Hogwarts' Golden Glory

He stood up and looked at Lucius: "Father, you heard everything?"

Lucius nodded stiffly. He looked at Nott, who was bound and disheveled by the silver threads, and then at his calm and composed eldest son, feeling as if the world had turned upside down.

"Now," Kane turned to Nott, "you need to disappear for a while."

"You want to kill me?" Nott sneered. "Then what's the difference between you and the Dark Lord?"

"I don't kill people," Kane shook his head, "especially not those who are no longer a threat."

He waved his wand again, this time unleashing a complex magic circle that spread across the ground, enveloping Nott. The lines of the magic circle were silver, radiating a gentle yet irresistible light.

"This is a sealing array I designed myself," Kane explained. "It combines ancient runes, modern spatial magic, and the stabilizing properties of the phoenix. It will seal you in a separate, slow-flowing space—where time flows at one-fiftieth the speed of the outside world. Inside, you won't feel hungry, thirsty, or age, but you also won't be able to use magic or escape. I'll release you when things are over, or when I need your testimony."

Nott tried to resist, but under the combined suppression of the threads and the magic circle, he couldn't even move a finger. He could only watch helplessly as the light from the magic circle grew brighter and brighter, engulfing his vision.

With his last glance, he saw Kane Malfoy standing outside the light, the phoenix on his shoulder spreading its wings, its dark golden feathers shimmering like liquid gold in the firelight.

Then, darkness.

The seal was complete. Only a silver rune mark remained on the ground, which quickly disappeared into the expensive carpet.

Silence returned to the study.

The only sounds were the crackling of the fireplace flames and Lucius's heavy breathing.

Kane turned and walked to the desk, picked up the black bottle, uncorked it, sniffed it, and then frowned. "Inferior. A poison designed for control, it can't enhance magic at all. Voldemort never intended for you to pass the test, Father. He just wanted an excuse to give marginal figures like Nott a chance to access Malfoy family resources."

Lucius slumped weakly into his armchair. He knew Kane was right. Ever since the Dark Lord's first fall, he'd known that the man had never truly trusted any of his followers. The Death Eaters were merely tools to Voldemort, used and discarded once and for all.

"So..." He looked at Kane, "what do you plan to do now? The Dark Lord won't let this go, the Nott family will discover his disappearance, and the Ministry of Magic—"

“The Nott family won’t find out,” Kane interrupted him. “Evan Nott is always elusive, often disappearing for months at a time. His uncle, Old Nott, would love for this troublesome nephew to disappear. As for the Dark Lord… he’s too busy with his own problems right now.”

He paused, then added, "Besides, Nott wasn't one of those fanatics imprisoned in Azkaban. He was just an opportunist trying to climb the ladder. The cleaner that kind of person disappears, the fewer people will doubt him."

Lucius looked at his son, feeling as if he were listening to a seasoned schemer outlining a plan. "Kane...where did you learn all this?"

"Observe and calculate," Kane said simply. "Observe people's behavioral patterns, calculate their motivations and possible choices. Then prepare contingency plans in advance. It's not actually difficult, Father, as long as you don't let your emotions interfere."

He walked to the fireplace, watching the flickering flames: "This world is actually quite simple. The strong make the rules, and the weak obey them. But if you're smart enough, you can find loopholes in the rules, or even... create your own."

He turned, his grey eyes unfathomable in the firelight: "I am now creating my own rules. And you can choose to continue struggling under the old rules, or... help me build the new ones."

Lucius remained silent for a long time.

He got up, walked to the liquor cabinet, and poured two glasses of flaming whiskey. He handed one to Kane—a gesture that even he found absurd, pouring a strong drink for his thirteen-year-old son—but Kane took it, didn't drink it, and just held it in his hand.

"What do you need me to do?" Lucius finally asked, taking a large gulp of his drink, the spicy liquid calming him down a little.

"Three things," Kane said, holding up three fingers. "First, maintain the Malfoy family's position and influence within the Ministry of Magic, to provide cover for my actions when necessary. Second, secretly procure these materials through the family's business network—"

He handed over a parchment listing dozens of magical materials, including rare resources such as moonstone powder, unicorn hair, and dragon blood crystals.

"—Don't buy in large quantities at once. Diversify your purchases and disguise it as normal alchemy material trading. I'll give you the address of a secure warehouse; deliver it there."

Lucius took the list, glanced at it, and nodded. "Okay. The third item?"

Kane looked at him and said slowly, "Prepare a way out. If one day Voldemort is completely defeated or completely victorious, the Malfoy family will need a way out. Galleons, overseas assets, clean records, and... preparations to sever certain ties if necessary."

"You mean... to abandon everything in Britain if necessary?"

"I mean survival," Kane corrected. "The Malfoy family has survived for eight hundred years, not because we always side with the victors, but because we always find a way to survive. The same will happen this time."

Lucius took a deep breath. He knew Kane was right. From the moment the Dark Lord first fell, he should have understood—in the wizarding world, survival was more important than loyalty.

"I'll arrange it," he said, "but Kane...promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Whatever you do, whatever you become..." Lucius looked into his son's eyes, "remember you are Malfoy. Our family may be cold, selfish, ruthless... but we never betray our family. That's the bottom line."

Kane was silent for a moment, then nodded: "I agree."

He walked toward the study door, stopped at the entrance, and turned back. "By the way, Father. I'll be spending the rest of the summer in the old library in the east wing of the manor. It's quiet there, and there are many ancient magic books I need to consult. Don't let anyone disturb me—not even the house-elves."

"The East Wing Library?" Lucius frowned. "It's been sealed off for many years. Your mother said there are dangerous ancient spellbooks there, even I can't—"

“I’ve already cleaned it up,” Kane said. “Besides, some research really does need… an ancient atmosphere.”

He left the study.

Lucius stood alone in front of the fireplace, watching the flames dance, feeling as if he were in a bizarre dream.

His son, thirteen years old, defeated the Dark Lord, incorporated the werewolf tribe, captured Nott, and is now researching something that "requires an ancient atmosphere."

All he could do was continue playing the indecisive Lucius Malfoy, paving the way for his son in the shadows.

For some reason, he suddenly remembered Kane when he was very young—about four years old, just beginning to speak fluently. One day, young Kane pointed to a portrait of an ancestor on a family tapestry who had been condemned as a "heretic" in the Middle Ages, and said in a clear voice, "He wasn't wrong, he was just too young."

At that time, Lucius scolded him and told him not to talk nonsense.

Now he understands.

Some people are born with the ability to see through the times and foresee the future.

And his eldest son, Kane Malfoy, was such a person.

Perhaps the future of the Malfoy family really depends on this frighteningly precocious child.

Lucius gave a wry smile, raised his glass, and said softly to the empty study:

"Respect for survival."