HP: She married Malfoy after becoming an exchange student.

The Sorting Hat announced loudly, "Slytherin!"

Draco's heart skipped a beat for no apparent reason.

Elias pushed through the crowd and sat down in the empty seat next to him, his long, silver-grey hair sweeping across the table and carrying a cool, refreshing scent. "Looks like we'll be classmates for a few years, Malfoy."

"Who cares?"

Draco turned his face away, but couldn't help observing the way the Slytherin students looked at Elias—there was awe and curiosity in their eyes, as if they were examining a rare collectible.

The sorting process continued. When the red-haired Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor, Draco rolled his eyes: "As expected."

When Professor McGonagall announced "Harry Potter," the entire Great Hall fell silent.

All eyes were focused on the black-haired boy, and even the floating candles seemed to freeze.

Harry hesitated as he put on the Sorting Hat, the brim almost obscuring his eyes. Seconds ticked by, the hat shifting on his head as if engaged in a heated argument.

Draco clenched his fists, a ridiculous expectation rising in his heart—perhaps, he would come to Slytherin?

"Gryffindor!"

The hat finally screamed, the sound deafeningly loud.

"We have Potter!" The cheers at the Gryffindor table nearly lifted the roof off, the Weasley boys stood on their chairs stomping their feet, and even the usually serious Professor McGonagall smiled.

"Ha, what a fool." Draco sneered, his disdain as sharp as ice. "He abandoned the honor of Slytherin to hang out with a bunch of Mudbloods."

Elias picked up his glass, the amber liquid tracing an arc on the glass: "At least he chose the path he wanted to take."

"What do you know?" Draco retorted, "The glory of purebloods—"

"Glory isn't earned by displaying house badges," Elias interrupted him, his gaze falling on Gryffindor: Harry was being surrounded and seated, a shy smile on his face, clinking glasses with Ron.

"That boy is smarter than you think."

Draco stared at the lightning bolt scar on Harry's forehead, his frustration growing like wildfire. He had thought Harry would be sensible, but he hadn't expected him to be so clueless. Gryffindor? A bunch of reckless fools, destined to ruin him.

"We'll see," he said in a low voice, as if swearing to himself. "It won't be long before he realizes how wrong he was."

Elias didn't reply, but slowly sipped his wine, the candlelight dancing on his silver-gray eyelashes.

Draco glanced furtively at Elias, thinking that compared to Potter, who chose Gryffindor, this German boy beside him, who also came from an ancient pure-blood family and always liked to mock him, was much more unpredictable.

Before the echoes of the Sorting Hat's song had faded, the Slytherin table was already bustling with activity.

Pansy Parkinson tiptoed closer to Draco, her meticulously styled black curls shimmering in the candlelight.

"Draco, I knew you'd come to Slater!" she said, glancing at Elias beside Draco with curiosity and a hint of barely perceptible wariness.

Theodore Nott sat a little further away, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the table. He was usually a man of few words, but now he spoke, his gaze falling on Elias: "The Reinhardt family? My father mentioned your family's trading network."

Elias looked up and nodded slightly: "Theodore Nott? Your father's owl just corresponded with my family last week about the supply of Norwegian dragon bone powder."

Theodore raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting him to remember such a detail, and a hint of approval appeared in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Gregory Gore was trying to poke a whole piece of roast beef with his fork, but the juices splattered all over Crabbe's face, causing Pansy to scream and dodge away: "Gore! Can't you be a little more tactful?"

Draco frowned and snapped, "Enough! Don't embarrass Slytherin!" No sooner had he spoken than a burst of laughter erupted from the Gryffindor table.

The red-haired Weasley was stuffing a chicken leg into his mouth, puffing out his cheeks as he talked to Harry Potter, looking just like a squirrel snatching food.

"Look at them," Pansy said with a disdainful sneer, "their table manners are as rude as beggars at a Muggle market."

"He'll regret this." Draco picked up his glass, his fingertips tracing the cold rim. "A guy who can't even tell the difference between purebloods and Mudbloods won't amount to anything."

Elias suddenly chuckled, a hint of teasing flashing in his silver-grey eyes: "You weren't saying that when you were in the audience just now."

Draco's face flushed instantly: "When did I—"

"When you smile at him," Elias said slowly, cutting his steak, "your lips curl up so high you could hang a gold cup on them."

Pansy and Theodore couldn't help but chuckle. Pansy covered her mouth with her fan, her eyes darting between the two of them, as if she had discovered some interesting secret: "Draco, do you know that Potter?"

"I wouldn't call myself an acquaintance," Draco retorted, sticking out his neck. "My father just mentioned that he's somewhat 'famous.'" He deliberately emphasized the word "famous," as if it were something insignificant.

Just then, Professor McGonagall walked by carrying a plate of pastries. Her gaze swept over the Slytherin table, lingering for a moment on Elias—she clearly had some impression of this silver-gray-haired freshman.

Elias nodded slightly, his politeness impeccable, which softened Professor McGonagall's expression.

"It seems that it's not just the pure-blood families who know you," Draco said sourly.

"The Reinhardt name is more useful than you think." Elias put down his knife and fork, then suddenly looked at the Gryffindor table. "Your 'old friend' is looking this way."

Draco whirled around and, sure enough, saw Harry Potter and Ron Weasley staring at them, Ron even making an exaggerated face. He immediately raised his eyebrows and mouthed "poor bastard."

"Ignore them." Pansy reached out to take Draco's arm, but he subtly dodged her.

Pansy glanced at Elias sitting next to Draco, a subtle look flashing across her face, before she quickly smiled and said, "That's how Gryffindors are; they can't do anything but be reckless."

Theodore tapped the table, gesturing for them to look at Elias.

The German boy lightly tapped the untouched pumpkin juice in front of Draco with his fingertip, and it suddenly floated up and slowly moved to Draco's lips.

"Want to try some?" Elias's voice held a hint of amusement. "More satisfying than rolling your eyes at Gryffindor."

Draco glared at him, looking like a bloated pufferfish, but still tilted his head back and took a sip.

As the sweet aroma of pumpkin juice spread across his tongue, he heard Pansy's soft gasp and Theodore's thoughtful gaze. A sudden unease settled in his heart, though he couldn't quite put his finger on why.

The laughter of Gryffindor drifted from afar, like a thorn piercing the elegant atmosphere of Slytherin.

Draco put down his glass, watching Harry Potter surrounded by his friends, then glanced at Elias, who was standing calmly beside him. Perhaps this new semester would be even more "lively" than he had imagined.