The leisurely weekend passed in the blink of an eye, and Monday morning's breakfast was rather uneventful.
At the Slytherin table, Pansy and Malfoy were chatting and laughing. The girl was probably recounting some of her experiences at school. She looked excited, gesturing animatedly as she spoke.
"All right, it's time to go."
After she finished one part of her story, Malfoy suddenly reminded her that they needed to leave for class, or they would be late.
"Hmm."
Realizing that she had become a little too engrossed in her story, Pansy nodded, though she still seemed somewhat reluctant to leave.
Just as they stood up—
A sudden noise came from behind them.
A junior Gryffindor student suddenly slipped, dropping his teacup. It struck the edge of Malfoy's seat, sending the scalding tea swirling through the air in an irregular arc.
Although the trajectory seemed unpredictable, its landing point was clearly Malfoy.
With a whoosh, the tea splashed across the floor as though it had struck an invisible barrier.
The teacup somehow returned to the younger student's hands.
"Be more careful next time."
Malfoy reached out and caught the student, who was about to fall.
The Gryffindor student broke free as though he had been electrocuted and hurried away.
"That was really careless," Pansy said, watching the boy's retreating figure.
She had been startled just now.
Magic could solve many of the problems that troubled Muggles, but unexpected situations still tested a wizard's ability to react. There had been wizards who died after falling from mid-air because they panicked so badly that they could not even complete an incantation.
Meanwhile, at a corner of the Gryffindor table, Hermione was scrutinizing her two friends.
"What exactly are you two doing?"
The pair had been acting suspiciously. They had been looking in Malfoy's direction even before the younger student fell.
It had been far too obvious.
Ron shrugged. "We didn't do anything."
Harry nodded in agreement.
However, he quickly gave in under Hermione's stern gaze.
"All right, fine..." Ron muttered. "I think he definitely has the Dark Mark on his arm, and I was looking for an opportunity to make him reveal it. If the tea burned him, he would have been forced to expose the mark."
"So what if he has one?"
Hermione's sudden question caught both Ron and Harry off guard. Their expressions froze.
Even Snape possessed the Dark Mark, yet he could still teach them at Hogwarts. Whether Malfoy had one or not seemed almost irrelevant.
"Can you two focus on your O.W.L.s and take them seriously?" Hermione said. Her tone now sounded remarkably similar to Professor McGonagall's, filled with earnestness. "That is what truly matters for your future."
In reality, however, she was the least qualified person to say that.
She had gone to Professor McGonagall to learn about becoming an Animagus—not simply to deepen her understanding of Transfiguration, but because she also had serious doubts about Malfoy's actions and this inexplicable attempt to whitewash him.
These matters were obvious enough that anyone who gave them even a little thought should have noticed them.
The conspiracy surrounding the Goblet of Fire had only been discovered when the plan was already nearing completion, and that had happened because of the mistakes made by others.
Otherwise, Harry would still have been selected by the Goblet of Fire, and everything might have proceeded as though nothing had happened.
If they truly intended to investigate the matter, they needed to understand how serious it was.
They should not resort to childish pranks that would only alert Malfoy to their suspicions.
"Also, Ron, being a Prefect doesn't mean you can order younger students around. If you do something like that again, I'll report you to Professor McGonagall."
Hermione finally issued her warning.
"Actually, you just want to be a Prefect yourself, but you're too embarrassed to admit it," Ron said impatiently, growing irritated by her constant scolding.
"Yes, I do want to be one. So you'd better not give me any more reasons to report you."
Hermione glared at him resentfully.
She took a deep breath, trying to stop her arms from trembling with anger, then turned and walked away.
"How could you talk to her like that, Ron?" Harry frowned, his voice tinged with anger.
Hermione was quickly proven right.
During Herbology that morning, the students were transplanting a special plant whose roots and stems would wither if they came into contact with certain materials. Because of the plant's nature, they had to handle it directly with their skin.
Malfoy made no attempt to conceal his arms. He rolled up his sleeves, exposing them to everyone.
Compared with before, his arms were no longer sickly pale. They appeared considerably stronger.
Of course, there was no Dark Mark on them either.
Hermione ignored Ron and Harry's apologies and quietly transplanted the plant in a corner of the greenhouse.
The afternoon lesson was Moody's Defence Against the Dark Arts class.
This was Malfoy's first encounter with Mad-Eye Moody since returning to Hogwarts.
"Mr. Malfoy, come up and practise."
Moody's azure-blue eye scrutinized him.
To a certain extent, people could judge someone's mood by observing their expression.
Malfoy's face was expressionless, unusually calm.
Moody casually let him off.
However, this was not because he knew Malfoy's true identity and had deliberately gone easy on him.
To maintain absolute secrecy, Dumbledore had preserved the memories of the plan involving Peter Pettigrew and Malfoy during Malfoy's third year in the Pensieve.
The relevant memories had been stored in the Headmaster's office. They could not be accessed unless Dumbledore or Malfoy personally went there.
As far as Moody was concerned, Malfoy was simply someone who had used his father's influence to clear his name.
Nevertheless, Moody understood the importance of Defence Against the Dark Arts to the students. The classroom was not a place to settle personal grudges.
In these extraordinary circumstances, he would certainly have taught Malfoy a lesson under normal conditions.
But in the end, they had chosen to endure it and had not actually taken action.
Of course, even if a fight had broken out, it would have been difficult to say who would ultimately have taught whom a lesson.
The relatively dull Defence Against the Dark Arts class eventually came to an end.
The lesson had once again focused on several basic issues.
After all, it was impossible to conduct practical exercises in every class. Summarizing and reviewing the material were also essential. Simply practising without reflection would not lead to sufficient progress.
"Draco?"
Pansy hurried to Malfoy's seat as soon as class ended.
"Where is everyone?"
She looked at the empty seat in front of her with some frustration and gently kicked the leg of the desk.