Already nearing the end of summer break, it was time for me to pick up my school supplies. My father, swamped with work at the Ministry due to recent raids, left me to purchase my things with Draco and his father. I met up with them at the bookshop, where most of the required items were being sold.
"Lucas!" Draco called out. I turned to see him and his father approaching the store, the shelves overflowing with books by the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
"Lucas, it's good to see you again. Has it only been a month since you last visited?" Mr. Malfoy wondered aloud. I had visited both Draco and Pansy during the summer, a way for our parents to get to know us better. I nodded, shaking his hand with my gloved one—a birthday gift from my father.
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, it seems time has flown by," I joked. He chuckled lightly before leading us into the crowded bookshop, using his cane to part the crowd.
We made our way to the second floor, which was far less populated. Mr. Malfoy let out a sigh of relief.
"Dear me… it's a pigpen down there," he muttered, while Draco scoffed.
"Yeah, at least we can breathe up here."
I nodded politely, though I didn't enjoy their talk of being "above" others. Still, I couldn't deny how stuffy it was downstairs.
The second floor had its own register, but most people were crowded below, eager to get their books signed by the famous Gilderoy Lockhart. Skimming through his titles, I felt an immediate distrust toward him. He was renowned for slaying magical creatures—a practice I disliked. Most creatures, in my opinion, could be handled without violence. I was already disenchanted by him, but since his books were required reading, I had no choice but to buy them. At least I don't have to get them signed…
Draco seemed to share my disdain.
"He thinks he's so great? I bet my father could take him down easily. Our heritage is far beyond whatever puny magic he wields."
Well, he agreed with me—to an extent.
"Draco? Lucas?" a familiar voice called out from below. We leaned over the banister and spotted Pansy making her way through the crowd, arms full of books.
"Pansy, what a pleasant surprise," Mr. Malfoy greeted her with a smile.
"It's good to see you too, Mr. Malfoy," she replied politely.
"Are you here for your school books as well?" she asked us. Draco and I nodded.
"We were hoping to," Mr. Malfoy said with a sigh, "but braving those savages downstairs is hardly worth the effort. Are the required books sold up here?"
Pansy held out her stack, revealing all the necessary texts, along with a few extra Herbology books she had bought for herself.
"Excellent. If you two could wait here a moment while I sort this out?"
We agreed, and Pansy stood beside us, gazing over the railing at the crowd below. Our idle watching turned into surprise when a familiar name was announced.
"Ladies and gentlemen, what an extraordinary moment this is! When young Harry stepped into—"
Lockhart's speech was met with frenzied applause, particularly from the female audience. Draco, Pansy, and I all rolled our eyes.
"Look, the golden boy," Draco muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Loved everywhere he goes just for breathing."
Pansy and I both sighed. I shared Draco's exasperation, but I failed to notice Pansy's eyes lingering on a very particular figure in the crowd.
Once Lockhart finished, we saw Potter leaving the store with the Weasleys. Draco immediately dragged us down the stairs, determined to get a jab in. As Harry neared the exit, Draco called out.
"I bet you liked that, didn't you, Potter? The great Harry Potter! Can't even go to a bookshop without making the front page!"
The Weasley brothers glared at us, while Harry stood stunned by the sudden attack.
"Leave him alone…" a petite redheaded girl muttered, stepping in front of Harry protectively.
Draco scoffed, then smirked at me.
"Look, he's got himself a girlfriend!"
It was then that Mr. Malfoy appeared behind us.
"Now, now, Draco. Play nicely," he said smoothly, handing both Draco and me our books before turning to Harry.
"Ah, Harry Potter. We meet at last," he greeted, offering a gloved hand. Harry hesitantly shook it, his caution justified when Mr. Malfoy suddenly pulled him closer.
"Forgive me," he muttered, using his cane to sweep Harry's hair aside, revealing the lightning scar.
"Your scar is legend… I had to see it for myself," he murmured, studying Harry's forehead with a calculating gaze.
In the crowd, someone bumped into me. I glanced over to see Hermione frowning in my direction. I shrugged, rolling my eyes.
"My father's busy, and my mother hates crowds," I whispered, folding my arms over my books. Hermione scoffed softly at my misfortune.
"Voldemort killed my parents… He is nothing but a murderer," Harry declared coldly.
Hermione, puzzled by the sudden turn in conversation, watched Mr. Malfoy carefully.
"You must be very brave to speak his name… Or perhaps… very foolish," Mr. Malfoy said with a smirk.
Unable to hold back, Hermione spoke out, her voice steady.
"Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself."
Mr. Malfoy raised a brow, turning his piercing gaze toward her. His lips curled into a cruel smile.
"Ah… the answer to the question nobody asked. You must be Miss Granger," he drawled.
Hermione glared, her fists tightening around her books as he smirked at her defiance.
"Yes, Draco has told me all about you… and your parents," he added, glancing briefly toward the Muggle couple in the crowd.
"Muggles…" he sneered softly.
Hermione's grip tightened, but her eyes drifted toward me. She didn't know why, but she wanted to see my reaction—perhaps to confirm whether I shared Malfoy's views. To her surprise, I remained unreadable, my expression neutral as ever. I neither agreed nor objected, offering no clues.
Where does he stand? she wondered, frustrated by my ambiguity.
Mr. Weasley suddenly emerged from the crowd, guiding his children toward the door.
"Children! It's mad in here! Let's head outside," he said, placing a protective hand on Ginny's shoulders.
"Weasley Senior," Mr. Malfoy greeted coolly.
"Malfoy," Mr. Weasley replied tersely, though he wore a strained smile. His barely concealed anger simmered beneath his civil tone.
"With all the extra raids you've been on, I do hope they're paying you overtime… Though, by the looks of things, perhaps not," Mr. Malfoy remarked, his gaze flicking to Ginny's secondhand notebook.
"What's the point of disgracing the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?" he sneered.
Mr. Weasley's smile tightened.
"We have very different views on what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," he shot back, his face reddening slightly.
Mr. Malfoy's eyes flickered toward Hermione's parents with distaste.
"Associating with Muggles? And I thought your family couldn't sink any lower…" he muttered.
Hermione glared at him with pure hatred. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught me clutching my chest with a barely noticeable pensive look. It was fleeting, almost unnoticeable—but she saw it.
As I walked away with Draco and his father, Hermione was left with a flicker of hope. Maybe Lucas Peterson—the Slytherin—wasn't too far gone after all.
Once outside, I noticed Pansy had stopped in the middle of the alley, staring back at the bookstore, her expression vacant. When I shook her gently, she startled, gasping softly.
"Oh, sorry. I was lost in my thoughts," she muttered with a small, sheepish smile.