"Draco woke us up—so where is he now? Where did he go?"
Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe stared at each other, finally shrugging off the last traces of sleep.
A chilly gust swept through the trees, making them both shiver.
Goyle scrubbed at his face, wiping away a streak of drool from the corner of his mouth. He pointed at a nearby carriage. "Should we just take this one?"
Crabbe hauled himself up into the carriage with a grunt. "Yeah, guess we have to. Let's just head straight to the Great Hall and wait for Draco there."
The carriage groaned in protest as the wheels rolled forward a couple of times.
…
Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy couldn't stop replaying his father's instructions: He was to make an effort to connect with Wyzett Lovegood.
Last year's botched attempt with Harry Potter had left their relationship in tatters.
And since it was Harry who'd shot him down in front of everyone, there was no way he'd try to patch things up now—not when it would cost him so much pride.
But with Wyzett Lovegood actually willing to share a carriage with him, Draco knew he had to seize this chance and do his father proud.
His parents loved him, and he could feel the weight of their expectations. He didn't want to let them down again.
The Scottish Highlands were cool at night, but Draco's mind was burning with anxiety over how to start a conversation.
Last year, he'd made a fool of himself by telling Harry that "the school should only accept students from old wizarding families," not realizing Harry had grown up with Muggles.
This time, he needed to stick to topics he actually understood—and avoid stumbling into another disaster.
He racked his brain for subjects that might catch a Ravenclaw's attention.
Ravenclaws loved knowledge…
Wyzett Lovegood had top marks…
And he himself knew a thing or two about the Dark Arts. He'd seen plenty of oddities in Knockturn Alley over the summer—maybe those would make for good conversation…
Piecing it all together, Draco finally thought he knew what to say.
"Wyzett… where did you—ah—go for your summer holidays?" He tried to recall how his father opened conversations, mimicking his tone as best he could.
Wyzett looked a bit surprised that Draco Malfoy was still trying to chat. "I went to Sweden. It's the birthplace of runes—really fascinating."
He remembered last year: Draco hadn't actually done much; most of the trouble had been stirred up by the Parkinson family and their crowd.
Once he'd shown a bit of magical talent, the snide comments and malice had faded away.
"Sweden, huh? Did you know there's a wizarding school there?" Draco asked, speaking so quickly he nearly choked on his own spit. "Cough—cough—I was actually going to study there myself."
"I've heard of Durmstrang Institute, but we didn't visit—it wasn't on our route." Wyzett nodded. "Gellert Grindelwald studied there, too."
As the conversation picked up, Pansy pressed her lips so tightly together they nearly disappeared.
Draco's voice grew stronger. "I visited Knockturn Alley this summer. Have you ever been?"
"I passed by once last year, but didn't go in," Wyzett admitted honestly. "The apothecary warned me it was pretty dangerous."
"If you've got someone to show you around, it's just another street," Draco said with a hint of pride. "I'm always stopping by a shop called Borgin and Burkes. They've got all sorts of interesting stuff. There's this shriveled old hand—the Hand of Glory. Put a candle in it, and only the person holding it can see the light."
He leaned forward, warming to his topic. "And there's this necklace, all cordoned off. Supposedly, it's killed loads of people… but it looks amazing—string after string of opals set on a gold chain…"
"That definitely sounds dangerous." Wyzett frowned the moment the necklace came up. "That opal necklace is almost certainly cursed. The warning isn't a joke—if you touch a curse like that, you could end up hanging in midair, suffering for ages before you finally die."
"That bad?" Draco was startled. "Wyzett, do you know about the Dark Arts, too? I thought you Ravenclaws all hated that stuff…"
Wyzett smiled slightly. "Isn't that the point of Defense Against the Dark Arts? You have to understand curses to break them."
"True enough…" Draco nodded. "It's Dark Arts first—then defense, right?"
Compared to most Hogwarts students, Wyzett felt refreshingly different. At least, his attitude toward the Dark Arts made Draco feel at ease—and more willing to talk.
"Wyzett, do you actually know what curse is in that opal necklace? What kind of magic is it?"
Wyzett thought for a moment. "If I had to guess, just based on the opals, I'd say it's a Strangling Shriek Curse. It's the sort of magic that's perfect for making Dark artifacts. You really should be careful—it's genuinely dangerous."
Draco nodded vigorously at the warning. "I will. But what does it actually do? I've never seen anything about it in my family's library…"
The trip from the station to the castle took a while, but to Draco, time seemed to fly by.
What surprised him most was how deep Wyzett's knowledge of the Dark Arts ran.
"Croak… croak… croak…"
The carriage rolled to a stop. Somewhere by the roadside, a toad was croaking.
"Lumos!"
Wyzett flicked his wand, filling the air with gentle white light that revealed a dark brown toad with thirteen warty bumps on its back.
"What a restless pet. Nox!" The light vanished. Then another spell: "Accio Trevor!"
The toad—Trevor—flapped its limbs helplessly as it was yanked through the air, landing squarely in Wyzett's hands.
Draco climbed down from the carriage, frowning at the squirming toad. "Wyzett, is that… your pet?"
"No, that's Neville's. He loves to run off." Wyzett shook his head. "Figured I'd help out since I saw him."
"Neville? Neville Longbottom—he's a Gryffindor, right?"
"Yeah."
"So why help him?"
"It's nothing—just a small favor."
"Wyzett! Over here!"
A group of students—Wyzett's roommates—were waving from up ahead.
Wyzett waved back, then turned to Draco. "My friends are calling. I'll head over. See you around."
"Yeah, see you next time," Draco replied.
He watched Wyzett walk away, then suddenly called after him, "Wyzett, if I lost something… would you help me find it too?"
"If I could." Wyzett turned, his expression serious. "To use a Summoning Charm, I'd at least need to know what the object looks like. Otherwise, it gets tricky."
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