Chapter 2300 - Ch: 86-90

Chapter 86: Star Core Sets Sail

After the banquet ended, the candlelight in the Great Halldimmed one by one. Students walked towards their common rooms in twos and threes, the sound of their chattering echoing back and forth along the stone corridors.

Rhys, Cho Chang, and Anthony sat at the end of the Ravenclaw table. There was half a pitcher of pumpkin juice left on the table, but no one poured any more.

"Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. On Christmas Day, we will go to Diagon Alley to hold the opening ceremony."

Anthony pulled out a list of arrangements Hermione had organized from the inner pocket of his robes. The dense list of items filled two sheets of parchment, with the person in charge and the deadline marked in different colored ink next to each entry. "I've checked all the procedures three times; there shouldn't be any problems."

"The last batch of Alchemy items has already been mailed."

Cho Chang said, casually pressing Amber, who had poked her head out from her collar, back inside—the little snake had become increasingly fond of crawling out when there were many people around, probably because she could smell the various holiday foods. "Aunt Lyra sent me a reply after signing for them, saying the packaging was fine and the display cabinets were all set up."

"Aunt Lyra has already prepared our outfits for the opening."

Rhys finished the last of the pumpkin juice and set down his cup. "See you at Star-Swirl Manor the morning after tomorrow. Bangbang said he would tidy up everyone's rooms in advance."

The three of them exchanged glances, their lips curling upward at the same time.

The next day, the Hogwarts Express puffed white steam, carrying a train full of students toward London.

The snow outside the window fell heavier and heavier; from the hills of Scotland to the plains of England, the entire land was covered in a thick layer of white.

The five of them squeezed into the same compartment, legs overlapping and trunks stacked upon trunks, yet no one minded the crowding.

"Just one more night." Draco leaned against the window, watching the snowy scenery fly by outside, and suddenly said, "By this time tomorrow, we'll be in Diagon Alley."

"Nervous?" Hermione looked up from her notebook.

"A little." For once, Draco didn't act tough. "What about you?"

"A little, too." Hermione admitted, and both of them laughed.

When the train arrived at the station, the steam on the platform was so thick that faces were hard to make out.

The five of them pushed their luggage carts through the invisible brick wall and waved goodbye in the Muggleworld—Cho Chang followed her parents to the left, Hermione to the right, and Anthony and Draco each got into their family cars. Rhys stood at the exit, watching their figures gradually disappear into the crowd, then turned and walked toward Aunt Lyra, who was waiting by the roadside.

"Let's go, home." Lyra took his luggage cart, one hand resting on his shoulder, her palm warm.

Christmas Eve, Star-Swirl Manor.

The fireplace in the dining room was burning brightly, the orange-red light reflecting off the dark wooden walls, bathing the entire room in a warm amber glow.

Bangbang and Kreacher cleared away the main course of dinner and replaced it with black tea and a few plates of snacks—the butter cookies Bangbang baked were still warm, and the Assam black tea Kreacher brewed had a small amount of honey and milk added, the temperature just right.

Cassiopeia sat at the head of the table, her silver-grey hair tied up meticulously, a silver star brooch pinned to the collar of her deep purple robe, her fingers gently rubbing the rim of her teacup.

"How are the preparations going? My little north star?" Her voice was unhurried, carrying a sense of certainty that said, "I don't ask about the details, but I know you're doing something big."

"Hermione has already planned out the process." Rhys sat up straight. "On the day, Cho Chang, as the designer, will explain the design concept of the products; Draco and Anthony, as testers, will demonstrate the uses of the goods; I, as the presenter, will release the main content; and Hermione will control the progress of the entire event. After the launch event, there will be a lucky draw. The prizes are a few Alchemy items we made ourselves; the cost isn't high, but they are attractive enough."

"Launch event?" Aunt Lyra leaned over from the opposite side, her eyebrows slightly raised, a bit surprised by the term.

"It's a new product launch event." Rhys set down his teacup, his finger tracing a circle along the rim. "I learned it from Muggles—before they sell something new, they hold a ceremony, invite a bunch of people to watch, have some people demonstrate, some explain, and finally announce the price. It works quite well and can make people pay on the spot."

"In the future, every Christmas, we will hold a launch event for the following year's key products as a teaser and promotion for the new arrivals." He continued, his speaking speed slightly faster than usual, carrying the excitement peculiar to when a plan takes shape. "The Christmas new product launch will be hosted by the founders—that is, the five of us—in person. There will also be quarterly launch events in the spring, summer, and autumn every year, but those won't require us to host; we can leave that to the people under us. The quarterly launch events will be responsible for releasing minor updates and revisions to the annual series of products."

"And what about winter?" Aunt Lyra asked.

Rhys glanced at her.

"The winter launch event, isn't that just the Christmaslaunch event?"

Lyra was taken aback for a moment, then nodded in sudden realization. She leaned back in her chair, took a sip of black tea, and shook her head with a smile, her black hair swaying in the candlelight. "It seems I really am old; my brain isn't turning fast enough anymore. The future of the House of Black will depend entirely on our little north star."

Rhys shook his head with a smile. Grandmother also leaned over from the head of the table, glancing at Lyra teasingly. The laughter of the three echoed in the dining room. Bangbang poked his head in from the kitchen doorway, looked, and then shrank back.

Christmas Day.

Rhys was woken up by being pelted with gifts.

This is not an exaggeration—gifts really did slide down from the pile by the bed and land on his stomach. He opened his eyes and found the bedside piled high with packages of all sizes, tall, short, round, square, in colorful wrapping paper, some tied with ribbons, some with cards attached, stacked together like a small hill that could collapse at any moment.

He didn't unwrap them.

The most important thing today was the opening of Star Core; everything else could wait.

He went downstairs after washing up, and the five of them were already waiting in the living room—Cho Chang stood by the window, holding Amber in her hands; the little snake was unusually quiet today, probably sensing the tense atmosphere of "today is very important" on her. Anthony sat on the sofa, still clutching the process list, his lips moving slightly, likely silently reciting his lines. Hermione stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the position of the black rose on her collar. Draco leaned against the doorframe, twirling the silver chain in his hand, his eyes filled with an eagerness that said, "You've finally arrived" as he looked at Rhys.

Bangbang and Kreacher led them to different rooms respectively.

Five formal outfits, all from the same collection.

When Rhys put on that dark purple suit, he stood in front of the mirror for several seconds. The collar was embroidered with dragons and phoenixes in a darker shade, the stitches so fine they were almost invisible, glowing with a faint dark gold luster in the candlelight—it was an extension of the emblem Nicolas Flamel had given him, marking his identity as an Alchemist. His black shirt was open, revealing the double-sided flipping disc hanging around his neck, with the sun and moon, dragon and Phoenix. A large patch of jasmine flowers was embroidered on the right shoulder of the suit, with layered petals and outstretched leaves, every piece hand-embroidered.

Anthony's outfit was a pure black suit vest paired with a deep purple shirt, and the black tie had hidden patterns of the Muse, appearing faintly in the light—that was a pattern Anthony chose himself, saying, "The source of inspiration should wear the Muse of Inspiration."

Draco wore a black turtleneck base layer, with a V-neck white shirt over it, and a cape-style purple suit jacket as the outermost layer, the hem of which swirled behind him as he walked. A silver necklace hung over the base layer, swaying gently with his movements. The hidden patterns on the jacket were Potion bottles and cauldrons, arranged in an interlaced pattern, so exquisite they looked printed on—but his Potion grades certainly deserved this outfit.

Hermione's hair had been washed, blown, and curled with magic Potions, and finally pinned into an English princess-style bun, with a few stray locks hanging by her ears. The off-the-shoulder purple dress revealed her collarbones, and black lace gloves extended above her elbows, with delicate black roses embroidered on the backs of her hands. A purple silk scarf around her neck was tied in a small bow, patterned with hidden symbols representing logic and data—mathematical symbols, logic gates, and sketches of experimental records; those who understood would know exactly what she did at a glance.

When Cho Chang walked out of the room, the living room went quiet for a moment.

She wore an elegant purple qipao dress, the mandarin collar wrapping around her slender neck, with diagonal frog buttons fastening from her right shoulder all the way to her underarm, each one a hand-tied bow. The fabric was printed with hidden patterns resembling classical ink wash paintings; from a distance, they were unclear, but up close, one could distinguish mountains and clouds. A black sheer shawl draped over her right shoulder, lazily revealing a section of her fair shoulder—that white jasmine embroidery peeked out from under the shawl, exactly the same as the one on Rhys's right shoulder.

The five of them met in the hall, looked at each other, and couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't laughing at each other for not looking good, but laughing at, "So this is what you look like when you dress up properly." Everyone tacitly looked at the two identical jasmine flowers on Rhys and Cho Chang's shoulders, then looked at the matching silver bracelets on their wrists; no one said anything, but the corners of their mouths all curled with the same arc.

Cho Chang took five brooches from a small box, walked up to each person, and pinned them one by one over their hearts on the left side. It was the Star Core emblem—the outer frame was an eight-pointed star, and in the middle was a cluster of blue flames, surrounded by five little stars embedded with diamonds, each cut very finely, flashing again and again in the candlelight. She walked up to Rhys, pinned the last brooch to his chest, and her fingers gently smoothed out a wrinkle on his collar.

The two of them exchanged a glance.

Simultaneously raising their left hands, they shook the matching silver bracelets on their wrists.

They smiled at each other.

"All right." Rhys lowered his hand, turned, and walked toward the door, his voice not loud but clear, "Let's go."

Diagon Alley.

The sign for Star Core Workshop glittered in the sunlight.

A purple background, bronze lettering, with a thin silver edge— "Star Core", and a line of small text below: "Alchemy Workshop and magic Creative Laboratory." The storefront was wider than most surrounding shops, with two huge glass display windows polished to be spotless. On the left were a few static exhibits—protective goggles, defensive brooches, and portable Alchemy tool kits; on the right was a dynamic display area where a mechanical owl was flapping its wings incessantly, and with every flap, its eyes would light up. A small sign next to it read: "New Product Launch Event Begins Today, See Inside for Details."

There were quite a few people gathered in front of the door.

Several staff members wearing Star Core uniforms stood at the door, holding stacks of colorful flyers, shouting with booming voices: "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to watch our Star Core Alchemy Workshop opening ceremony! After the ceremony begins, there will be a new product launch event inside, showcasing the store's goods and their uses! Audience members participating in the launch event can receive a 30% off coupon for new products and can even participate in a lucky draw with the number tag on their stools! The prizes are abundant, participation is free, seats are limited, first come, first served!"

Passing Wizards stopped one after another, curiously looking at this large shop that had been under renovation for several weeks and had finally unveiled its covering today.

"Alchemy item workshop? Diagon Alley has never seen a shop like this." A middle-aged Witch in dark green robes tilted her head, examining the exhibits in the display window.

"A shop specializing in Alchemy items, I've only seen them in France." A Wizard in a tall hat next to her pushed up his glasses, his tone carrying a sense of reserve that said, "I've been to France, so I have the right to speak."

"This is the first one in the British magical world, right?"

"If you don't count those Dark Arts item shops in Knockturn Alley—"

"Shh, keep your voice down, do you want the Aurors to invite you back for tea?"

"Never mind, let's go in and see; I heard there are discounts and lucky draws."

"Yes, yes, yes, let's go see what it's all about!"

The crowd surged into the shop door like a tide. The five of them stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window on the second floor, looking down at the Wizards below, who were tilting their heads, holding flyers, their expressions changing from curiosity to anticipation. No one spoke, but all five of their hearts were beating much faster than usual.

Rhys straightened the Star Core emblem on his chest and turned to look at the four people behind him. Cho Chang's fingers were still touching the silver bracelet on her wrist; Anthony read through the process list again; Hermionetook a deep breath and retied the bow at her collar; Dracowound the silver chain around his fingers twice and then loosened it.

"Let's go." Rhys pushed open the door leading to the launch hall.

Blue flames lit up in the center of the stage.

Chapter 87: Blue Flames and Whispers

In the center of the stage, blue flames leaped into the air.

Several elderly Wizards in the audience stiffened their backs in unison, their fingers instinctively tightening around their canes—that pure blue flame, devoid of any impurities, reminded them of a name that had made all of Europetremble more than half a century ago.

"Merlin's beard, blue flames?" a young Witch leaned in curiously toward the person beside her.

"It's nothing, nothing, just some unpleasant memories..." her grandfather muttered in a low voice, reaching out to pat his chest over his heart.

Before he could finish his sentence, the blue flames suddenly shuddered.

Five young people dressed in purple formal wear stepped out from within, bowing slightly to the audience in unison.

Their movements were as synchronized as if they had rehearsed dozens of times.

The attention of the young Wizards in the audience was immediately drawn to the stage—these five children, who looked no more than twelve or thirteen years old, were dressed in exquisitely tailored formal wear. Each wore an eight-pointed star blue flame brooch on their chest, standing with poised posture and steady gazes, completely lacking the immaturity typical of their age.

Meanwhile, the older Wizards who had heard of Grindelwald's reputation instinctively pressed their hands to their chests.

The same thought flashed through their minds simultaneously—if one didn't know better, they would think the Acolytes were announcing their return today.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the opening ceremony of the Star Core Workshop," Rhys stepped forward.

His voice wasn't loud, but it had immense penetration; even the Wizards standing in the very back row heard him clearly.

"As the first shop in the Wizarding World to specialize in alchemical tools, we would like you to accept this small token of our appreciation for your presence today."

He raised his wand and gave it a gentle flick.

Countless small gift-wrapped packages erupted from the blue flames, fluttering down like snowflakes into the hands of everyone in the audience, so precise that not a single package missed its mark.

"These small gifts are Focus Runestones we've crafted through Alchemy," Rhys explained only after everyone had unwrapped their packages to reveal the badge-sized, pale blue gemstone inside.

"Its effect is to slightly enhance the user's concentration, which is quite effective for study and work—however, the effect only lasts for three months. If you wish to continue using it after three months, please visit Star Core again."

Polite laughter and rustling discussions broke out among the audience.

Some began hanging the runestones on their keychains, while others carefully tucked them into their wallets.

"Now, I declare—the Star Core Workshop is officially open."

After saying this, Rhys, along with Cho, Hermione, Anthony, and Draco, raised their wands simultaneously.

Five streams of different colored magic merged into the mass of blue flames in the center of the stage.

The color of the flames gradually shifted from deep blue to a bluish-purple, then suddenly surged over three meters high, splitting at the top into two radiant streaks of light.

One transformed into a dragon, the other into a Phoenix.

They circled the room once, leaving a trail of fine golden specks of light wherever they passed.

The dragon and the Phoenix intertwined and spiraled in mid-air, then simultaneously charged toward the ceiling and exploded.

They turned into a rain of light that fell downward.

Lighting up all the alchemical lamps in the shop.

Only then did the guests have a chance to take in the shop's interior.

The space behind the stage was much larger than it appeared from the outside—clearly, an Undetectable Extension Charm had been used.

Various alchemical tools were categorized by zone across the shelves: Defense Zone, Communication Zone, Lifestyle Convenience Zone, and Study Assistance Zone, each with dedicated display counters and trial devices.

The interior decoration was themed in purple and bronze, and the wallpaper revealed faint alchemical symbols under the light of the alchemical lamps—Runes and alchemical arrays intertwined in layers.

Those who knew the trade took a few glances and immediately realized the sheer quality of this shop.

A massive, dizzyingly complex alchemical array was engraved into the stone floor beneath their feet.

Now, with the magic injected by the five of them, the array glowed with a soft blue light.

The Wizards in the room felt their internal magic flow much more smoothly than usual almost at the same time.

It felt as if a long-blocked river had suddenly been cleared; every pore on their bodies seemed to relax.

The cameras in the hands of The Daily Prophet reporters clicked incessantly.

The flashes illuminated the entire shop as bright as day.

"Now, the first Star Core New Product Launch officially begins."

Rhys's voice once again drew everyone's attention back.

He stepped to the side, gesturing with his left hand toward his four companions; as he spoke each name, a founder stepped forward half a pace and bowed in greeting.

"Chief of Alchemy—Polaris Black."

"Chief Executive—Hermione Granger."

"Chief of Potions—Draco Malfoy."

"Chief of Creativity—Anthony Goldstein."

"Chief of Design—Cho Chang."

Rhys's bow was steady and elegant, Cho's bow was as graceful as a swan dipping its head, Hermione's nod was crisp and decisive, Anthony's bow carried Ravenclaw's characteristic scholarly air, and Draco's greeting perfectly replicated the noble etiquette refined over generations of the House of Malfoy.

The Wizards in the audience looked at each other in surprise.

Someone couldn't help but whisper, "Five kids? They haven't even graduated yet, have they?"

Rhys heard it.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.

"I know you all have many doubts—the five of you don't look very old, so where did these little brats come from?"

A wave of good-natured laughter broke out in the audience, and several witches in the front row giggled behind their hands.

"Yes, we haven't graduated from Hogwarts yet; we are still just students. But it is precisely because we are students that we have infinite creativity and imagination unfettered by conventional rules."

"The alchemical tools we develop aren't meant to sit in a display case gathering dust; they are meant to be genuinely useful, practical, and to provide everyone with a better experience."

This time, it wasn't whispers that followed, but genuine applause.

"So, what is a 'Product Launch'?" Rhys held up a finger.

"To put it simply, it's about showing everyone the products we'll be promoting over the coming year—straightforward and without any complications."

He picked up the whisper one, crafted from bronze and wood, from the stage, holding it in both hands so everyone could see every detail clearly.

"Wizard communication usually relies on owls—this greatly increases the cost of communication. No matter how fast an owl flies, it's still far from enough for urgent messages or pressing matters."

"Unconventional communication methods are difficult for everyone to use; the barrier to entry is too high, and ordinary people simply can't access them."

"But what if—there was an item that could achieve long-distance, simultaneous voice transmission? Wouldn't that solve many problems?"

"Handling work, communicating affairs, and improving efficiency would no longer require anxiously waiting for a bird to slowly fly back."

He stepped to the side.

The blue flames behind him coalesced into an enlarged model of the whisper one, floating in mid-air and rotating slowly.

"The whisper one can solve all your needs."

Rhys's voice landed steadily in every corner.

"Simultaneous voice transmission is no longer an issue."

Cho stepped forward to take over the explanation.

"For the design, we referenced the look of Muggle landline telephones, but the materials are entirely traditional Wizarding World materials—bronze and wood. The bronze rotary dial and handset cradle have been specially treated to prevent rust and oxidation; each wooden casing is hand-polished by craftsmen and coated with a waterproof, wear-resistant alchemical finish."

"You'll know the quality of the entire machine once you hold it in your hands."

Hermione's speech was fast and clear.

"Behind the one-on-one communication requirement is our technical solution combining small alchemical arrays—each whisper one has its own fixed identification number. After purchase, a professional installer will come to your home to activate the array for free, requiring no complex operations on your part."

"Simply put: buy it, wait for installation, and it's ready to use."

"Now, please watch the demonstration."

Draco was already standing on the second-floor balcony, a whisper one placed before him.

Anthony stood on the first-floor stage, also with one in front of him.

Both simultaneously lifted the handsets from their dedicated cradles. Anthony pressed the digits '001' on the rotary dial, which made a crisp clicking sound as the wheel turned.

The whisper one on the second floor immediately rang with a 'ding-ling-ling' sound.

In the quiet shop, it was exceptionally clear.

Draco picked up the handset and held it over a portable megaphone so the entire room could hear.

Anthony spoke softly into the handset: "Hello, this is Anthony."

A second later, his voice came through the second-floor megaphone clearly.

Word for word.

Even the subtle pauses in his tone were perfectly reproduced.

Draco said something into his own handset, and then everyone's gaze turned to Anthony on the stage.

He was seen tilting his head slightly, seemingly listening intently to something.

A moment later, Draco's voice came through the megaphone: "Hello, I am Draco Malfoy."

The audience instantly erupted into a frenzy.

Wizards whispered to one another, nudged each other, and stood on their tiptoes trying to see more clearly.

That excitement wasn't the mere buzz of seeing a novelty toy, but a feverish realization—tinged with disbelief—that 'the Wizarding World's method of communication might be completely revolutionized.'

No need to write letters.

No need to wait for owls.

No need to worry about letters being intercepted or lost mid-journey.

With just a whisper one, you could hear the other person's voice anytime, anywhere.

"Now that everyone has seen the functions of the whisper one, we must address the matter of price."

Rhys's voice interjected unhurriedly.

The audience immediately fell silent.

Right, an alchemical tool like this shouldn't be cheap, should it? How could it become widespread? Could an ordinary wizarding family afford it?

"Star Core's philosophy is to bring speed and convenience into every wizarding home."

Rhys slowed his voice down slightly, but every word carried more weight.

"We do not make high-end alchemical tools that only a few can afford—we want every Wizard to be able to afford this convenient method of communication."

"Star Core hereby promises: the whisper one comes with a one-year warranty, a seven-day no-reason refund policy, and includes installation and removal—all of this for just—"

He paused for a second.

"Fifteen Galleons."

The audience was silent for a brief moment.

Then a wave of gasps erupted.

Followed by cheers from all sides.

In the Wizarding World, sixty to eighty Galleons was an average monthly income for an adult Wizard to maintain a decent lifestyle—a communication device for fifteen Galleons was incredibly low-cost compared to the expense of purchasing and long-term care for an owl.

Owls needed feed, regular vet visits, cage replacements, and cleaning of droppings; these were continuous, never-ending expenses.

But the whisper one was a one-time purchase.

Even if it broke and needed repairs, it would still be cheaper than an owl's food for a year.

"However—" Rhys held up a finger, the corner of his mouth curling up.

"Everyone present can check the gift bag containing the Focus Runestone; there is also a thirty-percent-off discount coupon."

"In other words, if you use the coupon, you can take a whisper one home for just ten Galleons, eight Sickles, and fourteen Knuts."

The moment he finished speaking.

Wizards in the audience began reaching for their money pouches.

"Give me one!"

"I want two! One for each floor of my house!"

"Can I pre-order? I'm afraid they'll sell out in a bit—"

Rhys and the other four looked at each other.

The same light was reflected in all five of their eyes—that irrepressible joy rising from the bottom of their hearts that said, 'We did it.'

The Daily Prophet reporters wouldn't miss such a scene.

Their cameras clicked away, capturing the bustling scene of Wizards holding up their money pouches and the moment of silent understanding as the five young people on stage smiled at each other, freezing them all on film.

The bluish-purple flames continued to burn quietly in the center of the stage.

Reflecting a small, dancing light in everyone's eyes.

Chapter 88: Echoes

By the time the opening ceremony ended, the sky outside was pitch Black.

The last wave of guests was ushered out by staff with faces full of smiles, carrying large bags of shopping. In their pockets, they tucked order receipts scheduled two months out. They were still asking each other, "How many whisper ones did your family install?"

The blue flame on the stage had long since extinguished.

But all the Alchemy lamps in the store were still lit. The purple and copper decorations looked exceptionally calm in the warm light. Staff bustled between the shelves restocking, counting, and organizing, their footsteps on the stone floor engraved with a massive Alchemy array producing steady and rhythmic echoes.

Five people were slumped on the sofas in the second-floor lounge.

No one had the energy to speak.

Hermione leaned back in an armchair, her notebook still open, a quill tucked behind her ear, and her silver-framed glasses tilted toward her temple. Anthony lay flat on the long sofa, his tie half-loosened, two buttons on his cuffs undone, staring at the ceiling with eyes half-open. Dracoreclined on a soft couch by the window, his long legs draped over the armrest, his jacket long since discarded to the side, leaving only his Black turtleneck.

The silver chain on his chest hung in an irregular arc.

Cho sat next to Polaris Black, her shoulder brushing against his arm. Amber poked her head out from Cho's collar, her small red eyes glancing around before shrinking back, dazzled by the overly bright lights in the store. Polaris Black leaned against the back of the sofa with his eyes closed, his breathing steady, though he wasn't asleep.

"It's finally over," Anthony's voice drifted over from the other end of the sofa, muffled and nasal.

"You make it sound as if you carried the entire launch by yourself," Draco said without even opening his eyes, his laziness overshadowing his usual arrogance.

"I'm the Chief Creative Officer; I'm the brains."

"Is the one using their brain more tired than the one using their hands?"

Hermione finally straightened her crooked glasses.

Opening her notebook to check the latest records, she spoke softly but clearly: "Total pre-orders are four hundred and seventy-two whisper ones, one thousand two hundred pairs of protective goggles, and six hundred defensive brooches. Also—the batch of prank products consigned by the Weasley Twins sold even better than our serious items."

She spoke with a tone of "I don't understand it, but I'm not going to question it" helplessness.

Polaris Black opened his eyes, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"The twins know how to do business. Give them an extra half-percent commission next time."

Hermione nodded and made a swift note in her notebook. The sound of the quill scratching the paper was exceptionally clear in the quiet lounge.

The next day at Star-Swirl Manor, sunlight flooded in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, making the long table in the dining room gleam.

Bangbang and Kreacher cleared away the breakfast plates, replacing them with Black tea and several plates of snacks. Bangbang's freshly baked honey cookies were still steaming, and the almond crisps Kreacher made were distinctly layered, each piece so thin it was translucent.

The five of them sat around the table.

No one was wearing their flashy purple formal robes today. Polaris Black had changed into a dark gray house robe, and Draco's hair was uncharacteristically not perfectly groomed, with a few strands falling across his forehead.

Polaris Black raised his glass.

The glass contained orange juice Bangbang had freshly squeezed that morning.

"I'm glad our career has finally taken off."

The others raised their glasses as well. The five glasses clinked softly in the morning light, making a crisp sound.

"Luckily we rested after coming back last night, otherwise I would have been nodding off at the victory banquet." Anthony gulped down some orange juice, the cold liquid making him feel much more alert.

Everyone chuckled.

Bangbang poked his head in from the kitchen doorway, and seeing everyone laughing, he grinned too before shrinking back.

Hermione pulled out a copy of The Daily Prophet from her handbag and spread it out on the table.

The front page took up most of the layout.

Five young people stood in front of the blue flame, smiling at each other, while countless hands below waved money bags and orders frantically. The photo was full of tension; even the moment Amber poked her head out from Cho's collar was captured, the little snake's red eyes gleaming in the Black-and-white photo.

The headline was in bold letters: "The Rise of Star-Core — How Five Students Sparked a Communication Revolution in the Wizarding World?"

"We made the front page today."

Hermione's tone was flat, but the curve of her lips betrayed her.

"Luckily we have enough help," Draco picked up the newspaper and looked at his photo. Likely feeling the angle wasn't perfect, he flipped the page. "Otherwise, we'd be working in the Room of Requirement until we went insane."

Polaris Black put down the newspaper and took a sip of Black tea.

"How is the loyalty of our staff?" Cho's finger traced the rim of her cup, her voice soft but her question direct. "Core secrets—the engraving of Runes, the Alchemy arrays for whisper one, the Runes combinations for the protective goggles—if these leak, our barrier will cease to exist."

Polaris Black glanced at her, a barely perceptible curve touching his lips.

"Don't worry. Those who hold the core Alchemy are a group comparable to death-sworn soldiers."

Cho met his gaze and saw that familiar light in his eyes, calm to the point of being cold. She suddenly understood—Polaris Black wasn't talking about hired craftsmen, but those who stepped out of the shadows, needing no sleep or pay, and who would never betray him: the Shadow Khan Legion.

She nodded and asked no more.

Hermione pulled two more letters from her handbag and spread them on the table.

"I also received two large orders."

"Two?" Anthony leaned in curiously.

"One is from Hogwarts," Hermione pointed to the first letter and read, "Offices of the Professors, the Principal's office, and the common rooms of all four houses—a full installation of whisper ones. It's signed by Professor McGonagall, but the stationery bears Dumbledore's private seal."

Polaris Black raised an eyebrow.

It wasn't surprising that Dumbledore would take notice of whisper one. What was surprising was how quickly he moved—the order arrived the day after opening. This suggested that the old Principal had either sent someone to the opening ceremony or had used some form of remote surveillance himself.

But that didn't matter.

As long as he paid.

"The other is from the Ministry of Magic." Hermioneunfolded the second letter. The paper was thicker, with the Ministry of Magic's official letterhead, and it was stamped with the seal of the Head of the Auror Office.

"They don't just want whisper ones; they're requesting full sets of defensive Alchemy gear. Plus professional sets for attack, scouting, and stealth. Based on the description in the letter, it seems to be a bulk purchase for the Aurors."

Draco's eyebrows shot up high.

Anthony's mouth hung open slightly.

Cho's fingers tightened around her teacup.

Polaris Black didn't speak immediately.

He took a sip of orange juice, set it down, and traced a circle around the rim of the glass with his finger.

"That's fine. The price is negotiable—but regarding the supply source, set a condition when you reply to the Ministry."

He looked at Hermione, slowing his speech slightly: "We need to purchase raw materials in bulk. Many materials are under Ministry control, involving tedious procedures and long approval cycles. If the Ministry can give us the green light on procurement procedures, progress will be much faster."

Hermione nodded and noted it down in her notebook.

She responded decisively, "Alright, I'll take care of it."

Draco didn't join their conversation.

From the moment Cho mentioned "loyalty," his gaze had been fixed on the front-page photo of the newspaper, but his focus was off; he was clearly thinking about something else. His finger unconsciously traced circles on the table—one, two, three—the rhythm slowing down.

"Draco?" Anthony tapped his shoulder. "What are you thinking about?"

Draco snapped back to reality.

His finger stopped on the table.

"I was thinking about Dobby," his voice wasn't loud, but his tone was much heavier than usual. "That House-elf—he went to see Potter and betrayed the Malfoy Family. I don't know how Father will handle it. But no matter how it's handled, it points to one problem: the Malfoy Family can't even control a single House-elf anymore."

The atmosphere at the dining table fell silent for a moment.

Polaris Black set down his glass of orange juice and leaned forward slightly.

AI Model: gemini-3.1-flash-lite

"Cousin, you are quite the hot commodity in the business world right now."

His tone carried a seriousness that said, "You still haven't realized how valuable you are."

"Many families are already starting to get restless because of our sales and orders. Over in France, three families have already sent letters of intent for overseas licensing. The dividend funds you've received, compared to the liquid assets Uncle Lucius has at his disposal—believe it or not, you have more cash on hand than he does right now."

Draco looked up at him.

His eyelashes trembled slightly.

"Besides, this is just a transfer of power within the family, not an attempt to overthrow the Malfoy Family." Cho added from the side, her tone as light as if she were commenting on the weather.

"Your mother is a daughter of the House of Black, and you have half of the Black bloodline in you. It is only natural for you to go back and take over the authority of the Head of the Family; no one can find fault with that. Even if Uncle Lucius isn't happy about it in his heart, he can't find any justifiable reason to object."

Draco looked at Cho, then at Polaris.

The two of them were singing in harmony. One was persuading with business logic, the other soothing with family ethics. They were so in sync, it was as if they had rehearsed it dozens of times.

He shook his head, unable to decide whether to laugh or cry.

"Cho, have you been corrupted after spending so much time with Polaris? I can't believe those words came out of your mouth."

"Hey, there's a lot more that's hard to believe." Anthonythrew his arm around Draco's shoulder, laughing heartlessly. "It's not like you weren't there when our great designer was scolding someone—Weasley was absolutely shocked at the time, completely stunned, unable to say a single word."

"Ahem." Hermione cleared her throat. "There's a saying going around school: If you want to see Ravenclaw's most gentle Seeker get angry, then just go and provoke Polaris Black."

Cho was teased in turns by her mischievous friends, her cheeks flushing slightly.

She gave a light huff.

She turned her head and focused intently on cutting the steak on Polaris's plate, maintaining an attitude of "you talk amongst yourselves, I'll do my own thing."

Everyone laughed for a while longer.

Draco's expression finally didn't look as heavy as it had just a moment ago.

He picked up his glass, took a sip of orange juice, set it down, and said seriously, "Polaris, accompany me home tomorrow."

Everyone's gaze focused on him.

"I know I should grow up." Draco's voice was a bit tight, but every word was spoken slowly and steadily. "But—he is my father; there is an inherent, insurmountable pressure."

He looked up at Polaris.

"You are my strongest backing. With you there, I will have more confidence."

Polaris looked at him.

Without hesitation.

"Why not, Cousin?"

He stood up, placed his right hand over his chest, and bowed slightly. The movement was as elegant as if it had been copied directly from a Malfoy etiquette textbook. Even the angle of his wrist and the depth of his bow were impeccably precise.

Watching Polaris's "imitation Malfoy" pose, Draco finally couldn't help but curl his lips into a smile. The mist in his eyes was washed away by the amusement.

As the dining room became lively again, Polaris exchanged a look with Cho, Anthony, and Hermione respectively.

That light, almost imperceptible glance.

All three caught it.

The afternoon sunlight slanted in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting golden stripes across the dark wooden floor. Polaris leaned against the armchair by the window, with Cho sitting beside him, holding Amber in her hands. The little snake hadn't fully shaken off its winter lethargy; it slept all day, occasionally opening its eyes to look around, only to bury its head back into the gaps between Cho's fingers. Anthony sat in front of the desk, organizing the order data received today into a clear table. Hermione sat opposite him, drafting a reply to the Ministry of Magic. When she reached the part about the "green light," she paused to think, then added a few phrases regarding "long-term strategic cooperation."

Polaris called them into the study.

He closed the door.

"Draco is returning to Malfoy Manor with me tomorrow. Things won't be too smooth, but they won't be too difficult either."

He leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed over his chest, his tone unhurried.

"Uncle Lucius has two weaknesses right now—his position on the Board of Governors, and the Malfoy Family's cash flow. Regarding the Board of Governors, Grandmother has already made the arrangements; as long as Draco speaks up, the House of Black will fully support him in securing that seat for himself. As for the cash flow—"

He looked at Hermione.

Hermione opened her notebook: "With Star Core's recent order volume, plus the advance payment from that big Ministry of Magic order, Draco's personal dividend share is already equivalent to thirty percent of the Malfoy Family's annual liquid assets. This figure will be even higher by the end of the year." She pushed up her glasses, "And once the overseas licensing is finalized, the licensing fees alone could double."

Polaris nodded and turned to Anthony.

"For the creative side, I've prepared concept plans for several new products. They don't need to be physical prototypes; paper concepts will suffice. Draco can take them when he goes back to prove that he isn't just resting on his laurels, but is capable of exploring new directions."

Anthony gave a thumbs up, his face saying "leave it to me."

Finally, Polaris looked at Cho.

"Cho, help Draco design a renovation plan for Malfoy Manor—a non-magical, purely Alchemy-based defense system. It doesn't need to be too complex, but it must look professional and cutting-edge enough."

Cho didn't ask why. She simply nodded, her fingers gently stroking Amber's back. The little snake squirmed comfortably.

After the tasks were assigned, the four of them came out of the study.

Draco was standing by the window at the end of the corridor, holding that cup of barely touched Black tea, his gaze fixed on the rose bushes in the garden, lost in thought. His silhouette was stretched long in the sunset, the lines of his shoulders tenser than usual—a deliberate, forced posture of standing straight.

Polaris was all too familiar with it.

Because he had the same preparatory movements every time he put on his own mask.

Polaris walked over and stood beside him.

He didn't look at him, his gaze also resting on the rose bushes in the distance.

The two stood side by side in front of the window, neither speaking.

But after standing there for a while, Draco's shoulders slowly relaxed.

"What time are we leaving tomorrow?" he asked.

"After breakfast. Bangbang said he would have the carriage ready in advance." Polaris paused. "Have you contacted Aunt Narcissa?"

"I have." Draco's voice was lighter than before. "She said she would stand on my side."

Polaris nodded.

Narcissa Malfoy, a daughter of the House of Black who had married out, Draco's own mother. She was never the loudest person in Malfoy Manor, but when she took a stance on something, Lucius Malfoy had never truly opposed her.

Draco knew this. Polaris knew it too.

The sunset fell upon the two of them, casting their shadows onto the stone floor of the corridor, one straight, one relaxed.

But they overlapped.

The place they were going tomorrow was, for Draco, home, but also a battlefield.

For Polaris, it was a relative's home, an extension of half the House of Black. He wouldn't overstep his bounds there, but he wouldn't let Draco stand alone either.

Before they each returned to their own rooms, Dracostopped at the door, turned back to look at Polaris, and his lips moved.

In the end, what he said wasn't "thank you," but a very soft "good night."

Polaris nodded.

"Good night, Cousin."

The door closed.

The lights in the corridor dimmed one by one, while the garden lights outside flickered on.

Polaris lay in bed, staring at the star map on the ceiling. Those silver stars moved slowly along their ancient orbits, the north star shining quietly at the very center.

He turned over and closed his eyes.

Tomorrow would be a new beginning.

For him, it was.

For Draco, even more so.

Chapter 89: Transfer of Power

Malfoy Manor was situated among the unremarkable hills of Wiltshire.

When the morning mist had not yet fully dispersed, the iron-grey manor revealed its spires and towers from the fog, like a giant beast crouching on the grass.

Rhys sat in the carriage, looking out through the window.

Dried rose vines clung to the iron fence surrounding the manor, pruned meticulously but devoid of life. The gargoyle guarding the garden was missing an ear, a thin layer of ice had formed on the water in the fountain pool, and a few verdigris-covered Knuts lay at the bottom.

Bangbang drove the carriage to a stop in front of the main entrance.

Rhys and Draco hopped off the carriage one after the other.

The gates of Malfoy Manor stood wide open. Standing at the door were not the usual expressionless House-elves, but Narcissa Malfoy herself—she wore a dark green robe, her silver-blonde hair pinned atop her head with a few stray strands hanging by her ears, and the pearl necklace around her neck glowed with a warm luster in the morning light.

Her eyes were slightly red, but a proper smile hung at the corners of her mouth.

Lucius stood beside her.

His silver-white hair was combed meticulously, his snake-head cane held before him. No emotion could be seen in his grey eyes, but his fingers gripped the cane a bit tighter than usual.

"You've worked hard these past two days. Was the journey alright?" Lucius's voice was as elegant and distant as ever. His gaze swept over Draco's face and lingered for a moment on Rhys.

"How about we have a meal first?"

Narcissa didn't respond, only reaching out to hold Draco's hand, pressing lightly on the back of it with her fingers.

Draco and Rhys exchanged a glance.

In that look was Draco's nervousness, but also Rhys's stability.

"Alright, Father," Draco said.

His voice was half a tone lower than usual, carrying a coldness in his tone that Rhys had never heard before.

Lucius clearly felt it too. His brow twitched slightly, but he quickly regained his elegant and composed expression, turning to lead the way, his snake-head cane tapping a crisp sound on the stone floor.

The dining room was smaller than Rhys had imagined.

The long table only had enough room for six people. The dark walnut surface was polished enough to show reflections, and three slender white candles were set in silver candelabras, their flames appearing somewhat dim in the daylight.

Dobby was responsible for serving the food.

When that House-elf, wearing a filthy pillowcase, came in with a tray, his large ears drooped, his tennis-ball-sized eyes stared at the floor, and his body trembled slightly, as if he sensed something bad was about to happen.

When he placed the soup bowls before everyone, his hands shook so much he nearly spilled it.

The meal was extremely quiet.

The only sounds at the table were the faint clinking of cutlery against porcelain, the scuffing of slippers as Dobbyoccasionally came in to change plates, and the crackling of wood burning in the fireplace.

Lucius tried to start a conversation several times.

First, he asked about the grand opening of Star Core, which Draco dismissed with a simple "it was fine." Then he asked about the progress of classes at Hogwarts, to which Dracoresponded with "as usual." He then asked Rhys about his grandmother's health, and Rhys politely replied, "Very well, thank you for your concern."

Then the entire dining room fell back into silence.

When Dobby served the final dessert, Lucius finally stopped speaking.

Draco wiped his mouth with a napkin. His movements were slow, as if he were deliberately letting everyone see him wipe it three times.

He folded the napkin and placed it on the table, sweeping his gaze around—Lucius had already put down his fork, Narcissa was taking her last sip of tea, and Rhys was also wiping his mouth with his napkin.

"Father."

Draco's voice wasn't loud, but the dining room was already quiet, so every word was crystal clear.

"Let's talk. About the power of the Head of House."

Lucius's fingers paused on the tabletop. Those grey eyes stared fixedly at Draco, as if confirming whether he had heard correctly.

"What?" His voice carried a sense of unbelievable absurdity.

"You are too mediocre."

Draco's voice was flat. So flat it didn't sound like he was talking to his father, but rather stating a fact that had been proven countless times.

"The Malfoys' assets are shrinking. You've been living off the family's past glory. Your influence in the Ministry of Magic and the Board of Governors is diminishing, and your stance is wavering—dining with the Board members today, donating to the Ministry tomorrow, and showing up at a gathering of old Death Eaters the day after."

He paused, his gaze never leaving Lucius's face.

"Malfoy Manor is leaking like a sieve. Father, it's time for you to step down."

Lucius stood up abruptly.

His chair slid back and hit the wall with a dull thud. His face turned bright red, the veins on his forehead throbbing under his skin, and the knuckles of his hand gripping the snake-head cane turned white.

"How dare you?"

His voice was almost a roar.

"Everything I do is to preserve the Malfoys! You dare speak to me like this in front of an outsider!"

"Preserve?" Draco didn't stand up, nor did he even change his sitting position, merely tilting his head slightly.

"Are you referring to your secret work for the Dark Lord—you call that preserving the Malfoys?"

He reached out and gestured toward Rhys.

"Rhys is not an outsider; he is my cousin, and he will always support me. We created Star Core—I am richer than you now."

Lucius's lips began to tremble.

"Heh, even the Malfoys' House-elf has already betrayed you."

Draco's voice turned cold.

"All those things you've done, he's been secretly running off to report them to Potter. You always treat me like a child. Pure-blood? Glory? That's just a decaying empty shell—wake up, Father. What you're doing will only pull the Malfoys into the abyss."

Lucius's face went from red to white. His lips quivered a few times, and his voice dropped low, so low it sounded like gravel squeezed from the depths of his throat.

"How do you know... that I work for the Dark Lord?"

"You were a Death Eater; that information is very simple to find."

Draco finally stood up, both hands braced on the table, leaning forward slightly.

"That Diary—when I sold it back then, you scolded me harshly. I'm not a fool, Father; connecting these pieces of information naturally leads to the answer."

He straightened up, pulled the Star Core brooch from his pocket, and flipped it over in his fingers.

"I experienced the incident with the Philosopher's Stonealong with Rhys and the others. The Dark Lord's soul was possessing Quirrell—others might not be clear on it, but as witnesses, are we not? He wants to make a comeback, and you're helping him?"

"You know better than I do how Rhys's parents sacrificed themselves. To preserve itself, the Malfoy Family won't even care for its own kin?"

Narcissa covered her mouth, her eyes turning red.

Pearl-like tears slid through her fingers, falling onto her dark green robes.

Draco's voice softened slightly, but every word carried more weight.

"He is my cousin and my family. Working for the Dark Lord—you should give up on that idea sooner rather than later. Hand over the power of the Head of House; I will do a much better job than you. The Dark Lord will only receive harsher retaliation, and the glory of the House of Malfoywill be restored in my hands."

Lucius stood there, his whole body shaking.

It wasn't fear. It was the kind of shaking born from a mixture of anger and humiliation.

His mouth opened and closed, closed and opened, like a fish hauled onto the shore.

"Dobby!"

He turned abruptly and roared toward the door.

The door was pushed open a crack.

Dobby slouched in, his pillowcase dragging a trail of dust on the floor. His two large ears were completely drooped against his head, his eyes wider than usual, his pupils reflecting the light from the three white candles in the dining room.

"You don't need to say anything to him."

Draco's gaze swept over Dobby, his tone devoid of any emotion.

"Disloyal servants are no longer wanted by the Malfoys."

Lucius turned his head sharply to look at him, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.

"Father, step down."

Draco pulled a roll of parchment from his pocket, unfurled it, and laid it out on the table.

It was the Malfoy Manor renovation design plan that Cho had spent an entire night drawing. The lines were so precise that the orientation of every single window was noted in small script; runes for defensive Alchemy arrays were densely distributed in every corner of the manor, and there was even an enlarged drawing of the curve in the pebble path in the garden.

"I will make Malfoy Manor impregnable; no one will be able to harm my family."

He looked up at Lucius.

"You can just settle down and be a wealthy man of leisure."

Lucius turned his gaze toward Narcissa.

There was something almost pleading in those grey eyes.

"Narcissa, you?"

Narcissa stood there, the tear stains on her face not yet dry. But she did not take a single step forward, nor did she utter a single word. She simply stood silently and steadily behind Draco.

She placed a hand on her son's shoulder. The pressure wasn't heavy, but Rhys saw Draco's shoulder tremble slightly.

Rhys pulled out the financial data reports Hermione had organized overnight and several new product conceptual plans Anthony had rushed out, placing them all on the table.

Then, like Narcissa, he did not say a single word.

He simply took a step and stood unwaveringly behind Draco.

"You should have an idea of the cash flow in my hands and Star Core's future plans."

Draco tilted his head and looked at Lucius, the corners of his mouth carrying an indiscernible curve that was somewhere between a smile and a cold sneer.

"If you don't step down, then wait for my suppression—at worst, I will rebuild a Malfoy Family upon the ruins."

The dining room was so quiet that the sound of charcoal snapping in the fireplace could be heard.

"The worst outcome is that both sides suffer."

Draco's voice was very light.

"Want to try, Father?"

Lucius stood there, leaning forward like a stone statue weathered for far too long. His fingers slowly loosened from the snake-head cane, then clenched, then loosened again. He looked at Narcissa for a long time, then at Rhys for a long time.

Finally, his gaze fell on Draco's face.

That face, which was a mirror image of his own, now had lines that were harder, colder, and younger than his.

"You will regret this."

Lucius's voice was hoarse, as if muffled by a layer of dust.

"It's you who needs to wake up."

Draco sat back in his chair, leaning against the backrest and crossing his legs.

Rhys had seen that posture countless times. At Board of Governors banquets, at Ministry of Magic meetings, in the corners of front-page newspaper photos—Lucius Malfoyalways sat like this.

But now, this posture belonged to Draco.

Lucius lowered his head.

He removed the ancestral Head of House ring from his ring finger. It was silver, with the House of Malfoy shield crest engraved on the face and the Latin family motto engraved on the inner band.

He clenched the ring in his palm for a long time.

So long that Narcissa's fingers tightened on Draco's shoulder.

So long that Rhys silently counted to twenty in his head.

Then, he tossed it out.

The ring traced a silver arc through the air, landed on the table, bounced twice, rolled a few times, and stopped on the napkin in front of Draco.

Lucius gave Draco one last deep look.

He didn't look at Narcissa, nor did he look at Rhys.

Then he turned and strode out.

The snake-head cane in his hand was no longer a conductor's baton, but more like a cane to keep him from falling. His figure paused at the door, his shoulders heaving slightly, before he disappeared into the shadows of the hallway.

Draco looked down at the ring.

His breathing was light but very unsteady. Rhys noticed that his fingers on the table were trembling slightly—not from fear, but from the kind of physical tremor that occurs instinctively after adrenaline peaks.

He was in no hurry to reach for the ring.

He waited a few seconds until his breathing steadied.

Only then did he reach out, pick up the ring from the napkin, and slide it onto his left ring finger.

The silver face glowed quietly on his pale finger, the Malfoy Family inscription on the crest flashing once in the candlelight before dimming.

He looked up at the shivering Dobby standing by the door.

"Dobby. It's time to settle the score for your betrayal of the Malfoys."

He raised his hand, palm up.

Rhys pulled a pair of thin Dragonhide gloves from his pocket and placed them in Draco's palm.

Rhys had worn many pairs of such gloves during his own alchemy experiments, and Draco had worn many at the Star Core Workshop's workstation. But today, this pair of gloves was new, untouched by the colors of any potions, the pale gold dragonhide glowing with a warm luster in the candlelight.

Draco took the Dragonhide gloves from Rhys and placed them on the table.

"I don't want to hear any unnecessary words."

Draco's voice returned to calmness, his finger tapping lightly on the gloves.

"Take them and get out of Malfoy Manor. From now on, you have nothing more to do with the Malfoys."

Dobby's ears drooped completely, almost touching his shoulders.

"I am merciful enough to spare your life. But if any information regarding Malfoy Manor spreads from you—"

Draco's voice was as light as if he were speaking of a trivial matter.

"I will personally cut off your head and bury it under the rose bushes in the garden. Begone."

Dobby reached out with trembling fingers, picked up the gloves, and clutched them to his chest. Tears welled up in his eyes—those complex tears, suppressed for too long, finally released, yet not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

He had gained his freedom.

In the most humiliating way of his life.

He gave Draco one last look, gave a bow so deep he almost knelt, and then Apparated away, leaving behind only a small, almost invisible cloud of grey smoke in the air.

The dining room was quiet for a long time.

Narcissa's sobbing was very light, but she covered her face with a handkerchief, her shoulders shaking. Rhys walked over, pulled a clean new napkin from the table, and handed it to her; she took it and nodded without looking up.

Draco sat in his chair, staring in the direction where Dobbyhad disappeared.

Motionless.

Rhys walked over, reached out, and gently patted Draco's shoulder. The pressure wasn't heavy, but he kept it there for a while.

"Rhys."

Draco's voice was a bit hoarse.

"Yeah."

"With you here, I'm not afraid of anything."

Rhys's hand paused on Draco's shoulder before pulling back.

"We will keep going forward together; no one will leave."

"Right." Draco finally turned his head to look at him. There was something in his reddened eyes that Rhys had never seen before—not vulnerability, but the kind of relief of having exposed his softest spot without being stabbed.

"No one will leave."

Narcissa put down her handkerchief and stood up.

She walked to Draco's side, leaned down, and kissed his forehead. Her lips were very cool, but the kiss lasted a long time.

She straightened up and looked at Rhys.

There was no polite "thank you for helping my son" in her gaze, but something deeper and heavier that didn't need to be expressed in words—the true reassurance a mother feels when she sees her child standing beside someone he could trust to watch his back.

Her son, from this day forward, was someone who could stand on his own.

Someone capable of supporting a family.

Someone with a brother, a friend, and a backing.

Her son would not be alone.

He would only get better.

Chapter 90: Heartbeat

During the rest of the Christmas holidays, Polaris almost split every second of his time in two.

During the day, he handled orders at the Star Core Workshop, trained new employees, and checked the delivery progress for the large order from the Ministry of Magic. In the evening, he returned to Star-Swirl Manor for remote meetings with Hermione—Hermione had taken whisper one home, and every night she called Polaris's number on time, where they would go through the day's accounts and data line by line over the receiver.

Anthony's creative proposal went through three revisions.

Draco had been incredibly busy since taking over the House of Malfoy's industries, but he would speak a few words with Polaris on whisper one every night, his tone gradually shifting from exhaustion on the first day to confidence over the following ones.

Lucius hadn't spoken a single word to Draco since that day.

Draco didn't mention it. But Polaris noticed that every time the dial tone from Malfoy Manor came through whisper one, his voice would be half a pitch lower than usual—not out of sadness, but a kind of "I have accepted this fact" calm.

Fortunately, Draco immersed himself in the business of Star Core and the House of Malfoy. Coupled with hearing his friends' chatter and banter on whisper one every day, the days weren't too difficult to bear.

On the day they returned to Hogwarts, the atmosphere in the Castle had changed.

It wasn't that the Castle had changed, but the way the students looked at them had.

That front-page issue of The Daily Prophet had been passed around the common rooms countless times. The photo of the five of them smiling at each other in front of the blue flames was posted on almost every house's notice board. In the corridors, younger students were always chasing them to ask, "Can whisper one really transmit that far?" while older students were more concerned with, "Is your shop still hiring?"

The Weasley Twins' joke products took advantage of the momentum and sold in large quantities.

Fred and George were counting money until their hands were sore, but for the first time, a small disagreement arose between the brothers over the two paths of "working at Star Core after graduation" and "opening their own shop."

George advocated for going to Star Core. "The boss's terms are so good; we'd only have to worry about R&D and not anything else. It's so much easier."

Fred felt that working for someone wasn't as good as being the boss. "Why should our joke shop work for someone else?"

Polaris was in the Room of Requirement organizing a new batch of orders for protective goggles when he heard about this. He put down his engraving knife and couldn't help but smile as he watched the twins arguing until their faces were red.

He said, "You don't have to argue—Star Core can open a Joke Shop division."

"Independent storefront, independent brand. Star Core will handle investment, renovation, store management, and logistics. You two will be in charge of R&D, production, and all business decisions. You'll take the lion's share of the profits."

Fred and George fell silent at the same time.

They glanced at each other.

Then they both turned to Polaris simultaneously.

"Boss."

"Are you serious?"

Polaris nodded.

The twins both extended their right hands. Polaris shook Fred's and then George's; their grips were so strong it felt like they were going to crush his bones.

From then on, Fred and George never called Polaris "Black" again. They switched to calling him "Boss," and they said it so crisply and loudly that it sounded more affectionate than how they called their own brother.

Something happened to the students who stayed at school over the holidays.

Justin Finch-Fletchley had been petrified.

Exactly the same as Madam Norris.

When Polaris went to the Hospital Wing to see him, the silver-framed glasses produced by Star Core were hanging around Finch-Fletchley's neck. A student in the next bed told Polaris that Finch-Fletchley had been washing his face in the bathroom when he was found; Polaris guessed that Finch-Fletchley had probably taken off his glasses and seen the Basilisk's eyes in the mirror when he looked up—petrified by the reflection, but not killed.

Rumors about the Chamber of Secrets intensified throughout the school.

Harry's situation became very difficult. Finch-Fletchley was a Muggle-born Wizard, and everyone still remembered the scene at the Dueling Club where he was targeted by the giant snake Harry summoned with Parseltongue. With the two incidents linked, Harry's reputation as the "Heir of Slytherin" was practically confirmed.

The way the students looked at him changed from suspicion to avoidance.

When meeting him in the corridors, some would dodge to the wall to let him pass first, while others would quicken their pace and walk past him without looking up. Ron's complexion grew worse and worse, his dark circles looking like he'd been punched twice, and he had lost a lot of weight, as if he were being hollowed out from the inside.

On the evening of February 13th, Polaris received a package from his aunt.

Unwrapping the brown paper, he found a dark blue velvet box inside. Upon opening it, two silver pinky rings lay quietly on a Black sponge pad, their faces set with crescent-shaped sapphires.

The moon's curvature on the two rings was exactly opposite; when put together, they formed a full moon.

His aunt had attached a note that simply read: "Boys should not forget important holidays."

Polaris packed the rings away and put them in the pocket of the robes he would wear tomorrow.

February 14th, Valentine's Day.

When Polaris came down from Ravenclaw Tower in the morning, Cho was already waiting in the common room. She was leaning against the bookshelf by the window, holding her unfinished copy of "Advanced History of Magic." Amber was coiled on her shoulder, its small head buried in the crook of her neck; one could faintly see that the little snake had a new hat today—it was unclear when Kreacher had sent it, but it was deep purple with a small silver bell at the tip, making a very soft tinkling sound as Cho turned the pages.

"Morning," Polaris said, walking over.

Cho was wearing a light purple robe today, with that eight-pointed star brooch from Star Core pinned to her collar. It was a new one she had changed into this morning, smaller and more delicate than the previous one.

"Morning," Cho said, closing her book.

Amber was startled awake by the sound and poked its head out from her neck; its red eyes looked at Polaris before retreating back.

The two of them walked out of the common room side by side. Anthony was already waiting at the top of the stairs, notebook in hand, muttering incantations for Charms Class. The three of them walked toward the Great Hall together, passing through several corridors; just as they turned into the main hallway leading to the Great Hall, they noticed something was off about Hogwarts today.

The walls were covered in large pink flowers.

They weren't painted but conjured by magic; each one was trembling slightly, as if real flowers had been cast with a Growth Charm.

Heart-shaped confetti kept falling from the ceiling, landing on students' hair, shoulders, and into unfinished cups of pumpkin juice.

At the High Table, the Professors' expressions were dreadfully dark.

Professor McGonagall's lips were pressed into a thin line, her facial muscles twitching slightly as if she were desperately suppressing a burst of rage that could erupt at any moment. Professor Snape's expression looked as if he had been force-fed an entire bottle of Skele-Gro. If described with a spell, his face at this moment was truly a literal "Avada Kedavra."

"What's... going on?" Anthony asked, looking around, completely bewildered.

Draco hurried over from the Slytherin table, still holding an unfinished cup of pumpkin juice, and gestured with his chin toward the High Table. Hermione also walked over from the Gryffindor table clutching her notebook, wearing an expression that said, "I find it hard to describe my feelings right now."

The five of them sat down together at the Ravenclawtable.

Following the direction of Draco's chin—Gilderoy Lockhartwas wearing bright pink robes, his golden curls dusted with shimmering sequins. His smile was so brilliant it looked like someone had installed a searchlight on his face, and he was standing in front of the High Table looking around, as if waiting for all eyes in the room to focus on him.

"Everyone—Happy Valentine's Day!"

Seeing that most people had arrived in the Great Hall, Lockhart spread his arms and announced loudly.

His voice echoed in the Great Hall, and several hundred students fell silent simultaneously for a moment.

"I have already received sixty-four—oh no, sixty-five—another student just stuffed a card into my pocket—thank you all for your love!" He pulled a pink card from his pocket, waved it at everyone, and stuffed it back in.

"To repay everyone's enthusiasm, I have taken it upon myself to prepare a little surprise for you all!"

He clapped his hands.

Twelve surly-faced dwarves filed in through the side door of the Great Hall.

They were wearing golden tutus and exaggerated wings, carrying stacks of pink cards, their expressions uniformly looking like they had just been temporarily brought out for questioning from Azkaban. Lockhart announced triumphantly, "These dwarves will help everyone deliver Valentine's greetings! Just give them your cards, and they will find the person of your choice—and read them out loud in person!"

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands.

Polaris, Cho, and Anthony all looked at their Dean, feeling terrible for him—the small Wizard who was once so spirited in the Charms classroom was now huddled in his chair, shoulders shaking slightly, unsure if he was suppressing laughter or anger.

"I'm certain," Draco leaned in and whispered, "our Head of House is probably concocting some Potion recipe in his head right now that could petrify Lockhart forever."

Snape's face was indeed even gloomier than before.

Cho glanced sideways at Polaris. The meaning in that look was clear—if you dare let those dwarves read some card to me in front of the whole school, you're dead.

Polaris hurriedly shook his head.

The movement was so large that Anthony noticed it and wrote the word "Coward" in his notebook, which Polaris immediately snatched away.

The next classes became a disaster.

Those dwarves had no concept of what "class time" meant. They didn't even bother knocking when they pushed the doors open, barging straight into the classrooms and reading cards in their raspy, grating voices.

"Mr. Polaris Black—there is a card to be read to you—"

"Miss Cho Chang—an anonymous admirer says—"

"Anthony Goldstein—please listen—"

"Hermione Granger—here is your—"

During Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration Class, a dwarf barged in and read a card to a Hufflepuff boy for a full two minutes. Professor McGonagall put down her chalk and took a deep breath, a breath long enough for a first-year to run from one end of the Castle to the other.

AI Model: gemini-3.1-flash-lite

Things were even worse in Potion Class.

Severus Snape's cauldron was brewing a Potion that was extremely sensitive to temperature.

A dwarf pushed the door open and began reading a greeting card in a shrill voice. Severus Snape used a "Silencio" to freeze it in place, but the solution in the cauldron had already turned from clear to cloudy.

He stared at the spoiled brew for three seconds.

Then, he slowly turned around to look in the direction of the dwarf.

That one look caused the temperature of the entire dungeon classroom to plummet by ten degrees.

The worst off was Polaris.

I don't know where things went wrong, but the dwarvesseemed to have made "Ravenclaw's Polaris Black" their primary target for delivery.

One, two, three, five, ten—pink greeting cards flew over like snowflakes.

By the time the break arrived, over twenty had already piled up in front of him.

Another wave arrived during Transfiguration Class.

Another wave arrived during Charms Class.

By dinnertime, Anthony had to use an empty schoolbag to pack all those greeting cards, stuffing it until it was bulging.

"Cousin, I never thought you'd be so popular."

Draco leaned back in his chair with his legs crossed, his tone conveying a sense of realization that said, "I knew it all along, but you only just revealed it today."

"After all, Polaris is a good person; he often helps classmates answer their questions, so it's normal to be liked."

Anthony rested his chin in his hand and began to analyze the situation with a serious expression.

"That's not it at all."

Hermione put down her fork and said, in a tone that suggested "you boys don't understand anything," "It's because Polaris is good-looking. His mixed Eastern and Western features are rated very highly in the girls' circle, okay?"

Draco turned his head to look at Polaris, his lips curling into a teasing arc.

"Cousin, five Galleons for my silence. I guarantee I won't tell Cho that you received a whole bag of love letters."

Polaris rolled his eyes at him, pulled a Galleon from his robe pocket, and placed it on the table.

"Does the head of the House of Malfoy really lack five Galleons? Just throw these letters away; I have no interest in reading them."

"It seems our Chief Alchemist has his heart set on someone and refuses to spare even a spare thought for anyone else."

Draco pocketed the Galleon.

Anthony played along perfectly: "Such deep devotion."

Hermione pushed up her glasses: "This is called being devoted; you guys should learn from it."

The three mischievous friends teased him back and forth, but Polaris ignored them.

His gaze crossed over the crowd to the other end of the Ravenclaw table—Cho was eating lunch with a few girls, Amber poking its head out from her collar, the silver bell glinting in the candlelight.

She sensed Polaris's gaze, looked up and smiled at him, then lowered her head to continue eating.

Polaris touched the ring in his pocket.

It was silver and cool to the touch. The moon-shaped sapphire pressed against his fingerprints.

After dinner ended, Polaris stood up from the Ravenclawtable.

He walked around a few students and went over to Cho.

She had just uncoiled Amber from her shoulder and placed it on the table, and the little snake was lazily slithering into her sleeve.

Polaris reached out.

He took Cho's hand. She didn't ask where they were going, just stood up and followed him.

The two of them passed through the entrance hall, walked up the marble staircase, and exited the Castle through a side door on the first floor.

The February night wind still carried the tail end of winter; it was cold and damp, blowing from the direction of the Black Lake, sweeping Cho's hair onto Polaris's shoulder.

Amber poked its head out from her sleeve, but was forced back in by the cold wind.

They walked along the path leading to the lake for a few minutes and stopped under the old oak tree near the shore.

Moonlight leaked through the gaps in the clouds, shattering on the surface of the Black Lake like someone had scattered a handful of silver stars into the water.

Cho stood in front of Polaris.

The moonlight fell on her brows and eyes, gilding her silhouette with a layer of soft silver.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Polaris looked into her eyes.

Those deep brown, warm eyes that always carried a smile when she looked at him.

He suddenly realized he was nervous—a feeling that was very unfamiliar.

He hadn't been nervous when called out by Severus Snapeon the dueling platform.

He hadn't been nervous when stared at by hundreds of eyes at the Beauxbatons Alchemy Competition.

He hadn't been nervous at the Star Core Workshop launch event.

But at this moment, in the moonlight, in front of a girl half a head shorter than him, his fingers were trembling, his palms were sweating, and his heart was beating as fast as if he had just finished a Quidditch match.

"I... I want to tell you a story." he said.

Cho didn't rush him. She just nodded and leaned half a step closer to him.

"Once upon a time, there was a princess who reached the age to be married, but there was no suitable candidate. The King was anxious, so he held a nationwide search to let the princess choose for herself. The princess met many people—princes, knights, the sons of wealthy merchants—but the princess didn't nod for any of them. Every time she finished meeting someone, the princess would extend her little finger, but no one understood what the gesture meant."

Polaris's voice was very soft in the night wind.

Cho listened quietly.

"Until one day, a ragged beggar walked up to the princess. The princess looked at him and extended her little finger. The beggar said nothing, but also extended his little finger, and the two of them hooked their fingers tightly together."

"The princess told the King, 'It is him.' The King was puzzled, but since it was the princess's only choice, he had to agree. However, while preparing for the wedding, the beggar said, 'The wedding must be postponed'—it turned out he was a prince from a neighboring country whose kingdom had been overthrown by rebels, and he had been fleeing ever since. He said to the King, 'Give me some troops, and I will take back my throne as a dowry for the princess.'"

Polaris paused.

"The princess agreed. She hooked her little finger tightly around the prince's little finger and said, 'I will wait for you to return.'"

"But this wait lasted for many years."

"The prince did not return. The princess locked herself in the highest tower of the Castle, looking day after day in the direction the prince had left, from spring to winter, from winter to spring. In the end, the princess fell ill from longing and passed away in the tower. Before she died, she extended the little finger of her right hand in the direction the prince had left, making a pinky-promise gesture."

Cho covered her mouth.

The moonlight fell on her eyes, and something was glistening.

"And the prince?" her voice was muffled behind her fingers.

"The prince had actually already regained his throne. He rode back as fast as he could, but encountered an ambush by rebels in the deep forest on the outskirts of the Castle. Before he died, the prince fell from his horse, facing the direction of the Castle, extended his own little finger, and made the same gesture."

Polaris reached into his pocket and touched that cool ring.

"The reason the princess chose the prince who had fallen to the status of a beggar—it wasn't because he was handsome, nor because he could regain his throne in the future, it was because she didn't need to say anything; just one gesture, and he understood her. From then on, lovers wearing a pair of pinky rings came to represent—a love that never lets go."

He pulled the dark blue velvet box from his pocket and opened it.

Two silver pinky rings were embedded in the Black sponge cushion. The crescent-shaped sapphires shimmered with a deep blue luster in the moonlight; the arcs of the two rings were perfectly opposite, forming a full moon when put together.

Polaris knelt on one knee.

Cho's breathing hitched.

"I know that you are the one in this world who understands me best." Polaris's voice was a bit tight, but every word was clear.

"You never ask too many questions; as long as it's something I want to do, you help me. You notice my moods, you reach out to pull me up when I need it, you stay up late with me in the workshop, and you stand by my side when I do things without explaining why, without even needing to say a word."

"Miss Cho, I like you. Would you be willing to be my girlfriend?"

Cho watched him kneeling in the moonlight, holding those two small rings in his hand, and a tear that had been pooling in her eyes for a long time finally fell.

She reached out to wipe it away, smiled, and said, "It's not a marriage proposal, why are you kneeling?"

Polaris opened his mouth, wanting to say something to salvage the situation, but found his mind was just a blank mess.

"I... I want to treat you well, I..."

"Then put it on me yourself."

Cho interrupted him and held her right hand out in front of him. Her little finger was slightly raised.

Polaris was stunned for two seconds.

Then he quickly stood up, fumbling to take the ring out of the box. Holding the silver band, his fingers were shaking so much he almost dropped it.

He slid the ring onto Cho's little finger and pushed it to the base.

The silver ring band shone on her slender finger, the sapphire like a small piece of the night sky cut out in the moonlight.

Cho took the other ring from the box, held Polaris's left hand, slid the moon with the opposite arc onto his little finger, and gently pushed it to the base.

The two rings were side by side.

The two moons merged into a full moon.

Cho looked up at him. In her eyes were the undried tears, the moonlight, the reflection of the Black Lake, and him.

Polaris lowered his head.

Gently, he kissed the corner of her mouth.

Then she tilted her head, and their lips met.

Very light.

Very short.

Like the ripple left by the wind brushing over the surface of the lake.

Amber poked its head out from Cho's sleeve, looked, and then retracted its head.

Under the moonlight, under the old oak tree by the Black Lake, the two of them sat side by side, left hand gently holding right hand. The two pinky rings pressed together, the light of the sapphires connecting in the darkness into a small, unextinguishable patch of stars.

Warm yellow light shone from the Castle windows, and one could vaguely hear the laughter still coming from the Great Hall, the clinking of cutlery, and the buzzing of Gilderoy Lockhart holding court in the corridor.

But under this tree, there was only the wind, only the water, and only the moon.

And two hearts beating thump-thump.