"Father, you're right."
Draco's voice rang out again in the silence, "I didn't just smash glass, I smashed load-bearing walls, reputations, relationships—those two pillars are cracked, and Malfoy Mansion is shaking."
Draco continued, "We need to fix it. But how?"
"Hiding me is like putting a plaster on my skin."
Draco looked at Lucius, his eyes showing no sign of evasion. "Everyone will remember this place was damaged, and they'll come back to pick at this scar."
"How about trying a different method of cultivation?"
"Just leave the hole open."
"But let everyone see—the holes in the Malfoy family can breed the most poisonous thorns."
"Let me go back to Hogwarts, back to the center of that hole. I won't hide."
"I am the most conspicuous thorn you've planted in the enemy's ranks."
"You can see it all clearly—who laughs, who touches, who watches from the shadows," Draco said in a low voice.
"I live there as your eyes and ears."
"Use everything you taught me to prick people like thorns, to squeeze out anything useful from the most desperate situations."
"If... I could gain a foothold in hell, and even make people wary of me."
"So one day in the future, when this thorn is pulled out, or grows into the wall—"
"It will no longer be a hole."
"It will become a legend: 'Look, Malfoy could turn even the most desperate situation around, and he could even turn shame into a weapon.'"
"Hide me, we'll always have this scar."
"Using me as a poisoned sting, we might forge a poisoned sword that no one dares to touch again."
"The risk is great," Draco concluded, "But for the sake of the family legacy... I'm willing to take that risk."
"But if it succeeds, we'll gain more than just face."
It's a chilling fear that sends shivers down everyone's spine.
Lucius's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly.
In that instant, something deep within his eyes seemed to be touched.
It's not warmth, not pity, but a cold interest born of provocation.
Then, all emotion vanished from his face, leaving only absolute coldness and a resolute determination.
"Very good." He nodded slowly. "You finally understand that as Malfoy, your life has never belonged to yourself."
"Since you have chosen this path—a path called 'loyalty,' but in reality, 'purgatory.'"
He paused, his gaze sharpening as he looked at Draco. "Then, as you wish."
"Remember, Draco."
His voice was so cold it barely rose or fell.
"From this moment forward, every breath you take at Hogwarts will not be for yourself. You are Malfoy's thorn in the lion pride, my eye extending in the darkness. Your pain, your loneliness, will be the fuel offered to the family altar."
You will not receive public asylum.
"You must survive in absolute isolation and become... useful."
"You succeeded," a cruel smile curled at the corner of his lips. "You might earn the right to be 'accepted' again."
"It failed..."
After a pause, Lucius said coldly, "You will be regarded as a useless, self-inflicted wound. The Malfoy family will erase the trace of your existence, as if there had never been an heir to Gryffindor."
"This is your choice."
He looked down at Draco, "It's your fate too."
After saying that, he turned to Narcissa, who had been sitting silently in the corner. "Prepare his luggage, get ready for him to return to Hogwarts."
Narcissa's body jerked violently when she heard that I was willing to take the risk.
At that moment, she looked up, and in her beautiful blue eyes, there was only an empty, unbelievable despair.
She watched as her husband used the most ornate words to sacrifice their son, and watched as their son calmly nodded, as if discussing a trivial business contract.
Then, she stood up extremely slowly, like a marionette.
She didn't look at Lucius, but instead gave Draco one last, deep, and desperate look with eyes that seemed to hold shattered stars.
In that one glance, there was love, heartbreak, fear, and even more so, a deathly sorrow born from the complete annihilation of maternal instinct.
She wanted to say something, but in the end, she said nothing.
She was like a wandering soul, preparing to leave the study silently.
"Mother."
Draco called out to her.
She paused for a moment, but didn't turn around.
"Don't worry."
Draco tried to reassure his mother in a low voice, "Father's task is difficult; if I rely solely on brute force, I won't survive the first semester."
Draco walked up to her and looked directly into her moist blue eyes.
"I will be a silent observer."
"Like a painting on the wall, I only record, I don't participate. I find the quietest corner, attend class, finish my homework, and then disappear, giving no one a reason to target me."
"The spell is my last card," Draco lowered his gaze, "I will never play it unless absolutely necessary."
As for 'Stinger'...
Draco raised his head again, a very faint smile playing on his lips.
"I will turn it into a 'thorn that cannot be approached, a worthless thorn,' a strange tale that has no reaction and no flaws, so that it will be forgotten. To be forgotten is to be safe."
"I'll write to you regularly," Draco continued, "About the weather, classes, and the Pumpkin Juice in the cafeteria."
So, don't worry about my 'ability to fight'.
Draco's voice grew even softer, "Stay tuned to see if I can perfectly execute this 'law of silent survival'."
"I may never become a 'good wizard,' Mother."
Draco looked at her firmly. "But I promise I'll become the most inconspicuous student, someone everyone can forget they exist so they can live safely."
"Please believe me," Draco concluded, "I'm not going to be a hero. I'm going to be... a ghost."
There was nothing else he could do but comfort his mother in this way.
Draco couldn't let his mother live in constant fear.