bioinnovel Chapter 118 The Hesitant Young Mr. Malfoy
Chapter 118 The Hesitant Young Mr. Malfoy
Chapter 118 The Hesitant Young Mr. Malfoy
The Slytherin Dungeon, or rather the Slytherin Common Room, is located beneath Hogwarts Castle, with a view of the depths of the Black Lake, where fish can be seen swimming by from time to time.
It's neither as bright as the towers of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, nor as cozy as Hufflepuff, so Belvina jokingly calls it the "lake view room," offering an experience comparable to a Muggle aquarium.
The long, narrow, and low basement was especially deserted during the Christmas holidays; the walls and ceiling were made of rough stone.
The lamp, emitting a faint green glow, was chained and hung from the ceiling.
Draco Malfoy sat in front of the intricately carved fireplace, slumped in his armchair, looking listless as if he had done something bad the night before.
Since the night before Halloween, young Malfoy has been in this listless state, as if his energy had been drained by the female ghost. Even the news of Colin Crevet's attack could not cheer him up.
Draco Malfoy had so many questions and unanswered questions that they were almost crushing his small body.
He couldn't understand why his parents hated and loathed Muggles, calling Muggle-born wizards "Mudbloods," and why Belvina, also a pure-blood, would go against everyone else's wishes. He couldn't understand why Hogwarts would admit people who weren't fit to learn magic, and why the professors were so kind to those smelly Mudbloods, sometimes even kinder to them than to pure-blood wizards.
He couldn't understand why bloodline wasn't the only standard for Slytherin House, and why there were mixed-race people, even Mudbloods, in Slytherin! Although rare, every Mudblood in Slytherin House was an extremely eyesore.
These incomprehensible things were driving Malfoy crazy. He tried to find the answers, but whenever the answers were presented to him, he would timidly withdraw his hands.
On Halloween Eve, the Chamber of Secrets was opened once again. Malfoy was very excited. The stinky Mudbloods were going to be driven away, and Hogwarts would become a sanctuary for wizards!
But why do the professors all look so worried? Why are they so determined to bring the Slytherin heir to justice? Shouldn't they be letting the monster continue to attack Mudstadt? Shouldn't they be applauding?
And then there's Ernie McMillan of Hufflepuff. He's a pure-blood wizard, so why does he protect that Mudblood named Justin Finley and hide the stinky Mudblood in his bedroom?
The person that puzzled Malfoy the most was Belvina. She clearly loved him so much, so why did she suddenly become disappointed in him and ignore him completely from then on? Just because of that "Mudblood" comment? What kind of illogical nonsense is that!
Draco Malfoy was confused, agitated, and uneasy. He was like a broken plank adrift in a raging storm, tossed about by the waves and the wind.
Heavy footsteps sounded, and Crabbe and Goyle walked over, each carrying a pile of snacks. The two sat heavily on the armchairs and began to share the snacks they had gotten from who-knows-where.
The two clumsy humanoid baboons picked and chose, each taking a piece of chocolate and offering it to Malfoy in a fawning manner, their smiles no better than tears.
Young Master Malfoy waved his hand in annoyance, then closed his eyes in disgust. Why were the people surrounding him Crabbe and Goyle, these muscle-bound idiots, such as their brains?
Destroy it, I'm tired.
Young Master Malfoy closed his eyes tightly, wanting to sleep for a while, but the endless chewing sounds beside him made it impossible for him to fall asleep.
Left with no other choice, young Malfoy had to open his eyes and face the bloody reality of life. He picked up the newspaper clippings beside him, hoping to draw energy from them that could bring him joy.
The clipping was sent by Lucius Malfoy; it was taken from the Daily Prophet and reported that Arthur Weasley, the head of the Ministry of Magic's Office for the Prevention of the Misuse of Muggle Items, had been fined fifty Galleons for casting a spell on a Muggle car.
Draco Malfoy didn't derive any joy from it; instead, he became even more agitated. Hogwarts could subscribe to the Daily Prophet, so what was the point of sending such an insignificant thing?
Malfoy's pale, oval face contorted in rage as he angrily threw the clipping into the fireplace, where the raging flames instantly engulfed it.
Crabbe and Goyle, who were engrossed in their food, looked over in confusion. Their cheeks were bulging, and their eyes were clearer than Ron and Harry's, showing no trace of being tainted by knowledge.
"Draco, what's wrong with you?" Crabbe looked puzzled; he always had this expression whenever the teacher asked him a question.
Over time, no teacher would be so foolish as to choose to ask Crabbe a question anymore.
Goyle swallowed the food in his mouth with difficulty and asked with concern, "Draco, are you feeling unwell? Should we go to the school clinic? Oh, by the way, you don't like that Mudblood."
Malfoy, nestled in his armchair, felt a headache coming on, a headache caused by Crabbe and Goyle's commotion.
"We can just throw that little mudseed out," Crabbe said. "That'll solve everything."
"That's right! Throw that little mud-seed out!" Gore chimed in, seemingly agreeing with Crabbe's idea.
Malfoy's head was throbbing even more; Crabbe and Goyle would throw Crevy out one minute, and then Madam Pomfrey would kick them out the next.
Young Master Malfoy really wanted to stand up and punch Crabbe and Goyle each. If those two were even slightly useful, he wouldn't have had to suffer alone for so long.
Despondent, young Malfoy looked up at the clock in the lounge. He slowly stood up, refraining from punching Crabbe and Goyle, and walked out of the lounge.
"Draco, where are you going?" Crabbe asked, puzzled.
"Let's go to the Great Hall for dinner," Malfoy said listlessly, eager to get rid of Crabbe and Goyle.
"Wait for us, we're coming too!" Gore jumped up excitedly, then clumsily picked up the fallen snacks.
Draco Malfoy, speechless and gazing at the sky, silently walked out of the lounge, Crabbe and Goyle following him like leeches. Before, Draco Malfoy had thought it was impressive; now, he just found it annoying.
How can pure-blood Slytherins be so stupid, while those stinky Mudbloods are ranked first in the entire year?
The three of them passed through the stone walls of Slytherin's dungeon, exited the entrance to the underground classroom, and climbed the marble steps, soon arriving at the Great Hall.
Inside the magnificent auditorium, a dozen Christmas trees were covered in silver frost, with parasitic plants and holly forming thick ribbons, and the magical snow warmed the dry air. Students who stayed on campus for the holiday gathered together, laughing heartily at Fred and George's performance.
Apart from the Slytherin students, the students who stayed on campus for the holidays seemed to be enjoying their Christmas break to the fullest.
Draco Malfoy watched the commotion with envy, then silently joined up with the other Slytherin students.
Enjoy your dinner in a sullen mood.
Malfoy found the dinner, meticulously prepared by the house-elf, tasteless. He would occasionally look up at Belvina, hoping to meet her gaze and see concern in her eyes.
Draco Malfoy was disappointed. The ever-smiling Belvina never looked over. She would rather keep pouring wine for the big, dumb Hagrid beside her, and she would rather get the gamekeepers drunk with a smile than look at him.
Malfoy, struck by another blow, lowered his head and bit his lip hard, trying to use the pain to bring himself back to his senses—perhaps it was too painful, or perhaps it was bringing him back to his senses, because before he could even exert any force, Malfoy released his lip.
At this moment, the professors were sitting around a round table. Bassheda nudged Belvina next to her. She noticed Malfoy's gaze and saw that he was absent-minded.
Belvina, however, seemed completely unconcerned, continuing to pour wine for Hagrid, determined not to stop until the gamekeeper was drunk. Seeing this, Bassheda had no choice but to whisper in Belvina's ear, "Are you really not going to care about Draco? He seems quite upset."
Hagrid downed glass after glass of wine, his face growing redder and his voice louder.
"What did you say?" Belvina seemed not to have heard clearly, or perhaps she was pretending not to hear.
Bassheda said again, "Are you really not going to care about Draco? He'll be in school longer; he still has a chance."
"Ignore him. He can't figure it out himself. I'd be wasting my breath trying to reason with him," Belvina said. "Besides, he's already made his choice. Wouldn't it be rude of me to keep pestering him?"
Basilda sighed. She knew Belvina's temperament very well, and Mr. Malfoy, who was dancing in the minefield, seemed oblivious to this.
"In the end, Lucius and Narcissa are the real parents of young Malfoy," Belvina said quietly. "No matter how much I say or do, it can't compare to the effect of a few words from Lucius."
Everyone makes choices, and Belvina made hers too. She chose to let go and put aside her previous feelings for LaLucius Malfoy.
As for Draco Malfoy, it depends on his own choice: whether he follows his father's path to the bitter end or bravely chooses another path.