"The exact details of it, even your grandfather never heard from your great-grandfather," Lucius said, lightly tapping his fingers on the table. A house-elf scurried forward to refill his tea. "Part of the reason involves the goblins, so the Malfoy family also agreed to avoid mentioning Cassandra."
"Does that mean the Malfoy family fears the goblins?" Draco asked incredulously, staring at his father.
"No, my dragon," Lucius replied gently. "If the goblins hadn’t shown enough sincerity, how could the Malfoy family agree to such a request? Moreover," he continued, "your grandfather once told me that the family’s agreement with the goblins was convenient, but the real reason was that Cassandra stole the Merlin heirloom passed down through our family. Your great-grandfather was so furious that he erased her name from the Malfoy family tree."
"Why would she do that?" Draco asked, perplexed. "And where is she now?"
"No one knows. It’s said that during that time, she was deeply distraught, constantly muttering about that Potter boy... After that, she disappeared," Lucius said, lifting his teacup. "However, your great-grandfather left a dying wish: if Cassandra is ever found, she must be welcomed back into the Malfoy family. Ha! As if that’s possible. So many years have passed; she’s probably long dead."
"Or perhaps she’s still alive? Why else would Great-Grandfather say that?" Draco asked hesitantly, feeling a strange certainty that Cassandra might still be out there.
"Because Cassandra was his most beloved little sister," Lucius replied. "People always struggle to accept the loss of their loved ones."
Draco nodded in understanding.
"Tell me about your classmates," Lucius said casually. "No need to mention the Slytherins. How about that Potter boy—the one who defeated the Dark Lord?"
At his father’s prompt, Draco began recounting how he met Harry, describing their interactions in detail.
When he mentioned insulting Hermione as a ‘Mudblood’ on the train, both Lucius and Narcissa’s faces darkened.
"Perhaps you should be more mindful of the company you keep, my dragon," Lucius said gravely. "We may disdain Muggle-born wizards, but someone with proper upbringing would never say such a thing to their face. It brings shame upon our entire family."
"Yes, Father," Draco quickly apologized. "I was wrong."
He went on to describe Harry’s proficiency with spells, particularly his impressive duel with Miss Farley.
"Gemma from the Farley family?" Lucius mused, nodding thoughtfully. "She’s a talented young witch. Her spellcasting is exceptional, even among adults. So you’re saying Harry Potter, a mere first-year, managed to defeat her in a wizard’s duel?"
"Yes, Father," Draco affirmed, straightening his posture under his father’s gaze. "I witnessed the duel myself. Before that, Potter had already bested Marcus Flint and his friends."
Lucius fell silent, exchanging a meaningful glance with Narcissa before addressing Draco. "I understand. Perhaps you should consider befriending Potter instead of antagonizing him. If you keep your eyes open, you’ll likely find that Miss Farley has already approached him."
"But, Father," Draco protested, frowning. "Potter associates with the Weasleys—the disgrace of purebloods—and a Mud—Muggle-born."
"Draco?" Lucius raised an eyebrow and spoke in a sing-song tone. "What did I just say?"
"Yes, Father," Draco quickly amended, "The Malfoy family prioritizes interests above all else."
Lucius relaxed his expression, pleased with his son’s realization, and added, "And family above all else."
Meanwhile, Harry and Ron were enjoying the warm hospitality of the Granger family.
Mr. Granger, ever the charming host, treated the boys with respect, devoid of the usual condescension adults often show toward children. His demeanor was so amiable it felt like a refreshing breeze.
Dinner was a feast. Harry and Ron ate to their heart’s content, especially Ron, who started out shy but soon abandoned all pretense once the meal began. By the end, he was slumped in his chair, groaning with satisfaction.
"Who wants pudding?" Mrs. Granger asked as she brought in dessert.
"Only if I undo my belt, dear," Mr. Granger replied weakly, leaning back in his chair.
"I’ve already undone mine," Harry echoed, leaning back as well.
In England, finding such delicious food was a rare treat.
"I took mine off as soon as the caramel potatoes and roasted lamb came out," Ron chimed in, holding up his belt with a sigh. "Auntie Granger, your cooking is amazing—better than my mum’s..."
"Alright, gentlemen," Mrs. Granger said with an indulgent smile, setting down the pudding. "Why don’t you head to the living room? Leave the cleanup to me."
"You mean... stand up?" Mr. Granger asked, glancing up.
"I don’t think I can," Harry admitted, shifting in his chair to no avail.
"I didn’t even wear a belt," Ron added matter-of-factly.
"Men," Hermione muttered, shaking her head at the trio.
Under the Grangers’ warm invitation, Harry and Ron stayed the night.
"After all, where else would you go but back to the castle?" Mr. Granger had said.
The television buzzed softly in the background. Ron, fascinated, stared at it intently—his first encounter with such a device.
"These are turbulent times..." Mr. Granger commented while watching the news. "I think I should take out a loan in rubles and exchange it for pounds. What do you think, dear?"
"Whatever you decide," Mrs. Granger replied, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek.
"Then it’s decided," Mr. Granger said, turning to Harry and Ron. "Boys, I’ll be heading to the bank tomorrow. I can drop you off at the Leaky Cauldron if you like."
"Thank you, Uncle Granger," Harry said gratefully.
He turned to Hermione. "Hermione, are you coming?"
"I’ll pass," Hermione said, shrugging. "I need to organize Christmas gifts at home. Oh no—I just remembered, I still need to prepare presents for the professors! I hope the owls can handle it."
Her words reminded Harry of something important.
That’s right—what should he get the professors?
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