After Professor McGonagall's explanation, she—now once again in her tabby cat form—finally received the applause and attention she deserved.
Such a high-level display of Transfiguration naturally sparked a renewed interest in the subject among the young wizards. Compared to the confusion they'd had as first-years, these third-years were beginning to understand where their true talents and interests lay.
Especially Pansy, sitting beside Draco—her eyes shone brightly with excitement, making her look adorably animated. Even Draco couldn't help glancing at her a few times.
It was clear that Pansy had decided to focus her magical studies on Transfiguration. Perhaps it had something to do with the Parkinson family's long-standing proficiency in the subject. Who knows—maybe Pansy really would master the advanced Transfiguration art known as Animagus one day...
Speaking of cats, one couldn't forget Crookshanks.
Ever since Draco had brought the adorable creature to Hogwarts, Crookshanks had swiftly become something of a Slytherin mascot. Students would greet him in the corridors, even offering him treats—and the same admiration was slowly spreading to the other three Houses as well.
It wasn't just because Crookshanks was Draco's pet. His clever, lively personality was simply too endearing.
So whenever Crookshanks returned to Draco's side, he almost always had a fish snack between his teeth—gifts from admirers. Draco hardly needed to feed him at all. In fact, since arriving at Hogwarts, Crookshanks had actually gained a little weight...
"Where have you been this time, Crookshanks?"
"Meow~"
Pansy plucked a stray leaf from the top of Crookshanks' head and tapped his nose lightly with her finger, half exasperated, half amused. The scene was so affectionate that anyone watching would have smiled.
Though she hadn't understood at first why Draco wanted a pet, Pansy quickly grew fond of Crookshanks. The cat, sensing her kindness, became just as comfortable around her.
It didn't take long before Pansy and Crookshanks became inseparable. To anyone who didn't know better, it might have seemed that Pansy was the true owner.
When it came to sensing ill intent, Crookshanks—with his trace of Kneazle blood—was especially sharp, almost as if he possessed an innate magical instinct for it.
Take, for instance, the time the Weasley twins tried to prank him by tampering with his fish treats. Their plan backfired completely. The next morning, they woke to find the carcasses of spiders and long-dead mice neatly placed by their pillows.
That particular act of vengeance left them with little appetite for days. The twins were certain Crookshanks had done it—but they had no proof.
Even so, despite knowing how clever Crookshanks was, Pansy couldn't help worrying. Each time he wandered off, she would scold him with patient affection.
"You didn't go outside the castle again, did you? Are you all right, Crookshanks? There are Dementors out there."
Draco, who had recently been studying Dementors, replied casually, "Don't worry. Crookshanks isn't affected by them. Those blind creatures can only distinguish friend from foe through scent and emotion. Obviously, animals aren't among their targets."
"Is that so? Still, to be safe—Crookshanks, don't go outside the castle anymore, understood?"
"Meow?"
Draco glanced at the two of them—the girl and her cat locked in a staring contest—and couldn't help letting out a quiet breath of amusement before turning his gaze toward Goyle and Crabbe.
There was something weighing on his mind—something that might confirm whether his suspicions were correct.
If he remembered correctly, the day of Goyle and Crabbe's duel with Ron Weasley was fast approaching...
...
Although Professor Lockhart was no longer teaching at Hogwarts that year, the duelling club he had proposed somehow managed to continue.
The wizard who had stepped up to take charge of it was a fifth-year student from Hufflepuff House.
Cedric Diggory.
And anyone who underestimated him simply because he was a Hufflepuff would be making a mistake.
Handsome, level-headed, talented, and exuding quiet grace—that was how most people described Cedric Diggory.
In truth, had it not been for Draco—a wizard who drew attention like the sun itself—or Harry Potter, the so-called "Boy Who Lived," Cedric, newly appointed as a prefect in his fifth year, would likely have become the natural leader of Hogwarts. But Draco's brilliance had a way of eclipsing everyone around him, and Cedric's light was no exception...
This was the first time Draco had ever heard the name.
"Cedric Diggory?"
"Yes. He was the referee for our duel that day, and he's also the wizard in charge of the duelling club."
At that, Goyle's expression turned sullen. In his mind, the only one truly qualified to oversee the duelling club wasn't Diggory—it was Draco, who had effortlessly defeated upper-year students.
"I know him," Draco remarked thoughtfully. "If I'm not mistaken, his father, Amos Diggory, works in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry."
Pansy, who was idly stroking Crookshanks on her lap, added in a knowing tone, "From what I've heard, the Diggory family's quite close with the Weasleys. You might want to be careful."
"Relax," Goyle snorted. "A Weasley's no threat to us—he's already our defeated foe!"
"Yeah, boss!" Crabbe chimed in eagerly, flexing his arm. "Just one punch and I'll have them flat on the ground!"
His crude display earned him an unimpressed glare from Pansy, who rolled her eyes.
Still, she wasn't particularly worried about them. Based on past encounters, Goyle and Crabbe had never actually lost to Ron Weasley. She doubted this duel would end any differently.
But while Pansy and the others were busy chatting, none of them noticed Draco watching quietly from beside them. His expression was thoughtful, his brow faintly furrowed as he considered something.
Perhaps he was wondering whether it was time to push their training a little harder...