Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor
"Slow down, Ekans!" Draco Malfoy darted through the sprawling gardens of his family estate, searching for the serpentine Pokémon.
Malfoy Manor had stood for over a millennium, though it had undergone numerous renovations over the centuries. Even among all pure-blood wizarding families, it was the most luxurious estate by far.
Generally, it was said that there were no aristocrats among wizards; even pure-blood families didn't qualify as nobility.
But the Malfoys were different.
Draco's ancestor, Armand Malfoy, had served as a wizard to King William I of England. For centuries, the family leveraged royal influence to amass immense wealth in the Muggle world. Only after the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy did they sever ties with Muggles entirely.
Even Voldemort himself had admired the Malfoy estate.
Draco parted a clump of tall grass and soon discovered a dead peacock lying in a pool of blood.
"Another one? Father's going to kill me!" Draco's face twisted with annoyance as he surveyed the corpse.
This was the second peacock killed by his Pokémon since returning home for the holidays yesterday.
Originally, he had simply wanted to show his mother his newly acquired Pokémon, but the mischievous Purrloin had immediately seized the opportunity to dash into the garden, vanishing without a trace.
Both of the dead peacocks had fallen victim to its jaws.
As for Ekans, though it could open its mouth wide and even dislocate its jaw to swallow prey larger than itself, peacocks were a bit too large for it. Normally, it fed on mice or small birds; consuming anything as large as a Pokémon egg was already pushing its limits.
"When term starts, I'll make sure to ask the professor to release you," Draco muttered angrily, staring at the wounds on the dead peacock.
Purrloin had long resented being coerced by underhanded tactics, refusing to show Draco any respect even now. That had tested Draco's patience.
A Pokémon chose its trainer as much as the trainer chose it. Since Purrloin did not acknowledge him, Draco had no intention of forcing the issue.
The problem was, at this rate, all the peacocks at the manor might be killed before term even began.
"Father doesn't know what he's doing; quite a few people came by today," Draco remarked, glancing toward the manor's main hall. Lucius had intended to help him capture Purrloin, but before they could act, a group of visitors arrived.
Draco recognized them — they were some of his father's pure-blood "friends."
Just as he was wondering about the interruption, a sharp pop sounded in his ear, and a hideous, filthy little creature appeared before him.
"Master Malfoy — Dobby has found the Ekans."
Dobby trembled as he stood, humble as a worm. He pointed with gnarled, twig-like fingers, looking apologetic.
"Dobby tried to capture it, but Dobby is no match—"
"Obviously not!" Draco sneered. No one liked house-elves; many pure-bloods even felt disgusted at the sight of them.
A proper house-elf should never appear before its master.
Draco shook him off and strode toward the direction Dobby had indicated.
Once he disappeared from sight, Narcissa emerged from the house, holding Purrloin. She stroked the Pokémon's head, and it nuzzled her hand affectionately. The Purrloin that had ignored Draco seemed quite fond of Narcissa.
"Well done, Dobby. Don't let Draco near the hall.""Yes—"
"Your manor is always so magnificent; no wonder your master is fond of it."
Inside Malfoy Manor's hall, a wizard wrapped in a cloak chuckled lazily. Around him stood several others; some concealed their faces, while a few boldly revealed themselves.
"What brings you here, Avery?" Lucius asked. Though he appeared meek, his status among pure-bloods was actually quite high. He wielded power and wealth surpassing most others.
This was why he had such an influential role in events — even capable of setting traps for Dumbledore, temporarily forcing him from the position of Headmaster.
"I've received word that someone was seen at Platform 7."
"Who?"
"Who else? Of course, Charles Gold! That filthy, lowly Mudblood!" Avery suddenly roared, his face contorted in rage. "That brat dared to trample us beneath his feet! Do you intend to let it slide? Now that he has left Hogwarts, we finally have the chance to eliminate him!"
A self-proclaimed noble pure-blood and one of Voldemort's surviving Death Eaters, Avery's feelings toward Muggles were nothing but contempt.
And a wizard of Muggle descent was naturally considered despicable.
Yet now, such a lowly wizard had defeated them all in dueling — how could Avery stomach this humiliation?
Lucius Malfoy, however, had always been like a grass-blown stalk, and he had no desire to involve himself in this.
Unlike other pure-bloods, Lucius did not genuinely despise Muggle-borns. Everything he did was for the benefit of the Malfoy family.
Whether it was ancestors assisting Muggle kings, severing ties with Muggles, or following Voldemort—
Now, Voldemort had fallen, leaving the powerful Dumbledore and the suddenly rising Charles Gold.
If the goal had only been Dumbledore, Lucius would have participated — after all, honest men deserved to have guns pointed at them. Opposing Dumbledore carried no risk to life.
But Charles Gold was different.
He was someone who did not care about breaking established rules.
You could play chess with him amicably, but try any trickery, and he would likely flip the board without hesitation.
Lucius only sought greater influence, hoping to restore Malfoy greatness — not to risk the lives of his wife and son.
So he refused:
"I do not wish to take part in this. Think carefully — the Malfoy family has no actual conflict with that Mudblood. I had no part in the incidents years ago. He and you are the true enemies," Lucius said.
"You're right, but if we cannot eliminate him, can you imagine what will happen once that Mudblood fully matures?" someone in the crowd said. "Remember, he's only a teenager! I do not want to be oppressed for the next hundred years by a Mudblood."
"That is your concern," Lucius immediately replied.
He truly did not care about having a Mudblood trample over him. After all, the Malfoys were famous for their resilience!
Over the years, how many had stepped on his head?
Whether it was Voldemort, Dumbledore, or Charles Gold, it made no difference to him.
(End of Chapter)