A moment later, Harry and his friends rushed into the Great Hall. They settled into the Gryffindor table and began to eat breakfast. The Great Hall was peaceful no one mentioned the Dementors again.
That is more like it, Draco thought with satisfaction.
Pansy Parkinson is not a bad girl.
In some ways, she was being a bit foolish, because she always did the thankless job of being the "first to stand out."
Truly shrewd people will only hide behind her and watch the show, fanning the flames and giving her a push from behind the scenes.
She was just like him before. For the vanity of being the centre of attention, she was willing to be instigated by those around her to be the "trailblazer," to lead the way in wantonly mocking others, and to regard hurting others as a matter of course.
She was not unaware that such ridicule and gossip would cause pain. She knew it perfectly well.
She refuses to be the subject of gossip herself, does she not?
However, she is numb to the pain of others.
She does not truly care as long as the pain does not affect her personally. She does not understand the true meaning of pain.
Just like Draco only after learning what the Thestrals look like did he realise that death is not a joke.
By then, it will be too late to regret.
The dead cannot be brought back to life; once the damage accumulates to a certain extent, many things cannot be undone.
In this life, he does not have to fall into the same puddle twice, and it is best if he does not have any more reckless friends, Draco thought inscrutably.
After Pansy was abruptly stopped by Draco, the Slytherin table fell silent.
Pansy Parkinson's tantrums, capriciousness, and lack of tact were notorious within Slytherin.
She never cared what others thought. In her life and work, she only cared about her own feelings.
One second she can be incredibly affectionate with you, and the next she can turn on you in an instant. She can smile sweetly and say all the nice things to people, or she can put down anyone she does not like and do everything she can to be sarcastic and mocking.
There are few people she takes seriously. She is backed by a large pure-blood wizarding family, which once produced a Minister for Magic. The family's connections and influence are intricate and complex, making them not to be trifled with.
Whilst the Slytherin students might grumble about her arrogant personality behind her back, they were outwardly very polite to her. Few wanted to directly provoke such a gossipy, sarcastic, and dreadful girl who often flew into a rage without warning.
Draco Malfoy defeated her with just a few whispered words who would dare underestimate him?
Under such pressure, naturally no one dared to bring up the topic of Dementors anymore.
It was a day that could be considered relatively calm.
Draco took a sip of hot coffee, somewhat dazed, sighed forlornly, and strolled out of the Great Hall.
His eyes had slightly bluish rims, a sign of poor sleep.
He was always haunted by nightmares from his past life. They were like maggots clinging to his bones, following him everywhere in his dreams, and he had to undergo many mind-numbing procedures just to get a decent night's sleep.
Yesterday, the Dementors' attack had further activated those nightmares keeping him awake all night.
He regretted it somewhat; he should have taken the opportunity yesterday to ask Madam Pomfrey for a dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion.
But Hermione was right next to him, listening intently, and he did not want her to hear it; otherwise, she would have given him that probing look and demanded he "confess" and tell her why he could not sleep.
This wilful girl what right does she have to ask him to be honest? He is still bothered by her own secrets, trying to hide something from him.
At a quarter to nine in the morning, he was sitting in the Arithmancy classroom, about to open Divination and Symbols to flick through it, when he suddenly saw Hermione rush into the classroom, panting.
He raised an eyebrow in surprise and gestured for her to sit in the seat to his right. "I thought you were going to your Divination class. This morning, I saw you follow Harry and Ron towards the North Tower."
"Seriously, Draco, are you sure you are not mistaken?" Hermione deftly placed the several thick books she was carrying on the desk, pulled her quill and timetable from her bag, and gave him a mysterious smile. "How can someone possibly take two classes at the same time?"
Draco looked suspiciously at her stack of books, the top one titled Mortal Philosophy: Why Muggles Don't Like to Ask Questions. He had reason to suspect it was a book within the scope of a Muggle Studies course.
"I am really rather interested in your schedule." He remembered that she had taken Divination classes in her previous year and had a falling out with Professor Trelawney.
Why is this year different? His gaze fell on the timetable, and he prepared to pick it up and take a look.
Hermione moved swiftly, slapping his outstretched hand and saying warily, "Do not touch it."
"So fierce?" Draco pouted at her, withdrew his hand, and gave up.
It is best not to provoke her, lest you drive this study partner away. He was really unwilling to work with those other dim students to complete the massive calculations in Arithmancy.
At Hogwarts, very few students chose to take Arithmancy; most students were more interested in the dubious crystal ball.
From a practical standpoint, Professor Trelawney, who taught Divination, did not mind students making up some prophecies of impending doom and was willing to generously award an "O" to those who were desperately cursing themselves; this was considerably easier than the precise calculations required by Professor Vector.
Therefore, Draco was not the only one curious about why others did not take Divination class; Hermione had the same question.
"Why did you not choose Divination?" she asked Draco before the professor arrived.
Having already taken the course, or being quite wary of Professor Trelawney, are not reasons that can be openly stated.
Draco had no choice but to find another way.
"Oh, I simply find Arithmancy more interesting. It is a discipline built on a set of rules and rigorous mathematical calculations."
He yawned to cover his dishonesty, saying it without thinking. "I think it is more rigorous than disciplines that interpret vague images like crystal balls, tea leaves, or palm lines."
Hermione was quite satisfied with his answer.
"I agree Divination class is rubbish compared to Arithmancy," she said firmly, as if recalling some unpleasant past experience.
Professor McGonagall, who taught them Transfiguration, shared Hermione's views.
In her lessons on Animagi, she scoffed at Divination, claiming that it was "the least rigorous subject."
"Professor Trelawney predicted that Harry would die," Hermione whispered to Draco as Professor McGonagall grumbled on.
Draco was not surprised.
That is how it was in Divination class last time; the prophecy about Harry caused quite a stir.
But — "How did you know?" Draco asked, puzzled.
She had walked with him from Arithmancy to Transfiguration, and no one had talked about these rumours in between. When did these things reach her ears?
Hermione simply smiled without answering, continuing to listen animatedly as Professor McGonagall ranted about how Divination was "unreliable, too casual, and illogical."
Behind them, Ron was muttering things like "ominous sign, bad luck, harbinger of death." Harry, on the other hand, seemed rather downcast.
The third-year timetable was much fuller than last year, which indirectly led to students wolfing down their lunches. Draco sat at the table, feeling somewhat drowsy. He glanced at his timetable and was annoyed to find that he had Care of Magical Creatures in the afternoon.
How could he forget Buckbeak? A nightmare was about to unfold — Draco thought dejectedly.
Trying to maintain his composure, he controlled his emotions, quickly finished a large piece of steak, and drank a large cup of coffee.
Without warning, he spotted Hermione across two long tables. She was saying something sharp to Ron before angrily grabbing her bag and heading out of the castle.
What is going on now? Who has offended her?
Draco's gaze followed her every step until she reached the entrance of the Great Hall before he snapped out of his daze.
He had no intention of lingering there, so he grabbed a green apple haphazardly, stuffed it into his pocket, hurriedly got up, and strode quickly down the aisle towards the Great Hall entrance.
More than the terrible lessons that are about to begin, there is an even more intriguing question Hermione Granger's mysterious class schedule.
What exactly had she talked about with Professor McGonagall that day? What secrets were they trying to hide? The more she refused to tell him, the more curious he became.
This made him want to follow her and find out what was going on.
That is right that is exactly it! He caught up with her just to see what was wrong with her. Draco believed his reasoning was impeccable.