Upon hearing Harry’s call, Cassandra pulled the quilt down a little bit, revealing a pair of beautiful eyes.

It had to be admitted that she did look quite cute—at least, that’s what Harry thought.

Harry walked to the bedside and sat down next to Cassandra.

"Is it warmed up?" He reached out and ruffled the top of Cassandra’s head.

Not bad at all; this feeling was actually pretty nice.

Cassandra’s soft hair felt wonderful to the touch, like stroking the world’s most expensive silk.

"Mm." Cassandra responded with a nasal hum.

"Then let me check."

Without another word, Harry didn’t wait for Cassandra to react before slipping his hand under the quilt.

This reach didn’t matter much, but Harry felt like he’d touched something he shouldn’t have.

Well...

He could tell from Cassandra’s embarrassed and annoyed gaze.

He awkwardly withdrew his hand and said to Cassandra, "It’s alright; at least as a maid, you’re quite qualified———————"

"Hmph." Cassandra let out a coquettish hum.

She still remembered her current identity; as a maid, what Harry had just said was indeed fine.

"What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?" Harry started making small talk. "Oh, I actually miss the Malfoy family’s classic breakfast, you know... that special bacon."

"Alright, I’ll instruct Dobby." Cassandra said. "Dobby’s mother was the house-elf who served me back then——————"

As she spoke, she climbed out from under the quilt, and with her movements, the bell on her collar let out a tinkling sound.

Harry watched that slender, fair swan-like neck with the very conspicuous black collar, and couldn’t resist reaching out to fiddle with the bell a couple of times.

It was actually kind of fun, he thought.

Bed-sharing was impossible—at least not right now. Even if Harry wanted to, Cassandra wouldn’t agree.

As a classic lady, this was already her limit. If it weren’t for that Miss Grindelwald eyeing her covetously from outside, she wouldn’t have this sense of crisis at all.

It had to be admitted that pressure really does lead to progress.

That night, when Cassandra went back, she buried her head in the quilt, with heat practically steaming from the back of her head.

Shyness was one thing, but there was also a bit of secret delight.

It seems...

It means my charm isn’t bad either, she thought—at least not worse than that Grindelwald guy’s.

Early the next morning, Cassandra had Dobby prepare the Malfoy family’s standard breakfast for Harry.

Of course, she didn’t go to the dining room to eat with Lucius and his wife; instead, dressed in her maid outfit, she came alone to Harry’s room.

"Time to get up!"

Saying this, Cassandra reached out and yanked off Harry’s quilt.

Then, her gaze inevitably fell on a certain spot.

Hmm... come to think of it, Harry was now fourteen, fifteen by the traditional count. If he started school early, rounding up, he’d be a proper high school student in the Muggle world.

As everyone knows, a high school boy’s... is the hardest thing in the world.

Cassandra’s face immediately flushed with two suspicious red clouds.

She quickly dropped the quilt back down, turned around, and slipped out of Harry’s room without looking back.

When she returned to her own room, Cassandra was still a bit shaken, her small hands patting her chest repeatedly, trying to calm her breathing.

However, the culprit, Harry, was still a bit dazed. Why did it suddenly feel like someone had lifted his quilt and then dropped it again?

When he opened his eyes, Cassandra had already left, with only Dobby standing not far away, holding his breakfast tray.

"You’re awake, great Harry Potter sir." Dobby fluttered his big eyes. "This is the breakfast Miss Cassandra prepared for you at your request."

With that, Dobby placed the breakfast on the table and slowly vanished from the room.

Harry raised an eyebrow and shrugged, casually picking up a fork to poke at the food on his plate.

Around nine in the morning, Lucius sent someone to notify them that they were ready to depart and head to the Weasley home to pick up Draco.

Harry didn’t refuse, though Cassandra seemed to still be saying something to her father’s portrait.

After waiting a while, Cassandra finally arrived fashionably late.

They traveled by carriage all the way to the Weasley home.

No matter how many times he came here, Harry was always quite shocked by that house.

It was all twisted and crooked. If the Leaning Tower of Pisa was a hazardous building, then the Weasleys’ Burrow was something that should have collapsed long ago.

The way they’d built that house—even the building inspectors would cry if they saw it.

If it weren’t for magic, that building would have fallen down ages ago.

When they arrived at the Burrow, the Weasley family seemed to be preparing lunch.

Harry could see Draco following behind Ron and the Weasley twins’ butts, gleefully kicking gnomes around in the field. He didn’t look like a pure-blood wizard at all; instead, he resembled some little mud monkey who’d rolled out of who-knows-what dirt patch.

After observing what seemed to be his own child for a long time, Lucius finally opened his mouth uncertainly and asked Narcissa: "Is that our Draco?"

"Probably..." Narcissa also hesitated a bit. "It should be, right?"

Indeed, no matter how he changed, Draco’s signature pale blond hair couldn’t be hidden.

"You can tell he’s genuinely happy right now." Sirius shook his head in appraisal. "I suggest you two don’t focus too much on making Draco maintain that so-called image. Kids should act like kids. When I was his age..."

"When you were his age, you used a Permanent Sticking Charm in your bedroom to plaster your walls full of Muggle pin-up posters."

Narcissa mercilessly exposed Sirius’s old secrets without a hint of hesitation.

"Ahem." Sirius tried to defend himself. "That was just human nature, human nature..."

"I don’t think so," Narcissa hummed. "Auntie was furious about it and gave you a thorough scolding, right?"

Sirius hung his head; now he had nothing to say.

After all, plastering sexy Muggle pin-up posters in his bedroom wasn’t exactly something to be proud of, even if he could brush it off as youthful vigor.

That’s right—if you’re not vigorous when young, when else would you be?

It was at that moment that Molly, standing at the door with her hands on her hips, noticed the arrivals.

She quickly stepped forward and greeted everyone without any timidity.

Even toward the Malfoy family, with whom they usually didn’t get along, she maintained a passable level of courtesy.

You couldn’t just draw swords the moment you met, right? That was something only kids would do.

After greeting them, Molly turned her gaze to Harry.

"Oh, dear Harry." Molly reached out and ruffled Harry’s messy hair. "The last time I saw you was last summer vacation. Ron was so grateful for your care during Christmas... Come on in, Harry. Ron and the others have been talking about you nonstop since they got back yesterday."

With that, Molly looked at Sirius again.

Though she’d just exchanged pleasantries with him, it didn’t stop her from warning Sirius.

"Sirius, I hope you don’t lead the children astray—they’re still young and shouldn’t learn from you, chasing after those Muggle girls every day!"

Those words really broke Sirius’s defenses.

Wait, how did the whole world know about me plastering Muggle pin-up posters?

Ignoring the broken Sirius, Molly said to Harry again, "Come on in, Harry. They’re all missing you terribly."

As they walked into the Burrow, the group outside, including Draco, finally noticed people had arrived.

"Harry’s here," Ron said briefly. "Let’s go find him..."

With that, Ron swung his arm around and flung the gnome he was holding far away.

"Nice throw," George and Fred each pressed a shoulder on Ron. "Lunch reward: you get to eat a big spider."

Ron instinctively shuddered.

He decided to tattle to Mum when he got back and absolutely not let these two brothers’ scheme succeed.

When they entered the Burrow, Draco’s first glance was at his parents.

Since they’d just been around the other side of the Burrow, they hadn’t noticed who had arrived. The instant he saw his parents, Draco didn’t feel surprised at all—instead, he was utterly terrified.

That level of terror was like a kid who’d been sneaking TV all day suddenly discovering his parents walking in from outside.

"Dad, Mum." Like a startled ostrich, Draco slowly shuffled his steps toward his parents.

"Go wash your hands quickly," Narcissa said amiably.

Draco, as if granted amnesty, slipped away like he was flying.

Seeing Draco like this, Ron lowered his head and snickered uncontrollably.

It really was one thing subduing another—who would’ve thought Draco was so afraid of his mum and dad.

But he didn’t doubt that Draco lacked parental love; after all, a kid lacking love wouldn’t go around saying "my father" to everyone.

"They really went wild last night," Molly shook her head helplessly. "Arthur was the same—actually, Arthur’s the biggest kid among them. If he hadn’t led the mischief, they wouldn’t have stayed at the Grangers’ so long."

"The Grangers?" Lucius said with interest. "I remember that surname—during the holiday after second year’s start, I even drank with Mr. Granger."

"You know Mr. Granger?" Molly asked somewhat incredulously. In her impression, Lucius was still that wizard clinging to pure-blood ideals.

She never imagined that the flexible Lucius had switched sides in an instant, making a clean break from the Death Eaters.

"Of course; he’s a very interesting Muggle." Lucius smiled. "I’ve always looked forward to meeting him again."

"That’s wonderful!" Ron suddenly said. "Dad invited the Grangers to watch the World Cup yesterday—I mean, the Quidditch World Cup. It took Dad all night to explain the difference between the Quidditch World Cup and the football World Cup."

"Yeah." Fred and George chimed in together: "The Grangers—ah, how does it go? Glory glory Man. United!"

The twins must have had some musical talent; they actually sang Manchester United’s anthem quite decently.

"Oh." Lucius smiled and said to them, "I remember that team—Mr. Granger told me about it. He said his favorite player is that one called ’Ryan Giggs.’"

Of course, Mr. Granger was a true fan; he wouldn’t make the joke of a Barcelona (star) football expert saying "Giggs and Rooney flying on both wings."

For one, Mr. Granger actually watched football; for another, in this era, Rooney was probably still playing in the mud somewhere...

"I really hope Mr. Granger can join in," Lucius said again. "We got along quite well back then; it’s a shame we haven’t met since."

This wasn’t just polite talk—after all, Lucius had witnessed Mr. Granger’s terrifying knack for speculation and profiteering.

Though Mr. Granger didn’t know where the money came from, he always managed to muddle through and earn it.

Narcissa glanced at Lucius but didn’t say anything.

Though she was a Black, she was now married into the Malfoy family. As the saying goes, marry a chicken, follow the chicken; marry a dog, follow the dog. Marrying the flexible Malfoy meant she had to be flexible along with him. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

One spouse always has to adapt to the other; otherwise, how could they get through the days?

If her husband thought that Muggle was alright, there must be some merit to him.

Otherwise, the haughty Lucius wouldn’t give a Muggle a second glance.

"I hope so," Harry said from the side. "But given Mr. Granger’s love for excitement, he probably really won’t miss this event."

Lucius nodded and asked, "By the way, where’s Arthur?"

"Arthur took Percy to the Ministry," Molly replied. "You know, my third son Percy graduated this year. He’s just been accepted into the Ministry; apparently, he’s going to work in old Barty Crouch’s department."

"Oh, old Barty."

When mentioning old Barty, Lucius let out a barely perceptible sneer.

But he hid it well; no one present noticed the subtle change in his expression.

"If I remember correctly, he’s the head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation," Lucius said again. "If Percy’s going to work in his department, he won’t have a moment’s rest this whole summer—you know, the Department of International Magical Co-operation is also fully responsible for matters regarding the Quidditch World Cup."

"Will it be very busy?" Molly asked with concern.

"Busy is a given." Lucius smiled and continued, "But old Barty isn’t a suitable boss for a fresh graduate. If possible, I’d still suggest you have the boy choose another department."

This was said quite tactfully, but Molly took it in nonetheless.

She’d actually heard the rumors about old Barty long ago, but what could she do? She couldn’t interfere with the Ministry’s personnel assignments.

"But I think," Sirius suddenly said, "Percy working under old Barty isn’t a bad thing—at least it can hone his abilities."

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