These are done in a hurry so translation may not be good
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Chapter 78
Compared to Ron and Harry, who were still free to wander Diagon Alley and chat at leisure, Draco Malfoy's luck was considerably worse.
Ever since the Dementor incident, he had effectively been grounded.
The breach in Gringotts' vault and the Dementor intrusion had been kept from his parents—at least initially. But Cornelius Fudge, whether out of irritation, revenge, or sheer carelessness, had informed Narcissa of everything.
That alone was enough to keep her awake for days.
To make matters worse, Draco's promised letter had never arrived. Between the chaos of that day and his own oversight, the owl had returned empty-handed. Even though Fudge personally assured Narcissa that her son was unharmed, she had still been terrified.
By the time the truth settled in, the holiday was nearly over.
Narcissa made her decision decisively: her precious son would remain at home for the rest of the break. No more wandering Diagon Alley. No more unnecessary risks. School would resume soon enough.
This time, Lucius did not object.
The wizarding world was far from peaceful. Gringotts had barely recovered, and Sirius Black's escape had stirred the entire Ministry into unease. Even if Black's target was someone else, Lucius had no intention of letting his son remain exposed.
Draco accepted the punishment without protest.
The important matters had already been settled. A few days of enforced quiet were tolerable.
He spent the time studying the Vanishing Cabinet he had retrieved from Borgin and Burkes, running small experiments—dropping objects inside, marking them, planning to test the results once he returned to Hogwarts. If it truly was broken, he would repair it himself.
Then came the book list.
When Draco saw The Monster Book of Monsters included in the Headmaster's letter, he immediately understood.
Hagrid had been cleared.
Whether by evidence, persuasion, or sheer Dumbledore influence, the former accusation had quietly vanished. Draco didn't particularly care how it had been done.
For someone like Hagrid, following a good man made him harmless; following a dangerous one would have turned him into a catastrophe. He lacked the judgment to distinguish right from wrong. Loyalty and a kind heart were his only virtues.
Raising an Acromantula in a school forest.
Hatching a dragon illegally.
Introducing Hippogriffs without proper safeguards.
Any normal educator would have been dismissed.
In a Muggle classroom, even when students ignored safety rules, teachers still had contingency plans. Hagrid simply panicked and asked children for help.
Draco sighed.
A thoroughly unenjoyable class.
If Hagrid had any true talent, it was breeding dangerous creatures. Blast-Ended Skrewts alone would later serve as obstacles in the Goblet of Fire. Weaponized properly, they might have been useful against Death Eaters.
Of course, Hagrid would likely sob over parting with his "children."
His thoughts were interrupted by the flap of wings.
An owl landed neatly on his desk.
He realized he hadn't checked his correspondence in days. The manor's house-elf had neatly stored everything—nutritional supplements from worried relatives, polite condolence letters from families who wanted to maintain ties, and items Draco himself had ordered discreetly.
One such item now sat before him.
A pitch-black iron cage.
Forged from unfamiliar magical alloys, its craftsmanship was unmistakably goblin-made. Simply standing near it caused the flow of magic in Draco's body to slow, his movements subtly constrained.
How long will this lease last, I wonder?
Goblin contracts were peculiar. To them, a "loan" ended upon the borrower's death. Wizards, unsurprisingly, disagreed. It was one of many irreconcilable disputes between their races.
At Gringotts, Draco had bribed more than one goblin. Being one of the few human collaborators, isolation was a risk he could not afford. Understanding goblin culture—and exploiting its loopholes—was essential.
If Tab had decided to take payment without delivering results, Draco needed contingencies.
He skimmed the remaining letters, then frowned.
Nothing from Pansy Parkinson.
Usually, she wrote first—suggesting book shopping, strolls, or meetings. Yet this time, there was silence. Ever since the end of last term, she had felt… distant.
Draco exhaled slowly.
I'll write first.
He dipped his quill and began.
He trusted the Ministry's promises even less than goblin contracts. Without firm restraints, Dementors could easily run amok again. That thought alone unsettled him.
Better for Pansy to remain close.
Even an incomplete Guardian Charm was enough to drive Dementors away.
That night, he received her reply.
The words were polite—but cold.
Draco leaned back, rubbing his temple.
This year is going to be troublesome.
And school hadn't even begun yet.