"What a disappointment."
Malfoy closed the book with a sigh, his face full of frustration.
Earlier, in the Chamber of Secrets, he had quietly slipped a book into his pocket. Since the room was one of Lucius's laboratories, any book found there naturally wasn't ordinary. Its contents were self-evident—dark magic.
After sending Pansy away, Malfoy quickly returned to his room under some excuse, eager to read.
He never believed dark magic was inherently evil. Magic itself was neutral—the key lay in the user. Some spells were labeled "forbidden" only because their power was too great or too difficult to control. To call them evil was, in his eyes, a kind of backward thinking.
Having lived a previous life filled with different cultures and philosophies, Malfoy wasn't burdened by such prejudice. He flipped through the pages with remarkable speed; with his sharp mind and memory, he could truly read ten lines at a glance. Yet, when he reached the final page, disappointment settled in.
It was all just techniques—minor curses and ancient legends. There was no real exploration of the essence behind magic itself.
In his previous life, he had studied many strange subjects. If magic was a means, it corresponded to the concept of shu (術)—a skill or art. But what he truly sought was the dao (道)—the essence, the truth behind it.
What was magical power? Did it grow with time? What was consumed when casting a spell—energy, mental focus, or magic itself? When "Moody" once told his students that even the Killing Curse would only give him a nosebleed if used by them, what did that mean? What defined a wizard's magical foundation? Was it knowledge, willpower, or innate strength?
Malfoy had hoped the book would give him answers. Instead, it only deepened his questions.
He yawned, stretching lazily. "Ah~" His body felt heavy with fatigue. A young man needed sleep, after all—and Malfoy didn't intend to stunt his growth by staying up late.
After washing up, he went to bed.
As people often do before sleep, he replayed the day's events in his mind. Inevitably, Pansy's face appeared—her flushed cheeks, her shy yet arrogant expression.
He touched his forehead, frowning slightly. "Something feels off." But after a moment, he smirked. "Well, it's not like I lost anything."
Being kissed by a little loli wasn't exactly a tragedy, after all. Satisfied, he soon drifted into sleep.
Meanwhile, things were less peaceful in Pansy's room.
"Little liar! You're clearly not a Squib, but you didn't even explain—made me look like a fool!"
On her bed, Pansy furiously pummeled her stuffed bear, treating it like her enemy.
"And you took me to that dark, creepy place on purpose! You didn't even light a candle right away! You act all polite in front of adults, but you're full of bad ideas!"
She tore at the bear's ear, muttering nonstop.
"I'm not that easy to deal with."
If she had complained to her stepfather, Malfoy would have been punished—but that would have ruined their chance to meet again. Out of pride, Pansy refused to take that route. Revenge had to come from her own hands.
So she decided to stage her own play—a damsel in distress, waiting for the perfect chance to turn the tables. Despite her age, her acting was surprisingly convincing.
"Anyway, I've got your weakness now. Next time, you'll pay for it!"
Thinking of Malfoy being at her mercy made her giggle.
"This lady's first kiss isn't so easily taken," she murmured, blushing deeply as the memory replayed in her mind.
"…Still, that little liar is kind of handsome."
She shook her head fiercely. "No! I can't go soft! He dared to bully me—I'll bully him back!"
Her emotions circled endlessly until a voice called from outside her door.
"Pansy, it's getting late. Go to sleep, dear. You must be tired." It was her mother's gentle voice.
"Okay, Mother."
Pansy gave one last tug on the bear's ear. "Next time, I'll definitely make you pay…"
And with that, she finally drifted off to sleep, her tiny heart still burning with childish vengeance.
The night passed quietly.
Ring ring ring—
Malfoy's alarm clock chimed loudly.
As a mentally mature adult in a child's body, he maintained strict discipline. Time was precious, and every day before Hogwarts was an opportunity to grow stronger.
He rubbed his sleepy eyes, sat up, and began to plan his day.
Then came the creak of the door. Lucius entered, expressionless, his tone clipped.
"Put today's plans aside. Your mother wants you to meet two new friends."
Malfoy blinked. "Two new friends?"
Lucius's voice remained cold. "You'll likely spend a lot of time together. Get ready."
The truth was, Lucius and Narcissa had quarreled the night before. Narcissa disapproved of his strict education methods—her beloved son spent every day buried in books, lacking the liveliness a child should have.
Lucius, however, saw Malfoy as a prodigy—perhaps even someone who could surpass Dumbledore and the Dark Lord one day. But Narcissa's temper was not to be trifled with. In the end, he compromised and decided to find his son a few "companions."
Of course, Lucius had his own motives. A future heir to the Malfoy name would need loyal followers. It was the perfect opportunity to train some.
Malfoy sighed inwardly. "I bet they're Crabbe and Goyle… only the original Draco would be pleased about that."
Still, he thought fondly of his mother. Narcissa loved him deeply—she had once defied Voldemort himself for his sake. He couldn't reject her kindness.
"Very well. Let's meet my two future henchmen."
Soon, Malfoy followed Lucius to the living room. Narcissa sat gracefully on the sofa, beaming, while two nervous boys stood nearby.
"This is Vincent Crabbe," she said, pointing to the shorter, rounder one.
"H-hello," Crabbe stammered.
"And this is Gregory Goyle."
The taller boy nodded stiffly, clearly uncomfortable.
Their fathers had all been Death Eaters, but Lucius's status far outshone the others. Power and wealth commanded respect—even in the wizarding world. Crabbe and Goyle had been raised to revere the Malfoys, and their timid behavior showed it.
Malfoy suppressed a sigh. "So these are my new friends, huh?"
He offered a flawless smile and bowed politely. "I'm Draco Malfoy. Welcome to my home. I'm sure we'll get along."
Narcissa's eyes shone with delight. "See, Lucius? He's smiling so happily. I told you he needed friends."
Lucius folded his arms. "As long as he's happy," he muttered, though the stiffness in his face finally softened.
To please his mother, Malfoy played along—laughing, running, and even inventing a few games from his past life. For a while, he actually enjoyed himself.
But then came the realization.
"Well-developed limbs, simple minds… the saying holds true."
While Crabbe and Goyle kept running tirelessly, Malfoy was already panting. Still, he couldn't deny their physical prowess.
"Physical training is important too," he mused. "Even a wizard needs a strong body."
In a real duel, spells didn't automatically lock onto a target. A flexible body could mean the difference between life and death.
He smiled bitterly. "Can't let myself become a pretty-boy scholar, huh?"
By noon, their playtime ended, and the smell of food filled the manor.
Lunch was served—lavish as always—but Malfoy stared at his plate, expression blank.
"I'll never get used to this," he sighed. British food simply couldn't compare to the flavors he once knew. Day after day of fish, potatoes, and grilled mushrooms… his taste buds were dying a slow death.
"I wonder if there's Lao Gan Ma in this world," he thought wryly. "Though taking it out here might ruin the pureblood image."
"Darling, are you unwell?" Narcissa asked in concern.
Malfoy quickly smiled. "Oh, no, Mother. Just… still excited about making new friends."
Narcissa's face brightened. "That's wonderful!" She placed two more puddings on his plate.
He looked at them helplessly. "Sometimes ignorance really is bliss," he muttered, then picked up his spoon and dutifully ate.
Crabbe and Goyle, meanwhile, devoured everything in sight, leaving the table spotless within minutes.
After lunch, the guests departed with their parents, leaving the manor quiet again.
Malfoy returned to his study, picking up his books once more. The day returned to its steady rhythm—study, exercise, repeat.
Days passed like this, calm and uneventful. Knowledge and strength grew hand in hand.
If nothing unexpected occurred, his peaceful routine would continue until his eleventh birthday—until the arrival of his Hogwarts letter.
But peace, as always, never lasts long.