After receiving the notification letter, Draco quickly wrote a letter to Hogwarts.

Asking Severus, who had been close to the family since childhood, if there were any books related to Potions that she could read besides her textbooks.

In her young heart, although she could not say why, she always vaguely regarded Potions as her favorite subject.

Perhaps because the person who taught Potions was Severus, who was like a godfather to her, there was a bit of love for the subject.

The textbooks on the notification letter were all available in the Malfoy Manor's study.

While this gave Draco much convenience, it also gave her less reason to be eager to visit Diagon Alley.

During the correspondence, it transpired that Pansy and Daphne had each visited Diagon Alley, and also that the two already had their wands.

This, of course, made Draco a little anxious.

Fortunately, the textbooks were quickly occupying her mind.

There was no shortage of herbs in the manor's greenhouses, and cauldrons with herbs were kept in the stone cellars of the main house.

So immersed were the days in the practical work of reading and curiosity that the correspondence with Severus became almost a small correspondence course.

No wands yet, but already it kept the young girl who longed for the beginning of the school year busy.

As Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy watched, it was hard not to reminisce about childhood years long ago.

And so it came to the last day of July.

The textbooks were already tired of turning them over, anxious to find out more about the principles of spells and potions.

She pestered Severus until he recommended the book of Potions. The text of the book was a little difficult, but she was still immersed in it.

These days, invariably, after breakfast, one would walk into the study and

With the hardcover open book, ducking into the patio garden, which my mother had lovingly tended, to look through it.

This day was just like any other.

It was nearly midday, and the heat of the sun had made the water in the square pool in front of her even hotter.

Draco closed the book and explored her side.

Raised her arms and stretched out in the deserted garden.

Impolitely but comfortably, stretched out considerably.

The hem of her shirt was pulled up to show off her white waistline, and the warm breeze brought a cool breeze.

Walking out of the wall of roses where the square pool was located and through the large grassy area.

On the way back to the main house, the heat was already slightly glistening on her forehead.

After another five minutes of walking, I came to the small patch of shade in front of the main gate of the main house.

I saw my father's beloved snow-white peacock standing proudly at the top of the tree, looking radiant.

The playfulness of the young suddenly aroused, regardless of the armpits still struggling to hold books, tiptoe, bulging mouth cooing to imitate the peacock chirping.

The peacock waved her head in slight impatience and paid no attention. Seeking her amusement, Draco had to turn around.

As she was about to leave, there was a sudden flood of loud quacking and continuous chirping above her head.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

The sudden shock caused Draco to yelp softly, dropping her books to the grassy soil and nearly falling to the ground herself.

Pouting, she glared back at the smug peacock.

Bending down, she picked up the book and patted the grass clippings, her cheeks flushing slightly at her faux pas.

Fortunately, her face had long since been tinted with a healthy swoon from her stroll in the bright sun, and she couldn't see how bashful she looked.

It was with great difficulty that I finally stepped onto the long marble steps of the main house, stomping my heels lightly on the stone floor to remove the dust from the soles of my shoes.

The two heavy black doors seemed to recognize the owner's homecoming, and without Draco's action, they were already slowly opening towards the outside.

Before she even entered, her cherry lips softly opened and softly called out the elf's name.

‘Dobby?’

There was a soft snap and scrape and the Pokemon appeared, looking at her young master who was panting slightly and radiating a bit of heat.

Without having to be instructed, he extended his long, skinny index finger and pointed it toward Draco.

As the wind from the spell flowed through her body, Draco felt as if he had been cleansed by a spring, the heat dissipating and her body returning to its purest form.

Before she could thank him, Dobby whispered, "Little master, you should know that Professor Snape is visiting our master.

The clear silver-grey of Draco's pupils lit up.

After hearing Dobby's words, Draco picked up her pace in small, broken steps.

Turning into the cloister in the northeast corner of the main house, her father's voice was heard with displeasure outside the study door, which was only lightly covered.

‘Quirrell! No longer should it be this man's turn to take over. What did he teach before? Muggle Studies? Ridiculous subject.’’

I tried, Severus. The school board agreed with me, but it still didn't work.’

‘The old man was unusually insistent. You should hear what he has to say-’

Immediately after, Lucius Mimics Dumbledore's words.

‘The board's concern is much appreciated, but appointing teachers is still the sole authority of the headmaster.’

‘I believe the Potions Society is the best arrangement for her until the time is right.’

Listening to her father mimic some aging voice, Draco couldn't help but frown.

Eavesdropping on a conversation was an extreme breach of noble etiquette, but there was something new in the back of her mind.

Biting her lip gently, she moved out of step.

Slowly, she walked towards the parlor, which was situated in the south-east, and waited for her father to take a break from her official conversation with Severus.

‘Never mind.’

Severus' sparse tone came, and Draco couldn't help but slow her pace.

‘No one can stay in that seat for more than a year. There's always a chance, and besides, you know-’

‘This year is extraordinary.’

‘Hm. The boy who survived?’

The last two words between her father and Severus caused Draco's heart to skip a few beats.

It seemed that even Severus was paying attention, to the boy called Harry Potter.

Draco swung her head, and unconsciously, in her right hand, she tightened her grip on the folding fan that she had originally left at her waist.

It was a habit she had to calm her messy mind.

Ever since she had understood a little bit, Narcissa had always advised that a woman from a prestigious family should not show her emotions easily.

Therefore, it was best to cultivate some small gestures to soothe her mood.

When one notices that one's temper is not good, one can effectively divert one's attention.

In the past, such habits could always transform one's state of mind. But somehow, this time, the bottom of her heart was uncontrollably irritable.

The entrance of the daughter of the Malfoy family was supposed to be a major event in the magical world.

Instead, Draco was secretly worried that Harry Potter would take away the grace she was supposed to have.

Perhaps that was why she was so eager, to familiarise herself with the curriculum first.

Afraid that if she slacked off a little, she would be far behind the boy who had survived.

After all, according to the legend, he was an extremely gifted wizard who, in his infancy, managed to repel the Dark Lord, who even Dumbledore could do nothing about.

With that thought, Draco quickened her pace, fearful that Severus would notice she was right outside the door.

Ever since he was a child, Severus always seemed to have a way of reading her inner thoughts.

Of course, Draco was still curious about the conversation between Severus and her father. But the dignity of a Malfoy daughter would not allow herself to be caught eavesdropping on a conversation.

She hurriedly tiptoed into the parlor with a small voice.

No sooner had they sat down than footsteps approached the door and Lucius and Severus pushed open the wooden door to the parlour.

‘Good afternoon, Father, Severus.’

Draco stood up in a hurry, her right hand resting lightly on the back of the armchair as he curtsied slightly.

‘Running off to the court again in the morning?’

Lucius stepped forward and stroked Draco's long, silky hair lovingly.

Turning to look behind him, a figure with greasy black hair draped over his shoulders and covered in a long black robe.

‘Going to stay, Severus? We're just about ready for lunch.’

‘No need. I have things to do. Good afternoon, Draco.’

Severus said, his tone generally languid. While greeting Draco, he narrowed his dark eyes. The corners of his mouth curled into an intentional smile.

Draco felt as if Severus had seen through herself.

Before she could open her mouth to defend herself, Severus narrowed his gaze.

‘Don't work too hard. First-year coursework isn't as hard as you think.’

He spoke in a relaxed, flat tone. But Draco always felt that Severus should have known that she had overheard her short conversation with her father.

Especially, Severus's words before he left: ‘Don't think too much. Fame doesn't always have the strength to match.’

While Lucius was confused, Draco lowered her head, hiding the pink-tinted cheeks from being read by her mind.