Draco's mind worked at remarkable speed.
Lucius's cool question still hung in the air.
"What did you mean by that… phrase?"
For the briefest moment, Draco considered the consequences of honesty and wisely abandoned the notion.
He lowered his gaze slightly, arranging his expression into something appropriately respectful.
"It was merely a term of endearment, Father," he said in a measured tone. "A… rather informal way of expressing gratitude. I meant no disrespect."
Lucius's eyes narrowed faintly.
Narcissa, however, relaxed at once. "Draco has always had a fondness for unusual expressions," she said gently. "He meant it kindly."
Draco inclined his head. "Of course."
Lucius studied him for another second before giving a small, dismissive nod.
"Very well. See that your informality does not extend beyond this table."
"Yes, Father."
The tension dissolved, though only slightly.
Lucius resumed his wine, the deep crimson catching the candlelight. After a moment, his expression shifted—less paternal, more political.
"Dumbledore remains the greatest obstacle to proper reform at Hogwarts," he said coolly. "His leadership encourages an erosion of standards. Tradition is treated as prejudice. Discipline as intolerance."
Narcissa's brows drew together delicately. "You believe he may obstruct future influence?"
"He already does," Lucius replied. "His alliances extend throughout the Ministry. His former students occupy positions of influence. He cultivates loyalty with alarming efficiency."
Draco listened without interruption.
This, he knew, was the true conversation.
Not schooling.
Power.
Lucius continued, voice low and deliberate. "Direct opposition would be… unwise. Dumbledore's reputation alone is armour. But foundations can be weakened. Influence can be diluted. Governance can be questioned."
Narcissa regarded him thoughtfully. "And Hogwarts?"
"Hogwarts is the seedbed," Lucius said. "Control the direction of education, and you shape the next generation of leadership."
Draco kept his face neutral.
He understood both the ambition and the flaw.
Dumbledore was not merely a headmaster. He was a symbol. And symbols were rarely toppled by impatience.
Still, Draco did not speak. It was neither his place nor his advantage.
Instead, he considered something else entirely: strength.
True strength was not loud. It was not posturing over dinner.
It was preparation.
If he wished to ensure the safety of the Malfoy name—regardless of what storms might come—he would need power of his own.
Lucius's gaze shifted back to him.
"You will observe at Hogwarts," he said. "You will note who is worth knowing and who is not. You will remember that your surname carries weight."
"I will," Draco replied calmly.
"And your studies," Lucius added, voice cooling again. "They must be exemplary. Mediocrity is unacceptable."
Draco allowed himself the faintest hint of pride.
"You have nothing to fear on that front."
Lucius's mouth twitched, almost approvingly.
"We shall see."
The meal drew gradually toward its end, the earlier intensity giving way to quieter conversation.
At last, Lucius set down his glass.
"You will rise early tomorrow," he said. "We will go to Diagon Alley."
Draco's composure nearly fractured.
Diagon Alley.
Not a memory from cinema screens. Not a distant concept. The real place—cobbled streets alive with magic, shop windows glittering with enchanted wares, owls swooping overhead, robes brushing past in every direction.
"Your wand," Lucius continued, "must be chosen properly. Robes tailored. Texts purchased. A cauldron of acceptable quality—not schoolyard rubbish. An owl, naturally."
Narcissa smiled faintly. "It will be quite the day."
Draco inclined his head, though his pulse quickened.
"Yes, Father."
Excitement was dangerous when displayed too freely, so he restrained it. But internally, anticipation surged.
A wand.
The instrument that would define his magic.
The first true step into the wider wizarding world.
Outside, the Wiltshire night deepened, settling over the Manor in dignified silence. The candles burned lower; the silverware was cleared by silent house-elves.
Draco rose when his parents did, offering the proper courtesies before retiring to his chambers.
Tomorrow, he would step beyond the gates of Malfoy Manor not as a sheltered heir, but as a future Hogwarts student.
And this time, he would be ready.
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