HP: She married Malfoy after becoming an exchange student.

As soon as Hermione finished speaking, the Slytherin tablecloth made a "thud".

Draco's hand, gripping the silver spoon, trembled with rage.

He recalled the chaos in mid-air that morning—the two of them were tangled up twenty feet in the air, and he almost fell. Elias managed to catch him on his broomstick and prevented him from breaking his neck.

He had called Elias a "meddlesome man" at the time, but now he felt that it was an insult to him.

"Ridiculous," Draco threw the spoon back into the bowl, splashing a few drops of pumpkin porridge. "Is Professor McGonagall senile? Letting a first-year student into the team is a disgrace to Gryffindor."

"Calm down, Draco." Elias's voice was as calm as a lake. He wiped his fingertips with a napkin. "Getting angry isn't a smart thing to do."

Draco turned and glared at him: "Are you just going to watch that kid get all smug?"

"Of course not," Elias looked up, his gaze sweeping across the Gryffindor table and landing on the team uniform in Harry's arms.

He paused, his voice low so only the two of them could hear, "He wants to be the Seeker, so let him be. There'll be a way to show him that not just anyone can make a living on the Quidditch pitch."

Draco paused, the anger in his eyes gradually replaced by doubt: "You have a way?"

Elias nodded slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips, his expression unreadable. "Don't worry, I won't let him get too cocky." He didn't elaborate, but simply patted Draco's hand lightly. "Let's eat first, the food's getting cold."

Draco stared at him for a few seconds, then slowly sat back down, but his gaze remained fixed on Harry like thorns.

He picked up his knife and fork, but had little appetite, his mind churning with various thoughts—Elijas never did anything he wasn't sure of; if he said there was a way, there definitely was.

The commotion in Gryffindor continued, with Harry being pulled aside by Fred and George to discuss tactics, completely unaware of the undercurrents swirling around the Slytherin table.

Only the air in the middle of the long table seemed to be held taut by an invisible tension, foreshadowing an impending storm.

After finally finishing his meal and returning to his dorm, Draco slammed the door shut. His platinum blonde hair was slightly disheveled from walking quickly. As he turned around, the hem of his robe caught a gust of wind, and he rushed straight to Elias.

"Now you can tell me, right?" He crossed his arms, chin slightly raised, trying to maintain his usual arrogance, but the urgency in his voice betrayed him. "How exactly do you want to embarrass that Potter guy?"

Elias put the last book, "Potions and Elixirs," back in its place, and turned around with his usual calm expression: "What's the rush? You don't necessarily have to drag the competition into this to vent your anger."

"What else is there to talk about if not the game?" Draco frowned, walking up to him, his platinum-blonde hair gleaming softly under the light. "His proudest achievement right now is joining the Quidditch team. How can we teach him a lesson if we don't target that?"

Elias took a roll of parchment from the drawer and spread it out on the table. It had a simple map of Hogwarts drawn on it.

He pointed to the pantry next to the kitchen: "Did you know the house-elves have been baking Quidditch-themed cookies lately? You know, the kind shaped like the Golden Snitch, with icing on its wings."

Draco raised an eyebrow: "So what?"

"I heard that Potter especially loves this and takes a big plate of it for breakfast every day." Elias's fingertip moved to the owl hut on the map. "And the one responsible for delivering Quidditch training notices happens to be a greywood owl with poor eyesight."

He looked up at Draco, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"If someone 'accidentally' tied a fake notice that said 'Training time is moved up two hours' to its leg, and then replaced all the thief cookies in the storage room with... well, stinky, toad-shaped, dung-flavored crisps, what do you think would happen?"

Draco paused, then couldn't help but laugh out loud: "He went to the stadium before dawn and waited until the sun was high in the sky, but nobody showed up? He went back to get a cookie, took a bite, and found it tasted like poop?" His laughter faded, then his face hardened. "Isn't that too easy on Potter?"

"But enough to make him a laughingstock, isn't it?"

Elias rolled up the parchment. "It's easy to change the training schedule back, and gingerbread is harmless. He might grumble a bit, but he won't find any fault with it."

He paused, then added, "And, in tomorrow morning's History of Magic class, Professor Binns is going to check Potter's notes on *The Rise and Fall of Medieval Wizardry*. Imagine if a fake spider from the Screaming Shack flew into Potter's bag and suddenly fell out during class..."

"He'll definitely jump out of his skin!" Draco chimed in, his eyes sparkling.

"Professor Binns hates noisy classrooms and will definitely punish him by making him copy the text ten times! When he's busy copying the text, he won't have time to show off his Seeker status!"

"That's exactly the point." Elias put the map away. "Let him run into obstacles in insignificant places, and his temper will naturally dissipate."

"Once he calms down, even if he wins the game, he won't be so smug anymore—after all, who would bother with a guy who just screamed from being scared by a spider and ate a toad cookie?"

Draco snorted, turned and walked towards the bed, but couldn't help but smile. "You're not entirely stupid. I'll leave this to you! But... don't make the spider too realistic. If it really scares you, I won't be responsible."

Elias watched his awkward yet excited retreating figure, chuckled softly, and said in a gentle and clear voice, "Don't worry, I'll listen to you. It's my honor to share the young master's burdens."

The dormitory gradually quieted down, with only Draco tossing and turning – he was probably figuring out how to "accidentally" tie the fake notice to the owl's leg tomorrow.

Elias leaned against the headboard, listening to the wind outside the window, a faint smile playing on his lips. To deal with this kind of childish stubbornness, using childish methods was often the most effective.