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HRHL# Chapter 55: No One Understands Malfoy Better Than Me
🕑 Added 2025-01-01 01:47:03 +0000 UTC"That might have to wait," Harry said.
The twins exchanged a glance and asked in unison, "Why?"
"Well, the first time, you could claim it was unintentional. But if you do it again, it would look like you're deliberately pranking a professor," Harry shrugged.
"You're right," the twins said with a chuckle. "Anyway, there are no classes today. Want to join us for a snowball fight?"
"No, I’ve got something to do," Harry declined.
As he was about to head to the Great Hall, Harry looked up and saw Hagrid dragging a massive fir tree inside.
At Hogwarts, the only person capable of moving such a huge tree with sheer muscle was Hagrid.
"Need a hand, Hagrid?" Harry called out.
Hagrid's shaggy head popped out from behind the tree, a warm smile on his face. "Thanks, Harry, but I’ve got it. You go on to the Great Hall."
Not arguing, Harry turned and continued on his way.
Unfortunately, Professor Sprout hadn’t returned the biting cabbage to him. After all, it had been the culprit that had chomped down on the back of Professor Quirrell's head.
"Hey, mate," Ron greeted, already up and about. "Do you know where that biting cabbage ended up? Neville’s going crazy looking for it."
"Professor Sprout confiscated it," Harry replied. "I accidentally tripped while carrying it, and it flew out and bit Professor Quirrell on the back of the head."
Ron leaned back dramatically, his eyes wide.
After a moment, he managed to croak, "That’s… actually kind of cool. I thought that cabbage was just ornamental, but turns out it’s for biting professors."
As the holidays approached, the students’ minds were wandering.
Those who would usually pretend to study in the Great Hall had given up the act, instead happily chatting about their plans for the break.
After lunch, Harry remembered his appointment with Miss Fawley and left the Great Hall.
"This is so frustrating," Hermione muttered, ruffling her hair in annoyance. She’d hoped to squeeze in some study time in the hall.
Looking up, she saw Ron playing wizard chess with Neville.
"Look at you. All you ever do is play wizard chess. It’s pathetic!" Hermione began scolding him.
Ron puffed out his cheeks indignantly. "What else am I supposed to do? It’s the holidays! Besides, aren’t you going home? Why are you still here at Hogwarts?"
"It’s only the 16th! I leave tomorrow," Hermione said quietly. "But you, Ronald—we promised Harry that after the holidays, we’d start real combat practice. Have you memorized your spells?"
"Of course I have," Ron replied confidently.
"Then tell me, what’s the incantation for the Stupefy spell?" Hermione asked.
Ron froze. He stammered for a while but couldn’t come up with the answer.
"Fine. Then what’s the incantation for the Blasting Curse?" she pressed.
"Uh..." Ron wracked his brain but drew a blank again.
Hermione gave him a disdainful look and asked one more time, "What about the Petrification Spell?"
"That one I know!" Ron exclaimed, a lightbulb going off. "You used it on Crabbe and Goyle on the train!"
Hermione’s face softened into a faint smile.
But then Ron’s next words made her hang her head in despair.
"Uh, what’s the incantation again?"
Scratching his head awkwardly, Ron grabbed a nearby soda can and took a big swig.
"Cut back on the soda, Ron. It’s bad for your teeth," Hermione advised. "My dad’s a dentist, and that’s what he always tells me."
"It’s fine," Ron said. "The wizarding world has Tooth-Strengthening Potions. Haven’t you heard of them? Our very own Dumbledore even endorsed them."
"Now that you mention it, I remember seeing something about that in my Potions book," Hermione said thoughtfully. "If it works, maybe I should buy some to take home. It might boost my dad’s dental practice!"
Ron didn’t reply, taking another sip of his soda.
"Weasley," drawled Draco’s irritating voice.
Seeing that Harry wasn’t around, Draco had regained his usual swagger.
"Malfoy?" Ron turned, soda in hand, to see Draco’s pale, sharp face.
"Is that a Muggle drink you’re holding?" Draco sneered. "Just like your family—completely disgraceful. Not only do you befriend... Muggle-borns, but you even use their products. Truly the shame of pure-bloods."
Ron’s face turned red as he gripped the soda can, ready to throw it.
But Hermione stopped him, firing back, "Oh? Really? I wonder what your ancestors would think of you mocking the descendants of their old allies."
"What do you mean?" Draco asked, frowning.
"You don’t know?" Hermione gasped theatrically, covering her mouth. "Goodness, the ancestors of the Malfoy family fought side by side with the Weasleys to quell the Goblin Rebellion. You didn’t know that?"
"I... I..." Draco stammered, suddenly unsure.
Could the Mudblood be telling the truth? Draco wondered. But then again, why hadn’t his father mentioned it?
"What nonsense are you spouting?" Draco snapped, trying to recover. "How would a Muggle-born like you know anything about the Malfoy family?"
"Oh, poor thing," Hermione said, wagging a finger mockingly. "Imagine not knowing your own family history. Shame on you!"
Draco’s face turned crimson—not because of Hermione’s tone, but because of her words. Not knowing more than a Muggle-born about the Malfoy family? That was humiliating.
"Impossible! If that were true, my father would have told me! You’re just making things up to defend your little boyfriend!" Draco retorted.
Hermione pulled out a book and slammed it on the table with a thud, reading aloud an account of Cassandra Malfoy’s exploits.
Draco leaned in reluctantly. The detailed records made him doubt his own knowledge.
If it was true, why hadn’t the Malfoy family celebrated this history? And if it wasn’t, why was it documented here?
He noticed the author’s name on the title page—Bathilda Bagshot. Her reputation in magical history rivaled only that of Professor Binns.
"Ask your father about it, Malfoy," Ron chimed in, playing along. "Ask him if there was a Cassandra Malfoy. It’s hard to believe that the so-called proud Malfoys would ignore such a shining figure in their family’s history. Really makes you wonder who the true disgrace to pure-bloods is!"
Draco was visibly shaken.
Without another word, he stormed off, planning to confront his father about it during the holidays.
