Chapter 522

In Hogwarts, the little snakes and the little lions have always been sworn enemies.

Maybe it's because of their personality that they don't like each other, or maybe it's some historical problems between the founders of Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor. In short, as long as the students of the two colleges are on the same occasion, they either quarrel or simply turn around and leave.

It is very rare to have breakfast at the same table today.

However, combined with the performance of Slughorn and Draco, this time they seem to have discussed something before dinner. At this time, when everyone saw that Slughorn took the initiative to hand over the words to Draco, they mostly looked at the other side with a puzzled face.

It was hard to be surrounded by a group of people who were not very friendly at first. Draco obviously showed an uncomfortable look. But bad experiences always make people change. Instead of raising his chin as usual and showing his "noble temperament", he lowered his head slightly and hung his eyes on the table.

"I..." he opened his mouth, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he twisted his arm as if he were not feeling well. "No, Mr. Slughorn... I think I'd better..."

"I don't think we can hesitate any more," Slughorn rarely showed his persistence. You know, a smooth old man like him usually doesn't urge others hard. "Think of your parents, children."

Draco whispered a few words. Most people didn't hear what he said. It seemed that he was persuading himself with some reason. After a while, he bit his teeth and raised his head.

"McLean, i... please... Yes, please help my father," Draco simply closed his eyes and squeezed a word out of his throat. "He was just forced. I can't just watch him locked up in Azkaban."

Such a sentence seemed to exhaust his whole strength. After he said what he should say, his tight shoulder collapsed suddenly, dropped his face again and became silent.

Draco's words were like a silent spell, making the table silent. Everyone is thinking about this sentence. Some are surprised, some doubt, and Slughorn is watching everyone wait slowly.

At the next moment, everyone except Draco focused on Maka. People looked at his face one after another, as if to find some traces and clues from his expression.

Unfortunately, when Maka considers things, she never shows it on her face. Especially after experiencing the lack of emotion, this habit of controlling expression becomes more obvious.

Of course, Maka was surprised, but no one else was so surprised. Draco's request was unexpected, but it was also reasonable.

Since Draco's father Lucius Malfoy had been on the front line before Voldemort died, the exposure of his Death Eater identity was a foregone conclusion. When Voldemort lost power for the first time, Lucius could rely on the strength of the family to get rid of the accusation, just because he had not disclosed his identity at that time, but this time it was obviously doomed.

Maka doesn't know much about the review process of the Ministry of magic, but now that Draco has been forced to come and ask himself, it must be that Rufus schlinger, the new minister of the Ministry of magic, wants to cut the mess quickly.

After all, the "former director of Auror's office" is a vigorous and resolute figure. He has never been soft on black wizards. Even if Maka is willing to pull Lucius, he must encounter a lot of resistance.

You know, for a minister of magic, every additional remaining Voldemort party arrested is equivalent to a considerable political achievement! It's not so easy to do for both the public and the private.

But for Maka, the first thing he has to consider is interests - is to help Lucius and exchange a great favor for himself and the school from his Hogwarts director? Or do you just let it go and lose a wallflower that wanders around and doesn't bother him?

"I probably know something about your father Lucius Malfoy," Marca looked at Draco calmly. No one knew what he thought just now. "I can try..."

"Really?" Draco suddenly raised his head, his eyes flashing with excitement.

No matter how you don't distinguish good from evil, children are children after all. As far as a juvenile is concerned, the changes of his parents and family always affect his life and everything.

Maka's half affirmative answer is equivalent to the only rope that can bear weight, which is also called Draco trapped in a deep well. How can he not reach it?

"Now the Ministry of magic is not the time when fudge is in charge. You'd better not have too much hope," Maka thought. "Even if I try my best to fight for your father, you have to be prepared to receive a father with a wanted notice."

"What... What do you mean?" Draco asked subconsciously.

Maka shook her head slightly.

"I think you understand what I'm talking about," he didn't give a clear explanation.

In fact, even if Marca didn't say it, Draco could understand what he meant. In other words, Maka might have to steal his father from Azkaban - of course, if he had to squat first for a few days.

To say whether Lucius had done anything angry or not, Marca couldn't think of a few things anyway. Or, in fact, the guy was caught in the middle from the beginning. He just wanted to do bad things and didn't have the chance.

It was not until recently that he was forced by the situation and had to collide with the order of the Phoenix and smashed a few times. The punishment of throwing Lucius into Azkaban may indeed be unreasonable.

But for such a bad thing, in addition to Lucius's relatives, who would think the trial was unreasonable? If Draco hadn't brought it up here today, Maka wouldn't even notice.

"I see." Draco nodded darkly, and then stopped talking.

"Can't you even say 'thank you'?" Ron whispered, but the table was quiet, and everyone could hear his complaint clearly.

Draco's neck flushed, and he habitually wanted to satirize Ron, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he put up with it. All the requests that were so difficult to open just now have been said. Now if you tremble, you may erase all the previous efforts.

After opening and closing his mouth a few times, he closed his mouth again and gave up trying to show off his tongue.

But... Should I say "thank you" at this time? Draco glanced at Marca and compared this very strange word to master Malfoy, but found that he couldn't say what he thought.

"Don't say it if you can't," Marca waved her hand, "As long as you remember, I will promise because you are also a Hogwarts. Slytherin and Gryffindor can look down on you at school... You can graduate and leave school. What you should remember is' Hogwarts', not in that college, okay?"

Draco took a deep breath and nodded silently. Ron wanted to laugh at his advice, but when Marca stared at him, he had to put away his expression of joy.

"Marca, you're more and more like a real Professor," Hermione said with a smile.

"Miss Granger is right," said Slughorn, who couldn't help but nod his head when he saw that things were done. "McLean is also right... We are all Hogwarts students. If we don't unite, who else should unite? I think there is no irreconcilable contradiction between Slytherin and Gryffindor..."

He said, a little, and suddenly a bright light flashed in his eyes.

"... speaking of this, I suddenly remembered what happened when I was dean Slytherin," Slughorn said excitedly, "I think you all know that there are many outstanding wizards among the students I have taught... In fact, most of them have joined a small organization I founded, Slytherin and Gryffindor! I think you can also join together and play a leading role in the unity of Hogwarts, how about?"

"You mean your Slug Club?" Marca said perfunctorily. "OK, I can hang up my name, but don't bother Harry. What they should do now is to study hard, isn't it?"

"Oh, you're right..." Slughorn was pleased at first, but then reluctantly looked at Harry and Hermione, as if he was sorry for it. "Well... It's not too late to graduate, yes, it should be not too late..."

The breakfast ended in the bald old man's regretful eyes, and everyone left where they should go. Maka also returned to his office and planned to sort out the lesson preparation materials he had made in St. Mungo's ward.

But before he turned over a few pieces of information, he heard a few taps behind the curtain, which made the window glass thump.

He knew that it was mostly owl MafA who came here. Maybe he sent him some letters and parcels.

But he waved his hand casually, the heavy curtains were pushed aside by him with a Shua, the windows creaked and opened out, and the sunrise suddenly spilled obliquely into his messy and crowded office.

Immediately, an envelope slipped onto his desk.