Behind Draco, the air suddenly froze.
Draco's trickery caused George Fred to crash.
In that instant, the eager expressions on their faces vanished as if erased, leaving only undisguised astonishment.
They opened their mouths, then closed them simultaneously, like two fish suddenly thrown ashore, left only with futile opening and closing.
"'joke'?!"
"'A mischievous sense of humor without pranks'?!"
The two words exploded in their minds, like two colliding spells.
"He was just... making fun of us?!" The thought popped into both of their minds at the same time.
The twins' brains replayed everything that had just happened at an unprecedented speed.
George's eyes quickly shifted from surprise to disbelief. "He controlled the pace from beginning to end... He used an offer we absolutely couldn't refuse as bait, watched us take the bait, and then... reeled it in, saying it was a 'joke'?"
After a brief pause, Fred's eyes revealed a complex light, a mixture of frustration and intense admiration.
" Merlin's beard... He used what we do best—absurd manipulation—on us, and he used it... damn beautifully."
They reached the same conclusion almost simultaneously:
This is not retreat, not fear, and not a last-minute change of heart.
This was a perfect social fencing match.
They were outmaneuvered, and the other side won cleanly and decisively, leaving no room for criticism.
The initial shock quickly faded, replaced by an extremely complex emotion:
A profound sense of defeat.
Extreme resentment.
And, an intense interest that has soared to new heights.
There was also a hint of excitement from "meeting a worthy opponent".
The two of them simultaneously crossed their arms, neither trying to catch up nor saying another word.
She simply stood there quietly, watching Draco walk to the end of the corridor.
"... He's a genius, Fred."
George spoke in a voice only Fred could hear, his voice laced with a barely suppressed excitement.
"An evil, cold-blooded genius who manipulates people's hearts and minds."
Fred nodded slowly.
"We were wrong, George, terribly wrong! This isn't a poor wretch in need of 'help,' nor a businessman looking to 'trade,' this is... a player."
Fred paused, a dangerous smile playing on his lips. "A top player who just used our rules to outmaneuver us in our most familiar territory."
George grinned, revealing a challenging smile, "I like the game difficulty, which has been increased from 'easy fun' to 'epic challenge'."
"And he just unilaterally announced," Fred continued, "That he doesn't play 'pranks' or any other 'lowbrow fun,' which means we'll have to upgrade our game if we want to continue 'playing' with him."
He watched Draco's retreating figure, his eyes growing brighter and brighter. "This is a million times more interesting than going to the Headmaster's Office to watch a fight."
After Draco walked ahead on his own, Percy didn't immediately follow.
He stood there for two seconds, his eyes vacant, as if he hadn't yet recovered from the series of shocks he had just experienced.
He always thought he was in control.
The Prefect is responsible for maintaining order, explaining the rules, and rescuing the younger students from trouble.
But what just happened made him realize for the first time:
In this invisible game, he is neither a player nor a piece, but more like a piece on the chessboard that is casually pushed aside.
Percy followed with slightly unsteady steps, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he said nothing.
He no longer tried to speak, nor did he try to control Draco.
He was like a Prefect whose soul had been ripped out, only wanting to complete the bare minimum task of getting the person to the Headmaster's Office as quickly as possible.
Then he fled the scene that had humiliated him and shattered his logic.
At the corners of the corridor, at the stairwells, and beside the portraits, there were already a few early-rising students.
They may not have heard the entire conversation, but from the moment the air froze, from the twins' expressions, and from Percy's loss of composure, they roughly understood one thing:
Something big has happened.
"That was... Malfoy inviting the Weasley brothers to the Headmaster's Office? As a 'spiritual support group'?"
"A Ravenclaw girl whispered, her eyes sparkling with curiosity."
"'Joke'? In that situation?" Another pushed up his glasses. "That's not typical of the Malfoy family's behavior..."
" The Weasley brothers' reaction is also unusual," the third student said thoughtfully. "They're actually seriously considering... Percy looks like he's about to have a stroke."
More data is needed.
Someone closed their notebook and said.
"This appears to involve a complex interplay of family politics, academic conflicts, and individual psychology."
" Merlin, poor Percy Weasley..."
A Hufflepuff boy, watching Percy's retreating figure, couldn't help but sigh, "He looks like he's about to cry."
"How could Malfoy joke around?"
Another scratched his head, "Didn't his father come?"
" George and Fred are really..." someone chuckled helplessly, "They can always start a fight."
"However, Malfoy's last words..."
A girl frowned. "Is this a dig at the Weasley brothers? Aren't they in cahoots?"
Who knows?
The person next to him shrugged, " Hogwarts mornings are more lively than the village market."
Lavender, who was still complaining about how early it was, now had her hands clasped in front of her chest, a blush on her face that was a mixture of worry, pride, and even deeper infatuation.
"Oh! I knew it!"
She said in a low, excited voice, "Faced with such terrible oppression from his family, he did not yield, nor did he show fear! He used wisdom and humor as his weapons!"
Lavender mimicked Draco's tone, repeating softly, "'Just kidding.'"
"What effortless grace! To maintain elegance and ironic sharpness even in dire straits—it's almost like those court poets forced to contend with tyrants, wielding words as daggers!"
Hermione, who was looking down at her timetable, suddenly looked up when she heard this, her eyes flashing with a sharp light, and her brows furrowing tightly.
"If he's really on his way to see his father and the headmaster, and he's still joking with the Weasley brothers and Percy... there are only two possibilities: either he's gone insane from fear, or he doesn't care what might happen, or... he thinks he can handle it."
Olivia analyzed.
She leaned against the railing, watching the commotion across the corridor, and continued, "I'm more inclined to believe the third explanation. He knows exactly what he's doing; he's testing the boundaries and sending a signal to everyone."
After a pause, Olivia smiled with interest and continued, "Don't treat me like an ordinary Malfoy."
Parvati was completely absorbed in the excitement of the gossip. "Anyway, this is so exciting! It's even more exciting than the gossip in The Witch Weekly!"
"Do you think his father is throwing a tantrum in the Headmaster's Office right now? What will Malfoy say? Will his father take him home? Or will Professor Dumbledore save him?"
Hermione did not answer.
Her gaze followed Draco's retreating figure until the blond hair disappeared around the corner of the stairs.
"If he could truly maintain that composure under such pressure..."
She thought to herself,
"Then he's either a madman or an extremely dangerous person."
Either way, it was enough for her to put him at the very top of her list of key people to observe.