Just as Alastor Moody had said, the very first Defence Against the Dark Arts class that year really was used to confirm every student's identity.
After Draco, nearly every young wizard who stood up went through the same ordeal. The strange sensation of being stared at by that single blue magical eye was something no one ever wanted to experience again.
The only difference was that they didn't receive the kind of comments Draco did—words that sounded like an evaluation but were laced with cold mockery.
And perhaps, hidden within it all, was a trap meant for him. Moody's words from that class spread through Hogwarts within hours. By the end of the day, almost everyone had heard.
It only deepened Draco's predicament—both directly and indirectly.
Malfoy. Death Eater. A servant valued by the Dark Lord.
These keywords became the hottest topic in every house, their spread bolstered by a supposed mark of authority. After all, people would say at the end of each retelling, "Even Professor Moody, the retired Auror, thinks so."
And that was the judgment of a legendary Auror...
...
"So, the reason he did all that still isn't clear?"
The Room of Requirement.
Astoria, busy at the potions table, asked without looking up as Draco appeared unannounced.
No one knew exactly when this place had become their secret hideout. At least for now, Astoria had never seen Draco bring another girl here.
"There's a lead," he said. "But I'll need a bit more time to be sure."
"Is that so... Hmm, the heat's too low, and I think it simmered too short... Maybe I should ask Professor Snape about it."
Draco, curious, set down the book in his hands and walked over to the girl muttering to herself as she worked. She had just finished brewing the potion.
Honestly, with Astoria's playful nature, Draco found it hard to imagine she had a genuine talent for potion-making. Weren't Potions Masters supposed to be like Snape?
Astoria didn't notice Draco approach; she was still absorbed, doing two things at once.
"I may not know the reason," she said, "but one thing's certain."
"Oh?"
"Don't you think Professor Moody's appearance is a bit... well..."
"Strange."
"Exactly! If the information you've gathered is correct, then there must be a serious reason for such a suspicious, paranoid old Auror to give up his quiet life just to come to Hogwarts and teach Dark Arts."
"And Dumbledore allowed it."
"Exactly!"
Astoria wasn't only talented in Potions—she had a sharp eye for things, too. Watching her small frame as she spoke, a faint ripple passed through Draco's gaze.
Maybe the world was fair after all. It had given her what others didn't have, but taken something just as precious in return.
Focused on her work, Astoria didn't notice the complicated look in Draco's eyes.
As she noted down the results of her brewing, she suddenly mentioned something that had caught her attention...
"There's one more thing I find rather peculiar. You might want your followers to keep an eye on it."
"Whether it's the timing of the Triwizard Tournament's revival or this legendary Auror Dumbledore invited—I can't shake the feeling there's some connection between the two. It feels too coincidental."
"You must have noticed those wizards sent by the Ministry lately, supposedly to inspect the Triwizard Tournament grounds. But something about their behavior feels off."
"Are you even listening?"
Having received no response from Draco, Astoria—who had been talking mostly to herself—finally sensed something amiss.
But when she turned around in confusion, she froze at Draco's sudden action.
Draco had stepped closer, reached out to pick up a potion bottle from the table, and swept his gaze over the assortment of ingredients—ones only a trained specialist could recognize.
"How much longer?"
"Wh-what do you mean, how much longer? Don't move! You'll mess up my measurements!"
As if trying to change the subject, Astoria pushed him aside from where he'd been standing and shot him an annoyed glare.
Yet the whitened knuckles of her fingers told another story.
Though neither spoke it aloud, both already knew the answer.
To be precise, Astoria's Blood Curse had not been a secret since that night.
Draco withdrew his gaze from her face—one that always avoided his eyes—and set down the potion bottle.
"I see. What I meant was, if you need help, just say the word."
"You don't need to tell me that. Your mother already did."
Seeing that Draco didn't intend to press the issue, Astoria smiled faintly, relief flickering in her chest.
She nudged him aside, and after Draco returned to his seat on the sofa, Astoria turned her focus back to the potions workbench.
Only now, the concentration she'd had earlier was gone.
Her unfocused eyes made it clear her thoughts were elsewhere...
'Only you. I don't want you to know about this.'
As she absentmindedly toyed with the potion ingredients, Astoria couldn't explain why she didn't want to answer Draco's question.
It wasn't that she didn't have an answer—it was simply that she didn't want to discuss it with him at all.
Because in the wizarding world, the Blood Curse was a fatal, incurable affliction.
But what if... a miracle happened...
...
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