Slytherin Common Room
The peculiar group known as the Dursley Fan Club was gathered together.
"So, the Chamber of Secrets… there's no way Mr. Dursley opened it," Pansy declared, tapping a makeshift pointer against a blackboard.
She circled Dudley's name, which was scribbled prominently on the board.
"Then who," she continued, "is daring to challenge our king?"
Daphne, the group's second-in-command, stood up, visibly fuming. "And they targeted Miss Granger, too!"
The fan club was an odd mix: some were smitten with Dudley, others idolized Hermione, and a few were downright obsessed with the idea of the two as a couple.
"Alright, everyone," Pansy said, her voice commanding attention. "I'm giving you a chance. If anyone here opened the Chamber, step forward now."
"I promise they'll walk away unharmed."
If the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, the odds pointed to someone from Slytherin.
Pansy's gaze swept over the gathered students, sharp and unyielding.
No one budged.
"Good," she said, nodding with a hint of relief, though her tone carried a warning. "I hope that's the truth. Because if I find out someone's lying, they'll learn what happens when you betray all of Slytherin. I promise."
Her words were met with a surge of anger in her chest. How dare someone from another house open Slytherin's Chamber?
If it was a Slytherin, they'd be furious. If it wasn't, they'd be just as furious.
"We'll find the culprit!" the younger students shouted, their voices buzzing with excitement.
"Anyone who challenges Mr. Dursley is an enemy of Slytherin!"
The Slytherin students had formed an alliance of their own, planning to use the upcoming holidays to investigate. They might not be the strongest witches and wizards, but they were Slytherins—children of the wizarding world's most powerful families.
Malfoy Manor
In the serene gardens of Malfoy Manor, white peacocks lounged lazily. Delicate fairies flitted among blooming tulips, and a central fountain cast rainbows in the sunlight. The shimmering turquoise lake completed the idyllic scene—a slice of paradise.
It was a rare holiday, and Draco had returned home, weary from travel. But his first order of business was confronting his father.
"Father, are you behind what's happening at Hogwarts?" Draco's face was shadowed, his tone grim.
He was certain his father was involved—directly or indirectly. What he couldn't grasp was why.
"Draco, how could you use such crude language?" Lucius replied, his voice calm and detached, as he toyed with his cane, avoiding a direct answer.
"It is you," Draco said, his suspicion confirmed despite the evasive response.
"Father, if I were you, I'd come clean to Mr. Dursley sooner rather than later."
"Draco!" Narcissa's voice cut through the room, cool and sharp. "How dare you speak to your father like that? Where are your manners? Your grace? This isn't the boy I raised."
Narcissa's demeanor was typically reserved, even with family.
"Mother," Draco replied, matching her coldness, "I think Father's gone too far this time."
"Draco, how many times must I say it? I'm not so bored as to meddle in such things," Lucius said, his tone edged with impatience, as if the matter had nothing to do with him.
Draco stared at his father for a long moment before speaking. "A third-year student's already been attacked. No one knows how they're doing."
"What?" Narcissa's voice, though still composed, carried a flicker of concern. "Draco, are you alright?"
"Hogwarts is supposed to be the safest place in the world. How could this happen?"
It was a universal belief among wizards that Hogwarts was impregnable, a fortress untouched since its founding.
"I'm fine, Mother," Draco said, his eyes still fixed on his father. "It was a Hufflepuff who was petrified."
"Petrified?" Narcissa echoed. "You're saying someone was hurt?"
Lucius's voice betrayed a trace of glee, quickly masked when he caught Draco's piercing gaze.
As the great philosopher Sun Tzu once said, "No one knows a son better than his father"—but the reverse was just as true.
In that fleeting moment, Draco saw the truth in his father's microexpression. Lucius was involved.
"It's just petrification for now," Draco said darkly. "But the next one might be death."
Narcissa's composure faltered. "Lucius, is this really nothing to do with you? Don't forget, Draco's still at that school."
"I told you we should've sent him to Durmstrang, not Hogwarts," she added.
When it came to Draco, Narcissa's usual detachment gave way to fierce protectiveness.
"Narcissa, Draco will be fine. I promise," Lucius said, sidestepping her question with a vague assurance.
But a promise from a man like Lucius? How much was that worth?
Only Narcissa would take it at face value.
What Lucius didn't say aloud was: This could be the chance for the Malfoy family to rise further, to reclaim some of our former glory.
"I'll handle everything. No need to worry," Lucius said, grabbing his coat and heading for the door.
"Lucius, you're going out? It's nearly evening," Narcissa called after him.
"Just a quick trip to the Ministry. I'll be back soon," he replied, barely concealing his excitement.
Inside, Lucius was laughing. What had started as a small move in his game had yielded unexpected results. An attack at Hogwarts—and someone injured? This was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.
Watch, Draco, he thought. Your father will show you the right way to play this game. Pure-bloods know how to wield power.
Dumbledore, that old fool, needed to be ousted as Hogwarts' headmaster. Someone more… aligned, like Snape, would be a better fit.
"Father," Draco's voice rang out behind him, "if you didn't do this, let it go. Don't meddle further. But if you did, confess now."
"Don't try to cross Mr. Dursley. You'll only end up losing."
Lucius was already striding out of Malfoy Manor. Whether he heard his son's warning or not, no one could say.