"I certainly don't like spiders anymore."
A muffled voice sounded beside them. Ron turned his head and saw a very unhappy-looking Viktor.
Of course, Viktor's unhappiness wasn't directed at Ron, but at the spider.
Specifically, the giant spider that had successfully captured him and trapped him in a cocoon.
Hearing Viktor's words, Ron felt as though he had found a comrade and long-lost kin. He spoke happily, "You don't like spiders either, right? I hate them too. Merlin's socks... Heaven knows how I felt when I was young and Fred and George scared me with a spider—Oh, Fred and George are those identical redheads, my brothers."
"What do you mean 'identical redheads'!" The twins were very displeased to hear this. "We are your brothers, dear Ickle Ronniekins. We're warning you, don't be naughty!"
Having his nickname called out, Ron lowered his head, blushing so deeply that his freckles stood out clearly.
"I know those two; they are quite famous." Viktor glanced at the twins and said to Ron, "I think those two would do very well even at Durmstrang. Their personalities... well, are a bit cheerful."
Ron thought, 'Cheerful'? That was an understatement. They weren't just cheerful; they were cheerful with a vengeance—completely off the charts!
"So, will you participate in the next Quidditch World Cup?" Ron quickly steered the topic toward Quidditch. "You're my favorite Seeker—besides Harry, of course..."
Viktor assumed Ron was just saving face for Harry and didn't mind.
He smiled and said, "Of course I will. I plan to play in a few more tournaments until I'm old and can't play Quidditch anymore."
"That's fine." Ron patted Viktor on the shoulder. "Age isn't a problem. For the position of Seeker, the older you get, the trickier you become."
They walked all the way to the Great Hall, chatting affectionately and happily.
The Great Hall had been decorated beautifully, and the space had been expanded accordingly. It looked the same from the outside, but stepping inside revealed a world of its own.
The four long tables had been extended to great lengths without adding extra tables. Perhaps Dumbledore intended for those who had already graduated from Hogwarts to find the long tables belonging to their own houses.
Of course, that is exactly what they did. For instance, the entire Weasley family was squeezed onto the Gryffindor table, chatting enthusiastically about Harry's shining moment just now.
Mrs. Weasley insisted on knitting a sweater for Harry, featuring a pattern of Harry lifting the Goblet of Fire. Harry agreed with a smile, not refusing Mrs. Weasley's kindness.
"Mr. Potter."
Lucius's voice sounded from behind him. Harry turned around to see the Malfoy family, with an arrogant-looking Cassandra standing beside them.
It was apparent that whenever family was around, Cassandra would wear this expression—a hundred years ago, whenever Mr. Septimus or Ignatius stood by Cassandra's side, her expression had been even prouder than it was now.
However, Harry could tell that Cassandra was acting—at least the arrogant expression wasn't directed at him.
"Mr. Malfoy." Harry returned the greeting politely.
"Congratulations on becoming the champion of this Triwizard Tournament," Mr. Malfoy extended his hand, clasping Harry's, and spoke very formally. "On behalf of the Malfoy family, I extend my most sincere congratulations to you."
"Thank you." Harry nodded, then said to Mr. Malfoy, "Could we have a word in private?"
"Of course." That was exactly what Lucius wanted. He followed Harry to the side.
"How much do you know about Voldemort?" Harry asked Lucius. "In the past few days, has he sent you a summons?"
"Yesterday, the Dark Lord stimulated the Dark Mark, but thanks to the magical item Mr. Potter gifted, my Dark Mark did not cause me any pain," Lucius whispered. "Of course, I did not respond to his summons. The Dark Lord is in decline; the Malfoy family will never side with him again!"
These words were already very straightforward. Lucius had no intention of wearing a mask or hiding anything from Harry; he said exactly what needed to be said.
After all, they were practically close relatives. For the sake of his Grandaunt, when the time came for Mr. Potter to lend the Malfoy family a hand, he certainly would.
"I know, Lucius," Harry nodded. "It is a good thing that you can stand with us to resist Voldemort..."
"Crabbe and Goyle also received orders through the Dark Mark, but please rest assured, I told those two idiots not to act rashly. They have now been successfully swayed by me and are determined to break free from the Dark Lord's evil control!" Lucius said with a resolute expression.
"That's good, that's good," Harry said with a chuckle. "We must strive for every force we can win over. Besides them, is there anyone else? Such as other Pure-blood families who want to break free from the Dark Lord's evil control?"
Harry could tell that Lucius still harbored fear for the Dark Lord; otherwise, he wouldn't use "The Dark Lord" to refer to him instead of directly calling him Voldemort.
Legend had it that Voldemort placed a curse on his own name. As long as someone spoke the name, the Death Eaters would know the person's location and come to hunt them down.
Harry certainly understood Lucius's concerns. He wasn't alone; he had a wife and child behind him.
Even if not for others, one must consider one's family, right?
As the saying goes for the Malfoy family: Family First. That was the principle.
Back then, no matter how angry Mr. Septimus was, he didn't scream for blood or hunt Cassandra down to retrieve Merlin's treasure.
Otherwise, Cassandra's location would have been dug up by Mr. Septimus long ago—one should never underestimate the power of the Minister of Magic from that era.
"There are certainly some," Lucius whispered. "But this isn't the place to talk. I think perhaps after the feast, we can find a quiet place, and I will report this matter to you alone."
Lucius kept his posture very low. He didn't put on any airs of an elder just because Harry was young.
The Malfoy family, aside from putting family first, was also extremely flexible. As long as it benefited the family and themselves, they didn't mind setting aside their pride at all.
Moreover, Harry was a legendary wizard from a hundred years ago, a man who had defeated Voldemort several times, wiped out the Ashwinders, and suppressed the Goblin Rebellion.
Bowing to such a person was no disgrace at all.
The most important reason lay with Cassandra. After all, rounding up, Harry could practically be considered an elder of the Malfoy family.
Showing respect to one's elder was absolutely not a problem.
"Certainly, Lucius," Harry acted very warmly. "Then let's wait until tomorrow night. I will speak with Veratia about this matter. You, me, and Dumbledore—the three of us will discuss this in detail."
"Very well, Mr. Potter," Lucius said, overjoyed, then asked hesitantly, "Additionally, may I bring Cassandra? You know, she is my Grandaunt. Logically speaking, the Malfoy family should have her voice present as well."
"Of course." Harry had been worrying about how to bring Cassandra along, and Lucius had just offered him a stepping stone. It was truly like someone handing him a pillow just as he was dozing off.
"Good," Lucius said happily. "Then tomorrow it is. I look forward to seeing you again."
After the chat, Lucius returned to the Slytherin long table with great satisfaction.
Cassandra, however, did not go back with Lucius but sat down beside Harry.
Draco had wanted to come over and join the fun, but he was ruthlessly suppressed by Narcissa and Lucius together.
No, that's an intimate exchange between your Great-Grandaunt and your Great-Granduncle. You little brat, why go over there and cause trouble?
I think you've eaten too many beans! Trying to be a magical lamp, are you?
"Congratulations," Cassandra said in a light tone after sitting down. "It seems you haven't completely failed my expectations, Pottah..."
"Still calling me Pottah?" Harry looked at Cassandra with a beaming smile.
"Heh." Cassandra curled her lips. "Satisfied, Harry? I know you really want me to call you by your name, so I'll grant your wish—consider it a reward from me. You can interpret it that way."
Harry thought, You really say one thing but mean another. Using this opportunity to find a way out... you really are...
You're such a clever little ghost!
"Yes, this is exactly what I hoped for," Harry nodded seriously. He had figured out the guide to Cassandra; he was now an expert on how to deal with such a tsundere.
"So," Cassandra said again, "what did my disappointing grandnephew say to you? You can pick out what I'm allowed to know and tell me."
"Nothing much, just some matters he wants to report to me privately," Harry told Cassandra. "I arranged to meet him tomorrow, together with Dumbledore, and Veratia, and you. We'll all chat together. What do you think?"
"That Grindelwald woman will be there too?" Cassandra's eyes narrowed.
"Ah, Veratia certainly has to be there," Harry said, scratching his face. "She is the Minister of Magic for Greater Germany. We naturally need to leverage the political power in her hands. Mr. Septimus taught me this, remember?"
"Hmph." Cassandra seemed satisfied with this remark because Harry didn't approach it from other angles, but from the level of "politics," adopting a completely strictly-business attitude.
Seeing Cassandra's satisfaction, Harry decided to push his luck further. "So, Cass... I want more rewards."
"What do you want?" Cassandra asked with a faint smile.
"What do you think?" Harry smoothly placed his hand on Cassandra's small hand.
Over there, Mrs. Weasley instinctively covered Ginny's eyes.
Children shouldn't look at this sort of thing randomly. Ginny was only in her third year; she couldn't be corrupted by the world of older kids.
Harry... well, Harry was different. For an exceptional child like Harry, fourth year wasn't considered too early for romance. Besides... given the Potter family's situation, he really should fall in love early to avoid ending up like the Grindelwald family, facing the end of their line.
Yes, the fact that the Grindelwald line was ending seemed to be common knowledge.
"Heh, shameless Harry."
Although Cassandra said this, she had no intention of pulling her hand back, allowing Harry to rub and caress her hand.
Cassandra's small hand was very soft, her wrist round, smooth, and incredibly delicate.
As Harry touched it, he felt reluctant to let go. How had he not discovered before that Cassandra was such a treasure of a girl?
"It seems you like hands very much." Cassandra continued to look straight ahead, appearing very interested in the patterns on the dinner plate before her. "So... am I to understand that you have a fetish in certain areas?"
At these words, Harry almost spat the pumpkin juice he had just sipped all over her face.
No, I'm just touching a hand. How did it become a fetish in certain areas?
Come on, explain clearly to me, what exactly did you mean just now!
"I'm just touching a hand..." Harry sighed helplessly. "I didn't touch anywhere else. Besides, between a boyfriend and girlfriend, isn't holding hands quite normal?"
"Boyfriend and girlfriend?" The corners of Cassandra's lips curled up. "I don't recall ever becoming your girlfriend, Harry..."
"Is that so?" Harry raised an eyebrow, suddenly leaning close to Cassandra's ear and asking, "Then what about now? Are you willing to be my girlfriend?"
Cassandra hadn't expected Harry to launch such a sudden surprise attack. Although the two had done everything they were supposed to do, Harry had never actually asked this question.
Women attach great importance to a sense of ritual, and even Cassandra was no exception to this rule.
"Heh." The corners of Cassandra's mouth turned down slightly. "What do you think, Harry? Do you think I'm willing to be your girlfriend?"
"Of course you are willing," Harry said with a chuckle. "Otherwise, why haven't you slapped my hand away yet?"
Yes, when Harry leaned over, his hand had already been placed on Cassandra's thigh.
Cassandra was wearing a skirt today. The hem was very long; although he couldn't reach inside, touching it through the skirt was actually quite nice.
As a lady from the nineteenth century, Cassandra didn't like those revealing clothes. Instead, she preferred styles that were quite old-fashioned, such as skirts that absolutely had to cover the knees.
This also caused a bit of distress for Harry. In fact, it wasn't just Cassandra; Veratia and Poppy were the same—they didn't really like short skirts.
Harry just... just really liked seeing that section of fair, creamy thigh exposed between the skirt and the over-the-knee socks. Although he didn't know if there was an official term for it, basically, he just liked it.
--
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