco's arm, reminding him in a low voice, "Your clothes... they're wet. You'd better go back to the dormitory and change."
Draco looked down at his sorry state, then looked up at Ginny, who was still glaring at him. He gave a cold snort and brushed Harry's hand away.
"Thanks for the reminder, Potter." He dropped the words and turned away from the noisy Great Hall, the wet shirt clinging to his chest and bringing an uncomfortable chill.
His first attempt at getting close had clearly failed, and in an extremely undignified way. He had to think of another way. That diary had to be obtained as soon as possible.