Chapter 8: Transfiguration, Potions, and Flying Lessons
It was not yet time for breakfast when I woke up on the four-poster bed hung with green silk curtains.
Draco stared at the medieval tapestry hanging on the wall, which depicted Slytherin's adventures, and was lost in thought for a long time.
He hadn't had a good night's sleep since he had those nightmarish memories.
For him, Malfoy Manor is no longer the warm, happy and safe home of his childhood. Although it is peaceful everywhere, it is inevitably overlapped with broken and painful memories.
It was a murder scene, a prison, and a cage.
For a month, he couldn't avoid feeling nervous and worried in every corner of Malfoy Manor, and he had to try hard not to let his parents see it, which was driving him crazy.
Arriving at Hogwarts, Draco finally had his own private space, where he could take off his innocent mask and reveal his exhausted inner wounds. He finally got the long-awaited relaxation.
Last night's rare good sleep had restored some of his energy. Lying back in his bedroom beneath the Black Lake, watching the gentle rippling of the water and the tranquil scene of light and shadow, he felt as if his mind had been drained, and he finally stopped feeling panic.
This was a Slytherin single dormitory, a "small privilege" that Draco enjoyed as the son of a school governor. Emerald and silver dominated the entire room, very Slytherin.
These two colors make people feel calm.
very good.
Draco liked the silver and green combination.
What wizard with taste would like such a clashing and disturbing combination of blatant gold and overbearing red? He frowned, secretly comparing Gryffindor's representative colors with his own house, and decided that Slytherin's was better looking.
Although, although - some girls look good in red and gold scarves, he thought absentmindedly.
Don't think about it, those are all unrealistic fantasies! He straightened his collar in front of the dressing mirror, glanced at himself in the mirror gloomily, and the slightly curved corners of his mouth immediately retracted.
He walked out of the dormitory with a stern face, assuming a Draco Malfoy-like arrogant attitude, crossed the Slytherin common room, and greeted the boring new day at Hogwarts with some numbness.
Draco couldn't let his guard down and be friendly to those around him. Like a frightened clam, he closed himself in and watched the reborn world with caution.
He had already done some minor experiments with "change," using Longbottom's lost and recovered toad.
But he hadn't figured out the critical point of "change." The only certainty was that the world of this life could "change."
What about other people? Will there be changes as well?
Although after a month of observation, he found that the Malfoy family was no different from his previous life, this did not mean that the same was true for his classmates at school.
Since he can start over, is it possible for others to do so as well?
He still needed to observe silently for a while, especially regarding Harry Potter. Sitting at the Slytherin table, he stuffed some fried eggs into his mouth, thinking without tasting the food.
He had to figure out further whether the Potter who was grinning foolishly and clinking glasses with Weasley across the table was the original Potter, and whether his behavior was consistent with that of his previous life.
Draco thought, until he figured out the world, he had to dutifully play the role of a well-behaved freshman.
In such a strange, familiar yet unknown world, he cannot attract too much attention, which is dangerous.
Playing an 11-year-old boy wasn't difficult, it was just exhausting.
This often requires him to think about problems from a child's perspective and respond accordingly; but after being reborn, he will always unconsciously look at problems from the perspective of a 17-year-old boy, and it is difficult for him to feel the joy and excitement that a child should have in his heart.
For example, the subjects that intrigued the freshmen, or the novelties of Hogwarts—moving stairs, ubiquitous armor, and ghosts that appeared at random—were nothing new to him.
Draco had to feign emotionless surprise at these things at least three times a day to pretend he was a new student.
Apart from this, his attention is focused on small experiments related to "change".
While ensuring that no one noticed, he tried to make some small "changes" and observed the results of the "changes".
He is testing the bottom line of "change".
For example, given that "provoking Porter" was meaningless to him at the moment, he deliberately gave up the tense atmosphere between him and Porter.
He even showed Potter and Weasley, two little brats running around aimlessly - yes, in his eyes, they were just little brats - two directions, saving them from the embarrassment of getting lost in their previous lives and the professor's contempt for being late.
Weasley, with his face full of freckles, actually said "thank you" to him with a blushing face, which surprised Draco a little and made him re-understand the Weasley family tutor.
Don't get me wrong. Although they had "changed" a bit and become a little more "polite," Draco still thought they were reckless.
Look at them sprinting madly down the corridor!
Will these Gryffindors ever learn to walk calmly down the corridors? Draco thought to himself.
Half a minute before class started, Draco arrived at the Transfiguration classroom on the second floor on time.
The classroom was already crowded, but the desk was empty. Standing on the desk was a majestic tabby cat, sternly gazing at the noisy students below.
Draco didn't dare give it any more than a glance. That was Professor Minerva McGonagall, the most difficult professor at Hogwarts. He needed to find a seat quickly before she transformed into human form and started giving him trouble.
Unfortunately, the seats were almost all taken. Harry and Ron, who had arrived earlier, had already reluctantly sat in the front row. They pulled books out of their bags while speaking to each other with lingering fear, as if they were thankful they weren't late.
It seems that the small matter of "Potter being late for the first Transfiguration class" was "changed" by Draco easily - so far, it has been "changed" completely and without any side effects.
Draco withdrew his gaze and walked quietly down the aisle, looking for an empty seat.
He had only two choices. Either partner up with one of Crabbe and Goyle, who were following him, and spend the entire class being consumed by their idiotic energy. Or, let Crabbe and Goyle go their separate ways while he took the empty seat next to Miss Know-It-All a short distance ahead.
To be honest, the reborn Draco no longer had any patience for his not-so-bright study partners.
Since the world can accept small changes, small things like "Draco Malfoy becomes a study partner" should also be accepted by the world, right?
Let's give it a try.
"May I sit down?" He stopped beside her desk and asked the messy-haired girl who was looking down at the "Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration" as the school bell suddenly rang.
Hermione looked up at the sound and saw that it was the boy named Draco. He was wearing exquisite black robes, his platinum hair was meticulously combed, and his collar was unfortunately tied with the Slytherin green school tie.
He was looking at her with mysterious eyes, a little arrogant and a little uneasy on his face.
"Sure." The little girl was a little surprised, her eyes flashing, and she smiled at him uncomfortably, "There's no one here, you can sit down."
Hermione was a little unsure what to do with this boy who was trying to sit next to her.
People say that Slytherin is home to bad wizards who practice the Dark Arts. That's what the books say, and it's what the Gryffindor seniors say too.
But Draco didn't seem to be that bad. Apart from his somewhat cold expression, he was quite polite to her.
Could he really be a bad wizard? Hermione wondered, observing the boy through a thick mass of curly brown hair.
He was pulling out a chair and slowly sitting down. He sat upright in the chair, unlike the other boys who were sitting in a slouched position. His face was a little pale, his eyes were deep-set, and his expression had become serious.
As if sensing her scrutiny, he turned his head slightly, his lowered gray eyes moving quickly from the book to her hair, keenly catching her flickering gaze.
He asked her, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Hermione said hurriedly, turning to take the Transfiguration matches that Professor McGonagall was handing out.
She was quite friendly, and didn't ignore him because he was a "machievous, evil Slytherin." Draco couldn't help but grumble in his heart as he cast the spell on the match.
"The tip of your needle seems to be a little sharper than mine." When practicing the Transfiguration Spell in class, Hermione couldn't help but pick up his needle and look at it, saying enviously, "I still need to work harder..."
"You've turned out pretty good," Draco said. He raised his eyelids and glanced at the needle on her desk - it was obviously in good shape, so he didn't know what she was worried about.
Ultimately, this was probably Hermione Granger's strict self-discipline. Even though they were the only two students in the class who could turn a match into a needle, and even the pickiest Professor McGonagall didn't find fault, she still complained that the tip of her needle wasn't sharp enough.
Draco played with his wand silently, occasionally glancing at her.
This class was too simple and too boring for him now; the only new thing was the recognition of him in Miss Know-It-All's eyes.
This sense of identification is so overwhelming that it's almost overflowing - I have to say, it's much more comfortable than feeling contempt.
Who would have thought that she could look at him with such approval? In her previous life, those brown eyes were mostly filled with disdain, wariness, and undisguised disgust.
Draco twitched the corners of his mouth in mockery, and roughly stuffed some of the past memories that were secretly replaying back into the depths of his brain.
What's the point of thinking about all this? I might as well just keep watching Miss Know-It-All and see how she can torture that needle.
Friday's Potions class was no different. Students had to prepare a potion to treat boils and had a good experience with the power of the Slytherin Snake King.
It was a long class that started and ended with "suppressing Harry Potter".
Just like in the previous life, Potter and his companions were ridiculed by Professor Snape; while Draco was highly praised by him.
It was hard for a student to resist a professor's open affection, especially when a certain Slytherin Snake King was incredibly difficult to please, harshly criticizing the entire class for their Potions skills, yet singled out Draco's technique of steaming a slug with tentacles as "perfect."
This contrasting admiration was an almost irresistible source of vanity and pride for a young wizard.
Professor Snape was Draco's favorite professor, and perhaps still is; the students also think that Draco is Professor Snape's favorite student.
There was even a rumor among the Hogwarts students who were unaware of the situation that Professor Snape was Draco's godfather.
Professor Snape is certainly not Draco's godfather. This is all nonsense based on hearsay.
As a pure-blood wizard, Lucius never thought that his son needed a "godfather"; if he had to give Draco a "godfather", Lucius, who was a purist, would not let a half-blood be his son's "godfather" no matter how much he admired Snape.
However, it is undeniable that Professor Snape does have a close relationship with the Malfoy family.
Not to mention, the Malfoy family tradition is to like to attract talented wizards. Even as a Slytherin, worshipping the strong is also a school custom.
Draco remembered that as the head of the school, Professor Snape had a very high reputation within Slytherin, and most Slytherin students and parents respected him very much.
Even Lucius, who always looked down on others, felt that it was reassuring to leave his son to Snape.
Professor Snape's excellence is beyond doubt: he is the youngest head of Slytherin College in history, professor of Potions, recipient of the Order of Merlin, Second Class, and is proficient in many subjects including dark magic and defense, potions, spells, and brain occupation.
The fact that a half-blood wizard was recognized by a wizarding community that valued pure-bloods was, to some extent, proof of his absolute strength. Draco ground the snake's fangs into powder, his mind wandering.
However, when the Malfoy family fell to the bottom and Lucius was imprisoned in Azkaban, everything changed - many Slytherins stayed away from the Malfoy family, which was understandable, as it was just a way to protect themselves.
If Professor Snape had simply stayed away from the Malfoys, Draco would have been extremely disappointed, but that wouldn't have been enough to make him confused. What puzzled him was Snape's wavering attitude.
He never pleaded for Lucius in front of the Dark Lord, and watched coldly at all the oppression faced by the Malfoy family; but he did not stay away from Draco. Instead, he moved closely to Draco and actively spied on what Draco's mission and plan were.
What a terrible dilemma it is to ask a 16-year-old boy to kill Dumbledore?
Draco certainly knew that with Snape's help he could achieve twice the result with half the effort; however, if he wanted to prove his ability to the Dark Lord and regain his trust in the Malfoy family, he had to complete the terrible task alone without "leaking the secret" or having his credit taken away.
Draco dared not trust anyone, especially Snape who was eager to find out about him. The more Snape tried to find out, the more sensitive Draco became, thinking that Snape had ulterior motives.
At that time, in order to protect himself, he had to jump out of the well of naivety and ignorance and start thinking about reality.
If we think about it from a darker perspective, how much of Professor Snape's preferential treatment of Draco was due to his personal relationship with Lucius, and even the exchange of interests behind this personal relationship; and how much was due to his admiration for Draco himself?
Since he did not help the Malfoy family in front of the Dark Lord, how can you expect him to suddenly be kind and help you sincerely?
But it was this person who was hard to see through who saved Draco when Potter's "Invisibility" spell almost took his life.
Snape could have just stood by and watched, if he was the type to do nothing.
By the end, Draco was full of questions and had no idea how to treat Snape.
At this critical moment in the preparation of the boil potion, Draco stopped thinking and concentrated on adding porcupine quills to the extinguished crucible - pink smoke immediately rose from the crucible.
From the expression on Professor Snape's face, it can be seen that he is quite satisfied with the finished product.
Perhaps because of everything he experienced in his memory, the once willful Draco Malfoy has now learned to read people's expressions.
He has learned to calmly observe the expressions and actions of the people around him, and even to guess their true thoughts.
Just as Draco could see the faint approval on Professor Snape's face when he encountered a good Potions assignment, he could also see that his emotions fluctuated more than usual when he encountered Potter.
Normally, Professor Snape tended to be calm, even aloof. Draco understood this quite well: you rarely see a master of Occlumency going on a rampage; they tended to keep their emotions locked away in their minds.
But seeing how Professor Snape suppressed Potter, yelled at Hermione, and roared at Longbottom... it seemed that he had a special aversion to Potter and the others, and even the brain-blocking technique was not very effective.
Draco didn't think this was entirely due to the students' poor academic performance.
Goyle and Crabbe were also Potions killers, their frequency of exploding cauldrons was as high as that of Gryffindor's Seamus Finnigan, but Professor Snape sneered and ignored them, at most making a few sarcastic remarks, rather than being furious.
Most of the time, Professor Snape would ignore students who weren't particularly talented in Potions, unless they made him uncomfortable. Going out of his way to get in front of a student he disliked and lose control of his emotions was, to be honest, a bit immature and a bit abnormal.
At this moment, Draco chose to ignore the fact that he was the one who loved to provoke Potter and others the most.
"Have you ever offended Professor Snape?" Draco whispered to Potter as he bottled the potion.
He had wanted to ask this question for a long time.
"Never. This is my first time dealing with Professor Snape," Potter said listlessly, looking a little deflated.
"Professor Snape seems a little prejudiced against you." Draco quietly studied his expression to see if there was any sign of guilt.
"Oh, prejudice? I even think he hates me." There was no disguise or concealment on the young Potter's face. He was concentrating on being dejected.
interesting.
Draco raised an eyebrow. There was no such thing as unprovoked hatred. There had to be a story behind this.
Of course, compared to Professor Snape's empty and unfathomable eyes, what worried Draco the most was Professor Quirrell of Defense Against the Dark Arts.
If nothing unexpected happens, except Draco, probably no one knows that under Quirrell's garlic-smelling turban is the distorted face of the Dark Lord.
Draco was unsure whether he should tell Professor Snape about this.
If this superb master of Occlumency is eventually proven to be a member of the Dark Lord's camp, his confession at this moment would be tantamount to giving the Dark Lord, who is preparing to make a comeback, even more power.
Draco didn't want to act rashly and increase the possibility of the Dark Lord's successful resurrection.
Draco decided that telling Dumbledore was the safest option. However, as a first-year student, he had no right to go beyond Professor Snape, the Headmaster, and directly communicate with the Headmaster.
First, Draco didn't want to reveal his own abnormality. By exposing Quirrell, he would also be exposing himself: How did a first-year figure out all this? How could he explain it?
Secondly, communicating beyond the proper level would likely cause Professor Snape's dissatisfaction, causing this unfathomable former Death Eater's attitude towards him to change from approval and appreciation to vigilance and suspicion.
No matter how you look at it, it's not a risk a cautious Slytherin would be willing to take.
On Friday afternoon, Draco was writing furiously in the library on the second floor of the castle. As he wrote lines of beautiful cursive words on the parchment of his Charms homework, he was secretly thinking about this matter: How could he tell Dumbledore in a good way?
It would be best to get yourself out of trouble through someone else's mouth.
At the same time, the timing of reporting Quirrell should be carefully considered.
Quirrell had to reveal some clues first. That way, a student's suspicion of the professor would seem reasonable.
After writing the last period, he put the quill back, rubbed his temples in distress, and prepared to stand up to look up some extracurricular information - besides his homework, he had other things to do.
At Hogwarts, there weren't many first-year students as diligent as Draco. In fact, apart from Miss Know-It-All, there seemed to be very few other first-year students in the library.
That mess of brown hair was really hard for Draco to ignore.
Why aren't Potter and Weasley, her two "good friends", with her?
Draco hummed lazily and stood by the bookshelf, trying to pull out a book about the Disillusionment Charm. Coincidentally, a part of the back of the bookshelf was also pulled out, revealing the girl's brown eyes flashing with curiosity.
"Draco!" The eyes jumped in surprise. "I didn't realize you were here."
Of course you don't, Draco thought wearily, you only have eyes for Potter and Weasley.
Aside from his Slytherin classmates, few people would have noticed that Draco, who had consistently ranked in the top ten in his previous life, was also a frequent visitor to the library. He had also devoted considerable thought and time to his studies.
Otherwise, did his achievements fall from the sky?
"I thought that after the Potions class, you wouldn't be willing to talk to a Slytherin." In the gap between the books, Draco's light gray eyes flashed with a light that Hermione could not understand.
After experiencing Professor Snape's blatant favoritism and his venomous tongue towards Gryffindor students, Draco clearly felt that a flame of hatred for Slytherin was rising in the back of the heads of all Gryffindor students.
He saw the contemptuous looks the Gryffindors gave him in class.
He thought that Hermione would be no exception.
After all, this proud little girl was ignored and treated harshly like that.
"I was indeed very angry at the time. I didn't agree with what Professor Snape did." Hermione raised her face somewhat proudly, but said some pragmatic words, "However, I know it wasn't your fault. He deserved to praise you. I paid close attention to your operation method, and it was indeed very skillful."
Hermione knew Draco had done nothing to contribute to Gryffindor's hatred of Slytherin. It was simply because of his exceptional potion-making skills that he was caught in the crossfire between the two houses. How could he project his negative impression of Professor Snape onto an innocent, gifted student?
Miss Know-It-All was quite broad-minded, unlike the vindictive person she was in her previous life. Draco looked at her with uncertain eyes, unsure how to respond.
"Speaking of which, I was just about to ask you about how to grind a certain ingredient in the potion from last class—" Before she could finish her words, Hermione came happily around from the other side of the bookshelf, but suddenly opened her mouth wide, revealing a rare look of surprise on the know-it-all Miss Draco loved to see.
She thought she had explored the library thoroughly, but this was the first time she saw the study space behind the bookshelves.
A comfortable, secluded learning space filled with classical atmosphere.
Hermione was immediately drawn to the antique mahogany desk in the center, which was filled with all kinds of gorgeous quills, carved storage boxes, bundles of scrolls, and three-dimensional astronomical models.
Those star models were made with extraordinary detail and realism. Some twinkling stars were constantly and slowly moving along some fascinating trajectory, making it difficult to look away.
Not far from the desk was an exquisitely decorated fireplace with many carvings of small figures. The flames in the fireplace danced slowly, bringing a warm feeling to the face.
Any bookworm will be satisfied here and willing to spend an afternoon full of books here without distraction.
"Since you're here, come sit down." Draco said, leading her to the caramel-colored leather sofa with armrests in the corner and motioning her to sit down.
He took the large pile of books she was holding and casually placed them on the walnut-colored solid wood coffee table with a drawer and a copper-trimmed edge. Hermione glanced at it casually and found that the coffee table was actually a whole piece of agate top.
"Some black tea?" Draco asked, fiddling with the gold-plated sterling silver tea set and the rosewood tea chest inlaid with mother-of-pearl on the table.
Hermione originally wanted to refuse, she didn't want to cause trouble to others.
Especially since he was a Slytherin student.
Is this level of private communication acceptable to Gryffindors?
But what little girl doesn't like beautiful things? She was mesmerized by the pumpkin-shaped teapot, which was covered with semi-three-dimensional reliefs of roses and daisies. The texture was delicate, each petal had distinct layers, and the veins of each stem and leaf were clearly visible, making it look extremely realistic.
Besides, Draco acted like a hospitable host and was very polite to her.
Although he looked a little serious, he was not offensive, and even made her feel a kind of approachability that was different from before.
For no apparent reason, she suddenly wanted to try and see what kind of tea would be suitable for such a beautiful teapot.
"Okay, have some." She couldn't help but say, her little face flushed a little.
Draco then used a small golden key to open the tea chest inlaid with light golden mother-of-pearl flowers and took out a small sterling silver teapot with an embossed fairy flower pattern.
Hermione's face was full of curiosity as she watched him pick up the delicate and lovely three-dimensional morning glory on the top of the lid, and slowly used a silver animal-patterned tea clip placed on the side of the tea box to take some tight, thin, black and glossy tea leaves from the gilded teapot and put them into the pumpkin teapot.
He noticed her gaze. "It's Keemun black tea," he said to her as he added some hot water to the teapot.
A faint aroma of tea floated in the air, and Hermione seemed to smell the aroma of freshly baked bread, which was a little soft and sweet. The smell made her feel a little lazy and even magnified the comfort of the sofa.
"It smells nice," she said, which made Draco's mouth curl up slightly.
This was his favorite kind of tea—Miss Know-it-all was quite knowledgeable.
Making tea was a special hobby Draco had developed since his rebirth. Somehow, this hobby could bring a bit of peace to his restless mood.
Of course, he could wave his wand and make a pot of hot tea appear in front of them in an instant; however, if he had the time, he would rather empty his mind and simply experience the subtle sense of accomplishment and satisfaction brought by such simple and trivial things.
"Try it?" Draco didn't say much, just handed a silver porcelain cup to her.
Hermione sniffed the bright red tea and took a sip tentatively. She was surprised to find that it was not as bitter as she had imagined, but had a fruity honey aroma, mellow and soft.
A smile immediately spread across her face, her expression lively. "Thank you. Although I don't really drink black tea, I must say I quite like the taste of this."
"Pleasure." He said briefly, his expression calm.
(Pleasure often refers to unexpressed satisfaction or joy.)
"Why haven't I found this place before?" Hermione asked casually, savoring the pleasant, faintly sweet fragrance.
Draco didn't answer her question directly. Hogwarts's governors had the right to reserve a quiet, undisturbed VIP seat in the library, distinct from the noisy study areas.
Occasionally, when Draco was helping Crabbe and Goyle with their homework, he would reluctantly go to the study area; when he was studying alone, he preferred to come to this secluded corner.
This was his own little paradise, a place where he could be the gloomy and tired Draco Malfoy again.
This is why, in their previous life, the Potter trio didn't often see Draco in the library. Draco could activate an invisibility circle to disguise the area so that no one would disturb him.
Students passing by often only see a pile of scrap metal with a sign in front that reads the Hogwarts motto or "Danger, Do Not Touch."
Draco was still not sure if he could tell Hermione Granger about this.
Especially if they are not familiar with it yet.
He needed to observe her some more.
With a distant yet polite smile, he made a hushing gesture: "I think I have to ask you to keep it a secret again."
"Well! You're always so mysterious." Hermione said with a frown.
She felt that he was like a pearl oyster, covered with a cold, hard shell that made it impossible to see through.
But he was attentive to her and always refilled her empty cup with steaming hot tea in time, which greatly won her over.
Maybe that was just his nature. Everyone has their little secrets. Forcing someone to confess their secrets to her seemed a bit over the top, Hermione thought quietly.
"What are you reading? Quidditch Through the Ages?" Draco skillfully changed the subject, casually pulled out a book from her pile and started flipping through it.
Hermione's face immediately turned red.
"Worried about your flying lessons next week?" Draco asked pointedly, looking up at her.
"Ah... yes." Hermione stammered, taking a sip of tea to cover it up. She wanted to act nonchalant, but Draco seemed to see through her heart immediately.
She stole a glance at him and found that he didn't mean to laugh at her, so she hurriedly explained in a low voice: "I've never ridden a broom before. My classmates seem to have experience. Seamus from our academy has been able to ride a broom since he was a child, and so has Ron. They are all very good at it. I thought maybe reading some books would help me understand how to use a broom in advance..."
"No." Draco interrupted her with a slight shake of his head.
"You can't learn flying from books alone. You have to actually fly and feel it." It was rare for him to say two longer sentences.
Miss Know-It-All has perhaps only one weakness – she never seems to be very good with her broomstick.
Speaking of which, she also seemed to be riding quite unskillfully when she was hiding from Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement.
How could Hermione Granger be so weak in this essential wizarding skill that should be mastered in the first year?
At the very least, you can't let this happen when you're trying to save your life, right?
Draco secretly rolled his eyes and pulled up the sleeve of her wizard robe and walked towards the library door, "Follow me."
"Hey, wait, the flying book I want to borrow—" Hermione looked back every few steps at the books she had collected with great difficulty.
"We don't need those books," Draco said firmly, continuing to pull her along.
Draco took the uneasy Hermione straight to the flying broom shed. It was quiet, no one was there, and the door was locked.
Draco knew that in addition to being Hogwarts' flying teacher and Quidditch referee, Madam Hooch also worked as an editor for the "Flying Broomstick Encyclopedia" magazine outside of school. The magazine was published every Saturday, and Friday was their busiest time for deadlines, editing, and typesetting.
This means that there is definitely no one in the broom shed at this time.
Draco took out his wand, tapped the door lock, and whispered, "Alohomora." The lock clicked and the door suddenly opened.
"Isn't this against the school rules?" Hermione felt petrified when she saw Draco's familiar look.
"The school rules only state that first-year students cannot bring their own broomsticks to school, but they don't say that students cannot borrow broomsticks from the broom shed for practice," Draco said flatly.
"But—" Hermione said with difficulty, looking a little worried.
"At Hogwarts, only stupid people trample on the rules. To smart people, the rules are like a sieve full of loopholes." Draco interrupted her tangled thoughts and spoke a few more words to explain.
A Slytherin never tramples on the rules, but takes advantage of them. Some people think this idea is too cunning, but Draco believes that this is the survival wisdom of Slytherin.
He quickly helped Hermione pick out two brooms that were in good condition.
"Come on, let's go to the training ground and try it while no one is around." He lazily picked up a broom.
Hermione didn't move, still hesitating.
Convincing someone who had previously been at odds with him was a novel experience for Draco. Seeing Hermione's dilemma, he persuaded her, "What better preparation than hands-on practice? You don't want to go to class unprepared and embarrass yourself, do you?"
Once the word "embarrassment" is mentioned, Hermione Granger, who has a strong sense of self-esteem, will definitely fall into it.
"Okay." As expected, Hermione made up her mind. She followed his example, picked up another flying broom, and went out with him.
"Come, stand next to the broom." On a flat and quiet patch of grass at the edge of the hunting ground, Draco demonstrated to her in person with great seriousness, "Stretch out your right hand and place it above the broom. Then say 'stand'."
"Get up!" Hermione called tentatively.
The broom simply rolled over on the ground. Hermione looked up at Draco. Draco's broom had already risen obediently from the ground and was now in his hand.
"You have to have faith in yourself," Draco said sternly. "The broom will sense your determination. If you don't have faith in yourself, how can it trust you to fly it?"
"But..." Hermione frowned, "I can't believe that a broom can actually be used to fly... How does it work? It doesn't make any sense."
"Are you worried about this?" Draco felt as if he suddenly understood.
He could probably understand the circuitry of Hermione Granger's brain.
After being her Transfiguration partner twice, he discovered that she was a serious girl who wanted to get to the bottom of everything. This meant that if he couldn't explain to her how a broomstick could fly, she wouldn't be able to have confidence in the fact that a broomstick could fly.
Without confidence, the broomstick will never obey you.
In her previous life, probably no one had explained to her the principles of the flying broom - it was considered a trade secret.
Little kids, it's good enough that you can use a broom. Who can go out of their way to make this thing so clear?
"You've asked the right person." Draco picked up the words she could understand and explained a few more words, "You know, this is not an ordinary broom. It is made of special magical materials and magical coatings. Look at this broom handle, it's made of special wood with magical properties."
Hermione nodded, stroking the broom handle curiously.
Draco glanced at her and found her expression amusing, like that of a tentative cat. He smiled faintly and continued, "There are propellers and steering gears inside the broom handle. This part is difficult to explain, unless I risk Madam Hooch's pursuit and take the broom apart for you right here—"
"No, I don't want you to get caught or punished." Hermione waved her hands hurriedly and said hastily.
"Okay." Draco shrugged, his tone relaxed. "To add, the wizard's own confidence and their magical power also play a role in flying... In short, although it looks like a Muggle broom, it is far from being comparable to a Muggle broom. It has a whole set of working principles, and it's not as simple as you see on the surface. You don't need to worry too much."
Hermione's expression softened slightly, but she still had no fondness for the broom. But Draco's serious expression suggested he wasn't lying. So she gathered herself and forced herself to shout "yes" twice more.
This time, the broom flew slowly into her palm.
"That's much better," Draco said approvingly, "You learn quickly." Hermione smiled at him hesitantly, still looking a little nervous.
Draco then broke down the movements, showing Hermione how to mount a broom without sliding off headfirst.
In his past life, Madam Hooch had given him a lot of trouble in this regard. Her strict requirements had cultivated Draco's perfect posture. Even the way he held his hands, Draco had to correct the little girl several times.
Some bad habits are difficult to change once they are formed, so it is best not to make mistakes in the first place.
Draco must really like flying, Hermione thought as she watched him slowly demonstrate the movements.
Ever since I met him, he has always been very taciturn and conscientious with his words. He has never spoken as much as he did today.
The mention of broomsticks and flying made him seem more lively. She gripped the broom handle tightly and couldn't help looking up at him.
At this moment, the serious and indifferent expression that the boy usually had on his face seemed to dissipate a little, emitting some confidence and happiness.
"Okay, I finally got the gesture right. Now, all I have to do is kick my legs off the ground." He patiently repeated the details and tips, completely unaware of what the girl in front of him was thinking.
He explained enthusiastically, "You have to pay attention, hold the broom steady, rise a few feet, then lean forward slightly and drop straight back to the ground."
Having learned this, Hermione finally began to turn pale.
She said carefully, "I'm afraid I can't do it. How can we, two first-year students, fly directly without any teachers or protective measures?"
"That's right." Draco didn't want to make things difficult for her. "If you practice these steps well, it will be enough for the first flying lesson. Let's practice again."
Draco found that helping Miss Know-It-All learn to fly was a good distraction besides making tea.
His anxieties were temporarily forgotten. All he could think about now were the irregular movements Hermione might make when she held the broom.
By the time they quietly returned the broomsticks, only the last rays of sunset were left on the horizon. They had achieved a lot - except for the flying part, Hermione had already mastered the standard steps and postures.
Draco was right. Flying, Hermione thought, really can't be learned just from books. After the actual training, her fear and panic about flying lessons eased, and she regained a faint sense of confidence in "flying lessons."
"Draco, you are a good teacher." Before running to the Gryffindor table, Hermione turned around, smiled at Draco, and said embarrassedly, "Thank you."
"Pleasure." Draco raised his chin lazily at her, and returned to his state of being frugal with words. He walked towards the table in the opposite direction and turned into a proud and cold Slytherin again.