Hogwarts' Golden Glory

When Draco pushed open the classroom door and came out, his face was so pale it was almost transparent.

His fingers unconsciously rubbed against his left sleeve cuff.

The black box Quirrell had given him was hidden there, and the cold touch through his skin told him that what had just happened was real.

In the corridor, Kane Malfoy leaned against the stone wall, toying with a Galleon in his hand.

His grey-blue eyes narrowed slightly as his gaze fell on Draco's trembling fingers.

"How did the exam go, Xiaolong?"

Kane's voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable sharpness.

Draco looked up abruptly, like a startled Sniff.

His pupils dilated slightly, and his lips moved, but he couldn't answer immediately.

Kane's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

He knew his brother's expression all too well—the last time Draco looked like that was when he was six years old and accidentally broke Lucius's collection of ancient runic silver.

fear.

"The professor asked some stupid questions."

Draco finally managed to squeeze out a sentence, his voice hoarse, "Well... red hat stuff."

Draco hadn't forgotten that this was a secret mission given to him by the Dark Lord.

No one else can know except the two of them!

Kane's gaze swept over Draco's sweat-dampened temples.

They then moved toward the closed classroom door.

A few wisps of dark green mist were faintly seeping from under the crack of Quirrell's office door.

"Is that so?" Kane slowly straightened up.

The golden galleon vanished between his fingers. "So what were you hiding in your sleeve?"

Draco clutched his left sleeve as if burned: "N-nothing! It's just—you're next! Hurry up and go in!"

He practically pushed Kane toward the classroom, his fingertips unusually cold.

Kane let his brother push him a couple of steps, then suddenly grabbed his wrist with his other hand—

"Draco," Kane's voice turned icy, "you should know that some things you need to say!"

Draco's breath hitched.

Just then, the classroom door creaked open.

"Next... next... Mr. Malfoy..."

Quirrell's stuttering voice drifted out from under the door, trembling unnaturally.

Kane released Draco, a warning glint in his grey eyes: "We'll talk later."

When Kane walked into the classroom, a strong smell of garlic mingled with a musty odor.

It looked like something was rotting.

Quirrell stood with his back to him by the window, his purple headscarf wrapped tighter than usual, almost covering half of his face.

"Teach, instruct."

Kane spoke calmly, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Quirrell's shoulders jerked violently, as if struck by a spell.

He slowly turned around, his fingers nervously twisting the tassel of his headscarf: "Ah... Kay, Kane Malfoy... please, please sit down..."

Kane didn't move.

His gaze swept over the still-smoking smokth from the lectern's drawer!

That was the venomous tooth serum that Quirrell hadn't cleaned properly.

What will the exam cover?

Kane asked directly, his voice calm to the point of being cold.

Quirrell's Adam's apple bobbed. "Master... he's too perceptive..."

Voldemort's consciousness roared in Quirrell's mind: "Fool! Control yourself! He's just a first-year student!"

"We're having a test today...a test..."

Quirrell's stutter was ten times worse than usual, and sweat streamed down his temples. "Damn... Red Hat... of..."

Kane suddenly took a step forward.

Quirrell stumbled backward like a startled animal, his lower back slamming into the podium.

The ink bottle on the table was overturned, and the black ink spread on the parchment, resembling spreading venom.

"He's afraid of me. What did he just do to Draco?" Kane calmly assessed, his grey-blue eyes locking onto Quirrell's every micro-expression.

"Is the professor feeling unwell?"

Kane deliberately took another step forward, his voice as soft as a serpent's glide, "Should I go and call Mrs. Pomfrey?"

"No!" Quirrell's voice suddenly rose, almost cracking, "I-I'm fine! Now...please demonstrate...the fluorescent blinking!"

Kane did not do so immediately.

His gaze fell on the headscarf at the back of Quirrell's head—there was an unnatural bulge there, rising and falling slightly with Quirrell's breathing.

"Master! He's watching you!" Quirrell screamed in his mind.

Voldemort's will surged forth like a tidal wave: "Let him through! Immediately! Don't arouse suspicion! I'm going to rest now!"

"The fluorescent light is flashing!"

Kane suddenly raised his wand, and a blinding white light burst forth from the tip, instantly illuminating the entire classroom.

In that brief moment of blinding light, Kane clearly saw—

Quirrell's headscarf was translucent in the light, vaguely revealing the outline of a distorted human face.

After the lights were turned off, the classroom was deathly silent.

Quirrell slumped into the chair as if all his strength had been drained, the back of his robe completely soaked with sweat.

"Perfect score!" Quirrell's voice seemed to come from a great distance. "You...you can go now..."

Kane didn't move.

"Professor," Kane suddenly spoke, his voice so soft that only the two of them could hear, "do you know what the characteristics of a liar are?"

Quirrell's pupils contracted sharply: "He knows! He must know!"

"I...I don't...know what you're...talking about..."

Quirrell's lips trembled. "The...the exam is over!"

When Kane walked out of the classroom, Draco was already gone.

When Kane pushed open the door to the Slytherin common room.

The green flames in the fireplace flickered eerily, illuminating the entire room as if it were an underwater world.

Draco huddled in the high-backed chair in the far corner.

His fingers nervously rubbed the left cuff—where an unnatural square shape bulged out.

"Give it to me." Kane locked the door behind him, his voice as cold as ice at the bottom of a black lake.

Draco suddenly looked up.

A flicker of panic crossed his grey-blue eyes: "I didn't know you were—"

But Kane's threatening voice said, "Three,"

"I can't!" Draco's voice trembled with tears. "You'll be in trouble—"

"two."

Just as Kane was about to utter "one".

Draco suddenly broke down and ripped off his cufflinks.

The small black box fell to the ground with a clatter.

Kane didn't touch the box immediately.

He stood there, his gray-blue eyes slightly narrowed.

A glint of silver light appeared at the tip of the wand.

He had to investigate whether there were any traces of dark magic on the black box.

Even Dumbledore was tricked by Voldemort's curse.

He naturally dared not let his guard down.

(No curses...no evil spells...not even the most basic protective magic...)

Kane's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

(Too clean—unnaturally clean.)

Draco huddled in his chair, carefully observing the other person's movements.

But then he wanted to say something, his breathing rapid as if he had just finished Quidditch training.

"You touched it?"

Kane's voice was soft, but every word was as sharp as a knife.

Draco shook his head, then quickly nodded: "I just... I just wrapped it in my sleeve to take it..."