"Mr. Malfoy."
"I'm very sorry to disturb you."
"Dobby is a kind house-elf. He's helped me a lot. If possible, I'm willing to pay any price to buy Dobby's freedom from you."
Outside the Headmaster's office, Harry stopped the furious Lucius Malfoy. His young face full of sincerity.
"Are you joking?"
Lucius Malfoy looked down at Harry, then at the timid house-elf Dobby beside him.
His gray eyes filled with disbelief. As if watching a huge joke.
For ordinary wizarding families, house-elves might just be servants. But for pure-blood nobles, house-elves were more like stewards.
Loyal, hardworking, without complaint.
So pure-blood nobles entrusted many matters to house-elves. Including secrets unknown to others.
Releasing such a steward would be like handing someone else a knife to stab yourself.
Because house-elves' nature was to spend their lives seeking work and giving everything to it.
He'd have to be insane to release Dobby!
To be more extreme—it was like someone flirting with his wife Narcissa in front of Lucius, telling him Narcissa had come to him many times at midnight, and he wanted to buy Narcissa.
If Harry said this to another pure-blood noble, it would be an insulting declaration of war. Lucius Malfoy could even kill him on the spot.
"Mr. Potter..."
Looking at Harry's somewhat naive face, Lucius Malfoy took a deep breath. Forcibly suppressed his anger. His tone was cold and distant.
"If one day you can take my life, forget Dobby—you could even redeem Draco."
With that, he walked past Harry toward the stairs. His glance at Dobby full of bone-chilling coldness.
"Dobby!"
"The Malfoy family grants you freedom."
Just then, Draco Malfoy's voice suddenly rang from below the stairs. His calm tone carried no emotion, yet seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.
Lucius Malfoy looked at his son in shock.
Draco slowly climbed the stairs, holding white gloves. He casually tossed them into Dobby's arms.
His gray eyes lowered slightly. As if looking at the world's most disgusting trash. Full of disgust.
Seeing Malfoy so different from usual, Harry's heart tightened. As if something had struck him hard.
However, Dobby didn't notice. It held the white gloves. Eyes full of disbelief.
"Young master... gave Dobby gloves..."
Not until it looked back at Harry and received confirmation did its bulb-like eyes fill with tears.
"Dobby... is free..."
"Dobby is free!"
The shrill cheer rose from low to high. The house-elf's characteristic hysteria gradually showing.
Dobby trembled as it grabbed Harry's sleeve. As if this was its only support in life. Its bright eyes filled with reverence and gratitude toward Harry.
"The great Savior, let Dobby gain..."
"BANG!"
Deafening gunfire.
Like thunder exploding.
Warm blood splattered on Harry's cheek like drizzle. Carrying heart-stopping viscosity.
Harry instinctively stepped back. His pupils contracted sharply. The color drained from his face instantly.
The shrill cheer stopped abruptly. As if an invisible hand had gripped its throat.
"Freedom..."
Dobby touched the bloody hole in its chest. Its once-bright eyes gradually lost their luster.
"BANG!"
Another gunshot.
Dobby's body fell heavily to the ground. Dark red blood seeped into the floor from its forehead...
"Malfoy!"
"You bastard!"
"Are you insane!"
Harry glared at Draco. His eyes mixed shock and fury. Every hair stood on end. Every inch of skin trembled violently from extreme anger.
"It had the right to choose freedom. But the Malfoy family also has the right to eliminate traitors."
The smell of gunpowder was pungent.
Draco blew on the gun barrel. Tilted his head toward Harry. His cold eyes smiled mockingly.
"Potter, you've crossed the line..."
Harry could be naive and ignorant.
But Draco couldn't be senseless.
He was the Malfoy family heir. Carrying the family's honor and future hope.
When his father was insulted, someone had to pay the price for this humiliation...
Lucius stared at his son in a daze.
That dazzling platinum hair was so familiar, yet so strange.
Like a sapling planted yesterday suddenly becoming a towering tree today.
Shock, loss...
Confusion, relief, pride...
All kinds of feelings surged through his heart. Finally becoming an indescribable warmth filling his chest.
His hand gripping the snake-headed cane trembled slightly.
His serious, cold lips began unconsciously curving upward. Somehow, he couldn't suppress it...
My son...
He is my son!
Hearing the uncontrollable wild laughter outside the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore's smile finally faded somewhat. Becoming full helplessness and sighs.
"Listen to me, Tiger."
"Hogwarts shouldn't have firearms."
"Do you prefer mortars?" Tiger raised an eyebrow slightly. His tone carrying a hint of provocation.
This old thing was slippery.
Since they'd met, he couldn't let him go.
"..."
Seeing this, the Weasleys sitting nearby fell into strange silence.
Honestly, they'd never seen anyone dare speak to Dumbledore this way. Not even pure-blood nobles.
"Perhaps I should ask Professor Sprout to talk with Polly. They haven't seen each other in years." Dumbledore was unexpectedly calm.
"..."
Seeing the faint smile behind his glasses, Tiger nearly laughed in anger. He spat impatiently.
"Talk. What is it?"
"Don't waste time. You know I can't control myself here anytime."
The Philosopher's Stone's attraction remained strong.
Fortunately, Tiger's resistance to it was gradually improving. He wouldn't lose control as quickly as before.
"You're doing very well, Tiger."
"I think you'll be able to take it away soon."
Dumbledore nodded slightly. His deep eyes held a trace of relief. He continued.
"About that diary."
"How much do you know about it?"
Tiger hated the roundabout ways of wise men most. He frowned irritably. His tone unfriendly.
"That bitch face was already eaten by Venom. All I know is it tasted good. If you can find more of these things, tell me."
"I can take out the Ministry for you..."
"Alright, Tiger!"
Dumbledore raised his hand. Interrupted Tiger. His face darkened slightly.
This guy's unconventional thinking always overturned his carefully laid chessboard. Catching him off guard.
The aged White Wizard felt inexplicably tired.
This tiredness was an emotion he'd never felt even facing Voldemort.
"Fine, Tiger."
"Let's change to a lighter topic."
Dumbledore shook his head helplessly. Pulled out a pink envelope.
As that familiar, pungent perfume smell drifted over, Tiger's expression changed. His fists clenched involuntarily.
"It's about Lockhart."
"He begs..."
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