In front of Hagrid's hut, Lucien still hadn't responded, so Draco Malfoy gritted his teeth and snapped open the box with a flourish, revealing its contents.
Inside were vials and jars, a small, ornate silver case, and what looked like a book cushioned at the bottom.
"This is a horn from a Romanian Longhorn, dragon hide from a Swedish Short-Snout, scales from an Australian Opaleye…" Draco rattled off the names with ease.
It wasn't just that his father had briefed him thoroughly—Draco was a dragon enthusiast himself, and he spoke about them with the familiarity of a true fan.
"Oh, and this…" Draco struggled to open the delicate silver case. "This is a complete heart from a Hungarian Horntail!"
After Draco's enthusiastic rundown, Lucien finally spoke. "Does your family run a dragon reserve?"
Before the box was opened, Lucien's Probity Probe had already detected magical signatures similar to dragon heartstrings. He'd guessed the "apology gift" contained dragon materials, but hearing Draco list them out still surprised him. These were the rarest parts of some of the most prized dragon breeds.
Take the Australian Opaleye—its iridescent, rainbow-like scales were stunning. Whether used as a luxurious decoration or ground into powder for potions or alchemy, they were incredibly valuable. The Hungarian Horntail's heart, though, was the real prize—considered the most dangerous dragon, extracting its heart intact was no small feat.
Lucien glanced at the silver case. The heart inside was impeccably preserved, almost identical to the one in Snape's office. Probably a gift from Lucius Malfoy to Snape, he thought.
"A dragon reserve? Yeah, my family's got stakes in reserves in England, Australia, South America…" Draco's lips curled into a proud smirk. He nearly tilted his chin up in his usual haughty way but caught himself, remembering past interactions with Lucien. He forced his chin down, keeping his arrogance in check.
Lucien nodded, unsurprised. No wonder Draco could produce such a collection—most wizards or families couldn't gather these materials so quickly. He recalled reading that the Malfoy family crest featured a dragon, likely tied to their long-standing investments in dragon-related ventures.
"Draco, this apology gift is a bit… extravagant," Lucien said calmly, unfazed by the lavish offering and refusing to fawn over its value.
To him, the so-called conflict was just childish nonsense. He hadn't cared much about it and certainly hadn't expected Draco to show up with an apology, let alone one this grand.
"No, no, it's not just an apology," Draco insisted. "A friend of the Malfoys deserves this kind of respect."
"Friend?" Lucien raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, friend. There's an old Eastern saying: 'You don't know someone until you've fought them.'"
Lucien blinked, caught off guard. Draco had said the phrase—"bù dǎ bù xiāng shí"—in Chinese, and his pronunciation was shockingly good, almost devoid of the usual foreign accent.
"I love what that phrase means," Draco continued. "Through sparring or dueling, you really get to know someone and build a friendship."
Lucien nodded slightly, his tone softening. "Interesting. You've studied Eastern culture?"
Sensing the shift in Lucien's demeanor, Draco inwardly cheered. His father's advice had been spot-on—Lucien did have an affinity for Eastern traditions. Lucius's letters had mentioned the sudden appearance of Eastern dishes in Hogwarts' kitchens, all thanks to Lucien teaching the house-elves.
Draco's comment also reminded him of two other pieces of his father's advice: first, pride and status were tools to highlight sincerity when humbling oneself; second, when dealing with intelligent or powerful people, show genuine honesty.
"My family's taught me a bit about it," Draco said. "But I figured you'd be interested in Eastern culture, so I brought it up."
Lucien's eyes narrowed, intrigued. Draco's assumption wasn't random. Eastern culture, huh? The only connection Lucien had shown was the Chinese food in the kitchens—easy enough for Draco to learn from a house-elf. Still, it was impressive that he'd gone to the trouble of researching him. Or perhaps it was Lucius pulling the strings?
"Was this your idea, Draco, or…?"
"My father's," Draco admitted. "He's a school governor, so he hears things about Hogwarts. He told me to befriend you—to be honest, humble, and sincere."
Lucien couldn't help but chuckle. From one extreme to another—Draco's bluntness was almost comical. "If you were this honest and humble with everyone, you'd have made friends with him by now."
"Him?" Draco looked puzzled, not catching the reference.
Lucien shook his head, pulling the book from the bottom of the box. "This book—is it part of the apology too?"
"No," Draco said, shaking his head. "That's my tuition."
He hesitated, then added, "I heard from my father that Potter's studying Potions with you. I want to learn too. And… I think it'll help build our friendship."
Lucien raised an eyebrow. He knows about Harry's lessons? Probably from Snape—Lucius and Snape are close, and Snape knows about it. He glanced at the book's cover: Inspiration and Divination. Something about intuition, perhaps for seeking fortune or avoiding danger? It didn't seem like a Malfoy family grimoire. Pureblood families like theirs prioritized luxury—dragon-leather covers, gold-inked lettering, gem-encrusted edges. This was likely a valuable collectible, given its place alongside the dragon materials.
Lucien ran his fingers over the book, asking one final question: "Is all this really necessary?"
Draco's eyes lit up, sensing an opening. "Absolutely. The Malfoys are always friends with the strong."
He paused, then added with a newfound humility, "Lucien, do I have the honor of earning your friendship?"
No trace of his usual arrogance remained. His father's letter had been clear: befriending the powerful was good, but forming bonds with those destined for greatness was better. Invest in people with potential, Lucius had written. The Malfoys had no shortage of resources, so there was no fear of loss. And at the letter's end, one line stuck with Draco: Trust your instincts, and trust the insight passed down through Malfoy blood.
Lucien smirked. Quite the turncoat attitude—not everyone can pull that off. Lucius Malfoy's ability to navigate both sides of the moral line was legendary, and Draco was clearly his son.
"Alright," Lucien said. "Come in and grab some food."