Miss Brown and Miss Patil linked arms and scurried away quickly, as if fleeing from the plague. Draco, left behind, wrinkled his nose with a smug look, as if he had accomplished something remarkable. These two girls had a rather ambivalent opinion of Draco Malfoy. On one hand, they thought he was an annoying slug, but on the other hand, when chatting about him, they sometimes thought this slug wasn't too bad - looking.
While Miss Granger was in a foul mood today, Draco was in an extremely good one. He even hummed a song as he walked, which was quite rare for him. I thought that if he had a tail, he would surely be deducted points by Filch for wagging it too high. The reason for his elation was none other than that his father's forceful accusation had led the Ministry of Magic to rule that Buckbeak would be executed in the near future. Today, in the Great Hall, he said in a voice loud enough for the Gryffindor table to hear that he would ask his father to be merciful and keep the head of "that stupid beast" to hang in the Gryffindor common room as a decoration.
Fortunately, Miss Granger wasn't there at that time, nor were the Potter trio. I silently pondered how to bring up the matter of Buckbeak to Draco as tactfully as possible - not to mention that we had already had an argument about this before. Given his personality, if I accidentally got on his bad side again, he might even write a letter to his father to cause another ruckus at the Ministry of Magic and set Buckbeak's execution date for tomorrow.
"Someone gave my dad three tickets to the Quidditch World Cup, the best seats, in the top - tier box." As I was still carefully choosing my words in my mind, Draco started showing off again.
"Oh." I nodded absent - mindedly.
"Three tickets!"
"Yeah." I continued to reply absent - mindedly.
"Three tickets!"
"Oh, um... I hope your family has a great time?" I was confused by his emphasis and could only tilt my head.
"My mother doesn't really like such occasions. She thinks it's too noisy." Draco touched his nose. The silver Slytherin ring on his right - hand ring finger reflected light in the flickering light of the corridor, creating an illusion that the little snake coiled on it was alive. "Do you have any plans for the holidays?"
"Not yet." Since the holidays were still several months away, I hadn't decided what potions to secretly brew at home during the break. It would be great if my mother was still on rest. Although if my mother was at home, I surely couldn't secretly take my father's medicinal herbs to do some experiments that I didn't think were dangerous (but my parents might not think so), but it would be nice just to be with my mother.
"Then it's settled." I heard him say.
"Settled what?" I looked at him in bewilderment.
"You'll come with me to watch the Quidditch World Cup during the holidays." He lifted his chin. "I'll get my father to agree."
"I don't like that kind of occasion either - it's too noisy, and I'm not interested in Quidditch." I refused him without thinking. "For Merlin's sake, Draco, I still can't tell one of those colorful Quidditch teams that fly around in your books from another."
"Leaving Quidditch aside, don't you want - to spend the summer vacation with me?" He drawled.
I looked into his eyes, really unable to figure out why he thought I'd want to spend the summer with him. After all, in my mind, there were hardly any particularly good memories of going to Malfoy Manor.
I can't quite remember exactly how old I was when I first went to Malfoy Manor. I only have some vague general impressions. It was one of the rare occasions when my father took me out instead of my mother. My first impression of the manor was that it was terrifying. Looking up at the high ceilings and the deep corridors from a child's height, it seemed that whispers without a discernible source would come from every indistinct corner. Those portraits hanging on the walls all looked alike and had the same expression. I clung tightly to my father, grasping the corner of his robe, and looked up at the portraits on the wall. Their mouths twisted into smiles that were like masks. Then I noticed that my father and the other adults had the same smiles on their faces.
There was also the house - elf dressed in dirty rags. Just because it was a bit slow in serving tea, it was drenched from head to toe with scalding hot tea. Amid the elf's shrill screams, there were the adults' delighted and arrogant laughter. The elf, trembling, was about to leave when Mr. Malfoy kicked it.
My father was chatting with a wizard I didn't know, wearing that terrifying smile, and didn't notice that I had left the room. I followed the house - elf. The elf was so scared that it almost curled itself into a withered ball, its nose close to the floor as it asked me, "Does the little - little miss need anything else?"
"A handkerchief." I struggled a bit to take out the small, neatly - folded handkerchief my mother had made from my bag and handed it to the elf. "Here, wipe yourself."
"The miss gives Dobby a handkerchief! Oh, kind miss - Dobby, Dobby, but Dobby can't take it - bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! Lazy Dobby is a bad Dobby!" I watched in horror as the elf, with tears in its eyes one second, the next second started slamming its head against the wall, and then almost rolled forward, running while screaming.
I followed it with difficulty around several corners, but then I couldn't see it anymore. And then I realized in terror that I seemed to have lost my way back to my father. The portraits in the corridors no longer gave me their fake smiles as they did when I was following my father. When I asked them for directions, they coldly mocked my attempt to help the house - elf, thinking that I had disgraced the wizarding community.
I can't quite remember the details clearly after that. I only remember calling out for my father in a low voice while trying to recall how to get back. But Malfoy Manor was just too big for a little girl. There was another corridor at the end of each corridor, and soon I didn't even know which floor I was on. I could only hold my toy wand to boost my courage and walked forward. Confusedly, I actually ended up in the garden.
Little girls get scared easily, but they're also easily distracted. To this day, what I remember most vividly about Malfoy Manor is the Starr's Iris blooming beside the railing. At that time, I didn't know its scientific name, nor had I learned from books that it was an extremely precious medicinal herb. In the eyes of that little girl, it was just a flower that was too novel and beautiful. Its petals were semi - transparent, as if there were stars shining inside.
I couldn't help but reach out to touch it. However, before my hand could touch the edge of the petal, I was bitten hard by a giant Venus flytrap that suddenly coiled over from the side.
I started sobbing in pain and then encountered Draco Malfoy, who was gliding boredly in the yard on a toy broom. Perhaps many people, hearing this, might think this encounter was rather romantic. But as the one who experienced it, all I can recall is how ridiculous it was. He aggressively accused me of being a thief who had broken into his house. I took out the toy wand from my bosom with my bleeding hand and bluffed, shouting that I would turn him into a broom. Then, the two of us kids had a mock duel with our toy brooms that could only fly close to the ground and our toy wands that could only shoot out streamers.
To this day, even if you beat Draco, he probably wouldn't admit that at that time, I, who was almost half a head taller than him (maybe that's why he's so keen on emphasizing that he's now much taller than me), had viciously pinned him down on the grass. I held my toy wand against his blond hair and ordered him to take me to find my father.
He didn't follow my instructions immediately. Sobbing and rubbing his red eyes, he was escorted by my toy wand back to his room first. It was one of the few places in Malfoy Manor where you could embrace the bright sunshine as soon as you opened the curtains. He poured out a whole bunch of things from a strange box, saying he was going to treat my wound.
Then I gave him another beating because my sensitive nose told me that all the potions he handed me were the poisonous ones described in my father's potion books. It wasn't until he took out the real healing ointment and applied it to me with tears in his eyes that I finally let him go. I also threatened him not to tell the adults about this, or I would climb through his window in the middle of the night and use my "sure - win" wand to turn him into a broom. Malfoy's pride probably wouldn't allow him to tell his parents about such a humiliating incident either. Otherwise, Mrs. Malfoy wouldn't have still maintained that stiff politeness when she saw me later.
What happened after that? In fact, Draco and I didn't meet many times before we started school. But when we were kids, time passed very slowly. A lollipop that could change five flavors would take a whole day to finish, and our mouths would get sore from the sweetness. But from a certain moment on, time seemed to have been accelerated by some unknown magic. Suddenly, one day, I could no longer pull the boy off his broom with my height advantage; suddenly, he stole his mother's wand and made my hair into an afro, and I obediently did what he said for an afternoon only to find out that he actually had no idea how to restore my hair; suddenly, I lost interest in duels "where wizards bet on their family honor", I just wanted to stare blankly at that Starr's Iris. It seemed to be in full bloom in Malfoy Manor forever and never wither.
"This is a flower sheltered by the light of the starry sky," Draco had said to me smugly back then. "Unless the stars fall, the flower will bloom eternally."
I wasn't interested in such unreliable legends. The reason I was interested in that flower was that a book said this rare iris could be used as a medicinal catalyst to make a powerful healing potion. "Even a heart shattered by the most desperate love can be forcibly pieced together." Naturally, this was a joke written in a footnote.
"What are you smiling at?" I suddenly heard Draco asking somewhat discontentedly as I was lost in childhood memories. "I remembered that when I was a kid, I pinned you to the grass and made you eat dirt," I said honestly. "You screamed that you were going to tell your parents, and then I pushed your whole face into the dirt."
Draco narrowed his eyes, and I immediately raised my hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up your sad memories."
A thought flashed through my mind for a moment. If I told him that I'd go to the Quidditch World Cup with him if he didn't pursue the matter of Buckbeak, would he agree? But this thought only lasted for a moment. Before I could even laugh at this strange idea, I heard him snort and say, "Fine if you don't want to go. I can invite Astoria or Pansy."
"That's nice," I nodded. "Miss Parkinson or Miss Greengrass would probably be very happy to go, and you don't need to persuade your father either."
He snorted gloomily through his nose again to show his agreement and then turned around and left. I was glad that I hadn't tried to bring up Buckbeak just now. But for some reason, when he mentioned Miss Parkinson and Miss Greengrass just now, I felt an indescribable emotion - probably because I hadn't slept well these past few days and was excited about seeing my mother this weekend.
I wanted to borrow one more book from the library before going back to the common room. On the way, I saw Longbottom standing in a corner, looking pale and lost in thought. I walked up to him and asked carefully, "Are you okay, Longbottom?"
He seemed to have just been jolted out of his reverie. I saw that his forehead was covered in sweat. I continued to ask carefully, "Do you need to go see Madam Pomfrey?"
"Oh, no, no need. Thank you," he seemed to be in a muddled state of mind. He waved his hand and walked a few steps forward, then turned around and asked me, "Miss Snape, do you know anyone else in our year who was born at the end of July besides me and Harry?"
"Uh...? Me," I said, looking at his eyes that, for some reason, had widened in a stare. "I was born on July 31st - what's wrong?"