Chapter 93: From Warmth to Loneliness
Draco felt anything but good.
He was going to die. Professor Lockhart had vanished, like a wise man in a fairy tale who appears to offer guidance, then is nowhere to be found.
And, of all days, it was a full moon tonight, and the terrifying werewolf had attacked the town again. Ron was dead, Hermione was nowhere to be found, and in this strange town, he was suddenly all alone.
Professor Lockhart, save me! I can't cast spells right now!
Draco was forced to seek help in the Muggle hunters' tavern, hoping for their protection.
He didn't see any problem with asking Muggles for help. The Malfoy family was famously flexible with their principles; their "pure-blood supremacy" was different from others.
It embraced the concept of pure-blood, including pure-blood wizards and pure-blood Muggles. At least, Draco had once been secretly taken by his father, Lucius, to meet a pure-blooded Muggle: the Muggle Queen.
As the most influential family among the "Sacred Twenty-Eight Pure-Blood Families" of wizards, the Malfoys and the pure-blooded Muggle Queen and nobles got along splendidly. Their interests were perfectly aligned: they detested all half-bloods and mudbloods who mixed races and whose wizarding ancestry was so diluted that they seemed to have sprung from Muggles.
Hmm, written as 'bloodline,' read as 'profit.'
Yet, despite such alignment of interests and stances, Lucius had repeatedly warned Draco to be wary of these Muggles. As he'd put it, "A wizard is a wizard, and a Muggle is a Muggle."
Draco quickly came to a profound understanding of this. He forcefully slammed open the tavern doors, yelling at the hunters who were still drinking and carousing, "A werewolf has appeared!"
He pointed at the full moon outside the window, anxiously warning them, hoping they would quickly grab their weapons.
"I was just being hunted by a werewolf; it could follow me at any moment!"
These hunters were the only force in town capable of fighting werewolves, and he didn't want his recklessness to get them, the people who could help him, killed.
His words had an effect. The noisy tavern suddenly fell silent. Those who had been shouting on tables, those secretly eyeing the barmaid, and the one polishing glasses behind the counter—everyone seemed to have hit a pause button, turning to look at him. Draco was relieved to see many scrambling for weapons.
A lean, seemingly agile hunter darted to the tavern door, peered outside for a moment, then closed the door and turned back to Draco. "Boy, are you sure a werewolf was hunting you?"
Draco affirmed it with utmost certainty. Then he watched as the group of brawny, armed men charged at him.
Wait, no! You should be dealing with the werewolf, not me!
Even as he was being roughly tied to a tavern pillar, bruised and battered, he remained bewildered, struggling fiercely and yelling in anger, "Do you think I'm lying to you, or do you think I'm the werewolf?"
"Oh, of course not," the lean hunter said, stroking the blade of his dagger and smiling at him. "Do you know why we can deal with werewolves?"
Draco shook his head.
"Because werewolves aren't interested in us." The hunter swung his dagger, tapping Draco's cheek. "It's only interested in witches. As long as we common folk close our doors and windows, a werewolf won't break into the house."
The people around him burst into laughter, seeing Draco's bewildered expression, chattering away.
"Werewolves aren't interested in us, so evil witches are our hunting targets."
"But he looks like a boy."
"Who knows."
"Look how pale he is; hard to say, he might actually be a witch who transformed. How about we check?"
"You're brave. What if he curses you?"
...
Draco's face flushed crimson.
He suddenly realized his foolishness. The Duelling Club students had been helping Professor Lockhart organize Dark magical creature information. He knew that werewolves preferred to attack wizards over Muggles, because of their different scent.
But how could he not have realized that a simple sentence in a book could turn into such a complex scene in real life? Who could have reacted to that?
People always paid the price for their foolishness. Luckily, he wasn't stripped naked for inspection. Unluckily, he was tied to a stake, ready to be burned.
He finally understood how hunters dealt with werewolves. They set traps, positioned crossbows and javelins in the shadows, then put bait in the trap—him, the wizard. All that remained was to patiently wait for the werewolf to arrive for its last meal.
What to do? What to do! Was he going to be the first wizard of the new century burned by Muggles?
No! He couldn't die! He had too much on his shoulders. Goyle and Crabbe needed to be cured quickly. His parents faced the Dark Lord's threat at any moment. He couldn't die!!! He had to regain his spellcasting ability as soon as possible! Magic, that was enough to solve all the difficulties before him!
He had been pondering this problem all night since Professor Lockhart reminded him, and he actually had some ideas, but he wasn't sure if they were right. He didn't dare to take risks and hoped to confirm his thoughts with Professor Lockhart. This was a cautious approach, and there was nothing wrong with it.
But now, he couldn't afford to hesitate any longer. Perhaps, as Professor Lockhart had said, everyone had their own magical path. He—
Decided to abandon the power of the Patronus Charm!
Yes, he actually knew that the Patronus Charm wasn't for him at all. This wasn't to say he couldn't cast it; the spell he produced was far more potent than Ron's faint glimmer, and he too held many beautiful and happy memories within his heart. But he resisted doing so.
Perhaps it was because of his personality, a person told from childhood that he had too much to bear, a person with a complex mind, who knew that truly beautiful and happy moments in his life might not be plentiful.
So he resisted using them as magical fuel; he wanted to carefully preserve these already scarce, and potentially even scarcer, beautiful memories and joys.
Yes, don't touch them, don't cling to the Patronus Charm anymore. Instead, he intended to feel the power of Dark magic!
He thought he might be the only one in school who truly understood Professor Lockhart's lessons on Dark Arts Defense, because he realized that many of Lockhart's concepts were actually teaching him how to better use Dark magic.
With ideas, with a method, his only missing piece was the uncertainty of whether this was the right thing to do.
Now, he probably couldn't wait for anyone to give him an answer. He had to make his own decision.
Draco closed his eyes tightly, trying his best to calm down, and carefully, meticulously, felt the influence of the Dark magical creature on his mind. Everyone else chose to resist this dark force, but he chose to take the opportunity to feel this power.
Soon, as he opened his mind to the Dark magical creature's power, an extremely terrifying loneliness began to spread within him.
This isolation brought forth an urge, a yearning to find a large hooded cloak to hide himself in, to avoid facing all the chaotic things. This loneliness made him feel a sensation called "insecurity" rapidly emerging from the lake of his mind, like cold snakes crawling on his skin, raising goosebumps.
This is the feeling!
He had only briefly touched upon it earlier by the fireplace, and he had panicked, immediately rebuilding his mental defenses against such a terrifying emotion.
But now, he let it grow within his mind, letting it infect his emotions, allowing himself to resonate and align with it more and more.
On the stake, he was trembling, his face pale, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He suddenly felt the ropes binding him tighten, and his shoes felt snug, painfully pressing against his toes.
He felt as if he was rapidly growing, his body swiftly developing and lengthening. He didn't know why this change was happening, but he knew one thing: his emotions were exceptionally intense at this moment, so intense that he again felt the magic boiling within him, and his wand, which should have been held tightly in his hand. The familiar sensation made him want to cry with joy.
Magic! The power of magic was felt again!
But he felt no happiness. He felt a subtle change in his mindset. He merely pursed his lips and looked up at the hunters in the dark corners around him. Those people were waiting for the werewolf to come and eat him. If the werewolf didn't come tonight, he might be burned to death at dawn.
The hunters were cautious, knowing that a wizard should be dealt with quickly; prolonged imprisonment of him, the werewolf bait, would only give the wizard an opportunity to harm them.
Heh~
I've already found an opportunity. Just wait for my revenge!
Draco gently waved his wand. The hemp ropes binding his wrists and legs began to untie themselves and fall away. He continued to cast, "Serpensortia!"
A gigantic python appeared in the open space in front of the stake, quickly attacking the hunters in the dark corners. The snake was so large that many hunters noticed it. Crossbow bolts and javelins thudded as they were fired at the snake.
Draco seized the opportunity to quickly cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself.
This spell made him appear chameleon-like, blending into the background in others' vision. Then he cast a spell on the hemp ropes, transforming them into his likeness, bound to the stake, while he quickly ran to the darkest corner closest to him.
Soon, he reached the back of the hunter in the corner who was licking his lips and holding a steel knife, raising his wand and pointing it at the back of the hunter's head.
What spell should he use to kill him? Draco hesitated.
Just then, the entire world suddenly shook violently, as if an earthquake had struck.
He vaguely sensed something and looked up in confusion, seeing a massive red cloak fluttering overhead, obscuring the sky as if it could cover everything. But clearly, something had gone wrong.
He saw the unique silver magical light of a Patronus Charm flashing, a large rat Patronus tearing at the cloak.
Then he saw a meteor shower, a reverse meteor shower. Silver lights, appearing from unknown distances, streaked across the sky, attacking the red cloak above. He recognized two of the Patronuses: George and Fred's, who had unhesitatingly shown them off in Professor Lockhart's office before.
Among these silver lights, the most unique were a stag and a doe. But Draco wasn't sure whose Patronus they were.
So, they weren't far away after all.
He finally breathed a sigh of relief, looking at the hunter whose head was pointed at by his wand. Ultimately, he cast no curse, instead slowly stepping back and merging with the shadows in the alley behind him. Draco quickly broke free from the hunters' trap. He glanced back at them, then turned and walked away.
He wondered how everyone else was doing. He wondered what was happening with Professor Lockhart now.