Harry Potter’s Natural Villain

The leisure time of the weekend is fleeting, and the breakfast time on Monday is quite plain.

In the two side-by-side seats at the long Slytherin table, Pansy was talking and laughing and talking to Malfoy. Maybe the girl was talking about her previous experience at school. Her face was a little excited, and her hands were still alive. Sign something.

"Okay, it's time to go." Malfoy suddenly reminded after a short segment of the story that they should go to class, and they would be late anyway.

"Yeah." Pansy nodded, noticing that he was a little too involved, but still seemed a little bit unsatisfied.

Just when they got up to leave.

There was a sudden noise behind the seats of the two.

A junior Gryffindor student slipped and fell suddenly, and the tea cup in his hand dropped and slammed directly into Malfoy's seat. The hot tea in the cup was tossing in the air, drawing an irregular arc.

Although the trajectory has no characteristics, it is clearly Malfoy's body.

With a sound of "brushing," the tea splashed all over the floor as if blocked by something.

I don't know when the teacup returned to the lower grader's hands.

"Be careful next time." Malfoy reached out and held the student who was about to fall.

The Gryffindor student broke free like an electric shock and ran away.

"It's not careful." Pansy said dissatisfiedly, staring at the back of the junior student.

She was taken aback just now. Magic can solve many Muggle headaches, but sudden situations largely test the ability to react.

It was not a wizard who had not been thrown to death in mid-air.They were so flustered that they couldn't pronounce a complete spell.

In the corner of Gryffindor's table, Hermione was staring at her two friends carefully.

"What are you two doing?" The two of them looked sneaky just now, they looked over there in advance before they fell down, it was too obvious.

Ron spread his hands: "We did nothing." Harry nodded in agreement.

But she was quickly defeated under Hermione's stern gaze.

"Okay, okay... I think he must have the Dark Devil mark on his hand. I want to find an opportunity to let him reveal his stuff. If the tea gets hot to him, he can force him to expose the mark."

"What about it?" Hermione said suddenly.

A rhetorical question stopped Ron and Harry, their faces suddenly stiff.

Even Snape has the Dark Mark, but it can teach them the same. It doesn’t seem to matter whether it has it or not.

"Can you put your mind on the OLS exam and be more serious, that's what matters to your future." Hermione's tone is now very similar to Professor McGonagall's, with a thoughtful tone.

But in fact, she is the least qualified to say this sentence.

She went to Professor McGonagall to study Animagus, not to gain a deeper understanding of Transfiguration. She also extremely doubted Malfoy's behavior and this incredible "whitewashing".

It's just that, on the bright side, things can be detected almost at random, and there can be no omissions.

The "conspiracy" of the Goblet of Fire was detected, only when the final plan was nearing completion, due to the mistakes and omissions of others.

Otherwise, he is still the winner of the Goblet of Fire, perhaps as if nothing happened.

Even if they want to investigate, they must recognize the seriousness of the matter.

Instead of using this kind of prank temptation that only arouses his alertness

"Also, Ron, the power of the prefect is not to use the lower grades of students, and next time, I will tell Professor McGonagall." Finally, Hermione did not forget to warn Ron.

"Actually, you want to be the prefect, so I'm sorry to say it." Ron was a little irritable after being trained, and suddenly said impatiently.

"Yes, I want to be, so you'd better not let me get a handle again." Hermione glared at him bitterly..

She took a deep breath to stop her arm from shaking with anger, and then turned and left.

"How can you talk to her like this, Ron." Harry frowned and said with some anger.

It soon proved that Hermione was right.

Because in a herbal medicine class in the morning, in order to transplant a certain kind of special plant, because of its nature, some material touch will cause the rhizome to wither, so skin contact must be used.

Malfoy did not shy away, rolled up his cuffs and exposed his arms. Compared with before, he was not so sickly pale and much stronger.

Of course, there is no dark mark on it either.

Hermione was alone, ignoring Ron and Harry's apologies, and transplanting plants silently in the corner.

The afternoon class is Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

This was the first encounter with Mad-Eye after Malfoy came back.

"Mr. Malfoy, come up and practice." Moody's azure magic eyes looked up.

People can judge the corresponding mood by observing the face to a certain extent.

There was no expression on Malfoy's face, he was unusually calm.

Moody "let it go" lightly.

But it wasn't because he knew Malfoy's identity to release the water.

In order to keep it strictly confidential, Malfoy's experience in designing Peter Pettigrew with him in the third grade has been drawn to the Pensieve by Dumbledore for preservation.

The memories involved are in the principal's office.

It wasn't Dumbledore or Malfoy who went personally, it couldn't be opened.

just now.In his eyes, it was someone who relied on his father's power to cleanse himself.

But he understands the importance of Defence Against the Dark Arts for students, and the classroom is not used to resolve private grievances.

In extraordinary times, he will definitely teach him in the past.

However, now, after all, he chose patience and did not finally make a real shot.

Of course, even if you really do it, you don't know who taught whom.

A relatively boring Defense Against the Dark Arts class is over.

This class is talking about some basic issues again.

After all, it is impossible to practice every lesson. Summary is also essential. Blind practice will not make people make enough progress.

"Draco?" Pansy walked to Malfoy's seat after class to look for him.

"Where is the person?" She looked at the empty seat in front of her with some depression, and gently kicked the foot of the table.