Each house at Hogwarts had its own distinct character, and that individuality was reflected perfectly in their common rooms.
Ravenclaw, devoted to the pursuit of magical knowledge, boasted an enchanted bookshelf unique to their house. From it, Ravenclaws could borrow books without ever leaving their dormitory, never needing to share the library with students from other houses.
Hufflepuff, known for its kindness and inclusivity, had a secret passageway leading straight to the Hogwarts kitchens—granting them access to better, more plentiful meals than anyone else. It was said this privilege existed because the house-elves had originally been taken in by Hufflepuff’s founder herself.
As for Gryffindor, ever loud and restless, their common room resembled more of a grand hall for celebrations than a quiet space for studying. In fact, every few days they seemed to find a new excuse to throw a party—using their space to its fullest.
Slytherin, on the other hand, a house that revered strength above all else, had its own special facility as well: the Charms Training Grounds.
...
Because the Quidditch pitch had been requisitioned by the Department of Magical Games and Sports for preparations related to the upcoming Triwizard Tournament, Hogwarts was suddenly full of aimless young wizards with nothing to do.
With nowhere else to release their energy, the castle itself became their playground. Had it not been for the importance of the Tournament, the Quidditch fanatics might have staged a rebellion by now.
But that weekend, something strange caught everyone’s attention: not a single Slytherin had been seen anywhere in Hogwarts all day. No one knew where they had gone.
Well—almost no one. Aside from Slytherin’s own members, the only person who knew the truth was Hermione, who currently had free access to the Slytherin common room....
Inside the Slytherin common room, surrounded by the still, green-tinted light of the lake, the mystery was quickly solved. The missing Slytherins were all there, gathered in one place.
To be precise, nearly everyone in the room was focused on the same thing—the scene unfolding before them.
“What’s going on? This early in the morning?”
“Still half-asleep? You’ve missed plenty.”
“What do you mean? Those people... I recognize them—they’re Malfoy’s followers, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Hmph.”
Even within Slytherin, not everyone admired Draco. Some, especially after his association with Hermione, thought he had disgraced the pure-blood name.
Of course, given Draco’s lineage, they were careful never to voice such opinions openly—at least, not when he or his inner circle were around.
“So what’s happening, then? Why’s everyone crowded in here?”
“Our dear Mr. Malfoy is training his future subordinates.”
“Training? What’s so special about that that you’re all staring like this?”
“What if young Malfoy’s power has already surpassed what Professor Moody described in his analysis?”
“...Impossible!”
The upper-year Slytherin froze for a moment, then immediately snapped back, his disbelief bursting out louder than he intended.
“There’s nothing impossible about it,” another voice said coolly. “If you ask me, that’s exactly why Draco ignores everyone else. As for you lot—you’d never be worth that kind of attention from Alastor Moody.”
Where there were those who despised Draco, there were also those who admired him.
A young witch nearby, unable to hold her tongue any longer, turned sharply and glared at the two behind her.
“You...”
“Enough. They’re from the Greengrass family.”
“The Greengrass family... tch.”
As the two senior Slytherins left, faces dark with irritation, Astoria could only turn helplessly toward her sister.
Yes—the witch who had just driven those two away was none other than her elder sister, Daphne Greengrass.
“Weren’t you the one who said a lady must maintain her composure at all times?”
“How can this be the same? They were talking about my sister’s fianc—”
“Big sister! This isn’t the place to talk about that!”
“Alright, alright. But still—don’t you care about that half-blood witch who appeared out of nowhere?”
Astoria, of course, knew exactly who her sister meant.
Her lips pressed together, she cast a complicated glance toward Draco standing at the front of the crowd, with Pansy and Granger at his side.
Daphne, seemingly unaware of the turmoil in her sister’s expression, shot her a disappointed look. After a moment’s thought, however, she sighed softly.
“I don’t know what’s going through your head, but Father’s doing this for your sake. And really, anyone can see Draco’s an exceptional young wizard. If there’s any family that can help you, it’s the Malfoys.”
“...I know.”
If you know, then why won’t you act on it?
Daphne swallowed the words before they could leave her lips.
As members of a pure-blood family, there were some decisions neither of them could change.
And truth be told, this arrangement wasn’t necessarily a bad thing...
...
The small scene between the Greengrass sisters didn’t attract much attention.
Most eyes were fixed on Draco in the Charms Training Grounds.
The effects of a spell were always the same—at least in theory. No matter whose wand it came from, the spell’s outcome should not differ too greatly.
But that assumption only applied to ordinary wizards.
Because everyone knew that if the same spell were cast by Cornelius Fudge and Albus Dumbledore, the results would be vastly different.
The difference lay in magical strength—and, more importantly, in how precisely that power was controlled.
With offensive spells especially, that disparity became even more pronounced.
Take the Reducto Curse, for example.
Where most wizards might only blast a hole in a target, Draco’s version of the spell utterly obliterated it—reducing it to dust.
And the moment he did it, everyone understood something.
They finally realized why Draco had never bothered to respond to Alastor Moody’s provocations.
Because Draco Malfoy’s power...had long since exceeded the level of a student.