"...Harry, this morning you said it shouldn't be who?" Hermione opened her mouth wide, utterly surprised.
At eight o'clock in the evening, the long dining tables in the hall had vanished, and a gilded stage appeared along one wall on the right. The ceiling had once again turned velvety black, illuminated by hundreds of floating candles.
The hall was crowded with students at this moment, who were excitedly looking at the stage before them.
"I..."
Harry looked somewhat bewildered at the two familiar figures standing at the front of the stage—Lockhart and Snape. For a moment, he didn't know what to say. Was his crow's mouth really that effective?
Looking at Snape's gloomy face, Harry instinctively glanced around—as Hermione mentioned this morning, adult wizards attacking underage little wizards is illegal, but since Snape was out without any issues, then...
Yet, after staring at almost everyone's face and not seeing the person he was looking for, Harry still hadn't found them.
.......
England, Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor.
As dusk descended, faint stars began to emerge in the dark red sky.
In the center of the expansive estate stood a massive iron-gray building, the exterior walls of which bore the traces of time. A well-designed garden surrounded the central mansion, trimmed hedges with pure white peacocks often strolling through.
Among the vast mansion, only a few rooms were lit, the kitchen being one of them.
Warm flames swayed slowly in the fireplace, while a thin, small figure busily worked near the stove, its head wrapped in many bandages, its old face full of wrinkles. As the house-elf kept moving its arms, gleaming silver tableware danced lightly on the stove as if performing a ballet-
Soon, exquisitely crafted dishes floated to the dining table, and the little elf sat by the fireplace as if relieved.
"Bang—"
With a faint sound, the flames in the fireplace turned a bizarre shade of green, and in the next moment, a black figure stepped out of the flames.
"Lucius, you're back."
A blonde woman in a deep green dress walked in from outside the dining room.
"Nancy, what is it?" Lucius Malfoy's black robe floated up, landing on the coat rack in the corner of the dining room. The man looked down towards the bothersome little elf by the fireplace, kicking it on the butt, "Why is it here again today? Is Dobby still not found?"
The elderly elf, having received a slow reaction, rolled away and vanished on the spot.
"...Still no news." Narcissa Malfoy sat down at the dining table, raising her hand to tidy her hair, "So, how's it going today?"
"Fudge, that bastard, is the same as ever, wanting to wring gold out of my pocket. As for the others on the School Board..." Lucius sat opposite the woman, rolling up his sleeves and gathering his light golden hair at the back, "Not worth mentioning them either... If Dobby isn't back by tomorrow... I'll think of a way."
After generations of house-elf mistreatment, the Malfoy Clan's house-elves had long been depleted.
Since Dobby disappeared last month, all the burden fell upon the barely-alive Shack back there, whose extremely old and fragile condition meant that everything from tidying to the dishes it prepared was rarely satisfactory.
But house-elves had, indeed, become scarce under the Secrecy Act, and the black market prices were, in truth, painful. Lucius didn't plan to spend a fortune on a mere house-servant—
Perhaps one could be snatched from Hogwarts Castle?
Except Dumbledore would certainly not agree, but if his plan succeeded, it should force Dumbledore to hand over the headmaster position willingly by that Christmas, then Hogwarts would be his Guna Dark...
"I'm asking about Draco's matter." Narcissa frowned, evidently dissatisfied with the man's feigned ignorance, "It's been delayed for three months now, why hasn't the School Board replied yet?"
"Draco... He's a boy, and it's just a little slug incident anyway." Lucius's tone gained a bit of impatience, he always disagreed with his partner's parenting style, excessive pampering would only turn Draco into an arrogant fool.
Yet similarly, Narcissa didn't agree with Lucius's perspective, slamming the silver tableware in her hands onto the table, making a crisp "ding" sound, "Lucius, he is my son! He was humiliated at school, now writing home, do you expect me to be a coward?"
"He's my son too!"
Lucius roared quietly, as both clearly lost interest in the table full of dishes, "And besides, that Ro… something Weasley is lying in Hogwarts' Hospital Wing now. What do you want me to do? Drag him up from bed in front of Dumbledore and have our dear son curse him?"
"Can't hit the young ones, can't you beat the old ones?" Narcissa growled quietly, "Arthur Weasley is just sitting in the Ministry of Magic now, can't you slip the fat pig minister some cash and drive the red-haired baboon out?"
"You think I didn't try?"
"Did you even try?"
"Ha, just wait, by Christmas time Dumbledore himself won't escape." Lucius smirked and twitched his mouth, finally unable to resist revealing the "evil" plan he had been scheming for a long time.
"What do you mean? Do you have a plan to overturn Dumbledore?"
"Of course, I put the Dark Lord..."
But before Lucius could fully divulge his plan, both who were seated at the table suddenly seemed to sense something, subconsciously looking back towards the dining room door.
"Why did you stop talking?"
A tall figure shrouded in a black robe stood at the dining room door, tilting his head in confusion as he looked at the two who had ceased their conversation.
"Who are you..." Lucius's memory snapped back to ten years ago when seeing that somewhat familiar face, "Greyback? ...How dare you appear here?!" The man was both shocked and angry, warily staring at the man at the door and reaching towards his waist...
"Thump, thump—"
The sound distracted Lucius, as a considerably shorter figure than Fenrir stepped out from behind the werewolf. The utterly unfamiliar young face made Lucius frown instinctively, "And you are..."
"Good day, Mr. Malfoy."
The boy removed his hat and glanced at the table's standard late-19th-century English dinner, his eyes flickering with reminiscence, "Looks like I haven't missed dinner?"