Draco's face visibly reddened with anger.
"Oh, come on, Draco," Harry said slowly. "You're eleven years old, and you still can't leave Daddy's side?"
"And I seem to recall telling you that blood purity is for animals."
Harry asked enthusiastically, "Ever considered getting a pet, little lord?"
Draco, who had been about to explode, froze, staring at Harry in confusion, unable to figure out what he was playing at.
Harry said, "How about a dog? Do you prefer a purebred Labrador, a mixed-breed Samoyed, or maybe you like a mutt?"
"Oh," Harry added thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "But judging by your views, you probably don't think much of mutts."
George and Fred immediately collapsed to the ground, rolling with laughter, while it took Draco a moment to grasp Harry's meaning.
Visible steam practically rose from Draco's head.
"How dare you! Potter!"
Draco stomped his foot and shrieked, "Potter! You'll pay for what you've said!!"
"Yeah, yeah," Harry nodded dismissively. "Sure, I'll pay. Show me what you've got."
Then he muttered under his breath, "You get upset when I tell the truth."
Draco was furious and helpless. "POKKER!!!"
Harry corrected him politely, "Please pay attention, it's Potter, not Pokker."
George and Fred grinned, winking and mocking in strange tones, "He mispronounced the great savior's surname. Five points from Slytherin."
Ron let out a cackling laugh, and Hermione covered her mouth with her hand, giggling.
"Alright, alright," Harry said, shrugging as he saw Draco looking about to faint from rage. He then pulled out his wand and waved it, asking with a smile, "So, how do you want me to pay?"
"Are you challenging me to a duel, young Malfoy?"
The expression on Draco's face froze; he couldn't help but recall the two ears that had silently appeared on his head at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Draco couldn't help but step back, his voice tinged with nervousness as he stammered in retort, "Who… who would duel you? I… I don't want to lose points!"
Ron snorted in mockery, "Malfoy, why are you stammering? Has Harry already taught you a lesson? Is the Malfoy baby who can't leave Daddy's side about to cry?"
Draco's voice turned shrill: "Shut up, Weasley!"
Draco wasn't about to cry, but he was close to tears of rage. His body trembling, he spat out a fierce threat, "Just wait!"
He stormed out of the dining hall, Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind him.
Harry watched Draco's retreating figure with a hint of confusion in his eyes.
Malfoy came from an old, established noble family; by all logic, the nature of nobility should be the pursuit of profit, not blind devotion to the concept of blood purity.
In Harry's view, even if Malfoy, as a traditional aristocrat, touted blood purity, it should be based on self-interest.
Yet Draco seemed to genuinely believe in it. Harry couldn't tell if he was truly foolish, pretending to be, spoiled, or if Malfoy had intentionally raised his son this way…
Harry didn't reach a conclusion.
He found his shoulders hooked from both sides by the twins, who grinned at him. "Pretty impressive attack there, Harry."
"I'll remember little Malfoy's expression for the rest of my life."
Harry just smiled and said nothing.
Hermione hesitated. "But… isn't this going too far? I recall Malfoy is from a noble family…"
She looked at Harry worriedly.
Hermione, being in Gryffindor, had been somewhat influenced by some of the house's prevailing attitudes, along with various rumors.
For instance, the Malfoy family had once served the Dark Lord.
… And the Dark Lord was the savior's mortal enemy, irreconcilable. Was Harry in danger?
This was Hermione's great concern, given that Harry's words were indeed very harsh.
Harry waved it off casually. "What's the problem? As far as I can see, Hogwarts is still Dumbledore's territory. No matter how much influence Malfoy has, he can't reach in here."
And if he tried, Harry could cut him off; he was certainly capable.
"Besides, Draco's head is so blonde it's practically his best feature, but it's full of rubbish."
Here, Harry explicitly criticized "telling Daddy" and "blood purity."
If he didn't embarrass Draco now while he was young, making him learn from the experience to be more restrained, who knows what kind of person he'd grow into.
It would be a shame for such a handsome face to become a stinking piece of feudal trash.
… And given Draco's rotten personality, Harry doubted he'd learn anything anyway. He'd probably just face setback after setback until he got tired of it.
Whether he gained any wisdom was another matter.
Besides, what was this blood purity nonsense but a form of discrimination, no different from the idea that wizards were abnormal?
First came the witch hunts incited by the Church; next, was there going to be a movement to purge Muggle-born wizards within the wizarding world?
What was absurd was that both Dark Lords had looked down on Muggles, one trying to control them, the other choosing to slaughter them.
Come off it! Look at the wizarding population and the Muggle population. What fools.
The only reason Harry hadn't blown Draco to bits and taught him a lesson was because he was still young and not fundamentally bad.
"Blood purity," Harry scoffed. "It's rubbish."
The aftermath of this argument lasted quite a while. Whenever Draco saw Harry, the young lord would glare at him furiously, then snort and stride away haughtily, his platinum blond head held high.
This continued until the day of the Quidditch match.
Harry was walking with Ron and Hermione, about to head to the Gryffindor stands, when Draco strode past the trio with his two hefty companions.
He slammed hard into Harry's shoulder, and Harry's face contorted for a moment.
Neither of them was fat, and the bones near their shoulders were solid. Draco had put significant force into it, and Harry, being rather fragile, nearly jumped from the pain of bone hitting bone.
Harry hissed, sucking in air, while Draco turned his head, glared viciously at Harry, and then strutted off with his head held high.
Once they were out of the savior trio's sight, Draco's face began to twitch.
The force worked both ways.
His expression twisted as he hunched down, raising his hand to his shoulder, muttering angrily, "Damn Potter! Was he raised on rocks? He's that hard!"
That hurt so much!
A whistle sounded nearby. Draco looked up irritably, following the sound to see Blaise's mocking face. "Oho, did the savior beat you up?"
Beside Blaise, Theodore held a book and glanced indifferently at Draco.
Draco immediately straightened up, acting arrogant. "Beat me? That Potter? I'd be the one beating him."
Theodore withdrew his gaze impassively, a barely perceptible sneer on his lips, while Blaise jeered, "Then why are you holding your shoulder and complaining?"
"Draco?" Daphne and Pansy cast concerned looks his way.
"I'm fine," Draco said, his mouth harder than rock. Even though his shoulder still ached, he sat down, acting as if nothing was wrong. "The one who should be worried is Potter."
Blaise could tell the young lord was just being stubborn and shrugged indifferently. "Whatever you say. But speaking of which, you seem to have a pretty good relationship with the savior?"
He added casually, "Does your father know?"
Draco snapped fiercely, "Mind your own business!"
Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione surrounded Harry, fussing over him.
Ron fumed indignantly, "Hey mate, Malfoy is absolutely impossible. How are you?"
Hermione carefully reached out and touched Harry's shoulder.
The memory of Harry being sent to the hospital wing after being hit during their first flying lesson was still strong, and the expression on Harry's face had been terrible.
Hermione was very worried. She hesitated, "Harry, are you alright?"
"Oh… I'm fine," Harry said through gritted teeth, thinking to himself: he would bet that his shoulder was definitely bruised.
He ground his teeth and shot a dark look toward the Slytherin stands. "Damn it… just you wait."
If he didn't make that platinum blond pay, his name wasn't Harry Potter!
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