The feast ended quickly. The other students seemed unsatisfied, while Draco prepared to return to the Slytherin dormitory to catch up on some sleep. Too much had happened these past few days, leaving him exhausted, especially the day he destroyed a Horcrux—that had been truly heart-pounding.
However, just as he lifted his foot to step out of the Great Hall, a tall, dark shadow blocked his path.
"Mr Draco, in light of some of your activities outside of school, Professor Dumbledore would like to speak with you privately." Looking up, he saw Snape's sallow face. But unlike the tone he used when making things difficult for Gryffindor, Draco even sensed a hint of kindness.
"The Headmaster's Office is on the eighth floor. You can go there yourself later." Snape looked hurried, as if he had other matters to attend to.
"Oh, right." Snape had already turned to leave, but as if suddenly remembering something, he turned his head back and said, "The password is butterbeer, don't forget it." Then he strode out of the Great Hall, heading in an unknown direction.
"What must come will come." Draco felt somewhat powerless.
"Are you okay?" Pansy punched his shoulder; clearly, she had heard the conversation just now.
"Silly girl, what could be wrong with me?" Draco said, rubbing Pansy's hair to comfort her. "He's probably just going to ask a few random questions. Don't worry, the Ministry of Magic has already issued the punishment."
"Alright." Pansy puffed out her cheeks, clearly unsatisfied with this answer. Her intuition told her things were not that simple.
"Go to sleep quickly. Girls really need their sleep, you know." Draco used his trump card.
"Oh, that's right!" Pansy suddenly patted her cheek. "I stayed up so late on Christmas Eve. I need to make up for it by sleeping early tonight." As she spoke, she hurried toward the Slytherin girls' dormitory, and in the process did not forget to look back and say, "If you get criticised, I'll comfort you well tomorrow, so don't worry."
"Why do I get the feeling she's dying for me to get criticised?" Draco touched his chin thoughtfully.
Afterwards, Draco stepped onto the stairs, heading toward the eighth floor. The corridor was empty, with only a stone gargoyle standing to the side, looking quite eye-catching.
Draco slowly arrived in front of the stone gargoyle.
"Butterbeer!" he said. The stone gargoyle jumped aside, and the wall behind it split into two, revealing a spiral staircase that moved. Draco stepped onto it, and as the staircase rotated, he rose higher and higher, finally arriving in front of the door to Dumbledore's office, which had a brass knocker.
"Truly eccentric taste," Draco muttered, looking at the gryphon-shaped brass knocker.
"Knock, knock, knock." Draco knocked gently on the door three times.
"Come in." It was Dumbledore's voice.
"Good evening, Professor," Draco said as he walked into Dumbledore's office.
He carefully examined his surroundings. It was a marvellous room, spacious and stylish. Magically, the room was circular, and the walls were covered with portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoring softly in their frames. There was a huge desk with claw-shaped legs. Upon it stood many delicate silver instruments, spinning and emitting small puffs of smoke. On a perch behind the door sat the phoenix Fawkes.
"My boy, sit down and relax a little," Dumbledore said kindly.
"Headmaster, I am sorry about what happened." Draco did not sit down but bowed to Dumbledore first.
"Oh, I believe it was merely a misunderstanding." Dumbledore waved his hand, his blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses, though it was unclear what he was thinking.
"I called you here today simply to have a chat. I seem to have focused too much on Harry and almost forgotten to care about the most outstanding student in our first year." Dumbledore pressed his fingertips together, a habitual gesture.
"You are too kind, Professor," Draco said modestly, though inwardly he felt a chill. Old man, you'd better pay less attention to me. Your precious Harry is currently preparing to steal the Philosopher's Stone. Of course, none of this showed on his face.
"Hmm…" Dumbledore fell into deep thought, seemingly pondering something.
Dumbledore suddenly stood up and walked to the corner of the room. As he moved, Draco's gaze followed him.
"I think you will find it interesting." Facing the corner, Dumbledore whispered a spell, and the black cloth covering an object suddenly flew away, revealing what lay beneath.
It was a magnificent mirror reaching to the ceiling, with a gorgeous gold frame supported by two clawed feet. At the top was an inscription: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
"Mirror of Erised." Draco quickly concluded.
"Walk up to it and tell me what you see." Dumbledore's voice remained gentle.
"Very well, Professor." Draco agreed.
This was a mirror that allowed a person to see the most intense desire of their heart. Harry had seen his whole family in it; Ron had seen himself as Head Boy holding both the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup. The short distance suddenly felt very long. Draco walked slowly, his mind wandering. Voldemort probably sees himself as an omnipotent god in the mirror. So what is my desire?
No matter how long the road, it always comes to an end.
Draco stood before the mirror. He closed his eyes first, then slowly opened them.
"Heh." Seeing the scene in the mirror, Draco could not help letting out an awkward laugh.
"My boy, what do you see?" Dumbledore's voice drifted over slowly, seemingly carrying a trace of magic that made one want to answer. Draco involuntarily turned his head. Dumbledore's eyes were fixed upon him, sharp and bright.
"I see…" Draco's answer seemed about to slip out, but his eyes suddenly struggled. After a brief moment, his gaze became clear.
"Legilimency?" Just as Draco was about to blurt out the answer, he regained his senses. At the same time, he clenched his fists, anger rising in his chest.
My thoughts are not for anyone to probe. He thought. If you want to see, then look. Draco stilled his mind, decisively closing it with Occlumency, and projected an illusory image instead.
"Cough, cough." Dumbledore suddenly began coughing violently, his silvery beard trembling as the pupils behind his glasses contracted sharply.
"Professor, I don't think using Legilimency on a student is a very good habit." Draco sneered.
"You actually learned Occlumency." Dumbledore looked embarrassed, adjusting his glasses.
"Otherwise,e my secrets would have been laid bare today," Draco replied irritably.
He could understand Dumbledore. The wizarding world could not tolerate the rise of another Dark Lord. It was understandable that Dumbledore wished to prevent it early. But understanding did not mean tolerating it. His memories contained his greatest secret; he could not reveal them.
"You are very similar to someone," Dumbledore said softly. "Even more outstanding than him." After speaking, Dumbledore sank into his chair, suddenly looking older.
"I am different from him. I have love in my heart." Draco left those words coldly and turned to leave. Today's interaction had not been pleasant for either of them.
"What was that scene about?" Dumbledore suddenly asked.
"You can interpret it as a dream of mine."
"He would not do that."
"Who knows? Perhaps the person he hates most is not the Dark Lord—but you!" Leaving the final sentence behind, Draco slammed the door shut with a loud bang that echoed through the corridor. Even Fawkes on his perch began to sing.
The phoenix's song carried magic: it strengthened courage in those with pure hearts and dispelled fear in those with troubled ones.
After the song faded, Dumbledore's mood calmed, though his expression remained complicated. He gazed quietly at the silver instruments on his desk, unsure what he was thinking. Occasionally, a faint, bitter smile appeared on his lips.
"I hope so," he murmured.
The Gryffindor common room was still noisy; students who had stayed at school and those who had returned were recounting what they had seen and heard during Christmas.
"Hermione, you weren't at school, so you don't know. Harry and I saw a magical mirror. That mirror was amazing." Ron said excitedly at the table.
"Yes." Harry nodded. "I even saw my parents in that mirror."
"I saw myself become Head Boy, and I was holding the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup!" Ron described the scene proudly.
"Ron, that's just an illusion," Hermione said.
"I know, but it still looked great, didn't it?" Ron continued rambling.
"People shouldn't live in dreams. Don't rely on dreams and forget about living, right?" Hermione said.
"Dumbledore said that too. I think so as well; it's only an illusion." Harry nodded. "We should face reality. But Ron, my dream may never come true, but yours might if you work hard." Harry encouraged him.
"Let him learn to finish his homework properly first." Hermione seemed to be in a bad mood, got up, and left, heading toward the dormitory.
"Can't she say something nice?" Ron grumbled.
"Actually, I think she has a point," Harry whispered.
"Harry, even you say that." Ron clutched his forehead. "Fine, I know. I'll work hard."
Hermione was about to step out of the common room when a weak voice called her.
"Hermione!"
"Neville? Do you need something?" Hermione turned and saw Neville.
"I heard what you said just now, and I think you're right," Neville spoke slowly.
"What did I say?" Hermione asked, confused.
"The thing in the Great Hall earlier. I know you were talking about Draco." Neville lowered his voice. "I also believe he wouldn't do something like that."
"How do you know? Do you trust him that much?" Hermione asked.
"He helped me."
"You're a pure-blood, though."
"But this pure-blood is barely stronger than an average Muggle." Neville continued. "He helped me find my toad and retrieved my Remembrall. I believe he is absolutely not that kind of person." He paused. "Hermione, you think so too, don't you? Draco is a good person."
"I'll explain it to Harry and the others when I have the chance. I believe in him." Neville raised his fist and then walked out the door.
"A good person?" Hermione murmured. "Am I not even as brave as Neville?" Her heart was filled with complicated emotions—admiration for Neville's courage and regret for her own hesitation.
Back in the dormitory, sitting at the table, Hermione played with the slip of paper under the dim orange light, staring blankly at the lines of handwriting upon it.
It seemed tonight was destined to be a sleepless night.
---
A/N: Advance Chapter Has Been Uploaded. Please Check It Out. It will really help me out and will keep me motivated to continue.
Support: patreon.com/Narrator_San