022 Polite Malfoy

022 Polite Malfoy

In the face of Draco Malfoy's seething rage, Bryan remained remarkably calm. He innocently shrugged his shoulders, turned his head to look at Malfoy, and remarked, "What a pity. I thought you would find it rather cute!"

Malfoy was taken aback by the audacity of such a suggestion. How could anyone perceive this creepy, dangerous creature as anything other than repulsive? He wanted to refute Bryan's claim, but before he could speak, the eight-eyed spider, fueled by its relentless desire for revenge, seized the opportunity for a sneak attack. With a thunderous whoosh, its massive body soared through the air, its eight compound eyes fixated on its target.

Malfoy's pupils contracted, and time seemed to slow down as he opened his mouth, but his words barely escaped his lips. The spider's lethal limbs, poised to strike, sent shivers down his spine. He braced himself for the impending doom, convinced that he would meet a gruesome end.

Just when Malfoy believed his fate was sealed, Bryan, oblivious to the imminent danger, swiftly turned around and brandished his wand. The tip of the wand emitted a faint light as it descended like a woodcutter's axe. In that dimly lit room, a black wall of energy materialized, resembling a razor-sharp blade, positioned to intercept the oncoming eight-eyed spider.

The spider's emerald green eyes betrayed a subtle change. Sensing the impending danger, it desperately attempted to wedge its thin limbs into the energy wall to halt its momentum. However, its previous leap had been too forceful, and the spider couldn't resist the powerful inertia of its own colossal body. With no time to react, it resorted to shielding itself with its two large black mastiffs, hoping to mitigate the impending damage.

With a resounding crash, the sky was filled with a torrential downpour of black fragments. The spider, cleaved in half, crashed heavily onto the ground, its green entrails, intestines, and bodily fluids mingling in a grotesque display.

Malfoy stood petrified behind the milky white mask conjured by Bryan, his gaze fixed on the spider now split in two. The fading clicks of the two black mastiffs echoed in his ears, resembling the anguished cries and accusations of impending death. Uncontrollably, Malfoy's legs trembled.

"Apologies, Mr. Malfoy, for the mess in your dormitory. I assure you, I'll help clean up later," Bryan apologized, dispelling his magic shield. He approached the spider's lifeless carcass, unperturbed by the lingering hatred in its compound eyes. With his fingers, he prodded its mouthparts as if searching for something. After a while, a hint of regret colored his expression. "I forgot again, Mr. Malfoy. I had already collected the venom... It appears that the lack of food and exercise has slowed down the recovery of the eight-eyed spider's venom."

Malfoy's body trembled violently, and he averted his gaze, resenting the fact that he had treated Bryan to afternoon tea, consuming one too many biscuits, and unknowingly providing him with a firsthand understanding of fear and strength.

"What kind of magic was that?" Malfoy's voice trembled involuntarily.

Malfoy stood stiffly, nodding mechanically. "I'll keep it a secret for you... Mr. Watson."

"Thank you!" Bryan nodded politely, then turned and left.

Draco Malfoy remained beside his bed, lost in a daze. He looked around at the familiar dormitory, finding no evidence of what had just transpired. Everything felt like a dream, as if it had never happened.

Ten minutes later, a realization struck him, causing his pale cheeks to flush red. He dashed out of the dormitory, bounding down the spiral staircase and into the mansion's lounge. Bryan had already left, and he was once again alone. Malfoy rushed to the table beside the fireplace, where his half-written letter lay undisturbed. Grabbing the paper, he crumpled it into a tight ball and threw it into the flames.

Amidst the rising fire, Malfoy retrieved a fresh piece of parchment from his schoolbag and hastily returned to his desk...

As night fell, Bryan stood outside a long-abandoned classroom on the third floor. This room had been assigned to him as an office by Professor McGonagall, serving as his living quarters during his time at Hogwarts.

The house-elves had meticulously cleaned the space, imbuing the air with a pleasant musky scent, devoid of any traces of decay. The room's furnishings were minimal, with most of the area left unadorned. However, near the innermost section, a bed, desk, bookshelf, and wardrobe had been arranged. Considering the prolonged winter weather, the thoughtful house-elves had even installed a fireplace.

Bryan casually closed the door and entered the warm room. Carved windows faced Hagrid's hut and the Forbidden Forest, offering a faint glimpse of the Quidditch pitch.

A steady glow emanated from the candlestick on the desk. Bryan approached it, neatly arranging quills, ink, and other supplies. On the right side of the desk, he placed a photograph of himself and Grandma Ferrena. The image captured them during Bryan's fourth-year summer vacation, just before his fifth-year, at a photo studio across from the orphanage.

Little did they know it would be their final photograph together.