Chapter 207: Private Lessons
Crystal lamps hung from the ceiling, candlelight spilling down from above. The three seated around the round table did not speak, and the room fell silent for a moment.
Lucius and Old Nott exchanged a glance with each other. One was unaware of the previous conversation and found it inconvenient to ask, while the other had just read the script, his emotions complex and hard to describe.
“Your story is very special, but there’s now an urgent problem to solve.” Melvin spread out this script. The final page featured a family tree diagram, its branches not particularly dense, ending with only a solitary lone sapling at the very bottom.
“What problem?” Lucius asked calmly, a faint smile on his lips.
Having never before encountered scripts or films and television, the fact that his first written story received praise from the Projection Mirror Founder filled Lucius with a touch of pride, even if he didn’t show it on his face.
“How are you going to manipulate the Memory Erasing Team? Make all wizards in Britain, even the entire world, lose their memories and forget their impressions of your Malfoy family, so you can stuff these absurd and ridiculous stories into their brains!” Melvin asked seriously.
Lucius’s face paled, the smile vanishing from his lips, shifting to Old Nott’s face beside him.
Throughout their long history, the Malfoy family had left its mark. Though there were no detailed written records, the long-lived wizards passed down tales orally, accumulating a stereotype of the Malfoy family.
Starting from the cunning and greedy ancestor Armand, those traits were etched into the bloodline. Before the Secrecy Law was enacted, the Malfoy family never stopped currying favor with Muggle nobles, even intermarrying at times.
There are unknown wizard stories mentioning that Lucius Malfoy the First once pursued Elizabeth I, but the queen didn’t take a liking to them. Rumors also say the Malfoys harbored resentment and cast a curse on her…
In any case, through magical skill and flattery and incitement, they successfully annexed Muggle lands near the manor, filling their vaults and storerooms to the brim.
After the Secrecy Law took effect, the Malfoy family’s attitude shifted immediately. They began mingling among wizards supporting the bill and denied all interactions between the family and Muggles, becoming fervent pure-blood advocates.
Wealth and resources ensured their influence in the British Wizarding World. The steadily increasing Galleons meant the Malfoys didn’t need to toil for a living, so they began pursuing power. Though they never schemed for the Minister position, their tentacles never stopped reaching for the seat of power.
Funding candidates friendly to the family in elections, even not hesitating to hire Dark Wizards for dirty work.
Septimus, the Malfoy family head at the end of the 18th century, was the most notorious. The Minister of Magic at the time was Half-blood Wizard Nobby Leach. Due to elections and receiving Galleons from the Malfoy family multiple times during his term, he was photographed by reporters, and the ledgers were exposed. He was seen as a puppet of the Malfoy family throughout his tenure, even worse than Fudge in recent years.
Nobby Leach, the Minister of Magic in the 1960s, was similarly ensnared in the Malfoy family’s shadow. As the first Muggle-born Minister of Magic, he faced frequent attacks from Lucius’s father, Abraxas Malfoy, during his term and ultimately resigned due to an unknown illness.
There were also Nicholas Malfoy, Brutus Malfoy, Stina Malfoy… all renowned and well-known.
「People often say you never find a Malfoy at the crime scene, but their fingerprints might cover the wand used in the crime.」 This well-known wizard saying sums it up that way.
“Of course I know some ancestors’ deeds are controversial, so my story doesn’t mention them. Do you have prejudice against all Malfoys?” Lucius asked nobly in return. “We pushed for amendments and improvements to the Secrecy Law. We made outstanding contributions in the Goblin Rebellions. We participated in building multiple wizarding villages!”
Old Nott’s expression was odd: “Building wizarding villages—that I remember. Forty years ago, Theo’s Fort was still barren wilderness. Indeed, the Malfoy family funded a batch of housing and several street districts, giving the wizard settlement its initial scale.”
Lucius nodded, picking up the black tea on the table and taking a sip: “That’s an achievement recorded in the archives.”
“The housing was sold at high prices, nearly bankrupting the migrating wizards. Street district shops were rented at high rates, with wizard shopkeepers paying rent to the Malfoy family for decades, plus even more profitable loan businesses.” Old Nott noticed Lucius’s gaze and paused slightly. “Our Nott family followed behind and made a small profit.”
“Just a small profit?” Lucius asked lazily, a mocking look on his face.
“Alright, over decades, the family assets nearly doubled—not just Theo’s Fort, but also Upper Flagley, Tinworth…” Old Nott said in a low voice. “The Malfoy family would have earned even more.”
Lucius let out a smug cackle.
“…”
What power-money transactions, land grabs, compound interest exploitation…
Melvin understood. The wizarding war purge thirteen years ago shattered the stable pyramid of the past, forcing these Death Eaters to keep a low profile, while giving ordinary wizards opportunities to develop.
“Stop. I’m not interested in the sordid development history of your pure-blood families. We’re talking about the story now.” Melvin tapped the parchment on the table. “According to your story, unless you use Obliviate to brainwash all wizards, or throw Galleons to hire them, no one will want to watch this pile of stuff.”
Lucius couldn’t refute; Old Nott had already proven it. Even fellow pure-blood Death Eaters found it disgusting: “Then how should it be changed?”
Melvin pondered while choosing his words: “Don’t film Malfoy family history anymore. Just restore the content of magical history. Whether it’s the establishment of the Ministry of Magic, Goblin Rebellions, or the Secrecy Law’s enactment, take a major event and show the changes in the British Wizarding World over the century before and after.”
“What about the Malfoys?”
Melvin pointed to those notorious names on the family tree diagram: “The Malfoys can only play peripheral, half-hidden roles at most— even laughable clowns—then make the right choices aligning with history at key moments, like what you mentioned earlier: participating in wars and improving the Secrecy Law, and so on.”
Mix in private agendas, cover small details with big themes—Muggle media practitioners have developed a complete system of theory and practice for this.
Lucius was stunned for a moment, pondering the professor’s suggestion, then quickly realized: “Play ugly to dissipate hatred, then build a positive image?”
Melvin’s gaze held a bit more surprise. As expected of a cunning Malfoy, a veteran Death Eater—these tricks of inciting and manipulating hearts and minds, he was equally skilled at them. He’d just never encountered scripts before and was fixated on whitewashing the Malfoy family’s reputation, getting stuck in a rut. After hearing the suggestion, he reacted quickly.
“So that’s how it is… So that’s how it is…”
Lucius spoke slowly, answering his own question.
Old Nott’s reaction was a bit slower. He pondered intently for a moment before slowly realizing the brilliance of this plan.
“Not just at the nodes of these key events!”
Lucius’s pale gray eyes turned, reflecting the candlelight—like blazing flames. “We can create a complete magical history, like a history scholar compiling a book: detailed and truthful when depicting these important historical events, while instilling our intentions in inconspicuous places… Professor Levent, your wisdom impresses me deeply!”
“Take it slow; this is a big project.”
…
Looking out through the glass window, night had fallen, and street lights were gradually coming on.
Congealed melted wax fixed the colored candles to the crystal lamp holders. The flickering candlelight cast shadowy figures around the room. The young professor in the main seat drank the last half cup of black tea, leaned back in his chair, and let out a long breath.
The limping tavern owner pushed the door open, bringing a tray of Ice Beer: “Malfoy and Nott just left.”
Melvin nodded in acknowledgment, not lingering on the topic, and asked instead: “How’s business lately?”
Old Will was taken aback: “Not bad. I got a batch of honey mead from Madam Rosmerta; it sells well…”
“Summer’s here; Ice Beer is popular. Talk to Wright and get more Quidditch match recordings from Bagman…”
The two chatted idly about tavern management. Old Will fell silent for a moment, unable to hold back: “Professor, I have to say, there are no good pure-blood families, let alone these two Death Eaters who escaped trial. Their words aren’t trustworthy; betrayal is their instinct.”
“No need to worry, Old Will.” Melvin smiled with his eyes. “Cooperation bound by interests is reliable for now, until greater benefits or more severe threats appear.”
In the short term, there’s no greater benefit than the Projection Mirror. Voldemort hasn’t returned yet, nor is there a more severe threat.
Old Will downed half a glass of Ice Beer and spat: “What’s there to cooperate with them on?”
“Mr. Malfoy realizes reputation is another form of wealth, more precious than Galleons and jewels. The Malfoy family discarded reputation for gold in the past; now they want to buy it back with gold.” Melvin said with a smile, his tone carrying a touch of teasing.
“Does Projection Mirror development need this gold?” Old Will still didn’t quite understand. “Can’t the people in the club scrape together this gold?”
“You don’t need to buy good reputations anyway.” Melvin shook his head.
…
Meanwhile, two pure-blood wizards—former Death Eater colleagues—were strolling along a country path on the outskirts of Wiltshire.
They wore robes embroidered with family crests, made of satin fabric, rustling in the evening breeze. They still carried terrifying invitation letters in their pockets, which, when opened, revealed evidence of the Nott family’s crimes—many transactions from decades ago, far beyond that professor’s age. How he obtained this knowledge remained a mystery.
Old Nott glanced sidelong at his old friend, former accomplice, fellow convict.
“Are you suspecting me?” Lucius asked in a low voice.
Old Nott’s face was especially pale in the night. This retort dispelled his doubts, but confusion still flickered in his eyes: “I just… can’t figure it out.”
“When have you ever figured it out?” Lucius countered, his tone laced with faint sarcasm. “When you graduated and joined the Death Eaters? When you flipped and betrayed Bellatrix and the others at the tribunal? Or just now in the bar?”
“If… I mean, if that one comes back?”
Old Nott’s face grew even paler.
“I don’t know either.”
Lucius paused. “Since we’ve made our choice, don’t hesitate anymore.”
…
Returning to the Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom, it was already mid-May.
The weather was growing hot; the classroom air was stuffy, filled with an indescribable smell. Every class required opening all the windows for airflow. Winds from the Forbidden Forest and Black Lake blew in; students by the windows could look up and see the bright scenery outside, making it hard to concentrate.
Today was still Professor Gaunt substituting.
Melvin sat at the podium, flipping through a History of Magic book published by Moldy and Dusty Publishing. The author was a pure-blood wizard, full of personal biases and rants—quite entertaining to read.
A faint smile played on his face as he occasionally paused to savor passages, or looked out into the distance to rest his eyes—relaxed and at ease.
In the front row, a little witch gripped her quill, writing furiously. As she finished notes on the previous question, she heard Professor Gaunt clear his throat and raise his voice slightly:
“Can anyone tell me why you can’t use the Flame Charm against Hedwig?”
The second-year course had officially entered end-of-term review. Post-class homework volume increased slightly, as did the review and random questioning segments. Professor Gaunt’s classes remained lively and engaging.
The murmurs below the podium stopped abruptly. It wasn’t just Hermione; half the class turned their gazes to the boy in the third row of the middle section.
Harry pretended not to notice these gazes, flipping a page of parchment and using his quill dipped in ink to draw a broomstick.
“Mr. Malfoy, you answer.”
“Very good answer; Slytherin is awarded 10 points.”
“Let’s look at the next question…”
“These points used to always go to Gryffindor.” Many little wizards muttered, but since class was ongoing, they didn’t continue the discussion.
Hermione sensed the changes in Professor Gaunt more clearly. The random questioning no longer favored Harry and Gryffindor; post-class discussions no longer gravitated here frequently… He was no longer Harry’s ardent fan.
Hermione quietly looked toward Professor Levent on the podium, wondering the reason for this change.
As soon as the bell rang, Professor Gaunt’s figure vanished abruptly. Melvin packed away his extracurricular reading, grabbed his Golden Goblet, and headed out briskly and swiftly—surely arriving at the Great Hall before the little wizards.
The little wizards were used to this scene by now. Professor Levent was always different from the other professors.
Hermione hurriedly grabbed her schoolbag and trotted after Professor Levent, her words coming faster: “Professor, Professor, I have a question for you.”
Melvin slowed his steps, gesturing for her to continue.
Hermione hadn’t gotten answers last time about the phantom and the Golden Goblet, so she tried a different angle: “Is Professor Gaunt dissatisfied with us? In the recent Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, he not only skipped questioning Harry but ignored the other Gryffindor students too.”
Melvin ascended the rotating staircase, stopping in place to wait for Hermione to steady herself. The staircase carried them side by side to the left platform. He looked down and answered: “Because Professor Gaunt hates Harry.”
Hermione froze in place: “Huh?”
“Surprising? What answer were you hoping for?”
“But… before…”
“Before, he just wanted to know why Harry survived the great calamity as the Boy Who Lived. He deliberately acted friendly to extract information from Harry.”
“Now that he’s changed his attitude, it means…” Hermione muttered softly, “he’s gotten the information.”
Hermione, lost in chaotic thoughts, stood dazed in place. She didn’t even notice Melvin stepping off the platform, missing the turn and only watching the professor’s back recede, disappearing around the corridor corner.
