Are You Ready

Slytherin girls' dormitory.

Daphne sat at her desk with two sheets of paper spread out in front of her.

Daphne gripped her quill pen, conflicted. She wanted to ask her mother in the letter:

Pure-blood, what exactly is the nobility of Pure-blood?

As the eldest daughter of the Greengrass Family, she was taught from a young age the excellence and Pure-blood Pure-blood...

In the mindset she was taught, Muggle-born wizard were only slightly better than non-magical Muggle, but no matter how hard they tried, they could only look up to Pure-blood wizard.

However, Daphne thought of Lucien's incomprehensible performance, his effortless mastery of various magical knowledge, his skill with Non-verbal Spell, and his never-before-seen Transfiguration...

She had already learned from Malfoy that Lucien came from Muggle family.

So Daphne's feelings have been very complicated lately; she doesn't understand how Lucien could do that.

Daphne gripped her quill pen and began to write on the letter paper:

Dear Mother:

As you wished, I am doing very well at Hogwarts.

I've recently encountered a problem: Pure-blood, wizarding blood...

The rustling sound of writing paused briefly. Daphne folded the letter, picked up another sheet, and continued writing:

My dearest little sister:

Astoria, how have you been lately? Remember to take your medicine on time and listen to your Mother.

Hogwarts is a lot of fun; you won't be disappointed when you get there.

There are many spells to learn here, professors with diverse styles, and many classmates, including a Ravenclaw...

Great Hall.

It was nearly noon.

The little wizards were gathered in large numbers; it was Halloween today.

The school gave us a half-day break in the afternoon. After enduring a morning of classes, the children were finally free to enjoy themselves.

The entire campus seemed to have forgotten the panic caused by the Troll invasion the previous night, and a joyful atmosphere filled the air.

But there are always exceptions.

For example, Malfoy, huddled in the corner of the Great Hall.

He paced back and forth in the corner, brandishing his wand a few times.

We made a date last night to duel Lucien at midnight today.

but...

Malfoy's mind was constantly filled with the image of that monster, the monster that Lucien had conjured up at will.

Her already pale and thin face became even paler.

Malfoy pressed hard on his hand holding the wand before he could stop trembling.

"Malfoy, go for it! Teach that kid a lesson!"

"A mere mud... Muggle-born wizard, actually dueling Pure-blood? What a joke."

A tall, muscular man walked past Malfoy and said in a gruff voice.

Malfoy glanced at the man, Marcus Flint Flint, the Quidditch captain of Slytherin, from Flint family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

Perhaps it was because this guy looked somewhat like Troll, but Malfoy was reminded of the scene he had witnessed the previous night.

The seemingly savage and powerful Troll was easily strangled by the terrifying creature Lucien conjured.

The already frightening scene, amplified by fear, made Malfoy even more distressed.

"Vomit--"

Malfoy covered his mouth with his hand to hide his gagging.

"Um, are you alright? Are you feeling unwell?"

"Sigh, you can't play Quidditch if you're not in good health, even if you've said how much you love Quidditch and how good you are at flying..."

Unwilling to listen to Marcus Flint's silly rambling any longer, Malfoy said goodbye and left the corner, bowing his head as he walked to the edge of a long table and sat down.

I grabbed a glass of juice and gulped down several mouthfuls, barely managing to suppress the nausea caused by fear.

Malfoy put down his cup, looked up, and saw several "familiar faces" across from him.

Ron, with half Pumpkin Pasties in his mouth, looked at Malfoy with surprise as he chewed.

Harry pushed up his glasses. Thinking about Lucien's methods yesterday and how Malfoy would react during the duel, Harry couldn't help but smile.

Hermione, on the other hand, acted quite normally, glancing at Malfoy before continuing to eat with her head down.

When Malfoy turned his gaze, he saw a handsome young man giving him a kind smile.

Lucien chuckled softly.

Good afternoon.

With a whoosh.

Malfoy practically jumped up, spilling the juice on the table in the process.

Immediately afterwards, Lucien saw Malfoy lift his leg, turn around, and retreat in one swift motion.

This scene made Lucien shake his head slightly. Sigh, the child was quite frightened last night.

Judging from Malfoy's dark circles, he probably didn't sleep well last night either.

Hmm, I'd better act quickly during the duel later so the child can get a good night's sleep.

"Lucien, are you planning to use the same trick as yesterday?"

Ron swallowed the Pumpkin Pasties in his mouth and asked curiously.

Although he couldn't get Lucien to agree to teach him the Transfiguration, he still wanted to see it one more time.

But Lucien shook his head.

"Forget it, let's try something different, something with more stunning special effects."

Ideally, it should have an effect similar to Dumbledore's Firestorm, so that other students would never want to cause trouble for me again.

It would be best if I could study peacefully at Hogwarts for a few years. What else is a school for if not for learning?

Just as Malfoy reached the furthest point from the long table, he was about to catch his breath.

Two tall, stout figures spotted him and exclaimed in surprise:

"Young Master Malfoy, we've finally found you!"

"Crabbe Goyle?"

Upon seeing that it was his two henchmen approaching, Malfoy immediately straightened his back, raised his chin, and acted as if nothing was amiss.

What do you need me for?

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a glance, their excitement at seeing each other.

Goyle unfolded the strip of cloth he was holding, and he and Crabbe each took half of it.

Upon seeing the words written on the cloth strip, Malfoy's vision went black, and he nearly fainted.

"Celebrate the Malfoy' great victory! We swear to defend the glory of the Pure-blood the death!"

Malfoy managed to steady himself, his lips trembling.

"You, you all, who ordered you to do this?"

Hearing this, Crabbe thought it was a compliment and grinned.

"It was Goyle who wrote the words. It was my idea, young master. Are you satisfied?"

"It's a pity none of us can draw, otherwise we would have drawn your family crest on it."

Seeing his teammates rushing to attack, Goyle objected and shouted:

"Young master, I've already promoted your reputation in Slytherin. After today's duel, it will greatly enhance your fame and status."

"This is a small matter, let me do it for you."

These words were like a sharp sword, piercing Malfoy's heart.

He clutched his chest and collapsed to the ground.

Yes, we already swore an oath of family honor yesterday, and there were quite a few witnesses present, and now there are even more...

We can't rationally avoid battle like we did with Potter last time.

This time, a duel is a must!

But, but...

Finally, those eerie compound eyes reappeared before Malfoy's eyes, giving him a splitting headache and making him feel nauseous.

"Clang--"

12 o'clock sharp.

The bells echoed in the Great Hall.

The sound of the bell brought Malfoy back to reality, and he found himself somewhat bewildered to find that Crabbe had helped him up.

Goyle had just pulled Malfoy's wand out and was about to put it in his hand.

"Go for it, Malfoy!"

After his two henchmen offered their congratulations in unison, he was helped to the center of the Great Hall.

The people in the Great Hall had already made way for it.

At the other end of the passageway stood a young man with dark golden hair that shimmered slightly in the sunlight. He wore a polite and well-mannered smile on his handsome face, and his dark green eyes were fixed on Malfoy.

The boy held the wand to his chest and said softly:

Are you ready?