"Harry! There you are," the blond boy greeted cheerfully, walking toward in an intentionally unhurried manner… And behind the well-known Draco Malfoy, two impressive-looking wizards advanced with the sa practiced elegance. One glance at them was enough to understand exactly who Draco took after—and whose behavior he was copying.
"Draco," I nodded easily to my school friend, keeping my eyes on him while still holding his parents in my peripheral vision—reading their reactions to and to their son's behavior around . "You're here with your parents today?"
"Yeah! Let introduce you. This is my father, Lucius Malfoy—he's a lord and the head of our family. And this is my mother, Narcissa Malfoy… she used to be from the Black family," Draco introduced his parents briskly, then turned to them and introduced .
"I'm glad to finally et my son's best friend. Draco has told us a great deal about you, young Harry. Do you mind if I call you that?" the pale-haired woman smiled gently, speaking first. That was a little strange. As far as I understood, local etiquette suggested the head of the family should begin the conversation, but…
Lucius didn't try to cut in at all—either he was in a sour mood, or he simply yielded to his wife's obvious interest. Or maybe it was a deliberate signal to throw strict etiquette aside. I didn't know. And I briefly regretted having morized a book on wizarding etiquette the night before.
Without those rules in my head, I would've felt much simpler… Maybe I would've looked rougher and less polished in the Malfoys' eyes, but… who cared. Practice showed that the rules I'd cramd weren't actually necessary right now, so I pushed them aside and decided to act naturally and not clutter my mind.
"I don't mind, Mrs. Malfoy. Draco has told a lot about you as well," I said, exhaling a little more calmly.
"Oh? Only good things, I hope?" she smiled brightly, and sohow still managed to scare her troubleso son a little. It was funny, and it made wonder who truly held the authority in this family. She clearly wasn't afraid of Draco's father.
"Only good things," I nodded, copying her smile without aning to—and making Lady Malfoy laugh quietly, restrained, but surprisingly sincere. That set a pleasant tone for the rest of the conversation. Even Lucius, seeing his wife's goodwill and her… oddly direct warmth toward Draco and , eventually softened his expression and joined her gentle questioning.
Nothing special. Two pure-bloods of so ancient line simply asked about Draco—how he behaved at school, what we did together or didn't do, how we t, why I hadn't chosen Slytherin… By the middle of our walk along Diagon Alley, I even began to forget the heavier reputation attached to the Malfoy na.
Despite their looks, their cultivated politeness, their mannerisms and upbringing in every small detail… Draco's parents were fairly normal. The father—strict and formal, but apparently incapable of resisting his wife's quiet pressure. The mother—bright, caring, a bit tactile, and… clearly the one who truly ran the family.
That was unfamiliar, because Draco mostly talked about Lucius and genuinely seed to fear his mother—probably not without reason. But overall… beneath the aristocratic wrapping, the Malfoys were a stable, healthy family in every sense of the word.
They spoiled their son almost as much as the Dursleys spoiled Dudley, but in Draco's case it was balanced by strict expectations in other areas… It was an interesting, even educational eting. Still, under Narcissa's attentive care, I felt slightly out of place.
It had been a long ti since I'd seen myself as a "normal child." My body was one, and I'd mostly accepted that. But feeling like a child who needed to be watched and cared for simply because I was young… that was disorienting.
At Hogwarts we were mostly left to ourselves. Professors didn't pamper us with attention, much less care. And the Dursleys… let's be honest, they were never going to be good guardians. So being treated with gentle, maternal concern by Mrs. Malfoy left unsure how to respond.
"You really do have good parents… I expected worse," I murmured with a quiet smirk once Draco and I finally separated from his family and headed toward our usual crowd… Pansy, Draco's squires, and Daphne with her younger sister—who would be starting Hogwarts this year—finally found us. Or rather, their parents found them, pulling the Malfoys into adult talk and letting breathe easier as I rejoined the teenagers.
"Hey! What do you an worse? I told you a hundred tis my parents are aweso!" Draco protested imdiately, though not loudly enough for anyone but to hear.
"Less outrage in your voice… I've seen you flinch under one warning look from your mother," I laughed quietly, giving him a light elbow to the ribs.
"Oh, shut up… She was kind today because you were there. I'd like to see how you react after you experience my mother's anger. You can't even imagine the lecture she gives when I try to skip riding lessons," Malfoy sulked, and that set laughing again.
Though deep down, I felt a faint sting of sadness. My parents were left in my past life… and I didn't even know if they were still alive. I'd been a late child in the family, so I couldn't be sure nothing had happened to them by now.
In that sense, Draco could be envied. His parents were here, beside him, and weren't going anywhere. And with strong wizards living for centuries… Malfoy might not have to feel loss until very late in life.
"Yeah. The gloomy weather's getting into my head again. I've completely lost it—starting to envy a kid," I scolded myself and pushed the thought away.
Thankfully, my ntal magic practice this sumr—intense and consistent, despite my decision to cast based on mood and inspiration—made it easier and easier to control my thoughts. It wasn't that ordinary people couldn't do that… but for it had beco frighteningly simple.
Apparently the constant "self-torture" practices—by now more like a strange form of yoga mixed with circus tricks, like doing the splits on a transfigured board of nails—were paying off. Learning to detach from physical discomfort and control my body through willpower had naturally made it easier to control my mind, emotions, and overall mood too.
All it took was a small push of will, and the darker thoughts dispersed like fog. And I was back in the mont—laughing with friends, eting Astoria Greengrass, and enjoying the jealous reactions of the little brat. The small, fiery nuisance instantly noticed how much softer and warr Daphne was around , and she got angry—trying to chase away from her sister.
It was genuinely funny, even though Draco and Pansy started taking it too seriously. They actually tried to "protect" from the little girl, which spoiled the mood a bit. And Daphne was ready to punish anyone who wronged her sister, which led to a small argunt.
But it was so normal and familiar that it didn't ruin our walk or our ti in the café. Everyone was happy to see each other again. We shared stories about our holidays and the headaches of ho tutoring… And even I, damn it, had things to tell.
After two full months without pointless lessons and without howork draining my ti, I'd progressed massively in my magic. My Transfiguration in particular sparked real enthusiasm—and even envy—in these pure-blood larvae of future wizards.
Because the others, even though they kept "studying" over the holidays, didn't actually practice magic all that much. They believed they'd worked themselves to the bone… but it couldn't compare to the training camp I'd built for myself this sumr.
"Almost a sha I have to go back to Hogwarts so soon," a rather heretical thought flashed through my mind. And just as easily, I dismissed it.
Because even though I'd made serious progress this sumr—so serious that I shouldn't share most of it even with friends—I still couldn't say I'd learned anything truly new in concept. This sumr had sharpened and polished my existing skills, and helped properly master the things I'd only touched briefly last year but hadn't had ti to complete at school.
The Patronus was the perfect example. At Hogwarts I could barely produce a pale white haze. Over the holidays I mastered the charm fully and even ford a corporeal Patronus in the shape of a cat, vaguely like Milo… but I hadn't added many truly new spells to my arsenal.
I needed Hogwarts. And its library. Without it, I had nowhere to get new knowledge. Buying endless expensive books from shops was inconvenient and wasteful. My inheritance, even just my childhood vault, looked impressive… but spending it on books that already waited in the library would be irrational. I only bought a few new books on ntal magic, slipping away from the Dursleys on the magical bus.
Otherwise, my knowledge stayed at roughly the sa level. Which was why I had ambitious plans for this school year: learn as many spells and transfiguration patterns as possible—so next sumr I could polish them to perfection. This strategy had worked flawlessly.
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