Chapter 184: Invitations And House-elves
Malfoy Manor, second-floor study.
Flames blazed in the fireplace, emitting crisp crackling sounds. The projection mirror hanging not far away had the Floo Network in the powder box blooming with eerie green fluorescence. Its surface was gilded and inlaid with silver, outlining the words 「Pure Victory」. The broadcast of the Prophet evening news echoed in the room.
“This evening, a middle-aged wizard was caught on the spot by an Auror for allegedly disguising himself as an Inferius to break in and steal. Witnesses revealed that the wizard used a homemade potion to disguise himself as an Inferius in an attempt to sneak into a wizard’s home in Godric’s Hollow. The Ministry of Magic’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement stated that the wizard will face multiple charges, including illegal use of a transfiguration potion, breaking and entering, and disturbing the wizarding community…”
On the projection mirror’s screen, an elderly wizard said angrily: “He dragged his slow steps, groaning horrifically from his mouth, just like something crawled out of a grave! I was nearly scared into a heart attack, only to find a living stinking face! He even tried to brush it off by saying he was just passing by—utterly shameless!”
“……”
Lucius Malfoy sat behind an expensive walnut wood desk. Steam rose gently from the teacup as he quickly browsed documents and letters sent from various counties. Parchment was spread out somewhat messily, and a stack of contracts had piled up on the table—dense numbers that gave one a headache just looking at them.
He paid little attention to these interesting anecdotes, eyes fixed on the documents without lifting his head. Only when content involving Ministry of Magic policy implementation or changes in officials caught his ear did he temporarily set aside the papers in his hand.
“This morning, Senior Deputy Minister of Magic Dolores Umbridge gave a public speech. The 《Anti-Werewolf Bill》 she drafted has sparked huge controversy since its implementation.
“Supporters believe this measure is a necessary response to recent werewolf attacks. Since 1980, werewolf attacks have outnumbered those by Dark Wizards and been more vicious, with werewolf leader Fenrir Greyback committing multiple atrocities and gaining notoriety. An unnamed pure-blood wizard family member said: Umbridge has finally done the right thing—those beasts should have been locked up long ago.
“Some scholars, represented by Caradoc Dearborn, oppose it, arguing it’s discrimination against werewolves, compressing the living space of good werewolves and forcing more desperate ones onto the path of crime…”
Lucius looked at the smiling Umbridge on the screen and thought of the Wolfsbane Potion that had recently made the news, falling into contemplation.
“Click…”
The door opened, and an elegant woman entered. Her skin was fair, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Even at home, she was particular about clothing and ornaments—a finely tailored robe of soft, shimmering fabric that looked very expensive. Her straight back and slender neck exuded poise and grace.
Narcissa closed the door, holding an envelope, and looked at her husband: “I’ve seen you staying in the study all this time. Have you run into some trouble?”
“Just discovered some interesting things.” Lucius set down his quill. “Not sure if it’s coincidence or someone planned it, but not long ago they awarded the Order of Merlin to Belby for inventing the Wolfsbane Potion. Christmas Holiday just ended, and now this Senior Deputy Minister is pushing the 《Anti-Werewolf Bill》.”
Narcissa frowned in thought. She wasn’t just a socialite who attended balls; she understood deals involving power and Galleons: “You mean they’re cooperating to compress werewolves’ living space, forcing them to spend their savings on Wolfsbane Potion?”
“Not certain yet, but it’s foreseeable that many potion ingredient merchants and apothecaries will profit from this.”
“Our family has potion ingredient business too. Should we get involved?” Narcissa asked.
“Werewolves are almost all paupers. What profit can be squeezed from them…” Lucius shook his head. “That’s why I’m not sure if it’s coincidence or planned. Wasting so many resources just to sell Wolfsbane Potion—high raw material costs, few who can afford it—it’s bound to be a loss-making business.”
He looked at the detestable toad face on the projection mirror: “If that Deputy Minister Umbridge keeps giving such high-profile speeches, it might stir up werewolves’ hatred and provoke revenge from extreme werewolves.”
Narcissa followed his gaze, planning to probe Mrs. Parkinson a bit next time at a banquet.
“Cissy, is it some urgent letter? Who sent it?” Lucius came back to his senses and noticed the envelope in his wife’s hand.
“Another Order of Merlin recipient, Professor Levent of Muggle Studies…”
As she spoke, Lucius took the letter, opened it, and read. It was Muggle-made paper, smooth and white. The notes were written with a pen, slightly different from a quill. Professor Levent’s wording was simple and casual, wasting no time on pointless greetings. Just one short page, finished quickly.
“What did that professor say?” Narcissa asked.
“Family projection mirrors have spread across the whole of Britain—almost every wizarding family watches projection mirror programs. Professor Levent suggests I recruit people to film major events in magical history, adding a few kind and hardworking Malfoy ancestors in inconspicuous spots to restore some of the Malfoy family’s reputation.”
Lucius was somewhat bewildered.
This was his polished phrasing. Professor Levent’s wording was blunter: telling him to sneak in private goods, learn from Gilderoy Lockhart’s methods but more subtly, and afterward his son would face less scolding at school.
“Sounds like a good idea… but we don’t know anything about projection mirrors. No clue how to do it?” Narcissa wondered.
“Professor Levent says he can introduce people from the Magic Mirror Club to help.”
“What do we have to give? Just Galleons?” Narcissa clearly had strong business sense.
“An invitation, in your sister Bellatrix’s name, and…” Lucius’s expression was odd, “a house-elf.”
……
Hogwarts, Gryffindor Common Room.
Torches and candles had not yet gone out, warm firelight came from the fireplace, which was still connected to the Floo Network. Per George and Fred’s guess, Professor McGonagall said it would connect on weekends, so it would wait until Dumbledore got up tomorrow morning to use headmaster privileges to adjust.
Little wizards crowded in front of the projection mirror,
Having just finished the evening news, they were already hooked on the feeling—completely different from reading newspapers before. Moving pictures were more real than text and still images. Watching projection mirror news gave little wizards the illusion they weren’t in a secluded boarding school but at home, able to head out to London or Diagon Alley.
The sweet scent of biscuits and candy filled the common room. Ron fed himself and Scabbers while marveling: “Muggles are truly fascinating.”
Only Harry and Hermione, having encountered television too early, weren’t as hooked on the projection mirror. They were only interested in content they cared about—one Quidditch matches, the other Magical Creatures World. Otherwise, they’d rather read or do homework.
Suddenly feeling a bit envious of Muggles.
The projection mirror played Cetina’s songs as time passed, soon reaching lights-out time.
Percy resolutely stood in front of the projection mirror, flames blazing in the fireplace behind him, making him look especially heroic: “Tomorrow is Monday with classes. No matter what you say or your excuses, I’m shutting off the projection mirror. You all must go back to the dormitory to sleep!”
Ron glanced up at the front row, where his other two brothers sat.
But George and Fred showed no sign of resistance. Facing the stern-faced Percy, they grinned:
“Percy’s right. Classes tomorrow.”
“We can’t stay up late anymore. Everyone, back to sleep.”
The twin brothers said this while standing, pulling roommate Lee Jordan upstairs. Captain Wood and the Quidditch players had no objections, nor did the seventh-year students, who left one after another.
They actually went back to the dormitory to sleep. Utterly unbelievable.
Minutes later, Percy extinguished the Floo Powder in the powder box, placed the projection mirror in a drawer and locked it. Until the wall-side grandfather clock’s hour hand pointed to 10 exactly, the torches and candlelight quietly went out—no twists or turns.
Ron was deeply disappointed inside, slinking back to the dormitory with his head down.
After washing up, Ron sat on the bed tidying the bedding. A pillow made from an old cushion, a blanket from a tablecloth—placed together at the bedside as the pet rat’s bed. Then he put Scabbers on it, gently tucking it in with the quilt.
Candles out, Ron carefully slipped into his own bedding, hands on the quilt, letting out a long yawn. He closed his eyes to brew sleepiness. Soon he heard even breathing from Neville’s side.
It was an ordinary night like any other—he should get sleepy soon and drift off with the night outside the window. But after lying in bed a long time, he couldn’t sleep. Closing his eyes, Ron saw the niffler’s agile form, the projection mirror screen’s silver radiance in his mind.
After some unknown time, Ron opened his eyes and saw the pet rat Scabbers sleeping peacefully at the bedside. He rolled over, gazing out the tower window.
In the darkness, someone else seemed to roll over. Seamus from the next bed whispered: “Ron, can’t sleep either?”
Ron said listlessly: “Stayed up till dawn last night, slept too long during the day. Wide awake now, no sleepiness at all.”
“Since we can’t sleep, let’s go to the common room and watch the projection mirror?”
“Percy locked the projection mirror in the cabinet.”
“Don’t tell me you still can’t do an unlocking charm.”
“……”
Ron shot up, eyes gleaming.
The two slipped out of the dormitory in the dark, tiptoeing through the rooms above the castle. Before descending the rotating staircase, they heard rustling sounds from the common room.
No torches or candles lit—only dying embers flickering faintly in the fireplace. The wall-side cabinet was half-open, its copper lock dangling alone. On the armchairs were dark clumps of shadows, huddled around the projection mirror, faces lit by faint silver radiance.
Lee Jordan, George and Fred, everyone from the Quidditch team except Captain Oliver Wood, and the seventh-year graduates…
No wonder they agreed so readily—they had planned it all along!
Ron and Seamus exchanged a glance and grinned.
……
Ten in the morning, Transfiguration Classroom.
Percy sat by the window and took a breath. In the still-chilly early warmth season, the morning air was cool, entering his lungs through his nose and refreshing him entirely.
He opened the textbook and notes, margins filled with notes. Sixth-year advanced Transfiguration class—course content much deeper. The professor no longer repeated basics, focusing on principle explanations. Every lesson required full attention; a moment’s distraction meant hours to catch up afterward.
Professor McGonagall entered the classroom and soon began the lesson.
Percy saw the two classmates at the next desk always keeping their heads down—one Gryffindor, one Ravenclaw. No note-taking, no listening to the professor’s explanation, heads nodding nonstop like chickens pecking rice. It instantly reminded him of Professor Binns’s History of Magic class—they were clearly dozing off.
When lecturing on the internal organ principles of Human Transfiguration, the Gryffindor boy fully fell asleep, his head thunking dully on the desk, nose knocked askew—must hurt a bit.
He gasped, jerked his head up clutching his nose, meeting the professor’s gaze and suddenly realizing he was in class.
Professor McGonagall’s grave voice rang from the front: “Ellis Darn.”
“Professor…” The boy was deeply ashamed.
“Is my class that boring? Mr. Darn, so boring you fall asleep!”
“No, it’s not…”
“Then you’ve mastered today’s content and find the class too easy?”
“No.”
Professor McGonagall wanted to say more harshly, but seeing his exhausted, sleepy face—especially the heavy dark circles—she paused: “Give me a suitable reason, Mr. Darn.”
“…” Darn mumbled without speaking, not wanting to betray his classmates.
Hogwarts professors couldn’t be brushed off with silence, especially on classroom matters. Caught students got lucky thinking solo punishment wouldn’t implicate others, but their dark circles were too obvious. Few dark-skinned students lacked them, but their listless states differed starkly from normal students.
Soon these students felt the deputy headmaster’s wisdom and strictness.
Professor McGonagall called out every student in class who’d stayed up late, questioning their reasons one by one. Her intensely oppressive gaze fixed on them. In just five minutes, she extracted the truth of staying up watching the projection mirror.
“…After the prefect went to sleep, we quietly returned to the common room and watched the projection mirror all night until nearly dawn before putting it away, so we’re so sleepy.”
Percy froze in place hearing this.
……
Meanwhile, Muggle Studies Classroom.
All students dozing in class stood at the back of the classroom. Others were told not to approach but could mock freely, without disrupting class order.
Melvin stood by the lectern, holding a stack of theses. He read one, marked it, then checked the name at the top. If it was a student at the back, he critiqued it before the whole class.
“This thesis argues the negative impact of projection mirrors from a pure-blood family perspective. Title: 《Spreading Overly Muggle-fied Content May Lower Wizards’ Aesthetic Taste》. He proposes a novel angle: pure-blood wizards’ aesthetics are purely magical, uniquely refined, while projection mirrors and related programs imitate Muggle productions and will alter pure magical taste.”
Melvin smiled at a boy in the back. “Mr. Busted, looks like your aesthetic has already been changed.”
The boy hung his head in shame, face flushed red.
The classroom instantly filled with a joyful atmosphere.
