As he spoke, he turned his head and looked in the direction the two had come from.
Harry followed his gaze. It was the entrance to the corridor, and there was no one there—only Pansy Parkinson's shrill voice drifting faintly over.
Harry suddenly understood. "Parkinson?"
"Yes." For some reason, Draco seemed very dejected. "The Parkinson family is more like mine. We both hate Mud—hate Muggle-borns, but we're not as extreme as the Carrows. Besides, I can influence the Parkinson family."
Uh...
Seeing how Draco stumbled over his words at the end, unable to say it aloud, Harry's mind was flooded with scenes from aristocratic TV dramas he had watched before.
Family alliances, political marriages, and that sort of thing.
Thinking of Pansy Parkinson's broad mouth and lion-like nose, Harry naturally found himself feeling a little sorry for Draco Malfoy.
So he stopped pressing the issue and smoothly changed the subject. "What about your father? I think if you can't persuade him, you probably can't solve this problem. After all, he's the head of the Malfoy family. His words might carry more weight than yours."
At that, Draco fell silent for a moment before saying, "The reason I came to find you today is that I hope you'll spend more time observing the Board of Governors over the next few days—especially my father. We need to know why his attitude is so ambiguous."
Harry blurted out, "Didn't you say it already? He hates Dumbledore and hates Vaughn. What else could it be?"
"No." Draco shook his head. "You don't understand my father. He—he isn't a stubborn person. He considers the bigger picture and doesn't fuss over trivial matters. Now that Vaughn is gradually gaining recognition from the pure-blood families, normally, he should—"
Draco did not continue.
But Harry had already understood