Although things had nearly gotten out of hand at one point, the outcome thankfully wasn't too bad.
At least no one was hurt during Hagrid's first class, and the Hippogriffs ended up being the highlight of the lesson. Thanks to that, Hagrid's overall evaluation wasn't as poor as it could have been.
Still, that didn't seem to satisfy him. His face was filled with disappointment and visible self-doubt—clearly, the students' dislike of The Monster Book of Monsters had bothered him deeply.
After class, when Draco saw Hermione run after Hagrid, he simply led Pansy and the others away. To be honest, he didn't hold out much hope that Hermione could actually cheer Hagrid up.
Unless Hagrid changed his firm belief that Magical Creatures wouldn't harm anyone, nothing about this situation would ever improve.
Knowing Hagrid as he did, Draco hadn't even tried to interfere.
And really, if Hagrid ever did change, he wouldn't be the Hagrid—the man who once raised a three-headed dog and brought home a dragon egg.
From this class alone, it was clear that the tension between Slytherin and Gryffindor had reached a breaking point. They were practically one wrong word away from drawing their wands at each other.
The cause of that tension wasn't just Slytherin's usual arrogance and unpopular behavior—it also had to do with everyone's growing desire to stop them from taking home another Quidditch Cup.
That resentment showed clearly in the attitudes many students had toward Slytherin. And since Draco was both admired by many girls and seen as the face of Slytherin House, he naturally became the prime target everyone wanted to defeat—or replace.
Before the new Quidditch season even began, the most talked-about event was the upcoming wizard duel between Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe.
In a way, it felt like a prelude to something bigger...
"Draco, did you hear?"
"Hmm?"
"The Chosen One and his friends went to see that new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."
"Oh? What for?"
As Draco opened the Room of Requirement, he turned his head curiously toward Pansy, who walked beside him. Her nosy, curious expression made Draco—who hadn't teased her in a while—suddenly feel tempted to do so.
It seemed Pansy had skipped training Goyle and Crabbe today just to tag along with him. From the look of interest on her face, Draco couldn't help but suspect she was just using this as an excuse to slack off.
Still, what she said intrigued him. "Are you sure Potter and his friends approached him first, and not the other way around?"
"Well... does that even matter? Either way, they're probably trying to find a way to put us down. Especially if they actually win the duel."
Pansy muttered softly, frowning as she spoke.
After several Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons, she had noticed that Professor Lupin seemed to favor the Gryffindor lions, always giving special attention to Harry Potter.
More importantly—though he tried to hide it—Pansy could tell that Lupin often came up with various noble-sounding excuses to test Draco's magical ability, one way or another.
"Then what about Snape? If he knows about this, surely he's doing something?"
"Professor Snape? What does this have to do with him?"
Pansy tilted her head in confusion at Draco's question.
Though Snape was their Head of House, he rarely showed much interest in Slytherin affairs—or at least, not in any way people could see.
In fact, Pansy sometimes suspected that Snape seemed to care more about that so-called Chosen One than his own students.
When they stepped into the Room of Requirement, they found it already prepared: rows of spell targets set up for dueling practice, and shelves lined with vials of restorative potions.
Draco stepped up to the target and slowly drew his wand. He spoke quietly to Pansy. "Haven't you noticed?"
"Noticed what?"
"The way Snape looks at Lupin. That's not how one looks at an ordinary colleague."
"You mean..."
"Yes. It's hatred. For some reason, Snape hasn't acted on it, but he can't hide how much he despises him."
"Maybe because... this is Hogwarts?"
"Who knows. But it's obvious—this new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor is hiding something."
Draco frowned, frustrated that his spell still wouldn't take form because of unstable magic control. "And from what I can tell, our professor seems unusually cautious around me."
Or perhaps... around his family name.
While Draco focused on his magic, Pansy pulled out her wand as well, her gaze drifting briefly to Crookshanks, who was grooming his tail nearby.
"You like cats, don't you?"
"Hmm... cats? I suppose I don't dislike them. Why?"
"No reason. Just curious."
Draco didn't glance her way, so he didn't notice the slight panic flickering across Pansy's face. When she realized he wasn't looking, she finally relaxed—but there was a faint disappointment in her sigh.
After a brief pause, she turned her focus back to the wand in her hand.
A graceful flick. A soft murmur.
With practiced precision, the target before her transformed into a small tiger that let out a low growl.
If Professor McGonagall had seen it, she would've been delighted enough to award Pansy several points on the spot.
Her gift for Transfiguration was extraordinary.
Turning an inanimate object into a living creature was a mark of advanced Transfiguration—something few could manage.
For someone her age, Pansy was already worthy of being called a prodigy in the field.
And yet, she didn't look satisfied.
Because she didn't want to stay in Draco's shadow forever...