For the next few days, Draco often practised attack spells, defence spells, and some dubious evil spells in the empty dungeon of the mansion's basement—Lucius, who was responsible for watching from the sidelines, was very enthusiastic about it.
"Not bad, Draco, your spellcasting technique is quite neat." Lucius arrogantly brushed the dust from his nose and said with satisfaction, "You cast the Sandstorm and Blasting Curses quite well. Next, practise Levicorpus. It is a spell invented by Severus, and I personally reckon it is quite useful."
If someone could create a Marauder's Map of Malfoy Manor, they would find that Draco's name frequently appeared in the underground potions-making room.
During his month in Bath, he and Hermione, taking advantage of their almost daily meetings, efficiently finished their Hogwarts summer homework together. This allowed him to dedicate some of his free time to researching and improving the formula for treating dragon pox, although progress was still slow.
"Dobby, clean up these dirty cauldrons for me," Draco said irritably, then took a quill and made a few more marks on the parchment, deleting some of the proportions after the ingredients.
A small portion of his time was devoted to Quidditch training. According to his memories from his previous life, Flint was still the Quidditch team captain this year. He was not the kind of person who was easy to talk to, nor did he care about past relationships—he was quite strict every time he re-selected teammates.
Draco wanted to be the best player, and simply "becoming a member of the Slytherin Quidditch team" was not enough to satisfy his ambition; since his rebirth, Quidditch was one of the few things that could evoke his passion, and he could not help but want to win, to show himself, and to win the Quidditch Cup for Slytherin in the new school year.
"How many golf balls did you throw today? How many golf balls did you catch?" Narcissa asked Dobby, who was tidying up the Quidditch pitch, as she passed by one morning.
"Two hundred shots, two hundred hits!" Dobby said in a high-pitched voice as he gathered up the golf balls scattered on the ground.
Narcissa gave a satisfied hum and continued her walk.
One way Seekers trained on their own was by using Muggle golf balls to practise their accuracy and reaction speed in catching the ball.
Draco could have practised much more; what difference would three hundred more make?
But he had not been feeling well lately.
For some reason, Draco had been feeling mentally exhausted and overwhelmed with worry lately. Memories of his past life haunted him, and he woke up every morning to nightmares.
He was constantly surrounded by negative emotions. Whether it was due to the traumatic memories of the manor itself or the regression in his brain surgery, those memories were like a floodgate opened, raging in his heart, soaking his wounded soul with salt water, and causing him to scream in anguish every day.
This gloomy and weary August—that was the reality. Draco sighed.
This made the dazzling and pleasant July that just passed seem as unreal as a shattered dream.
All the laughter, joy, and pleasure that little girl brought him seemed to have vanished with the wind.
He remained that lonely, cold, unloved, broken boy.
In the deep darkness of night, he would suddenly wake up in fear, feeling an emptiness in his palms and a pain in his soul.
In this state of mind—if there were no Dreamless Sleep Potion—he would stay awake until dawn.
Of course, Draco always hid these feelings very well, continuing to play the role of a son who put his parents at ease.
The day before school started, Narcissa held up Draco's old robes from the previous year, saying, "It is several inches too short." She looked at him with pride and affection.
The thirteen- or fourteen-year-old boy started to grow taller. Perhaps because of exercise, he had grown quite a bit taller than before, and his chin appeared more pointed.
"How about we buy something new?" Lucius suggested to Narcissa, still reading his newspaper, his statue-like face seemingly devoid of emotion, only glancing at Draco's sleeve out of the corner of his eye.
"Is Diagon Alley safe?" Narcissa asked warily, her face still showing hesitation.
"The Ministry of Magic has increased its manpower in Diagon Alley today. Harry Potter is going to buy books tomorrow, which is enough to make Fudge nervous—he is extremely careful about the tall hat on his head." He put down the newspaper, revealing a calm expression, and patiently comforted his wife, secretly relieved.
—Would Narcissa regain some of her senses after Draco went to Hogwarts?
"All right, let us go to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions then. We also need to buy a few new textbooks." Her husband's calm and composed attitude softened Narcissa's mind.
"What books does he need to buy?" Lucius folded the newspaper in half and casually placed it on an octagonal carved mahogany side table next to him.
"Intermediate Transfiguration and The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3, and several new course books, Numerology and Grammatica, The Runes Translated, The Monster Book of Monsters…" Narcissa pulled the parchment out of the envelope and read the titles of the books softly.
"Oh—" Draco sighed reluctantly.
Care of Magical Creatures! This class was pure torture for Draco.
He still remembered the ferocity of the Hippogriff, and the countless Blast-Ended Skrewts.
However, if he did not choose this course, he would have to take Muggle Studies. Leaving aside whether Lucius and Narcissa would go insane on the spot because of his choice to rebel against their family's beliefs, Draco himself would also find it difficult to face Professor Charity Burbage—she had died right in front of him in his past life, a memory that was far from pleasant.
He also did not want to take Professor Sybill Trelawney's Divination class. He could not stand the tragic expression that often appeared on the woman's face; more importantly, Draco worried that the eccentric prophet might utter some outlandish nonsense about the details of his rebirth.
Professor Trelawney might seem eccentric, but Draco should not underestimate her. She was the great-great-granddaughter of the famous Seer Cassandra Trelawney, and she had uttered some intriguing prophecies.
She often made irresponsible prophecies to her students, which Draco suffered greatly from; most importantly, she made the prophecy that led to Harry's parents being poisoned by the Dark Lord.
He did not know exactly what the prophecy orb said, but the Dark Lord clearly valued it highly, even ordering the Death Eaters to steal it.
It was because of this damned prophecy orb that his father was imprisoned in Azkaban, and the Dark Lord lost what little goodwill he had left for Lucius because of his incompetence. From then on, the Malfoy family's status amongst the Death Eaters plummeted.
In short, stay as far away from teachers of mysticism as possible! No one knew whether the prophecies they made up were mere fabrications or based on fact. It was better to keep one's distance.
Compared to the previous two, Hagrid the half-giant was much more endearing; the physical and emotional harm inflicted on him by the Hippogriff seemed insignificant. Draco was filled with mixed feelings about this.
"The Monster Book of Monsters? That does not sound like the title of a proper textbook." Lucius noticed his son's displeasure and drawled, "Hogwarts's eye for selecting professors is getting worse and worse. I heard they decided to make that rude gamekeeper the professor for Care of Magical Creatures. What was his name again, Hagrid? He did not even graduate from Hogwarts; he was expelled halfway through…"
Narcissa gave a haughty shrug and did not reply.
Please! They were not the same kind of people; she would not even bother discussing the Grounds Keeper.
"He is indeed quite rough. Hagrid always likes to deal with dangerous magical creatures and goes into the Forbidden Forest every day, yet nothing ever happens to him. I reckon he might actually have some real skills," Draco explained to his parents.
As long as he did not attend Divination classes and did not give Professor Trelawney a chance to say anything alarmist, he would reluctantly accept even if it was to explain things on Hagrid's behalf.
"That is astonishing. Are you friends with him? You are actually speaking up for him?" Lucius looked at his son with a forced smile and a threatening expression, as if he intended to cast a curse on Draco if he admitted it.
"Of course not. But he was recommended by Professor Dumbledore, was he not?" Draco looked back at his father with feigned innocence.
These witty exchanges between father and son often ended with his childlike, innocent expression. There was really no need to confront his stubborn father directly; that was the most unwise thing to do.
"Silly boy, stay away from Dumbledore, and stay away from those savage Gryffindors!" Lucius was clearly deceived by his son's expression. He frowned, stroking his snake-headed cane thoughtfully, and instructed Draco, "That gamekeeper is no ordinary person. I suspect he has giant blood. Giants are a violent and aggressive species; they do not hold back."
Draco did not say a word. As long as the conversation did not change his elective course, he was willing to nod obediently to Lucius.