The Sacred Twenty-Eight—a label that only began to take shape in the 1930s. It represented the belief that only those twenty-eight families were the truly pureblooded among wizards.
Pure lineage, untainted blood.
Only by preserving such nearly unblemished ancestry could wizards maintain their strength and endure through generations. This was the pureblood doctrine proposed by Salazar Slytherin. At the time, Slytherin had been one of the most remarkable wizards alive, with countless followers.
Because of that, the meaning behind these so-called twenty-eight families shifted drastically from that point onward...
In truth, the original, formal title of these twenty-eight pureblood families was the Sacred Twenty-Eight.
And those granted the name were not chosen merely because they happened to be pureblood. There were other reasons.
That reason... was lineage passed down through generations.
Time brings not only destruction—sometimes it forges power beyond measure...
Before the Goblet of Fire.
As Draco slowly drew the wand from the staff, its full form was revealed bit by bit.
Delicate carvings lined the shaft, intricate magical patterns spiraled along its length, and at its tip rested a lifelike serpent's head.
In Draco's hand, the wand looked less like a spell-casting tool and more like a work of art.
Once it was fully exposed, Pansy couldn't look away. Her eyes shimmered with delight and astonishment.
"This isn't..."
"Mm. My father gave it to me over the holiday."
"This holiday... the one when I wasn't in Britain?"
Realizing she had missed not only the Quidditch World Cup but also something this important, Pansy couldn't help the frustration that crossed her face.
As a member of the Pureblood 28 herself, she fully understood the weight of this matter—how significant it truly was.
And she had missed it.
But then something struck her, and she suddenly snapped her gaze to Draco's eyes.
"Wait—the wand you used in Defense Against the Dark Arts wasn't this one! Don't tell me... you've been hiding your true strength!?"
Draco lifted a shoulder. "Not exactly. I still haven't fully mastered this wand."
"So you're not denying it can enhance your power..."
Pansy rolled her eyes in a charming huff, growing even more curious about why Lucius Malfoy would hand over something like this.
She knew very well what this wand represented for the Malfoy family.
"So then right now, you're already—"
"No. Not yet."
"Not yet, huh."
As much as she wanted to press him, Pansy let the questions go. It wasn't a bad development—quite the opposite—and right now, there was something more urgent to address.
Pansy shifted her attention to the Goblet of Fire before them.
"In a few more hours, the sun would be up. Have you figured out a way to get around the age restriction and slip the parchment in?"
"Mm. All we need is to figure out which Ancient Magic Runes Dumbledore used."
"Ancient... Magic Runes?"
The same confusion flickered in Pansy's eyes. Compared to Hermione, she was even less familiar with anything called Ancient Magic Runes.
Draco didn't bother explaining. He simply pointed the serpent-headed wand in his hand at the golden lines on the floor, the ones drawn entirely with Ancient Magic Runes...
There was no incantation, no dramatic burst of magic, but the moment the golden lines began dissolving slowly beneath Draco's wand tip, Pansy's mouth fell open in shock.
Because what Draco was doing now—this wasn't within the limits of any magic she understood.
This wasn't mere silent casting.
"Draco, what kind of magic is that?" Pansy leaned in, eyes wide and glued to the wand tip glowing with a mysterious light, terrified she might miss something important.
Draco wasn't surprised; Hermione had reacted the same way.
And his answer was nearly identical.
"Just like I said before..." Once the age barrier had opened just enough, Draco finally stopped. As the glow faded, the serpent-headed wand slid back into the cane carved with the Malfoy crest.
He stepped forward.
"This is the power of Ancient Magic Runes."
As he spoke, the parchment in his hand traced a neat arc through the air and dropped into the Goblet of Fire.
The blue-white flames swallowed the slip bearing Draco's name. A familiar sight—and confirmation that he had entered successfully.
But Pansy was no longer focused on that moment she'd been waiting for. After hearing his words, she could only stare blankly at the confident light in Draco's eyes.
Beyond being drawn to him, she was brimming with curiosity.
So... was that really magic?
...
Early the next morning.
The Great Hall, where the Goblet of Fire rested, was as lively as if a feast were underway.
The champions would be announced soon. Every wizard who had entered felt both excited and anxious.
"So, what do you think? Do I have a shot?"
"Heh."
"If you ask me, who else could be Hogwarts' champion but Diggory?"
"True... though if there weren't an age restriction, the results might look a bit diff—"
Ahem!
A soft cough cut the conversation short. Cedric Diggory had just walked past their table.
With how loudly they'd been talking, he'd definitely heard everything.
Not that any of it was really a secret.
Hearing the whispers trailing behind him, Cedric's smile stiffened, and the good mood he'd started the day with dimmed.
"Cedric, don't listen to them," said the dark-haired witch Cho Chang beside him. "To me, you're the wizard most deserving of being the champion."
"Relax, I'm not bothered. Even without the age restriction, I'd still be the one representing Gryffindor in the Triwizard Tournament."
He said it easily enough, but the look he cast toward Slytherin was far from calm.
No one likes being compared.
And no one wants to be the one who loses.
Under that pressure, even confident the Cedric Diggory couldn't hide the flicker of resentment and anger in his eyes as he glanced toward Slytherin...
...