HP: She married Malfoy after becoming an exchange student.

Draco and the others witnessed their actions, and Draco felt a chill run down his spine.

Blaise, however, seemed quite interested: "Another Flint." He commented lazily, his gaze lingering on Evan for a moment. "Marcus's cousin? I remember their family."

Pansy Parkinson leaned over from across the long table, her voice low: "My mother saw him at the Flint family's party during the summer. She heard he was their youngest child and was spoiled rotten by the whole family."

"The Flint family..." Daphne Greengrass said gracefully as she cut her steak, "...the one who manages the plantation for Lestrange? They're just marginal figures among the Twenty-Eight."

“His parents don’t think so,” Blaise Zabini said slowly, a playful smile on his lips. “They tell everyone that their youngest son is ‘born to be a top-tier pureblood’—their thoughts are practically written all over their faces.”

Theodore let out a very soft chuckle: "Quite ambitious, Slytherin made the right choice."

Draco's gaze shifted to Elias, who was quietly watching Evan's direction, his silver eyes light-colored.

"What do you think?" Draco asked him.

Elias withdrew his gaze, his fingertips lightly tapping the rim of his glass twice. "Premature and deliberate attempts at intimacy often point to a specific purpose," he said calmly. "However, Slytherin acknowledges ambition, and whether that ambition matches the means... time will tell."

At the other end of the long table, Evan Flint also noticed the gaze coming from the middle of the table, and his mental compass began to spin silently.

Evan Flint knew his advantages all too well. That face, that innocent expression—from childhood to adulthood, as long as he softened his voice and looked up with those wet, light brown eyes, almost everyone, whether it was his parents, his sisters, or the boys who fawned over him, would do as he pleased. Acting cute and feigning weakness was the earliest and most skillful weapon he had learned.

His gaze first met Draco's.

Draco Malfoy, the only son of the Malfoy family and the well-known heir, had pride written all over his face, and his scrutinizing gaze in his gray eyes was undisguised. Draco did not respond to Evan's greeting and coldly looked away.

Evan's eyelashes trembled slightly, revealing a shy, even timid smile. As if startled by Draco, his eyes instantly reddened, making him look like a rabbit.

When his gaze fell on Elias, he paused for a little longer.

Elias Reinhardt, heir to the German Reinhardt family. Perhaps because he is a few years older than the others, Elias has a more relaxed posture, a long neck, and his silver-grey hair is simply tied up, revealing a clean-cut facial profile.

Those pale silver eyes watched the Sorting Ceremony calmly, without curiosity or judgment, just pure observation—like watching a performance that had been anticipated.

Evan Flint felt his heart racing.

He liked this composure. Compared to Draco Malfoy's obvious, almost overt arrogance, this man possessed a more restrained strength. This quality held an inexplicable attraction for Evan; he liked this composure and sense of control.

Even before enrolling, Evan had specifically inquired about this senior's temperament from various gossip sources. Compared to Malfoy, who was emotionally expressive and easily angered, Elias was obviously more difficult to approach, but also... more in line with his deepest "ideal goal".

So when he met Elias's gaze, Evan deliberately slowed his head up a beat, and slowly raised his eyelashes to make sure the other could see his eyes reddened by Malfoy's "fright" and the pitiful, innocent tears in them.

Evan knew that this angle was his best profile; the lines from his nose to his chin appeared both soft and refined in the candlelight. He smiled at Elias, a smile unlike any he had given Draco, his eyes crinkling with a pure innocence, like a fawn that had stumbled upon a tranquil lake.

Evan thought with almost smug satisfaction: Who could really dislike this kind of person? Elias, who seems so composed, is definitely more susceptible to his soft and dependent nature.

Immediately, as if embarrassed by his own "bold" gaze, he quickly lowered his eyes, his thick eyelashes falling like small fans to cover the fleeting glint in his eyes.

"Merlin, what kind of expression is that?!" Draco was greatly shocked as he watched Evan's face change from aggrieved to shy.

With his mouth full of roasted chicken, Gore confidently spoke up: "I know! Flint must be having a facial cramp, just like Crabbe had one last time!"

After a brief silence, the table of snakes burst into laughter.

Evan's "shy" object, Elias, didn't even change his expression, only giving Evan a barely perceptible nod in return.

Evan Flint's face instantly turned bright red.

"Oh, Elias!" Pansy said with a hint of amusement in her voice, "He's clearly infatuated with you."

Daphne chuckled softly: "In his parents' eyes, Reinhardt was a super prize, but unfortunately..."

Blaise slowly took a sip of his juice, glanced at Draco who was still grinning foolishly, and finished up Daphne's unfinished sentence: "Unfortunately, the grand prize usually doesn't wait for others to claim it."

Just as everyone was about to exchange a few more jokes, a noise from the doorway interrupted their conversation.

The Great Hall doors were suddenly pushed open, and Professor McGonagall walked in with a stern expression, followed by Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, both covered in dust and with torn clothes.

The auditorium fell silent instantly.

"Brilliant!" Draco thought, eager to try his luck.

Elias glanced at the doorway, then at Dumbledore, who sat calmly on the professor's bench. "It seems this year's troubles have come sooner than expected."

When the Great Hall doors were pushed open and Harry and Ron appeared disheveled, Evan looked up like everyone else. He looked at the famous savior, his gaze sweeping over the scar on Harry's forehead, his tattered robes, and the mixture of embarrassment and stubbornness on his face, before silently marking him wrong in his mind.

Not dignified enough. Not composed enough; doesn't fit his "target profile".

As Evan lowered his head again, he glanced one last time at the middle of the long table. Draco was making no attempt to hide his schadenfreude, while Elias looked over as if sensing something, his gaze carrying a hint of warning.

Evan immediately felt a chill run down his spine and quickly lowered his head, not daring to look any further.