Voldemort's Frosted Apple

Ron was startled by Hermione's poke, and his hand holding the teacup froze in mid-air; his stomach was indeed feeling quite bloated and tight.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, put the cup back on the saucer with a soft "tinkling" sound.

He avoided Draco's gaze, which clearly implied something, and instead stared at the plate of frosted scones on the coffee table, as if they were some ancient Runes that required careful study.

Seeing this, Draco's eyes flashed with a hint of helplessness.

He and Harry exchanged a glance, Harry gave him a mischievous look that said, "You've got this sorted out."

Draco took a deep breath, deciding to cut to the chase and turn directly to Ron. His tone was more casual than usual, but it carried a subtle hint of disagreement.

"Weasley," he began, noticing Ron immediately perk up his ears, before continuing, "I heard the Holyhead Harpies have an Open Trials in Scotland next month? Their Seeker Coach, Gwenorg Jones, will be there in person."

Holyhead Harpies is an all-female Quidditch team in the British and Irish Quidditch League.

This team originated in Holyhead, a town in northwest Wales, and was founded in 1203, making it the second oldest team in the league.

The Harpies' team uniforms are dark green with a golden eagle emblem on the front. This team is unique because it has always been composed of witches.

Of course, this team would be a good fit for Ginny.

In 1953, the Holyhead Harpies finally defeated the Heidelberg Hounds from Germany after a seven-day competition.

After the game, Hounds captain Rudolph Brand jumped off his broom and proposed to Harpy team member Gwendo Morgan, only to be hit with Sweeping Five Stars by Morgan and suffer a concussion.

It's safe to say that this style is perfect for a girl like Ginny.

Ron's attention was indeed drawn; he temporarily lowered his defensive stance against Draco, frowning. "How did you know? That selection process is inside information—"

He was halfway through his sentence when he suddenly realized something, and his eyes became wary again.

"Wait, you don't mean to—"

"I just happen to be a distant relative of Jones, and we chatted a bit," Draco quickly interrupted him, taking a sip of his tea to cover his dissent before continuing in a calm tone, "If your sister Ginny is interested, perhaps you could prepare in advance. Jones appreciates decisive and tactically flexible players, especially those who can remain calm and observant during high-speed confrontations."

He recited these professional assessments almost verbatim, then immediately added, "Of course, it's up to her whether she goes or not. I'm just relaying what I heard."

This speech provided valuable information while cleverly concealing his own intentions under the guise of casually conveying them, and also praised Ginny's qualities, making everyone want to applaud him.

Ron's mouth was agape, clearly struggling to process the information and subtext of those words, his expression twitching between the usefulness of the intelligence and the certainty that this was a Malfoy conspiracy.

Hermione kicked him again under the table and whispered, "Ron, say thank you."

Ron reluctantly forced out a muffled "Thanks," then immediately added, "But you're not allowed to use providing information as an excuse to harass her during training!"

Draco gave a soft hum and raised his chin. "I'm not that free, Weasley. I have my own training plan."

But the slight smile at the corner of his mouth clearly indicated that he was fairly satisfied with the result.

The brief exchange surrounding Ginny has come to a temporary end, and the atmosphere seems to have eased somewhat.

Pansy had been listening silently, and now seemed a little more relaxed. She took small bites of the Cream Tart in front of her, adorned with berries, while the light occasionally drifted toward Harry —or more accurately, toward the book beside Harry filled with illustrations of various strange magical plants.

"Illustrated Guide to Rare Magical Plants and Their Recreational Applications?" Pansy asked softly, her tone tinged with curiosity and uncertainty. "I think my family library has an early edition of this book, but the second volume is missing—"

Harry glanced down at the book and chuckled, "Yes, Longbottom lent it to me. He said some plants, when combined with certain spells, can produce very interesting visual effects. Last time Seamus came, he spent ages trying to use that color-changing Sneezewort on it, and almost made himself sneeze until tomorrow."

Upon hearing Seamus's name, Pansy's eyes lit up slightly, but she quickly lowered them again, simply uttering a soft "Oh," while the tips of her ears turned slightly red.

She subconsciously straightened her skirt and then stole a glance at the book.

Cassandra took it all in. She put down her teacup and spoke calmly, "The Parkinson family's library is known for its defense against the Dark Arts and Pure-blood lineage studies, so it's not surprising that they don't delve deeply into these kinds of obscure subjects. If you're interested, there are more systematic Magical Botany texts in the study upstairs, including some ancient herbalists' notes on Emotion-Inducing Plants."

She paused, then added, "Of course, it's for academic research purposes."

Pansy immediately looked up, a hint of embarrassment flashing across her face as if her thoughts had been seen through, but mostly with delight. "Really? Miss Malfoy —I mean, thank you!"

Veratia chuckled softly, winking at Cassandra. "Looks like our book collection is quite appealing to young people, Cass. How about we open a Summer Reading Corner? Of course, reservations are required, and you have to promise not to bring anything that might explode inside."

This statement was pointed at, and anyone with a brain would know it referred to Seamus.

Cassandra glanced at her. "If you can ensure that all visitors sign a magically binding ' Book and Property Damage Liability Form,' I might consider it."

"That's too strict, Cass," Harry said with a laugh, trying to smooth things over. He then pushed the plate of cookies decorated with frosted mini-Quidditch balls toward Pansy. "Try this, the House Elf's new creation, the Frosted Snitch. It's pretty good."

Pansy hesitated for a moment, glanced at Cassandra, and after the latter nodded slightly, carefully picked up a piece, took a small bite, and her eyes widened slightly. "----Delicious."

Draco picked up his slightly cooled Earl Grey tea and took a sip; the familiar astringent taste made him a little more awake.

Perhaps this is the new normal that Harry mentioned earlier?

It's a bit odd, a bit chaotic, but it doesn't seem bad.

Afternoon tea drew to a close in a gradually calming, even somewhat casual, atmosphere. When Draco and Pansy rose to say goodbye, their demeanor was much more natural than when they arrived.

"Great-Grandma, we'll take our leave now. Thank you for your hospitality." Draco bowed.

"Harry, Ms. Grindelwald, thank you." This time he didn't use his title; his tone was more natural.

"Weasley, Granger, goodbye." He nodded to Ron and Hermione.

Pansy followed suit and bowed, then whispered to Cassandra, "Thank you, Miss Malfoy —and may I borrow that book another day?"

"Okay, have an owl send a note beforehand." Cassandra nodded.

After seeing the two off and closing the door, Ron immediately slumped into the sofa and let out a long sigh.

"Merlin —I actually managed to calmly finish afternoon tea with Malfoy, and even managed to absorb some intelligence."

Hermione was quite satisfied. "A very effective social event. Draco's selection information was very valuable, and Pansy seems to have developed an interest in academics as well. And, Cassandra, you handled it exceptionally well."

Cassandra had already returned to the coffee table, picked up her half-read Ancient Runes book again, and said calmly, "It's just basic hospitality and appropriate guidance from elders. At their age, they need some correct direction and space to relax."

She turned the page, a hint of satisfaction in her eyes.

"Draco has finally learned to use his brain instead of his nose; there's still hope for him."

Veratia smiled and leaned closer, putting her arm around Cassandra's shoulder. "Yes, our Cass is such an open-minded elder. By the way, what do you want for dinner? To celebrate the news we received today, how about something special? Harry, what's the name of that Muggle takeout place you mentioned last time? Italy?"

"It's an Italy restaurant; they do takeout." Harry's eyes lit up. "I know Cass loves their paella."

Cassandra looked up from the book at the three expectant eyes, and finally sighed.

"----It's up to you. But don't order anything too greasy."

"Yes, ma'am!" Harry and Veratia said in unison, then smiled at each other.

Inside a manor in Buenos Aires.

The heavy silk curtains were half-drawn, filtering the intense sunlight into a dim and languid light in the room.

He—or rather, at this moment, was reclining on a couch covered with rare black panther skin.

She was extremely beautiful, so beautiful that she was unforgettable. Her long, smooth hair, like an obsidian waterfall, was loosely tied up with an antique-style silver snake hairpin, with a few strands falling beside her fair, almost translucent cheeks.

His features were so exquisite they transcended gender, yet his crimson eyes were like pools of congealed blood, harboring a madness accumulated over half a century that was completely different from his youthful appearance.

She wore a perfectly tailored dark green velvet dress that accentuated her slender yet exceptionally graceful figure, with her long legs, encased in black leather, peeking out from the high slit of the skirt.

If Harry saw her, he would definitely recognize her.

Isn't that Voldemort? How come he's become so corrupted after just a few days?

At this moment, Voldemort's scarlet eyes were calmly gazing at the several magical light screens that appeared in the air in front of him.

The images on the light screen were blurry and shaky, clearly fragments transmitted through some kind of possession magic or distant spying.

One image is of Hogwarts, the castle on holiday, extremely quiet, but the picture is somewhat blurry; the other is clearer, showing several skeletal Fire Dragon belonging to the local Dark Wizard Gang patrolling in the smoke above a chaotic favela in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Another image depicts an ancient Incan magical ruins in the mountains of Salta Province in northwestern Argentina, which has been transformed into an armed fortress. A group of fanatical wizard bandits are training, their wands tipped with an evil black and green light.

A burly Brazil Dark Wizard Gang leader with a scarred face and a snake tattoo on his neck stood respectfully three steps away from the long couch, reporting in English with a heavy Portugal accent.

"---- the Phantom Council of São Paulo has completely submitted, and their controlled distribution network for the Forget-Me-Now is now at your service. The Rio Skull Dragon Gang resisted the most fiercely, but as you instructed, after we educated their leader before them for three whole days with the Cruciatus Curse, they finally understood who the new order truly is. Now, their dragon patrols have donned our insignia."

Voldemort gently raised one hand; his fingers were long and pale, but his nails were purplish-black, making him look extremely eerie.

She, or rather, a wisp of scarlet magic thread at her fingertips, manipulated the changing light screen, and the scene switched to the Argentina mountains.

"Now, the remaining smart people know how to choose."

Her dark red lips curved slightly upwards, a beautiful smile that was somewhat chilling.

What kind of kind person would laugh like that!

"The efficiency is acceptable." Her voice was quite clear and very feminine. "Chaos is a ladder, but endless chaos is just noise. What I need is not a pack of howling, tearing wild dogs, but an army that knows silence and obedience, and can precisely tear the enemy's throat when necessary."

"Master," the Brazil leader asked cautiously, "What's our next step: continue integrating South America, or what?"

Voldemort —oh no, Miss Merope did not answer immediately. She slowly rose from the couch, her long dress flowing like mercury to the ground.

"Keep going, Rivaldo," she ordered. "Also, deal with the captured Argentine Minister of Argentine Ministry of Magic —remember, create a deterrent! Understand?"

"Yes, Master," Rivaldo replied, bowing his head.

A day later, a strange sight suddenly appeared at the entrance of the Argentine Ministry of Magic.

It was a Frosted Apple, and it looked like it had been prepared exceptionally well. It was hanging there at the entrance of the Ministry of Magic.

The Apple itself vaguely resembles the shape of a human head, with the facial features deliberately preserved and even highlighted by the Disco-Mee covering. The eyes are somewhat sunken, yet still covered in Disco-Mee, and the mouth is wide open, forming a silent, screaming black hole.

What's most disgusting is that the layer of Disco-Mee frosting isn't static; it's constantly wriggling and multiplying, occasionally coalescing into a sticky clump that drips down the Apple's cheeks and chin with a soft thud.

Clatter

The slime clump landed on the polished Stone Platform in front of the Ministry of Magic, not splashing, but wriggling and spreading out like a living slime. As it spread, a faint red light shimmered within the slime, vaguely forming a distorted symbol.

It's the Dark Mark.

There was no signature, no statement, only the Dark Mark that once stopped children from crying at night in Britain.

But all the witnesses knew the truth.

This is the mysterious Miss Merope and the new order she controls, using this traditional cartel deterrent to announce the end of an era.