HP: She married Malfoy after becoming an exchange student.

Draco jumped to his feet. "I'm going to write to Dad," his voice trembled with rage, a cold fire burning in his grey eyes. "Dumbledore can't do this… This is cheating! Blatant favoritism! I'm going to let the Board of Governors know—"

The surrounding snakes looked up at the sound, many with the same indignation and agreement in their eyes. Pansy opened her mouth as if to say something, but Daphne stopped her.

Elias set down his silver fork, his movements unhurried. "Draco," his voice was steady, unusually clear amidst the suppressed anger, "Sit down."

Draco didn't move, his chest heaving violently.

Elias looked up at him, his eyes light-colored. "Sit down first," he repeated, his voice still steady. "If you rush out to write a letter now, it will only be filled with emotion and lose its power."

Draco's lips pressed into a straight line, but he finally sat down slowly.

"Very good." Elias nodded slightly, then pushed his untouched pudding towards Draco—it was Draco's favorite flavor.

"Eating something sweet will help you."

Draco glared at him, then at Pudding for a while, before finally scooping up a large spoonful and stuffing it into his mouth in a fit of pique.

“Uncle Lucius will know what happened today,” Elias said slowly, waiting for him to swallow his first bite. His voice was so low that only the two of them could hear him. “You don’t need to write an emotional letter to tell him. The Daily Prophet won’t miss this kind of ‘news,’ and the other board members won’t remain silent either.”

Draco slowed his chewing, the anger in his gray eyes receding slightly, replaced by a deeper gloom. "So we're just going to let that old bee do this? Make all our efforts look like a joke?" The boy's voice was filled with resentment.

"Of course not," Elias said gently, "but accusations require evidence, protests require strategy, and anger needs direction. Pointless ranting will only make you look like a... sore loser."

Elias paused, looking into Draco's eyes. "But you're not, Draco. You're Malfoy."

Draco tightened his grip on the silver spoon.

"Dumbledore is the headmaster, and at Hogwarts, he has the final say," Elias continued, his tone as objective as analyzing a business report. "He used that power today, and we lost this round. But the House Cup is just a trophy, Draco. It doesn't represent everything, and it certainly doesn't determine the future."

He leaned slightly forward, lowering his voice even further: "Do you think your father, or any other member of the school board, would consider Slytherin inferior to Gryffindor simply because of the outcome of a House Cup? Do you think you're inferior to Potter?"

Draco was stunned.

"The real competition is never on the scoreboard in the Great Hall." Elias leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping over the cheering crowd at the Gryffindor table in the distance before returning to Draco's face. "It's in the classroom, on the report cards, in every choice you make in the future, in every connection you make, in every bit of ability you gain. Dumbledore can give Gryffindor a hundred extra points, but he can't pass Potter's exams, he can't earn Weasleys' respect, and he certainly can't help them... establish themselves in the wizarding world."

His words were like ice water, slowly extinguishing the blindly burning anger in Draco's heart, leaving behind a clearer and colder rationality.

Draco remained silent for a long time, unconsciously stirring the pudding with the silver spoon in his hand.

After a while, just when Elias thought Draco wouldn't answer anymore, he saw the boy in front of him lower his head and say somewhat dejectedly, "I know, but it's not fair."

"Yes, it's unfair." Elias put his arm around him. "The world is rarely completely fair. But instead of wasting energy getting angry over outcomes we can't change, we should think about how to set rules that favor us in the next round. Or..."

Elias paused for a moment, glancing at the platinum-haired head that had bumped into him, before adding, "Or, at least make sure I don't fall in the same place twice."

The candles above their heads trembled slightly.

Draco looked up, his eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight, a soft, melting glow.

Elias sighed softly, looking down at him. His gaze swept from the corner of Draco's eye back down: "Why are you crying? Didn't you just say you knew?"

Knowing his red eyes had been noticed, Draco buried his face in Elias's arms again, his voice muffled: "I knew it! My dad definitely won't let this go!"

"I guessed so." Elias's lips curved into a faint smile. "That's an adult battlefield. And you, Draco, your battlefield is here." He patted the back of the person in his arms, gesturing for him to get up. "Win it back in your own way, not by complaining."

Draco sat up straight, his eyes still glistening with tears, stared at Elias for a few seconds, and suddenly asked, "If it were you, what would you do?"

Elias seemed to have anticipated this question, and said almost without hesitation: "I will make sure that every grade next year is far ahead of the competition. I will make sure that all the professors—including the headmaster—have no complaints about giving my house extra credit. I will build my influence so that Slytherin is not just for show, but because of its strength that cannot be ignored."

"Most importantly..." he looked at Draco, "I won't let my opponents see me lose my temper. Anger is fuel, but don't let it burn out your own engine."

Draco's eyes still held a hint of resentment, but more so, a thoughtful expression. That aloof, almost arrogant demeanor that belonged to Malfoy returned to him. "Next year," he murmured, his voice soft but resolute, "the House Cup will definitely be silver and green."

"Very likely." Elias picked up his glass, his tone returning to its usual gentleness. "But for now, finish the pudding first. It tastes good."

Draco glanced at him, then finally picked up his spoon and began to eat normally this time.

Pansy, who had been secretly watching from the sidelines, breathed a sigh of relief and exclaimed to Daphne, "Merlin, how did Elias manage that? Just three minutes ago, Malfoy was trying to tear down the Great Hall!"

Theodore Nott raised his eyelids but didn't speak, nor did Daphne.

However, Goyle and Crabbe, who were holding chicken legs nearby, gave Pansy an answer, saying loudly, "Just hug the boss more! Look, when that Reinhardt hugged him, the boss's face turned red!!!"

Pansy quickly lowered her voice, "Shh! Merlin's beard! Why are you two shouting so loudly? What if Draco hears us?!"

The two burly men who had been scolded scratched their heads in confusion, hesitating to speak: "But...but the boss was standing right next to you the whole time, he must have heard it already..."

Pansy suddenly felt a chill down her spine and knew something was wrong. She turned around and saw that Draco had indeed appeared there at some point and was now staring at her intently, with the German standing right behind him.

Pansy: Hehehe... um... um...

With a couple of snickers, the black-haired girl decisively ran away. Before leaving, she only had time to yell at the group, "No wonder you were all silent!"

[End of Volume One]