Extra 8: The Caustic Blond Flounder

"He's the most outstanding wizard," Cassandra said with pride. "He got twelve A's on his O. W. Ls exams, and straight A's on his NEWTs. Father has high hopes for him."

She paused for a moment, and then the Leviosa lights in the air suddenly went out.

"But he never thought I was inferior to him just because I was a girl. He taught me magic and discussed various theories with me—he said I should become who I want to be, not who others expect me to be."

Cassandra's voice was almost carried away by the night wind.

Harry was surprised to find that the usually haughty Miss Malfoy showed a rare soft side when talking about her brother.

"So what kind of person do you want to be?" Harry asked.

Cassandra turned her head, her expression unreadable in the moonlight.

"A wizard who can be remembered without relying on his family name, a person who can prove with his own abilities that the Pure-blood theory is a narrow-minded prejudice."

Harry was quite surprised to hear these words from the Malfoy family's eldest daughter.

"But you mentioned your grandfather—"

"My grandfather was from a bygone era," Cassandra interrupted him, her tone hardening again. "This is the new world; there are no ships left to carry him. The world is changing, Potter Muggle are transforming it at an unprecedented pace—railways, telegraphs, steamships. If we wizards remain stagnant, clinging to our Pure-blood pride, we will one day be left behind."

She gazed towards the Forbidden Forest: "My brother saw those reports at the Ministry of Magic. Muggle technology is advancing; their weapons are becoming increasingly powerful. Just eighty years ago, the Duke of Wellington's muskets, which defeated Napoleon, couldn't hit their targets accurately. Now, they can achieve precision comparable to magic. If we continue to isolate ourselves, we will face a crisis one day."

Harry thought of the world in 1991—cars, airplanes, television, computers, and the little boy dropped on another island nation, and Big Ivan. He couldn't imagine how wizards in 1887 would have viewed these impending changes.

"So you learn Muggle knowledge in order to—"

"For the sake of understanding," Cassandra said, "For the sake of communication, not confrontation, when necessary. But you can't tell anyone this, understand? Especially not the other Pure-blood families."

Harry nodded solemnly.

He realized that Cassandra was sharing not only magical techniques with him, but also her true thoughts—a tremendous act of trust for a Malfoy.

"I will keep it a secret, Miss Malfoy."

"Tell me about the future world," Cassandra suddenly said. "Tell me what you've seen and heard. I've never heard you talk about your family before."

"My mom and dad are long gone," Harry said, looking down. "My aunt and uncle told me they died in a car accident, and they raised me since I was little."

"How did they treat you?" Cassandra asked.

Harry thought for a moment, intending to make a few sarcastic remarks, but remembering Gareth's exaggeration, he hesitantly recounted the Dursley family' attitude towards him—as objectively as possible, without any subjective emotions, except for criticizing Dudley as a pig wearing a wig.

"I remember Ignatius once told me that Muggle treat children very badly—of course, a significant number of wizarding families don't treat their children very well either," Cassandra said, shaking her head. "They are your family, after all. How could they treat you like this?"

"So you think—" Harry asked tentatively.

"They really should give you a good talking-to, you silly little Troll," Cassandra said suddenly, her tone quite wicked. "Look at you, so clumsy, you can't even Charms properly. If I were your aunt, you wouldn't even get breakfast tomorrow!"

"Yes, I'm sorry, Miss Malfoy." Harry lowered his head, secretly cursing the sharp-tongued blonde halibut in his heart.

Why flounder?

Because its eyes are on its forehead, just like Cassandra's.

"You seem quite defiant, Potter." Cassandra raised her head. "Did I say something wrong about you?"

"No, Miss Malfoy," Harry said, his head bowed, appearing outwardly respectful but inwardly resentful.

"That's good." Cassandra glanced at the time. "Time to head back. Remember, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 8 PM, at the Astronomy Tower. We need to improve your Charms skills as quickly as possible; I don't want my lackey to embarrass himself on the final exams."

"Yes, Miss Malfoy," Harry replied.

But inwardly, he was secretly complaining.

What a mean blonde halibut!

In the following weeks, Harry's life entered a new rhythm.

In addition to regular classes and Professor Ronan's tutoring, he had three opportunities a week to meet and torture Cassandra at the Astronomy Tower.

Her teaching methods were rigorous and efficient; she never made Harry repeat what he had already mastered, and always introduced new challenges.

Harry's progress during this period was also very obvious, but of course, he also suffered hundreds or thousands of times more sarcastic attacks.

For example, phrases like "Potter! If your eyes are useless, I wouldn't mind gouging them out," and "Has your brain been eaten by Inferi, Potter!" And phrases like "I can't stand your stupidity anymore, Potter!"

However, Harry also retaliated inwardly, so let's just say they were evenly matched.

At the end of October, Hogwarts experienced its first drop in temperature.

The castle corridors grew cold and damp, and the students began to put on thick cloaks.

On a particularly cold Friday night, Harry arrived at the Astronomy Tower as promised, only to find that Cassandra was not waiting for him inside as usual.

He waited for fifteen minutes and began to worry.

Cassandra was never late; in fact, she always arrived early.

Just as Harry was hesitating about whether to leave, the tower door was pushed open.

Cassandra walked in, looking somewhat pale and breathing slightly rapidly.

"Looks like you've arrived." She said briefly, her voice weaker than usual, without explaining why she was late.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked with concern.

"I'm fine." Cassandra immediately resumed her haughty tone. "Let's begin today's practice. Today we'll try the basics of the Mending Charm —although first-year students aren't usually allowed to practice, given your recent performance, I think it's permissible to get a head start."

She took a ceramic cup from her bag, placed it on the ground, and then gently tapped it with her wand. "Diffindo!"

The cup shattered into more than a dozen pieces.

"Now, try to repair it. The incantation is Reparo (Reparo)." The key is to imagine the object as it originally looked and guide the fragments back to their correct positions.

Harry raised his wand, focused intently on the cup, and said, "Reparo!"

A few fragments trembled, but did not move.

He tried again, and this time two pieces floated up, but they collided and fell to the ground, shattering even more.

"Too hasty, too clumsy, are you a baboon?" Cassandra's voice came from beside her. Unlike usual, she wasn't keeping her distance; she was standing quite close. "The Mending Charm requires patience and precise control. Imagine the position of each piece, like a jigsaw puzzle."

She raised her wand, her movements much slower than usual.

Watch how I do it – Reparo (Reparo)!

The fragments floated up one by one, swirled in the air, and then were precisely pieced together.

A few seconds later, the cup returned to its original state, without even a crack, as if it were brand new.

"Now you try," Cassandra said, a hint of weariness in her voice.

Harry nodded, took a deep breath, and refocused.

This time, he slowed down and carefully imagined what the cup would look like intact.

One piece, two pieces, three pieces—the fragments slowly floated up and began to be pieced together.

Although it was slow and not as perfect as Cassandra's work, the cup was indeed gradually recovering.

When the last piece was put back in place, the cup, though cracked, was indeed in its original shape.

"Not enough, keep practicing!" Cassandra commented.

But her face grew even paler, and fine beads of sweat appeared on her forehead.

"Miss Malfoy, are you really alright?" Harry put down his wand and asked worriedly.

"I told you I'm fine." Cassandra took a step, but stumbled and reached out to grab the railing.

Harry immediately stepped forward. "I'll take you to the hospital ward."

"No!" Cassandra pushed his hand away, but weakly. "I'm just—a little dizzy, I'll be fine after a rest."

Harry noticed that her hands were trembling slightly; this wasn't the usual Cassandra.

He remembered her lateness tonight, her pale face, and her weak voice; something must have happened to her.

"At least sit down and rest," Harry insisted, helping her to sit down on a bench in the tower.

This time Cassandra did not refuse.

She closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths, and her complexion improved slightly.

"What happened?" Harry asked anxiously. "You have to tell me what happened, don't you, Miss Malfoy?"

"----It's Peeves."

Cassandra finally spoke, her voice very soft.

"He set a trap in the third-floor hallway; a bucket of ice water fell from the door. Although I dodged most of it in time, I still got soaked."

Harry understood.

Walking through the cold castle in wet clothes will surely make you catch a cold.

"You should change your clothes."

"I just don't want to waste precious practice time," Cassandra snorted. "Alright, the most important thing you need to do now is shut up and let me have some peace and quiet—"

Harry felt conflicted.

Cassandra was willing to arrive at the Astronomy Tower in wet clothes just to avoid being late—was it really just to "not waste practice time"?

He lowered his head, Cassandra's eyes were slightly closed, but the arrogance between her brows did not diminish in the slightest because of her physical discomfort.

He thought to himself, "It's probably just to avoid wasting time."

"I'll go get something hot to drink," Harry said. "You rest here."

"Potter, you don't have to..."

"I'm your servant, aren't I?" Harry interrupted her, replying in her own words, "A servant should serve his mistress."

Cassandra paused for a moment, then gave a soft hum, which was taken as tacit approval.

Harry used Floo Powder to quickly return to the Gryffindor Tower and House Elf in the Kitchen for a cup of hot cocoa.

He recently discovered that the Elf are happy to help students if they are asked politely.

When he returned to the Astronomy Tower, Cassandra was leaning against a bench, seemingly asleep.

The moonlight shone on her face, softening her usually haughty expression.

Harry gently placed the hot cocoa beside him, took off his thick cloak, and carefully draped it over her.

Just then, Cassandra opened her eyes.

Their eyes met, Harry's hand still resting on his cloak, and the atmosphere suddenly became awkward.

"I just—" Harry tried to explain.

"It seems you may not be very talented in Charms, but you're quite adept at serving people."

Cassandra said with a smirk.

"If you can't pass the 0. WLs exam, you'll be my servant for life."

Harry didn't answer, automatically ignoring the sentence.

Cassandra took the hot cocoa, took a small sip, and a trace of color returned to her pale face.

They sat in silence for a while, gazing at the starry sky.

The treetops of the Forbidden Forest swayed in the wind in the distance, and the castle lights flickered in the night.

"Potter," Cassandra suddenly spoke, "Why aren't you saying a word? Don't you like talking?"

Harry thought to himself, "You're mocking me, and you're asking why I'm not talking? So you get to say everything?"

But he couldn't say it like that, so he just mumbled, "A servant must not talk back to the mistress, Miss Malfoy."

.

"You're smart enough to know your place." Cassandra raised her chin. "Then why do you never ask me anything?"

Harry turned his head and looked at her, puzzled.

"My family, my background, my thoughts." Cassandra didn't look at him, but turned to stare at the night sky. "Everyone else wants to ask those who want to get close to the Malfoy family, those who want to befriend my father through me—"

But you never ask.

Harry thought for a moment, "Because if you want to tell me, you will. If you don't want to tell me, there's no point in me asking."

Cassandra turned her head, her eyes shining brightly in the moonlight.

"You're a really strange person, Potter."

"Many people say that," Harry said with a wry smile.

"No, I mean—" Cassandra paused, seemingly searching for the right words, "You come from a completely different world, yet you strive to adapt here. You face the prejudice of Pure-blood families, yet you never complain. You call me your lackey, yet you never grovel. Although you seem very respectful to me, it's not out of fear of me or the Malfoy family, but simply because you see yourself as a lackey."

She took another sip of hot cocoa. "I was thinking, if you really are from the future, then the wizards of that era must have been very different."

"Perhaps," Harry echoed. "After all, I haven't met any modern wizards, and I don't know much about them."