No one knew what Lockhart had said to Harry Potter, but when Harry returned to the greenhouse, the complicated look on his face made his mood all too clear.
If it hadn't been during class, all the little witches who adored Lockhart would've rushed up to ask Harry what happened.
But what really caught people off guard was that Ron Weasley didn't seem eager to question Harry either—acting as if he didn't care at all.
To Pansy, Ron had always been nothing more than the Chosen One's sidekick. Yet after shooting Harry a deep look, he quietly fiddled with the earmuffs they'd just been given. A closer glance, however, would've revealed that his fingertips had turned pale from how tightly he was gripping them.
Harry, meanwhile, was completely unaware of Ron's tension. He just stared blankly ahead. Clearly, Lockhart had said something to him—something that left him visibly unsettled...
Despite the long break, not much had changed in class since last year. Hermione, ever the know-it-all, remained the professors' favorite and the most enthusiastic student. Barely into the lesson, she had already earned 10 points for Gryffindor, drawing hostile stares from the Slytherins who were eager for payback this year.
Unfortunately for them, without Draco stepping in, there wasn't a single snake who could beat Hermione Granger, the year's second top student...
...
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"A provocation?"
Though subtle, Pansy—who'd been watching closely—caught the way that sly cat of a girl kept glancing over every time she answered a question.
It wasn't her Pansy was looking at, though. The girl's eyes were on Draco, and that alone was enough to irritate her. A provoked princess wasn't about to stand idly by.
But just as she raised her hand, Pansy realized she had no idea what the answer was.
Frustrated, she turned to Draco for help.
"Draco, you're seriously just going to sit there? Are you really going to let the House Cup be snatched away again this year?"
"You make a good point. I'll leave it to you, then."
"Ugh!"
Seeing Draco lazily propping up his cheek with no intention of helping, Pansy puffed up her cheeks in anger. If she had the answer herself, would she even be asking him?
But giving up so easily wasn't in her nature. After glaring at the uncooperative Draco, she grabbed his arm with a look that screamed she wasn't backing down.
"I don't care! You give me the answer, and I'll say it!"
"You're not really doing this for the points, are you?"
"....."
"Knew it."
"No I'm not! That's not true!"
Seeing her flustered face so close to his, Draco immediately realized she didn't care about the points at all. Everything she'd said before was just an excuse.
Goyle and Crabbe, standing nearby, glanced at Pansy—who was practically baring her little fangs—then at Hermione, who looked vaguely smug in the distance. They seemed to get the picture. Silently, they pulled on their dragon-hide gloves and pretended they hadn't seen a thing.
In a way, the two of them might've had some kind of animal instinct for sensing danger...
In the end, the top performer in Herbology wasn't Hermione or Pansy—but Neville Longbottom, who apparently had a real knack for the subject. That alone left everyone stunned.
No one could've expected that Neville—the boy who always fumbled and looked lost—would shine like this...
"We totally lost..."
"..."
On the way to their next class, Pansy's pouty, aggrieved look made Draco feel downright uncomfortable. He couldn't help wondering why she was being so stubborn about this.
Honestly, Pansy's grades were already excellent for someone her age. But compared to Hermione—whether in focus or thirst for knowledge—she did fall just a bit short.
Then again, judging them purely by grades would be far too simplistic...
"Don't stress over it. Just beat Gryffindor in other areas."
Draco, unable to take it anymore, gave Pansy a light smack on the head, offering his suggestion before she could start throwing a fit.
As expected, his words immediately grabbed Pansy's attention.
"Other things?"
"Like Quidditch, or real dueling. Aren't those your specialties?"
"Mm-hmm! Exactly!"
Whether she genuinely agreed or was just swayed because it came from Draco, Pansy, who had been sulking just moments ago, was now all smiles. If you didn't know better, you'd think she'd just triumphed over someone.
Draco used the moment to smoothly steer the conversation elsewhere.
"Anyway, what's our next class?"
"Let me check... Uh, it's Lockhart's Defense Against the Dark Arts..."
"Oh? That guy's class? I can already picture the chaos."
Draco's tone was hesitant, and his face showed a peculiar look of doubt.
Thinking about it—Lockhart had written so many books about his supposed adventures. If all of those stories were truly his own experiences, then he should be more than qualified to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.
But judging by Draco's reaction, he clearly wasn't expecting much from Lockhart's class, which struck Goyle and the others as odd. It was the first time they'd seen Draco so unsure about something.
Still, seeing that Draco was deliberately dodging the topic, they decided not to press any further.
And just as they brought up Lockhart, the Gryffindor lions and the Slytherins led by Draco crossed paths outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom...