The Overlooked Pure-Blood

"Go take a look there," Madara said to the Shadow Guards behind him, his voice calm and flat, as though he had merely decided to have a cup of coffee.

He took the lead, heading toward the shop filled with the whirring of measuring tapes, the rustle of fabric, and the excited chatter of new students. The four Shadow Guards followed soundlessly, like his closest shadows.

Behind them, Diagon Alley's clamor gradually seemed to return to normal. Yet the briefly glimpsed scarlet eyes and the cold pressure they carried remained branded deep in the memories of many witnesses.

Muggle cameras and dreams of Nimbus 2000s, pure-blood pride and secret curiosity about Muggle items, the numbness of Squib workers and the harshness of overseers...

All those fractures and differences continued to flow and collide silently along this ancient magical shopping street, forming a tableau of life with turbulent undercurrents.

The display windows of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions were as spotless and bright as ever.

Several magical mannequins that could strike elegant poses on their own displayed the latest school robes of Hogwarts' four Houses—

Gryffindor's dazzling gold and red, Slytherin's deep silver and green, Ravenclaw's wise blue-gray, and Hufflepuff's plain yellow and black.

The shop was filled with the distinctive scent of new fabric, mixed with dry magical dust and a faint fragrance of incense. Flying measuring tapes, scissors, and needles bustled around several young wizards being fitted, directed by Madam Malkin's deft spells like well-trained elves.

At that moment, Madam Malkin herself stood on an exquisite little stool, holding a magical tape measure as she measured the shoulder width of a pale boy with a pointed chin and short platinum-blond hair.

The boy—Draco Malfoy—wore an expensive black velvet robe, his face bearing the impatient, arrogant expression of someone thoroughly spoiled. Every so often, he curiously glanced at the crowd outside in Diagon Alley, then quickly looked away, as though even one extra look at such "messy" sights would demean him.

A tall figure stood silently in the shadows beside him.

With similarly platinum-blond long hair neatly tied behind his head, a stern face, deep and sharp gray-blue eyes, and a perfectly tailored dark-green wizard's robe of the finest material, he was the current head of the Malfoy Family—Lucius Malfoy.

He stood at the edge of the gloom, his Silver Snake-Headed Cane tapping a steady rhythm against the mahogany floor, his chin slightly raised.

Before long, Draco, having changed into his robes, walked proudly to the mirror to inspect himself. His gray-blue eyes sparkled with anticipation for Hogwarts. Lucius's gaze appeared to rest casually on his son, but the corner of his eye remained alert to every movement in the shop. He swiftly surveyed the newly arrived customers:

A nervous Muggle-born mother and daughter, an utterly ordinary half-blood family, and a foreign wizard dressed far too flamboyantly and trying to attract attention... none worth mentioning.

When Madara pushed open the door with the Shadow Guards and the bell above it rang crisply, Lucius habitually swept his gray-blue, scrutinizing gaze over them. His eyes first fell on Madara's distinctly Eastern young face and overly plain clothing, and unconcealed contempt and superiority immediately surfaced in his eyes.

In his view, this black-haired, black-eyed Eastern youth—whose Sharingan was not activated at the moment—with an absurdly young face was yet another foreigner who had appeared from nowhere, trying to squeeze into "high society" without even understanding basic dress etiquette. However, before the mocking curve of his lips could fully form, it suddenly froze.

His gaze passed over the seemingly harmless Madara and landed on the four figures filing in behind him. They were four people completely shrouded in dark-green hooded robes.

Their footsteps matched, and they were silent as four phantoms peeled from the shadows. The instant they entered the shop, the temperature inside seemed to drop several degrees as though frozen. Even the trajectories of the automatically flying measuring tapes and needles appeared to stiffen almost imperceptibly.

At the same moment Lucius looked over, as though sensing his less-than-friendly gaze, two of the Shadow Guards slightly raised their heads.

Scarlet!

Beneath the shadows of their hoods, four scarlet lights flared! Like blood-red flames ignited in the darkness! They were not reflected light, but eye-light bursting from the depths of their pupils, carrying tangible spiritual pressure! This was absolutely not the effect of any known magical creature or spell; it was a pressure that acted directly upon the soul!

As the head of the Malfoy Family, a shrewd politician who had still managed to navigate the upper ranks of the Ministry of Magic, preserve himself, and even expand his influence after Voldemort's fall, Lucius had naturally heard the name that had risen rapidly through London's shadowy world in recent months—the "Blood Lord"!

And the most terrifying mark behind that name—scarlet eyes!

The Eastern youth before him was a member of the Uchiha Clan, the "Blood Lord" said to use ruthless methods, drive back the Magic Institute, and forcibly annex the Yagyu Family!

Panic, like an icy venomous snake, instantly coiled around his heart. But he was Lucius Malfoy, after all, and years of experience forced down the stormy waves in his heart.

The muscles on his face twitched unnaturally, replaced by an almost deliberate "friendly" smile tinged with restraint. He subtly adjusted his stance, making himself appear neither beneath his station nor insufficiently "attentive."

Unfortunately, despite his efforts to control himself, Draco, standing slightly behind him, could see everything clearly—

The fingers gripping his snake-headed cane had turned white at the knuckles from excessive force, and faint blue veins stood out on the back of his hand.

What confused Draco even more was that beneath a carefully groomed lock of golden hair at his father's temple, there was actually a glistening trace of moisture slowly sliding down.

Madara walked straight toward the somewhat flustered shop owner, Madam Malkin, behind the counter. "Are these the only styles? How... monotonous." Madara's voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly through the quiet shop.

The six Shadow Guards behind him spread out like shadows, their scarlet Sharingan turning in unison as they took in every corner of the shop, every item, and every living person. The young wizards being fitted unconsciously shrank their necks, as though icy blades had scraped over their skin.

Throughout the entire process, Madara did not spare the Malfoy father and son another glance, as though they were merely two decorations in the shop.

Lucius maintained that awkward, forced "friendly" posture. Draco was somewhat indignant, yet did not dare act rashly, and could only secretly study the guards shrouded in black robes.

Madara had the clerk casually wrap up several robes. As he turned to leave, his gaze seemed to sweep over the shop without intention. When he passed Draco Malfoy, his steps paused slightly.

Two Shadow Guards moved soundlessly, positioning themselves perfectly between Madara and the Malfoy father and son. They blocked their line of sight and cut off any possibility of further conversation.

Their cold, efficient attitude seemed to say: You are not worthy of speaking directly to my master.

Lucius's expression changed slightly, but he immediately restored his hypocritical mask of friendliness. He even gave a slight nod toward the Shadow Guards' backs, as though expressing his understanding. He grabbed Draco, who still seemed to want to say something, and sternly stopped his son with a look.

Madara glanced at Lucius, whose face was pale but who was striving to maintain his manners, and at the resentful Draco. With a snort of derision, he left the robe shop soundlessly with the four Shadow Guards, just as he had arrived.

The door of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions closed behind Uchiha Madara, setting the brass bell ringing in a rapid burst, like an alarm abruptly cut short.

An eerie silence fell over the shop. Only the suppressed breathing of several young wizards remained, along with the faint sound of bones grinding as Lucius Malfoy clenched his cane.