Hermione's previous sympathy for Jackdaw and her disgust for Apollonia have now turned into pity for Anne and serious questioning of Jackdaw's character.
Draco, however, maintained his calm and analytical demeanor.
He looked at the House-elf was weeping and banging his head on the ground, and said slowly, "How can we believe what you're saying is true? Jackdaw has vanished without a trace, there's no way to verify it."
"And you are Apollonia Black's House-elf, so you might be making up stories to protect your former master."
Although he was inclined to believe the new version, Draco, having experienced so many bizarre events, dared not be easily led by either side's story.
Scrope rose to his feet, his small frame bowing slightly, his voice tinged with humility. "Come with me to the young lady's private grotto, and everything will be clear."
Now that the secret of the Map Chamber is over, this shocking hidden story has been revealed.
The two exchanged a glance and decided to investigate the matter thoroughly.
Seeing that the two intended to go, Scrope, with his thin frame, bowed deeply, assuming a leading posture:
"Sir, Miss Granger, please follow me."
"The cave is deep in the wetlands on the west shore of Black Lake, where... Rockback Mud Monster guard it. They have thick skin and are very fierce, so we have to be careful to get around them."
"Going through all that trouble to deal with the mud monster? Too much trouble! Let's just fly over on our brooms and find the entrance from above."
Draco pulled two brooms from his pocket. Having tasted the advantages of riding brooms and ignoring terrain, he didn't want to waste any more time walking and dealing with low-level Magical Creatures.
"You're still so afraid of trouble," Hermione said helplessly.
"That's called thoughtfulness," Draco said, a playful smile curving his lips as his gaze swept over her legs.
"I don't want my fiancée to walk too much. What if her calves get too big from all the walking? That would be so unsightly!"
Hermione's cheeks instantly flushed red, and she glared at him, annoyed and embarrassed. "What nonsense are you talking about! Business is more important!"
"Ride, ride a broom?"
Scrope almost thought he was hallucinating.
House-elf have always been subjected to the whims, scolding, and beatings of wizards.
Wizards had never allowed them to ride on the same broomstick before, let alone a noble Pure-blood like Malfoy.
"No, no, sir! This, this is against the rules!" Scrope waved his hands frantically, his small body shrinking into a ball, almost kneeling down again.
"How could House-elf... how could he ride a broomstick with a noble wizard! I... I'll fall off! I... I'm not worthy! I'll dirty your broomstick!"
It wasn't the flight itself that it feared, but rather the "offense" this behavior would inflict on its master, and the severe punishment that would follow.
This is utterly presumptuous and blasphemous!
"Stop talking nonsense! Get on board. Flying there will save at least ten minutes. I don't have time to waste here dawdling over rules."
Draco gave it a cold glance.
Hermione gently reassured him, " Scrope, it's alright. The broom is steady, Draco is a very good flier."
"We want to get to that cave as quickly as possible; it's the most efficient way. Come on up, just hurry up."
Only with the permission of both men did Scrope dare to climb up to the tail end, his hands gripping the broom handle tightly.
Draco and Hermione each mounted their brooms and flew side by side.
Draco glanced back at Scrope, who was frozen like a statue, and said briefly, "Hold on tight," before pushing off the ground and raising the broom smoothly, with Hermione following closely behind.
Two brooms Depulso toward the western shore of Black Lake in the darkness.
The wind whistled past his ears, but the broom flew extremely smoothly, Scrope initially closed his eyes in fright.
But after a while, when he realized that there was no expected bump or fall, he dared to secretly open his eyes a crack.
In all its years of service to Apollonia Black, it had never, ever experienced anything like this!
Miss Black was fierce and quick-tempered. When she was in a good mood, she might reward her with a piece of dry bread crust, but when she was in a bad mood, beatings, punishments, and solitary confinement were commonplace.
Even just having it stand still and not kick it is considered a "gift," let alone sharing a broom? That's a fantasy I wouldn't even dare to dream of.
Even touching a young lady's personal belongings requires trembling and asking permission three times before you can touch them.
But this Mr. Malfoy in front of me...
He looks so cold and arrogant, with a cold gaze, and his tone is always impatient.
But he casually pulled out a fine broom and let this lowly, filthy House-elf ride on it into the sky.
Throughout the process, there wasn't a single look of disgust, no disdainful smirk, no scolding for not holding it firmly or for its awkward posture, not even... a single frown.
Scrope secretly widened his eyes a little, gazing at Draco's tall and somewhat aloof back in front of him.
At that moment, my heart felt like it had been turned upside down, a mixture of emotions.
Panic and chaos mingled, yet a strange warmth quietly flowed through its long-frozen and numb heart.
It sat on the broom, its body still stiff, but in its heart, it secretly made its most honest assessment of Draco:
"This Mr. Malfoy... seems to be different from other Pure-blood wizard! My lady... has never treated me this... 'normally'..." It couldn't even find a more suitable word to describe this simple "equal" treatment.
The more it thought about it, the more its nose stung. It quickly closed its eyes tightly, lowered its head, and whispered in a voice barely audible to itself, towards Draco's retreating figure:
Thank you, sir.
During the flight, Hermione, who was flying alongside, noticed Scrope's ear, which was now only half its original size.
As the wind subsided slightly, she asked gently, " Scrope, how... did you hurt your ear?"
Scrope froze, instinctively covering his mutilated ear with his thin hand, and lowered his voice.
With a habitual humility and fear, he said, "It's... it's the Black clan's...'tradition'."
"When House-elf get too old and useless, or... commit an unforgivable mistake, their owners sometimes... cut off their heads and hang them on the wall as... decorations."
"This... this is not tradition at all, this is an atrocity!" Hermione's voice trembled with anger and disbelief.
She looked at Scrope's mutilated ear, her eyes filled with pity and uncontrollable rage. " Miss Apollonia... how could she really do this to you?"
Scrope flinched and quickly offered an explanation, as if making excuses for his master's behavior had become an instinct:
"Yes, yes. One day... I broke one of Miss's favorite vases, which made her very, very angry."
"However... however, the young lady was very 'kind'; she didn't cut off my head, but only one of my ears as a warning."
As it spoke, its tone even carried a twisted gratitude, grateful that its master had "shown mercy" and taken only an ear instead of its life.