Malfoy woke up in the evening, and all his previous injuries had been healed.
He jumped up, full of energy, and hurried to check whether his Firebolt had been damaged in the fall.
Seeing it lying safely beside him, he finally let out a sigh of relief.
"Montague, let's keep going," Malfoy said—only to realize that he didn't seem to be on the Quidditch pitch. "Eh..?"
He froze for a moment, looked up, and saw John sitting to the side, casually flipping through a book.
"John," Malfoy quickly got up. Realizing he was fully healed, he chuckled awkwardly and said, "I'll just head out then, John—"
Just as he was about to leave, a humanoid training dummy suddenly lunged at him.
"Ugh—!"
Caught completely off guard, Malfoy was sent flying and rolled onto a dueling platform.
He looked up and saw two humanoid dummies standing guard at the door like gatekeepers, clearly not letting him out.
Malfoy: "What the..???"
Totally confused, he looked at John and asked tentatively, "John?"
John closed the book in his hands and placed it casually on the table.
Looking up at the dumbfounded Malfoy, John chuckled lightly and said, "You seemed a little too eager to prove your strength."
"Ah?" Malfoy replied blankly, "I didn't, though."
John spoke to himself, "Since that's the case, I'll reluctantly give you a little test."
He rose gracefully and walked toward the dueling platform. Once he was in position, he said casually, "I hope you haven't forgotten what the Dueling Club taught you."
Before Malfoy could react, John pointed his wand straight at him.
A powerful force pressed Malfoy's body down into an involuntary bow.
John returned the bow with leisurely grace.
"Let me see what you've got, Draco."
When he looked up again, John's eyes were filled with cold indifference.
Malfoy, already fuming from being forced to bow just now, was furious.
Seeing that expression, Malfoy launched into action immediately.
One spell after another flew toward John, who casually blocked them all with his wand held in his left hand.
Seizing the opportunity, John flicked his wand to the side—two large dogs appeared and bit down hard on Malfoy's ankles.
"Obstacles Galore!"
Malfoy reacted swiftly, stopping John's next movement.
He shot two red spells to drive the dogs away. Fired up for real now, he rushed at John to launch a close-range attack.
John also walked toward Malfoy, casually deflecting spells as he moved.
With a flick of his hand, it was as if something tripped Malfoy—he stumbled forward and fell flat.
Bracing himself with one hand, Malfoy rolled to adjust his posture and fired a spell at John.
The spell was intercepted midair by one of the conjured dogs John had summoned.
The distance between the two shrank rapidly—soon, they were within three steps of each other.
A flash of determination glinted in Malfoy's eyes. After firing another spell, he closed the distance further.
He threw a punch at John's face with his left hand, but John tilted his head to dodge. At the same time, he caught Malfoy's fist with his own left hand, then caught his falling wand with his right and used it to strike Malfoy's wand hand.
"Ug—"
A sharp pain shot through Malfoy's wrist, like being whipped—his wand flew from his grip.
But he didn't give up. He kept swinging punches at John, only to be kneed in the stomach. His body folded like a boiled shrimp.
John followed up with a swift kick to the inside of Malfoy's knee, sending him toppling over as he lost his balance.
"Ha—"
Before Malfoy's head could hit the ground, John caught the back of it with his left hand, preventing the impact.
Malfoy didn't even get the chance to say thanks. "Oh—Thank—! Urg—!"
A fist suddenly loomed large in front of him—his nose exploded in pain, and blood began to flow.
John acted as if he didn't see it, his fists raining down one after another on Malfoy's face.
Malfoy had gone from struggling at the start to being half-beaten to death by the end.
John gently set Malfoy's head down, then sat beside him and asked in a low voice, "Feeling any better?"
After lying there for a while—
"Huff. huff.. huff.. I'm really weak, aren't I?" Malfoy's wheezing breaths carried the soft-spoken admission as he wiped the blood from his mouth.
John took out a Galleon from his small pouch and held it in his hand. As the Galleon gradually disappeared, the bruises and swelling on Malfoy's face began to fade.
Malfoy kept talking, as if to himself. "If I were a bit stronger, maybe I could help you."
"You are already—" John spoke, but Malfoy cut him off.
"I know John… It's not just you—Cedric too, you're all doing something. I'm not as capable as Percy, and I'm not as outstanding as Cedric." Malfoy looked at his hands with his hair covering his eyes.
"That day, after Mum came back, she wouldn't let me go downstairs. I don't know what you said to her… but I know you wouldn't hurt me."
His voice carried frustration and defeat. "I'm too weak... I... I.. Even if I'd been there that day, I wouldn't have been able to do anything. I couldn't change anything."
"I don't want to just sit here being helped, John." Though much of the bruising had faded, his face still looked swollen and battered. Malfoy struggled to sit up. "I.. cough.. I want to contribute. I'm a member of the Constellation Society."
John understood. He understood why Malfoy had been training so obsessively, why he was so desperate to prove himself.
He wanted to be part of John's plan.
He wanted revenge.
Malfoy was no longer that bratty little kid who used to shout about telling his father. He'd grown up.
He wanted to prove himself—not to outshine the Chosen One, Harry Potter, but to show everyone that whatever Harry could do, he could too.
He wanted John to take him along, even if it meant dying. He was going, no matter what.
"Draco you—"
"He was my friend, too!" Staring at John, Malfoy roared, with tears dripping from his eyes, "I'm not a coward, John! I'm a warrior—I can charge into battle too!"
"Don't treat me like a child—I want revenge!"
Malfoy screamed, letting out all the emotions he had buried under his mask for so long. "So please.. please.."
John listened as his voice gradually quieted. He stood up and wiped the blood from his hands with a towel.
Just as the fire in Malfoy's eyes was starting to dim, John's voice rang out.
"I've never seen any of you as children, Draco."
Malfoy snapped his head up, looking at John with a mix of hope and uncertainty. "Then… can I be part of your plan too?"
John sighed. "I never left you out."
"Really? Thank the Merlin! But then why did you beat me up?" Malfoy asked, overwhelmed with joy—though the tug of pain from his swollen face made him grimace.
John said with disdain, "Watching you imitate those Gryffindor idiots—my hands just itched. Who told you to bring that Gryffindor-style hero complex into Slytherin?"
Malfoy: "…"
He suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed by everything he'd just shouted.
Little did he know, while he'd been giving his passionate speech, John had looked at him the same way he looked at Harry.
They really did have that couple's resemblance, after all.
…
October hurried by, drenched in rain and sweat.
November arrived at Hogwarts, with the chill creeping into every young wizard's collar.
The cold wind sliced like knives against exposed skin, and Slytherin-green scarves wrapped snugly around necks.
The mountains and forests were capped with white snow.
The Quidditch match arrived right on schedule.
In the Great Hall, the teams exchanged 'friendly' greetings—though their words were so sweet they could rot teeth.
John watched as Luna stared at a green snake-patterned scarf and a big lion head, clearly conflicted.
She was trying to decide which team to cheer for.
On one hand, her friends Harry and Ron were both on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. On the other, there was John… a Slytherin.
While she struggled to choose, the Crumple-Horned Snorkack in her pocket even popped out.
John looked at the Crumple-Horned Snorkack in his palm and reached out to touch an empty bowl. A moment later, the bowl filled with a purple liquid.
"Drink it." John placed the Snorkack beside the bowl.
The Snorkack looked at John, then at the purple liquid.
Its little face clearly spelled out refusal, but John's smile didn't waver. "Don't drink, and I'll toss you out."
"Moo!"
The Snorkack immediately dove headfirst into the purple liquid, which visibly began to shrink as it drank.
Very soon, the entire bowl's contents had disappeared into the Snorkack's belly.
"Mooo~ hic.."
John raised an eyebrow as he watched it stagger drunkenly a few steps, then promptly slammed its head against the table.
"What's wrong with it?" Malfoy asked. After getting his ass thoroughly kicked by John last time, he'd completely come to his senses.
Clearly, personal heroism wasn't the Slytherin way—they weren't Gryffindors, after all.
After being forced to rest the entire last day, Malfoy was in great shape now.
John glanced over just in time to see Malfoy stupidly poke the Snorkack and accidentally jab its sharp horn, earning himself a scream of pain. Casually, John replied, "Probably Drunkmagic."
"What's that supposed to be?" Malfoy looked skeptical.
He'd heard of being drunk, sure—but drunk on magic? That had to be something John just made up on the spot, right?
John brought the Crumple-Horned Snorkack over to Luna. Seeing that she still hadn't made a decision, he chuckled and said, "If it's for your friends, then choose Gryffindor. But if you want victory, then go with Slytherin."
Luna nodded, then picked the lion head.
After all, she didn't know a single person on the Slytherin Quidditch team.
John: "…"
Had he known, he wouldn't have phrased it like that.
Just as he was beginning to regret it, he saw Luna also put on the snake scarf—the one that looked like it could strangle someone.
In her airy voice, she said, "This is for my friend too."
John's heart softened at that. Smiling, he gently placed the Snorkack down.
"Moo~ Moo?"
________
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