Harry initially wanted to co up with an excuse to brush the matter off, but then he suddenly thought of the missing Cassandra.
Crossing his arms, he looked down at Draco from above.
"Of course I care about her. In fact—she’s my friend."
"Could it be... that notebook in your hand is also..."
Draco pointed at the notebook in Harry’s hand in shock, his mind instantly conjuring up a scene of an ancestral spirit ntoring Harry.
Could it be… Potter’s strength cos from the teachings of his ancestor?!
No!
He roared internally.
That’s my ancestor! Why would they teach Potter?!
"Oh, this is just an ordinary notebook, not like your rope." Harry flipped through the pages casually and said to Draco, "But if your brain— which isn’t much smarter than a troll’s—hasn’t been completely clouded by beauty, you should have realized by now the true, evil nature of that person."
"Evil?" Draco instinctively wanted to refute but hesitated.
Sothing about Harry’s words felt oddly familiar, like the way Professor Snape would snarkily criticize people.
"You Slytherins must be perpetually sleepy. The professors have had to deduct a lot of points because of that." Harry lazily remarked. "That notebook is a highly malevolent magical artifact. It can drain people’s life force to strengthen itself. Trust , while the Malfoy family may have flexible morals, they’re not that low."
"Dark... dark magic?!" Draco’s face displayed utter shock.
The Malfoy family vault certainly contained so dark artifacts.
As the Malfoy heir, he had occasionally accompanied his father there.
Every ti they visited, his father would sternly warn him—never, ever touch those objects.
"What else would it be?" Harry scoffed. "Your Slytherin classmates were drained of their life force by that so-called ‘rope.’ Didn’t you feel inexplicably drowsy and weak in the beginning?"
He added, "Though I suppose she does have so boundaries—at least she returned a portion of the life force she stole from you as compensation."
"Miss rope does care about !" Draco’s eyes welled with tears.
Seeing how utterly bewitched Draco was, Harry felt a deep sense of exasperation.
Thinking back to his life a century ago, Cassandra had been sharp-tongued, but in every other way, she had treated him well.
Comparing Cassandra to the Draco standing before him now, Harry genuinely felt that this kid was unworthy of being her descendant.
Damn it, how did the Malfoy family end up like this?
Harry raised his wand at Draco.
"Aguanti!"
A powerful jet of ice-cold water shot from the tip of Harry’s wand, almost pinning Draco against the wall.
Drenched in freezing water, Draco finally regained so clarity.
"Why don’t you think for a mont—or better yet, go ho and ask your father." Harry’s voice was icy.
"So... you’re not lying to ?"
Draco’s intelligence finally kicked back in.
"I told you, Cassandra is my good friend—" Harry paused, then an amusing idea struck him. He dried Draco off with his wand, poked his face, and said, "Kid, by lineage, I’m your ancestor too."
"You’re insulting the Malfoy family!" Draco looked up in indignation. "I... I’m going to tell my father!"
"Oh, even your father should be considered my grandson's generation." Harry tapped Draco’s head with his wand, watching him flinch and crouch defensively. He continued, "Think about it. Who did your great-great-aunt fight alongside to suppress the goblin rebellion?"
"It was... Harry Potter..." Draco instinctively repeated, then suddenly had an epiphany.
He pointed at Harry, stamring, "Ha—Harry Potter? Could it be that you’re really..."
"Why else do you think I was able to defeat Miss Farley so easily? Or Professor Quirrell?"
At this point, Harry decided to have so fun.
He recalled Ron once saying that the Malfoy family were staunch Death Eaters loyal to Voldemort.
"Or, let’s put it this way... even the thing stuck to the back of Professor Quirrell’s head—Voldemort?"
"How dare you... how dare you speak that na?!" Draco exclaid in terror, but despite his fear, he was growing increasingly composed.
Yes…
If this were just an ordinary first-year, how could they achieve all this?
Forget the Dark Lord’s return—even if it were rlin himself, he wouldn’t have such mastery over magic at this age, right?
Could it really be…
Draco lifted his head and t Harry’s amused gaze.
"I-It’s really you?" Draco’s thoughts suddenly clicked into place. "rlin’s beard, M-M-M-Mr. Potter, it’s an honor—an absolute honor…"
If he had been bested by another first-year—even if that person was the so-called Chosen One—Draco would have found it unacceptable.
But if this person was actually a century-old geezer—no, an ancient monster—then Draco had absolutely no objections. In fact, he felt oddly honored.
I’ve dueled with a legendary wizard from a hundred years ago—three tis! 3:0! Can anyone else say the sa?!
In that mont, Draco began to convince himself.
Even if this Potter was bluffing, he had to be the Potter from a hundred years ago!
Harry didn’t say anything. He simply smiled.
"You still bear Miss rope's curse—or rather, her mark," Harry said to Draco. "When you return ho, ask your father what exactly is on your left arm."
Draco's heart jolted. He hastily rolled up his sleeve, and sure enough, as Harry had said, a black skull was branded onto his left forearm. A large serpent slithered out of the skull's mouth, resembling a grotesque tongue. The sight was eerie and nacing.
"This... what is this?!" Draco asked in horror.
Harry didn't know either—such an ominous mark had never appeared even a century ago.
He rely raised a hand and gestured for Draco to keep quiet.
"Shh. I wouldn’t recomnd showing this mark to others. Just ask your father when you get ho."
"Oh... alright..." Draco nodded blankly.
"Also, that so-called 'gift of power' from Miss rope is nothing more than an enhancent at the cost of your vitality," Harry warned again. "It’s a temporary spell—once it fades in a few days, you'll be left weak for at least a month."
"Thank you for the warning." Draco nodded.
"Alright, I’ve said all I needed to. I think it's ti for you to head back," Harry said. "Once you ask your father about the curse on your arm, I suspect he’ll invite over for a visit. When that happens, I have so matters to discuss with him."
With that, Harry turned and left the abandoned classroom.
If it weren’t for Poppy’s reminder yesterday, he wouldn’t have bothered getting involved with the Malfoys.
But acquiring a basilisk fang—a rare and powerful magical artifact—seed possible only through the Malfoy family's channels…
And now, having learned about Cassandra from Draco, Harry felt a pressing need to have a proper conversation with Lucius.
But that would have to wait until the holidays. For now, he intended to enjoy the montary relief of finishing exams.
---
A week later, the exam results were finally released.
Looking at Harry’s report card, which was filled with nothing but "O" grades, Hermione silently swore to herself that she would study even harder to achieve the sa next year.
Ron’s grades were decent as well—except for Potions, in which he scored a "T." The rest of his subjects were either "E" or "O."
His mother was quite satisfied with his performance. After all, no one could expect a fair grade from a Potions professor who had no love for the Weasley family—not that the Weasleys had ever been particularly good at Potions anyway.
Aside from Bill and Percy, none of them had ever received an "E" or higher from Snape.
Not that Snape was outright biased against Gryffindor. When it ca to grading, he was fairly impartial—just extrely strict.
Even Hermione understood this. After all, Potions was a precise science; a tiny miscalculation could an the difference between a healing draught and a lethal poison.
Trust —losing points in Potions was a small price to pay compared to the potential consequences of a careless mistake.
Before leaving Hogwarts for the break, Harry made one last visit to the Map Chamber to bid farewell to Veratia.
Professor Rookwood, reluctant as ever, had no choice but to leave with Headmaster Fitzgerald, granting the two young people so privacy.
"I'm heading back, Veratia," Harry said. "During the break, I plan to retrieve the materials stored in your vault first, then start searching for a basilisk fang."
"No, it’s our vault," Veratia corrected him.
"Uh... is there really a difference?" Harry scratched his head. "You were the one who stored everything there, weren’t you? I rember you ntioned there was even so money in it."
"It’s not the sa, Harry," Vellatia crossed her arms. "The vault is in both our nas. No one else can access it except for us—unless, in the future, our..."
She suddenly stopped mid-sentence, her cheeks tinged with an unmistakable blush.
"Our what?" Harry didn’t catch her aning.
"Nothing," Veratia murmured softly. "It’s nothing."
"Oh, right." Harry suddenly rembered sothing. "In our year, there’s a descendant of the Malfoy family. I got so news about Cassandra from him."
"Cassandra?" Veratia’s expression grew sharp. "What news?"
"According to the Malfoy family, she apparently stole a family heirloom during her seventh year and vanished after that." Harry spread his hands.
"I see," Veratia whispered.
"See what?" Harry asked in confusion.
"That explains why she wrote that letter. She must have feared I’d find you first by traveling through ti," Veratia chuckled softly. "Looks like she had the sa idea—to use the Malfoy heirloom to cross ti and seek you out a century later."
"That... that’s impossible," Harry said in disbelief. "She clearly stated in her letter that she would never go along with your nonsense. So why would she..."
"Harry," Veratia’s gaze softened. "You’ve been deceived by appearances. Trust —she has already used ti magic. Perhaps, like , she’s trapped in so corner of ti, waiting for you to rescue her..."
When it ca to understanding Cassandra, Veratia was second to none.
She had long since figured out Cassandra’s nature. That proud girl often ant the opposite of what she said.
For instance, Cassandra once told Veratia she disliked Harry—because he was lazy, arrogant…
Yet as she spoke, Veratia caught a fleeting gentleness in her eyes.
From the mont she t Cassandra, Veratia realized that despite their constant bickering, Harry was, in fact, the biggest threat to her heart.
And now, before her lay a golden opportunity. Given Harry’s usual habit of taking her words to heart, she could easily declare that Cassandra had never dabbled in ti magic, and Harry would believe her—thus abandoning any pursuit of Cassandra’s whereabouts.
But she couldn’t do it. She never even considered it.
Even if it ant she might lose, she refused to let Cassandra remain trapped sowhere—just as she herself had been, her body frozen in ti in Slytherin’s study, her soul confined to a portrait, enduring a century of solitude.
Yes, she lied to Harry—because she didn’t want him to feel guilty.
However…
She had no qualms about keeping certain things from him regarding Cassandra. After all, she was already at a disadvantage—losing her edge entirely would be unacceptable.
"Really?" Harry asked, skeptical.
"Harry, no matter how slim the chance, you must never give up," Veratia sighed. "Cassandra was your closest friend. You may not realize it yet, but in all of Hogwarts, the person who cared for you the most wasn’t , nor Ominis, nor Sebastian—it was Cassandra. Cassandra Malfoy."
"Rember Flint? The one who used to bully you?" Veratia asked.
Just hearing the na made Harry frown.
"Of course I rember. If it weren’t for Vice Principal Weasley, I might have suffered the sa way Draco Malfoy bullied Neville back then."
"Vice Principal Weasley?" Veratia giggled. "Harry, you’re so naive."
"Huh?" Harry scratched his head.
"The Flints were one of the most powerful families in magical Britain at the ti," Veratia explained. "Professor Weasley may have been the vice principal, but you knew how things were back then—she had no authority to pressure the Flints into restraining their son."
"It was Cassandra. She never stepped in to help you directly, only watched from afar. But that very afternoon, she wrote a letter to her father. That sa night, Septimus Malfoy convened the school governors and pressured the Flint family. Otherwise, do you really think Slytherins would have suddenly started avoiding you altogether?"
---
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