June, a sweltering summer day, under a bright, clear sky. When the roses in the courtyard are in full bloom, Hogwarts welcomes the exam season.
It seems like ages ago that a pineapple was tap-dancing across a desk during Professor Flitwick's exam.
Starting over, Draco's mindset changes daily.
He was no longer that foolish, silly little boy who was anxious about the final exams, afraid that he would do poorly and embarrass his father.
In this life, how many important matters are on his mind, and how many lingering memories and shadows are in his head!
In comparison, the seemingly trivial matter of exams feels somewhat endearing.
Fortunately, the inner torment and life's suffering from my past life may not happen again in this one—as long as I get rid of that damned diadem.
He breathed a sigh of relief, and with a sense of reflection, he transformed the mouse into an antique and exquisite snuffbox in front of Professor McGonagall. Under Professor Snape's admiring gaze, he then concocted a perfect Forgetfulness Potion.
Finally, he used an Anti-Cheating quill to write in a flowing hand on Professor Binns's answer sheet that the wizard who invented the Self-Stirring Cauldron was Gaspard Shingleton—and the exam season officially came to an end.
"You were right, Draco." Hermione walked with Draco to the sun-drenched ground outside the castle and said, convinced, "The Werewolf Code of Conduct of 1637 and the goblin rebellions were indeed not on the exam."
"You actually remember something I casually mentioned?" Draco raised an eyebrow.
Hermione Granger's incredible memory always amazed him.
"Of course." The sunlight shone on Hermione's face, adding a touch of rosy colour to her complexion.
Hermione would never admit that she remembered every word he said.
Now, they strolled leisurely through the area, down the slope, and arrived at the Black Lake, where they sat under the large oak tree where they often lingered.
Looking out over the lake from here, they could see the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan fiddling with the tentacles of a large squid lying in the shallow water.
The two watched in silence for a while, neither paying attention to the giant squid.
Now, the dew of fear had long since evaporated under the blazing sun—it had vanished into clouds in the clear sky, free and pure. Darkness had nowhere to hide, and gloom had disappeared. Everything was radiant and full of life.
The light dispelled the terrifying connotations behind the words "Forbidden Forest," giving the girl the courage to talk about it.
"Harry has been very worried. You know, that day in the Forbidden Forest, his scar suddenly started hurting." Hermione's bluntness broke the silence.
Draco was also quite concerned about this matter.
In his past life, he thought that Potter was just trying to get attention by constantly complaining about the pain in his scar; but in this life, after observing Potter up close, he realised that Potter's expressions of pain were genuine, not like a boy trying to get attention and acting clumsily.
After a moment of contemplation, he said, "He did face him directly, did he not? The last time they faced each other was not very pleasant."
"Perhaps. Professor Dumbledore said it represents a warning. That the scar will remind Harry when he faces danger," Hermione pondered.
Draco noticed that her endearing, girlish liveliness had temporarily vanished, replaced by a thoughtful, solemn expression befitting Hermione Granger.
"That is right, Harry's signature lightning bolt-shaped 'alarm'." He gave her a slightly teasing look, trying to get rid of her expression.
"Oh, be serious, Draco, this is no joke." Hermione glared at him.
"Seriously, the worry is justified." Draco shrugged, looking at the dizzy giant squid—the Weasley twins were trying to pluck its tentacles.
He pondered for a moment and said, "Being petrified does not mean being annihilated. If we do not treat him with care, one day the darkness may still return."
"Professor Dumbledore said something similar. Harry said that Professor Dumbledore placed Quirrell's body in a safe place. He would not undo the petrification until he figured out the back of Quirrell's head," Hermione said cautiously, glancing around before leaning closer to him and whispering.
"Very good." Draco breathed a sigh of relief.
As long as the Dark Lord does not come out to wreak havoc on humanity, anything is fine.
On this day, Draco's good fortune was not yet over.
When he reappeared before the Grey Lady, she did not leave, but waited where she was, looking haughtily at the Slytherin boy approaching her.
Only when you get closer to the Grey Lady will you realise more clearly that beneath that floor-length cloak lies a beautiful woman with waist-length hair.
Her striking appearance made her haughty personality seem natural, not unpleasant.
"Why can you not leave me alone?" she asked, puzzled, her beautiful face showing a weary expression of being overwhelmed.
"Please, I need your help." Draco adopted a respectful and upright posture, giving her a proper bow in an attempt to make a good impression. "I want to know everything about the Ravenclaw diadem."
The Grey Lady's eyes darted uncertainly over the elegant boy, a cold smile suddenly creeping onto her lips. "You are not the first person to covet the diadem."
Her expression returned to indifference, and she resolved to continue on her own path. "I am afraid I cannot help you."
"Wait!" Draco saw her turn her head, trying to float away from him smoothly, and finally abandoned his manners—perhaps he should learn from Hermione's directness instead of beating around the bush.
He knew that if he did not seize this opportunity, who knew when she would be willing to talk to him again.
He cried out indignantly, "I know you hid it in the Albanian forest!"
She suddenly stopped, but remained calm and continued to float leisurely in the air.
"How did you know—" she turned around and asked expressionlessly.
"I know this is your mother's diadem, Helena Ravenclaw! I know you took it with you when you fled to the Albanian forests..." Draco said calmly.
The Grey Lady's composed expression faded.
"I know where it is now. It is at Hogwarts, is it not?" Draco asked in a Granger-like, persistent tone.
"How could you know..." The Grey Lady—no, at this point, perhaps it would be more accurate to call her Helena now.