The scene shifts back to Draco.
If you had a map in hand, you would know that the ground beneath Draco's feet was Devon, a hundred miles away from Malfoy Manor.
This was the bank of the River Otter in Devon.
Anyone familiar with the place would know that while it was not exactly deserted, it certainly counted as broad and sparsely populated.
And because it had never really been developed, most of the scenery here remained in its natural state. Forests, rivers, hills. You would see no tall buildings here, nor any cars.
Perhaps that was why most wizards chose to settle in this area.
Yes, there were many wizarding villages here, much like Hogsmeade...
Among them, along the banks of the River Otter, was a small village called Ottery St Catchpole, a place where everyone was either a wizard or part of a wizarding family.
Draco was positioned north of that village, and the black tower before him stood atop the hill.
It was worth mentioning that the Weasley family's Burrow was also located in Ottery St Catchpole...
...
Draco raised his head and looked at the black tower.
"It looks just like a piece from wizard chess."
The piece Draco meant was the castle. Standing beneath that black tower, anyone would have felt the same.
Just as Draco was studying the building in front of him, Kreacher, who had no interest in such things, directly interrupted his thoughts.
"It is time, sir."
"Mm. Proceed according to the original plan. And do your best to keep this matter hidden for me."
"Yes, sir. Old Kreacher will appear on time. Then, may everything go smoothly for you, sir."
Crack!
With a bow from Kreacher and a sharp popping sound, his figure vanished straight from before Draco's eyes.
Without turning back, Draco merely glanced once at the place where Kreacher had disappeared, then shifted his gaze back to the building before him and started walking forward.
The gale tugged at his robes. At a glance, all one could see was the black tower standing atop the hill, and Draco crossed that stretch of road using only his own legs, with no intention of relying on magic at all.
He did that partly out of respect for the owner of this place, and partly to avoid triggering any magical traps that might be set...
At the same time, one could also tell that, perhaps because he had not announced himself in advance, the owner of the building had shown no intention of coming out, even after Draco had walked all the way beneath the black tower.
Draco did not believe for a second that the owner had failed to notice him...
Step.
When he reached the door, the first thing Draco saw was several signs nailed to it.
They were not written in magical script, but painted in some unknown sort of pigment.
In any case.
The first sign read: The Quibbler Editor. X. Lovegood.
That X was probably some kind of pen name.
And from that alone, Draco could more or less tell exactly which wizard he had come to visit in person.
His gaze continued downward.
The second sign read: Please pick your own bunch of mistletoe.
The third sign read: Do not touch the owl.
Only then did Draco notice that on both sides of the front door stood several old trees. Their leaves had long since fallen, but they were still heavy with little red berries and mistletoe wreaths dotted with white pearls.
And among the mistletoe sat a small owl on one of the branches, its head a little flat and somewhat hawk like, watching the scene below.
Seeing that, Draco lifted his arm and greeted it.
"So it was you."
Flap flap flap~
Along with the sound of beating wings, the owl landed on Draco's outstretched arm and affectionately rubbed against him. It looked nothing at all like the warning on that third sign had implied.
"Hoo hoo hoo~"
So this was the same owl that had delivered the letter to Draco back then.
After sending the owl back into the sky, Draco finally pushed open the somewhat old front gate and stepped into the yard.
Once he had crossed that yard, which looked as though no one really bothered tending it, what appeared before him was a wooden door studded with round iron nails, along with an eagle shaped knocker above it. Faintly, one could also make out a worn crest on it, so faded it was impossible to see clearly.
It seemed the Lovegood family had once known glory. That might also explain why The Quibbler had its own sources of information and its own strength.
This was likely the lingering foundation of their family...
...
Just as Draco was caught by that realization, the door suddenly opened.
"What? What is it? Who are you? What do you want?"
The person who appeared spoke in a sharp, complaining tone, hurling question after question at Draco, and the expression with which he looked at him was full of intense wariness.
If Draco had not looked obviously underage, and if the elegance about him had not been so impossible to ignore, this wizard might already have drawn his wand...
Draco frowned.
Rather than answering at once, he first took a moment to size the man up.
The wizard before him was barefoot, and all he wore was a dirty nightshirt. His marshmallow like white hair also looked as though it had not been tidied in ages, leaving it both filthy and disheveled.
Honestly, the fact that Draco didn't immediately back away the moment he saw him was already more than enough courtesy.
In truth, the instant Draco saw him, he had already recognized who the wizard was. After all, the man's appearance suited the style of The Quibbler all too well...
"Hello, Mr. Lovegood. I am Draco. Draco Malfoy."
Though the editor of The Quibbler had behaved rather rudely, Draco's own manners were impeccable.
However, Xenophilius Lovegood showed no intention of responding to him. Instead, he abruptly stepped forward and stared closely at Draco through the eyes hidden behind his spectacles.
Clearly, compared with manners and greetings, Mr. Lovegood was far more interested in Draco's appearance.
Draco twitched his mouth wordlessly, and a thought rose in his mind.
'Should I say no wonder he is Luna's father?'
Just as the two of them remained locked there in a standstill, footsteps sounded from inside the house.
"Is there a guest, Mr. Lovegood?"
Draco raised a brow. That voice sounded strangely familiar.
And as a small head poked out from behind the door, followed by a mouth slowly falling open wider and wider, Draco finally understood where that familiar feeling had come from.
"Draco, why are you here!?"
That scream, mixed with all kinds of emotion, came from the mouth of a certain Gryffindor witch.
Ginny Weasley...