"All right, no danger." A platinum-blonde head peeked around the corner first, glanced into the empty corridor near the library, and said casually, "Let us go."
"Honestly, you do not need to be so cautious. Statistically speaking," Hermione said to Draco as she emerged from around the corner, "I think the probability of me encountering the Basilisk near the library is..."
"Did we not already agree that this has nothing to do with probability?" Draco said bluntly. "Please, whatever you do, do not go to the library by yourself, all right? Or maybe do not go to the library at all—"
"What are you saying?" Hermione snapped. "I am not going to abandon the library just because of some monster that could appear at any time!"
"Fine! Go ahead, I will go with you. Do not refuse, do not be impatient, at least let me go with you, all right?" Draco's tone also became irritable. "I really do not think you should go alone! Are you not afraid? You should be more vigilant than others—"
"Should I thank you for your special attention, or be angry at your certainty that I am about to become the victim?" Hermione said, both amused and exasperated. "Anyone can be Petrified, so why are you so fixated on me being next? Why are you only following me through this incredibly complicated process?"
Draco, of course, had to go with her. He could not help but worry about her.
He could never forget one thing: following the sequence of events in his past life, she would be the next victim of Petrification. Back then, she was attacked near the library.
He would always remember her Petrified face. That cold, stiff, lifeless face.
"Because you did not take this matter to heart, you did not even use the mirror I suggested properly." Draco, feeling guilty, made up a flimsy excuse. "I have walked down this corridor so many times, and I have never seen you use it..."
"Are you not exaggerating? Are you worrying about me to an absurd degree?" Hermione said, a little exasperated. "I am not three years old, I am thirteen. I can take care of myself. I always carry that mirror with me, look, it is in my pocket, I just have not had a chance to use it because every time I go to the library, you follow me and even check for me before I turn the corner..."
"I—I just happened to be going to the library too!" He stammered, a rare occurrence for him, and quickly emphasised, afraid she would discover more of his thoughts, "It was just a coincidence! I did not follow you on purpose."
"Yeah, I would be a fool to believe you." Hermione rolled her eyes at him, but secretly she was a little pleased.
You can hardly resist Draco Malfoy, Hermione thought.
You often do not know what he is thinking. You do not know where his stubborn insistence comes from. You also do not know how many mysteries surrounding him are yet to be solved.
All you know is that his pretentious face always shows you a kindness and friendliness that is different from others, as if you are something special.
He will occasionally let slip a hint of his worry for you, then vehemently deny it and quickly hide it. Just when you think you are "overthinking it," he will stare directly at you with those clear, complex grey eyes and casually ask, "Library? Together?"
Could he not just be a normal friend like Harry or Ron? They never cared whether she went to the library or not, never thought she could not take care of herself, and never thought she was afraid!
"I must say, I am not afraid at all," Hermione said proudly, walking beside him as they passed a silent statue. "I am not as fragile as I seem—"
"What are you trying to do?" Draco abruptly pulled Hermione behind him, glaring angrily at the boil-covered twin brother of Fred who suddenly sprang out from behind the statue.
"Do not be so serious, have a sense of humour!" Fred laughed heartily, putting his arm around his shoulder, completely lacking in manners.
"For Merlin's sake, stop scaring everyone you see, all right?" Draco said, wrinkling his nose and quietly loosening his grip on Hermione's sleeve.
Hermione gripped the back of his robe tightly, peeked out from behind him at the Weasley twins, and looked shaken. "Yeah, George, why do you lot always scare people like that?"
How embarrassing, Hermione thought. One second she said she was not afraid, and the next she was hiding behind him. She silently prayed that he would not notice.
"Sorry, Hermione." George shook his head, which was covered in boils, and grinned at the girl, whose expression was gradually returning to normal. "We actually wanted to find him; scaring you was just a side thing."
"I was not scared! I just did not react in time!" Hermione said stubbornly, and before anyone could refute her, she quickly changed the subject, "George, actually, I was just about to talk to you about Ginny. You really should not scare her anymore. She has already been traumatised by the series of accidents and is crying all the time... Are you sure she can understand your sense of humour?"
George shrugged at her. "She seemed much better when we came out in our furs to scare her last time..."
Meanwhile, Draco whispered to Fred, "Have we not got our hands on that rat yet?"
"I was just about to say that," Fred said quietly, somewhat exasperated. "We were planning to steal the rat whilst he was away, but he takes it everywhere he goes."
Throughout January, the Weasley twins' "rat-catching" went poorly. Draco, observing from the sidelines, sensed just how obsessed Ron was with that bald rat.
He must really like that rat, Draco thought, somewhat troubled.
"If you ask me, he has probably fallen in love with it!" Fred exclaimed dramatically, a shiver running down his face from the boils. "Think about it, it might actually be a sleazy old man!"
Draco did not want to imagine the kind of scenario Fred had described. But every time he saw the name "Peter Pettigrew" on the Marauder's Map, he felt as if he had been doused with undiluted Bubotuber pus, and he felt extremely uncomfortable.
Fortunately, the rat did not seem to have any intention of escaping. Having lived in the Weasleys' house for so many years, it was perhaps no longer as sharp or alert as it once was. All they lacked now was the opportunity for Ron to forget to bring his precious rat.
Until that opportunity arrived, Draco had no choice but to shift his focus, looking less at the Marauder's Map and concentrating more on studying Herpo's Notebook.
Thanks to Hermione, he translated almost all the texts about the Basilisk.
Unfortunately, the notes did not contain any methods for subduing the Basilisk, but only described how to hatch it.
"Using toads to hatch eggs, ugh..." Hermione said with a look of disdain. By now, they had said goodbye to the twin brothers who had jumped back behind the statue and were sitting in the library's secluded "study corner"—their unique name for Draco's private space.
Hermione was nauseous as she looked at the roughly translated text. "Unbelievable, this method can hatch a Basilisk. I mean, what is the logic behind this? It completely defies the scientific principles of Muggle biology..."
Draco did not ask what Muggle biology was, but he roughly understood what Hermione meant. He said, "This method is extraordinary, and it probably will not succeed every time. It might require a lot of hidden, demanding conditions. I reckon the chances of breeding a Basilisk must be extremely low."
Reproductive isolation between species is common even in the magical world, making this cross-species reproductive method highly suspicious.
"So many years have passed, and the Basilisk has never been bred on a large scale, which shows how difficult it is to operate. I even suspect that the Basilisk in the Chamber is the one that Herpo bred," Draco pondered.
Hermione nodded in agreement, "I think we should translate it more precisely, although the general meaning should be about the same."
Just as they were about to find a few more supplementary books to help them understand the strange-looking characters more easily, some whispers from the students drifted into their ears.
"I have said it before, only Muggle-born people get attacked by monsters, and Justin is a prime example." Through the gaps in the bookshelves, they saw Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff explaining this to the students beside him.
Why is Macmillan always so gossipy? Draco frowned, thinking. It was always Macmillan spreading rumours. Just the other day he was making things up about Harry...
"Oh, Ernie, who would do such a terrible thing!" A blonde second-year girl gasped.
"Hannah, do not be afraid, you are a pure-blood wizard!" Ernie comforted her. "I think if it was not Harry Potter, it could have been one of the Slytherin students! They are the least friendly to Muggle students."
Here we go again. It is always the Slytherins who do bad things, no question about it. Draco smiled wearily.
These days, the Slytherin students live under the scrutinising gazes of the students from the other three houses. In this environment, for those rebellious and arrogant children, it would be a shame not to do something mischievous in the face of such overwhelming suspicion. In his past life, Draco thought the same way.
"That is right, I heard Millicent Bulstrode of Slytherin call Hermione Granger of Gryffindor 'Mudblood' that day, right there at the Duelling Club..." said the girl named Hannah.
"That is incredibly rude!" Susan Bones exclaimed indignantly. "That is not something a respectable wizard should say!"
Draco suddenly began to agree with Bones. He also felt that Bulstrode was rather impolite.
Did Bulstrode not only beat Hermione badly that day, but also call her that? He had no idea. It seemed he had not gone too far when he pulled Bulstrode away. Draco frowned, suddenly finding himself restless.
At that moment, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Hermione's expression froze for a moment when she heard "Mudblood".
Then, she silently retreated from the bookshelf, took no more books, and went back to sit on the sofa in the study corner, lost in thought.