Harry had originally planned to make up some excuse, but then he suddenly thought of the missing Cassandra.
He crossed his arms and looked down at Draco.
"Of course I care about her. In fact — she's my friend."
"So the notebook you're holding… it also…"
Draco pointed at the notebook in Harry's hand in shock. In his mind, he had already imagined an entire dramatic scene of their ancestor's soul teaching Harry.
Could it be… that Potter's strength was the result of their ancestor's guidance?!
NO!
He screamed internally.
She's my ancestor! Why would she teach Potter?!
"Oh, this is just an ordinary notebook. It's different from your 'Melope' one," Harry said casually, flipping through the pages. "But if that brain of yours — which isn't much smarter than a troll's — hasn't been completely clouded by her beauty, you should have realized long ago what an evil creature she really was."
"Evil?" Draco instinctively wanted to argue, but he faltered.
He also found Harry's tone strangely familiar. Doesn't Professor Snape usually speak like this when he's being sarcastic?
"You Slytherins must be half-asleep all day. That's why the professors keep taking so many points from you," Harry said lazily. "That notebook is a very dark magical artifact. It devours other people's life force to strengthen itself. Believe me, while the Malfoy family's morals may be… flexible, they're not that low."
"A dark… dark magical artifact?" Draco's face filled with shock.
The Malfoy family vault did indeed contain some dark magical objects. As the heir, he had occasionally accompanied his father there. Every time, his father had sternly warned him never — under any circumstances — to touch those dark artifacts.
"What else could it be?" Harry scoffed. "Those Slytherin students had their life force drained by that so-called 'Melope.' At the beginning, didn't you also feel constantly sleepy and weak?"
He added, "Though to her credit, she wasn't completely without a bottom line. At least she returned some of your life force as compensation."
"Miss Melope really does care about me," Draco said, his eyes growing misty.
Seeing how thoroughly bewitched the boy was, Harry felt a surge of frustrated disappointment.
Thinking back on his time a hundred years ago, although Cassandra had a sharp tongue, she had always treated him well in every way that mattered.
Comparing Cassandra to the boy standing before him now, Harry genuinely felt that Draco didn't deserve to be her descendant.
Merlin's beard, how did the Malfoy family end up like this?
Harry pointed his wand at Draco.
"Aguamenti!"
A powerful jet of ice-cold water burst from the tip of his wand like a high-pressure hose, nearly slamming Draco into the wall.
The shock of the cold water helped Draco regain some clarity.
"You should use that brain of yours for once — or better yet, go home and ask your father," Harry said coldly.
"So… you're not lying to me?"
Draco's sharp intellect finally reasserted itself.
"I already told you — Cassandra is my good friend." At this point, Harry's mischievous side emerged. He dried Draco off with a quick spell, then poked the boy's cheek with his wand. "Kid, by seniority, I'm practically your ancestor."
"You're insulting the Malfoy family!" Draco looked up in righteous indignation. "I'm going to tell my father!"
"Oh, even your father would be my grandson's generation," Harry said, tapping Draco lightly on the head with his wand. As the boy crouched down protectively, Harry continued, "Think about it. Didn't your father ever tell you who your great-grandaunt helped suppress the goblin rebellion with?"
"Harry… Potter…" Draco repeated automatically. Then, suddenly, realization dawned on him.
He pointed a trembling finger at Harry and stammered, "H-Harry Potter? You mean you're the…"
"Otherwise, how do you think I defeated Miss Farley so easily? Or Professor Quirrell?"
Harry's mischievous streak grew stronger.
He remembered Ron once saying that the Malfoy family had been staunch Death Eaters who followed Voldemort.
"Or perhaps… the Voldemort who was stuck to the back of Quirrell's head?"
"How dare you… how dare you say that name!" Draco said in terror, yet he was growing calmer by the second.
Yes…
How could an ordinary first-year student accomplish all of this?
Even if the Dark Lord had returned, or even if it were Merlin himself, it would be impossible for someone this young to possess such magical prowess.
Could it be… that he really was…?
Draco looked up and met Harry's calm, amused gaze.
"I-It really is you?" Draco's mind finally connected all the dots. "Merlin's beard… M-Mr. Potter, it's an honor… a great honor…"
If he had been defeated by an ordinary first-year — even the Boy Who Lived — Draco would have been furious and unwilling to accept it.
But if that person was a legendary wizard from a hundred years ago… then Draco had absolutely no complaints. In fact, he felt rather proud.
I fought against a legendary wizard from a century ago — 3:0! Can you say the same?
In that moment, Draco began hypnotizing himself into believing it.
Even if this Potter was lying, he *had* to be the Potter from a hundred years ago!
Harry simply smiled and said nothing.
"There is still a curse — or rather, a mark — left on you by Miss Melope," Harry told him. "When you get home, ask your father what that thing on your left arm really is."
Draco's heart jumped. He quickly rolled up his sleeve. Just as Harry had said, there was a sinister black mark on his left forearm: a skull with a large serpent emerging from its mouth like a tongue.
"W-what is this?!" Draco asked in horror.
Harry, of course, didn't know. Such a mark hadn't existed a hundred years ago.
He simply raised a finger to his lips.
"Shh. I don't recommend showing this mark to anyone else. Ask your father when you get home."
"Oh… alright…" Draco nodded in a daze.
"Also, the so-called 'power Miss Melope gave you' is nothing more than a temporary enhancement that drains your life force," Harry warned again. "Once the spell wears off in a few days, you'll be extremely weak for at least a month."
"Thank you for the warning," Draco said, nodding.
"Alright, I've said everything I needed to. You should head back now," Harry told him. "Once you ask your father about the mark on your arm, I suspect he'll invite me to visit. At that time, I'll have some matters to discuss with him as well."
With that, Harry turned and left the abandoned classroom.
If Pabi hadn't reminded him yesterday, he wouldn't have wanted to get involved with the Malfoy family at all.
But basilisk fangs were extremely rare magical materials, and the Malfoys likely had the connections to obtain them…
Combined with the new information about Cassandra, Harry felt it was necessary to have a proper conversation with Lucius.
But that was a matter for the holidays. For now, he would enjoy the relief of exams finally being over.
A week later, the exam results were finally released.
Seeing the row of straight "O"s on Harry's report card, Hermione silently vowed to study even harder next year so she could achieve the same.
Ron's results were also quite good. Aside from a "T" in Potions, the rest of his grades were either "E"s or "O"s.
His mother was very satisfied with his performance. After all, one couldn't expect the Potions professor — who had a long-standing grudge against the Weasley family — to give them anything higher than an "E." The Weasleys had never been particularly strong in Potions anyway.
Except for Bill and Percy, no one in the family had ever received higher than an "E" from Snape.
It wasn't that Snape was unfairly biased against Gryffindor. When it came to grading, he was actually quite fair — he was simply extremely strict.
Even Hermione understood this, because Potions was indeed a precise science. A tiny mistake could turn a perfect antidote into a deadly poison.
Trust me, no one wants to take that risk. Every point lost in Potions is one less disaster you'll suffer in the future…
Before leaving school, Harry visited the Map Chamber one last time to say goodbye to Vivi.
Professor Lockewood reluctantly left with Headmaster Fitzgerald, leaving the chamber to the two young people.
"I'm going home, Vivi," Harry said. "During the holidays, I plan to retrieve the materials from your vault first, then search for a basilisk fang."
"Our vault," Vivi corrected him.
"Is there a difference?" Harry scratched his head. "Didn't you put everything in there? I remember you mentioning there was also a bit of gold?"
"It's not the same, Harry." Virathea crossed her arms. "The vault was opened in both our names. No one else can open it except the two of us… unless it's our future…"
She suddenly stopped speaking, a suspicious blush appearing on her face.
"Our future what?" Harry asked, not understanding.
"Nothing… It's nothing," Virathea said softly.
"Oh, right," Harry suddenly remembered. "There's a Malfoy descendant in our year. I got some information about Cassandra from him."
"Cassandra?" Virathea's expression sharpened. "What kind of information?"
"According to the Malfoys, it seems that during her seventh year, Cassandra stole a precious family heirloom and then disappeared."
"I see," Vivi murmured.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked curiously.
"No wonder she wrote me that letter," Vivi said, covering her mouth with a soft laugh. "She was afraid I would travel through time first and find you. It looks like she had the same plan — to use her family's heirloom to travel through time and come find you a hundred years later."
"That… that can't be right," Harry said in disbelief. "She clearly said in her letter that she would never follow you in such nonsense. Why would she…"
"Harry." Vivi's gaze softened. "You've been blinded by appearances. Trust me — she definitely used time magic. She may be trapped somewhere in time, just like I was, waiting for you to rescue her…"
When it came to understanding Cassandra, Virathea would claim to be second best — and no one would dare claim first.
She had long figured out the proud girl's personality. Sometimes, you had to listen to the opposite of what Cassandra said.
For example, Cassandra had once told Vivi that she hated Harry because he was lazy and arrogant…
Yet at that very moment, Vivi had caught a trace of unmistakable tenderness in Cassandra's eyes.
From the moment she met Cassandra, Virathea had known that although the girl and Harry seemed constantly at odds, Cassandra was actually her greatest romantic rival in life.
Just now, she had been given the perfect opportunity. If she had told Harry that Cassandra had never researched time magic, he — who usually listened to her — would have believed her and given up searching for Cassandra.
But she couldn't do it. She hadn't even considered it.
Even if it meant she might lose, she refused to leave Cassandra trapped somewhere — frozen in time like she herself had been, her body stuck in a Slytherin study while her soul lingered in a portrait, enduring a century of unbearable loneliness.
Yes, she had lied to Harry. She didn't want him to feel guilty.
However…
She had no intention of telling him how to win Cassandra over. After all, she already had some disadvantages — she couldn't afford to lose her greatest edge.
"Really?" Harry asked, still skeptical.
"Harry, even if there's the slightest chance, you shouldn't give up," Vivi said, almost sighing. "Cassandra is your good friend. Perhaps you haven't realized it yet, but in all of Hogwarts, the person who has been best to you isn't me, nor is it Ominis, nor Sebastian — it's Cassandra. Cassandra Malfoy!"
"Do you remember that Flint boy? The one who insulted you," Vivi asked.
Just hearing the name made Harry feel disgusted.
"Of course I remember. If it hadn't been for Professor Weasley, I might have been bullied by him — just like how Draco Malfoy used to bully Neville."
"Professor Weasley?" Vivi chuckled, covering her mouth. "Harry, you're so adorable."
"Huh?" Harry scratched his head in confusion.
"The Flint family was one of the most prominent in Britain at the time," Vivi explained. "Although Professor Weasley was the Deputy Headmistress, you know what the school atmosphere was like back then. She had no real power to force the Flint family to discipline their children."
"It was Cassandra. Although she didn't step forward to help you directly and only watched from afar, she wrote a letter to her father that very afternoon. That night, Septimus Malfoy convened an emergency board meeting and put pressure on the Flint family. Otherwise, why do you think every Slytherin afterward avoided you like the plague?"
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