A certain broken Hogwarts

Chapter 4 The Slytherin Classmates

It's unbelievable that one day Harry Potter would be able to have a calm and peaceful conversation with Draco Malfoy.

"He's a bit of a show-off, isn't he?" Draco Malfoy, sitting on Harry's other side, gestured towards Dumbledore in the teachers' table. His grey eyes scanned Harry's face, his pale cheeks bearing an exaggerated expression of displeasure.

"My father has never been a fan of having such a eccentric person as the headmaster of Hogwarts. He thinks it's easy for them to corrupt the children, and I agree with that." Malfoy proudly raised his chin and said in a slow, deliberate tone, "I am Draco Malfoy, and my father is a member of the Hogwarts Board of Trustees. There are many ways I can help you."

Draco Malfoy extended his palm to Harry, saying with a reserved expression, "You will never regret being my friend. The Sorting Hat's decision to put you in Slytherin was absolutely the best it ever made, Harry Potter, you were born to be a noble and great Slytherin."

Harry was stuffing steak into his mouth, staring blankly at him for a moment before awkwardly shaking his hand. Malfoy's arrogant demeanor and words instinctively repelled him, but since they were classmates from the same house, he could only manage an awkward grin.

"Look over there, those arrogant and reckless Gryffindors always think they can stand up to us. It was the smartest decision you made not to hang out with those scoundrels," Malfoy said to himself, oblivious to the resistance on Harry's face.

"By the way, these are Crabbe and Goyle. You can order them around as you please... They're very strong and good at manual labor," Malfoy said. "Of course, if it's a problem that requires thinking, you'd better come to me."

Owen suppressed a laugh upon hearing this. Malfoy was eagerly sharing his new friend with Harry, but unfortunately, he couldn't speak like a human being and didn't realize that such remarks would only make the other person more annoyed. Tsk tsk, the road to friendship is long and arduous.

Seeing Owen's suppressed laughter, Malfoy leaned in and looked at him, drawing out his words, "What are you laughing at, Shafik? I don't think what I said is funny."

"No, you can continue." Owen held up his juice to Harry, ignoring Harry's pleading look, and continued to enjoy his melon. He felt that Harry was just like a husky that had wandered into a pack of wolves; that bewildered, out-of-place demeanor was just too amusing.

"Hmph." Malfoy snorted and continued talking to Harry. "I heard you were living with those hideous Muggles? Dad said they're filthy, stupid, and wicked. You'd better learn a few evil spells to deal with them. Don't worry about the Ministry of Magic causing you trouble; I can have my dad put in a good word for you."

Harry's lips twitched, Dudley's face flashing through his mind, which he found rather repulsive. But why did Malfoy's words make him feel so uncomfortable?

"Excuse me, Malfoy. Would you like some steak?" Just to shut you up.

"I allow you to call me by my name, Harry Potter." Malfoy raised his chin.

"Okay, de...Draco, you really don't want some steak?"

"This food is awful, it's not as good as what I have at home... Okay, I'll take this steak, Harry."

……

Owen swallowed the last piece of lamb chop. It tasted alright, though of course it couldn't compare to the diverse flavors of the great food-loving empire of his previous life. After eating so much of these kinds of foods over the years, he especially craved some simple, home-style dishes. As he thought about the spicy chicken, braised pork, and stir-fried pork with chili peppers that he had taught his house-elf to make, he ate a little more sausage with a hearty appetite.

He didn't like to talk while eating, but instead quietly observed his classmates and nodded to a few people he knew.

Owen and Malfoy, both from the 28 pure-blood families, are mostly acquainted, excluding the Weasleys and other pure-blood traitors who are generally excluded. After all, all pure-blood families are related, whether close or distant, and with social and business dealings, they have many opportunities to meet.

But that's just getting to know them; you can't expect Irving to hang out with these kids, especially since many of them are spoiled by their families.

However, because Irving was too lazy to make friends with other children, his parents almost mistook him for having social anxiety. Under the class oppression of his father, Mr. Albert Shafik, who wouldn't listen to reason, Irving was forced to make a few friends.

For example, Daphne Greengrass, as the eldest daughter in her family, is precocious and not troublesome; Blaise Zabini, whose mother is a friend of both of them, is the only one who seriously appreciates Irving's magic performances and even wants to learn them.

In addition, there's the Rozier family, from which Owen's mother, Adeline Shafik, comes from, and two unreliable cousins ​​who are always trying to drag him into secretly playing with the dark magic items hidden in the player's game... Hopefully, they'll live to adulthood.

"Owen, do you know who that teacher who was talking to Professor Quirrell is?" Harry turned around, interrupting Owen's reverie, and said with a slight frown, "I have a feeling he doesn't like me."

"That's Professor Snape, the head of our house, who teaches Potions..." Owen was interrupted by Malfoy halfway through his sentence.

"You can ask me about that. My dad and he have a very good relationship," Malfoy said proudly to Harry. "Professor Snape has always been like that, but he's always had high hopes for me and has been praising me to my dad in private for my talent in Potions. Of course, I'm sure he was overjoyed when he saw you come to his house..."

"What's with this feeling of vying for favor?" Owen shook his head with amusement, clearing the random thoughts from his mind.

The main course on the plate disappeared, replaced by various desserts. Owen ate a small piece of strawberry pudding, then carefully wiped his mouth with a snow-white napkin.

The surrounding conversations became lively. Perhaps everyone thought it was impolite to socialize on an empty stomach, so dessert time after meals became the students' favorite time to socialize.

Sitting next to Owen, Harry became the center of attention. Prefect Gemma Farley stood up solemnly to shake Harry's hand, her expression both excited and serious, as if she were facing an inspection by a leader: "Potter, welcome to Slytherin! Our house has won the House Cup for six consecutive years, and I believe this year will be no exception... I mean, you are destined for greatness here!"

Then there was Pansy Parkinson, who nervously fiddled with her short, straight black hair. It was rare for her to slightly restrain her spoiled and arrogant personality. A faint blush appeared on her pretty cheeks as she shook hands with Harry with a reserved expression.

"Tsk, hasn't she always liked following Malfoy around?" Owen chuckled, folding the tissue in his hand with his long, slender fingers. Back then, Pansy was a pretty girl, but after she became a big fan of Malfoy, her personality started to resemble his more and more.

Owen glanced at Malfoy, whose pale face wore an expression of pride that made it difficult for him to guess what was going on in his mind.

Irving tucked the tissue into his palm and smoothly and naturally hid it in his sleeve. A white rose appeared in his hand in its place, but unfortunately, the petals looked wilted.

Owen casually placed the white rose in the glass beside him and pushed it to his right. A slender, fair hand reached out and naturally took the white rose in its grasp.

"Oh dear, it's almost withered," Daphne Greengrass said with a smile. She blinked her beautiful, deep blue eyes, her long, golden hair falling smoothly beside her fair, milky face. Her delicate features and dignified demeanor made her look like a princess who had stepped out of an oil painting.

"It's been a whole day, after all," Owen chuckled. He had picked these at the estate that morning.

Daphne put the flowers back in the glass, rested her chin on her hand, and looked at the popular Harry, whispering, "I really didn't expect him to be sorted into our house. Honestly, don't you feel a little uneasy? Could this really mean the rise of a new Dark Lord?"

"I don't think he's cut out to be the Dark Lord." Owen twirled the knife in his hand, leaving afterimages.

"Owen, I want to learn this!" Brex Zabini, with his dark brown skin, leaned over from a distance, staring intently at the knife in Owen's hand.

"That's dangerous," Daphne said disapprovingly.

"Oh, I don't think it matters," Blaise said, glancing at her with a haughty expression.

This guy always acts arrogant and aloof in front of strangers, but once you get to know him, you'll find that he's actually a rather unreliable goofball.

"Here." Owen grabbed the spinning knife in his hand, handed the handle to Blaise, and sincerely advised, "You'd better practice with something else first, instead of always thinking about doing something exciting..."

But he warned him too late. Blaise curiously twirled the knife, and unsurprisingly cut his middle finger.

"But that would be so boring." He sucked on his bleeding finger, seemingly unconcerned, but his eyes were bright. "I found a nice gadget at the Curious Magic Tricks shop a few days ago... Oh no! I forgot it at home!" With that, he pulled his head back inside.

Irving shrugged indifferently, staring blankly at the plate in front of him, his mind starting to explore his own thought process.

(End of this chapter)