The biting cold wind ruled the world. In the dark corners untouched by firelight, pristine ice crystals quietly grew.
Harry did not straighten his crooked collar. He simply stared at the turn in the corridor where Malfoy and Parkinson had just disappeared, breath after breath of white mist spilling into the air.
A trace of shock still lingered on his rain-dampened cheeks.
Harry knew he had broken through Malfoy's psychological defenses, yet he felt not the slightest joy.
There was no doubt about it. Whether it was the dagger Sirius had given him, Hermione's Felix Felicis, or the most important thing lost tonight—the wand of the Dark Witch, Vitia Criona.
Malfoy had done all of it. What he had just shouted at Harry was practically confirmation.
But—
Without realizing it, Harry's brow furrowed deeply, and his breathing gradually grew heavier.
The despair and helplessness that had just erupted from Malfoy's gray eyes pierced Harry's heart like a thorn, leaving him at a loss.
Could Malfoy have some unspeakable difficulty?
Among the countless tangled thoughts racing through his mind, that possibility swiftly became clear.
Could it be... Malfoy did not actually want to work for Voldemort? Was he merely being forced?
The flicker of sympathy that had just risen in him was suppressed by Harry once more.
The confusion in his eyes faded, and they became clear again.
So what if Voldemort himself had forced Malfoy?
It was not as if he had no options!
He could have gone to Professor Breen and Professor Dumbledore for help. They would certainly have come up with a reliable way to help Malfoy escape Voldemort.
In the end, Malfoy had simply chosen to submit.
"Whew—"
Harry turned his face toward the archway outside.
In the world of drifting rain, only Hagrid's Hut and Professor