stjorthotic Chapter 335 Top Floor Box
Chapter 335 Top Floor Box
Chapter 335 Top-Floor Box (6K) (2/2)
First to peek in was Ron Weasley's tousled red hair, his face a mixture of excitement, curiosity, and a hint of trepidation at having wandered into a place he shouldn't be. Next, Harry and Hermione appeared in the doorway, followed by the curiously peering twins, and a slightly flustered but trying-to-remain composed Ginny. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley brought up the rear, Mr. Weasley sporting a warm smile, while Mrs. Weasley adjusted Ginny's collar and surveyed the interior of the box.
"Uncle Lynch! We found him—oh!" Harry spotted Lynch in the box at a glance. He was about to speak when the light fell on the lady next to Lynch, who was wearing a dark green robe, sitting upright, and whose expression instantly returned to its usual seriousness. His voice stopped abruptly, and his green eyes widened.
"Professor McGonagall?!" Hermione gasped, instinctively straightening up as if she had suddenly returned to the corridors of Hogwarts.
Ron's mouth gaped open in an "O" shape, and the twins exchanged a knowing look. Ginny shrank back behind her mother.
The Weasleys were visibly taken aback for a moment. Mr. Weasley quickly resumed his smile, but with a more polite formality: "Professor McGonagall! Good evening! I never expected to meet you here!"
Professor McGonagall quickly recovered from her initial surprise. She adjusted her glasses, her gaze sweeping over the large group of unexpected guests, pausing briefly on the faces of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, before giving a slight nod. "Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, good evening. Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, the Weasleys, and Ginny."
Her voice was calm, but everyone could hear the surprise and a hint of amusement beneath that calm.
Her gaze finally fell on Lin Qi, carrying a silent question.
Lynch had already reached the door, gave a brief nod to the Weasleys and Harry and the others, and then explained to Professor McGonagall, "It seems that another group of guests I invited has arrived. I hope you don't mind sharing this viewing space."
Professor McGonagall looked at Harry and the others, their expressions a mixture of surprise and unease, like chicks encountering an eagle.
As the head of Gryffindor, she was well aware of the pressure she exerted on her students in her daily life.
"Of course I don't mind. I'm the unplanned guest," she said slowly, a mischievous smile flashing across her lips. "Besides, more people...it's more lively."
The Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione then cautiously filed in, the children unconsciously slowing their pace, and even the twins temporarily toned down their arrogance.
The private room was instantly filled with a different kind of vibrant—albeit somewhat reserved—attractive atmosphere thanks to the arrival of these young people.
After Mrs. Weasley politely greeted Professor McGonagall, she began to urge the children in a low voice to find seats and not to block the doorway.
Just then, before the door to the private room could be completely closed, a clear voice with a deliberately refined and elegant tone came from the hallway outside: "Good evening, Mr. Lynch. I didn't expect to meet you here."
The voice was like a line of ice, instantly shattering the relaxed atmosphere that was being cultivated inside the private room.
Everyone's gaze, including Harry, Ron, and the others who had just sat down, instinctively turned towards the doorway.
Lucius Malfoy stood outside the box, dressed in a flawlessly tailored dark green robe, his platinum blonde hair perfectly styled, and a perfectly measured, social smile on his pale face. He held his snake-headed cane in one hand and rested his other hand lightly on his son's shoulder beside him.
Draco Malfoy stood beside his father, dressed in expensive and exquisite wizard robes. His face might have initially shown some boredom or reserve, but when his gaze swept across the box and he saw Harry, Hermione, the Weasleys, and especially Professor McGonagall, his expression instantly became extremely interesting—a mixture of surprise and subconscious disgust. He seemed to have never expected that so many people he disliked would be gathered in the box.
"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," Lynch replied with a smile and a nod.
Lucius quickly put on an impeccable smile, even more solemn than usual, and first gave Lynch a slight bow. Then, he turned his head and said to Draco in a clear and polite voice, "Draco, greet the elders."
Draco visibly hesitated, but under his father's unquestionable gaze, he could only obediently and somewhat stiffly speak, his gaze first meeting Lynch's with obvious nervousness: "Good evening, Professor Lynch." Then, he turned to Professor McGonagall, his voice lowering: "Professor McGonagall." Finally, his gaze reluctantly swept over Mr. Weasley, almost squeezing out the words through clenched teeth: "Mr. Weasley." Throughout, he completely ignored Mrs. Weasley and Harry, but this was the greatest "politeness" he could muster under his father's pressure.
Lucius seemed somewhat dissatisfied with his son's performance, but at least there were no major blunders, and it wasn't the right occasion to discuss anything, so he turned to the private box himself and, with an unusually thorough, even overly formal, manner, personally added his greetings.
"Professor McGonagall, good evening." His greeting carried a greater degree of formal respect than he usually showed to the Dean of Students.
"Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley." He addressed Arthur and Molly calmly and formally, completely suppressing the implicit mockery or indifference he had shown in previous encounters. Although he was inwardly shocked by the appearance of the "pure-blood traitors" family in this box, he would never reveal the slightest negative emotion related to it to Lynch.
He even gave Harry a very brief, polite glance, silent but without his usual cold scrutiny. Finally, his gaze returned to Lynch, his smile becoming slightly more "natural," but the wariness was still clearly discernible.
“What a delightful coincidence,” Lucius said, his voice steady. “We’re on our way to Box One. Draco has been looking forward to this match, and to run into so many—acquaintances—he’s really not expected.” He carefully chose the word “acquaintances” to avoid any potentially ambiguous or offensive characterization, while again trying to steer the conversation toward the seemingly safe public sphere of “Hogwarts,” attempting to understand this perplexing group: “The connections at Hogwarts are always everywhere.”
Draco shifted uncomfortably, not quite understanding why his father was being so polite to the Weasleys as well.
Ron was a little stunned by Lucius's unusual, almost "polite" attitude. The angry glare and sarcasm he had prepared stuck in his throat, and he could only stare blankly.
Harry frowned as well, feeling that Mr. Malfoy, who had once fought with Mr. Weasley on the streets of Diagon Alley, now seemed incredibly strange and unfamiliar.
Lynch responded to Lucius's greeting with a gentle nod, his tone steady and polite: "Good evening, Mr. Malfoy. I hope Draco enjoys the game."
Seeing Lynch's calm demeanor, Lucius felt somewhat relieved, but the strange combination before him still felt like a thorn in his side.
He casually glanced at Harry again, then asked Lynch in a more deliberate tone, "It seems your guest tonight is quite special; Mr. Potter is also here."
Lynch followed his self-illumination to Harry, then said clearly and gently, "Harry calls me Uncle. The Weasleys are also my friends."
This statement is like a pebble thrown into a still lake.
Lucius's smile didn't disappear, but the pupils of his gray eyes contracted almost imperceptibly. All his muscles remained in place, yet he exuded a stiffness as if he had been completely solidified.
uncle?
friend?
He took a fraction of a second to regain control of his facial expression, making the smile even more profound, even carrying a perfectly timed hint of "surprise." As if he had heard some incredibly good news, he turned to Draco and spoke in a slightly raised voice, making sure everyone in the box could hear him: "Draco, did you hear that? From now on at school, remember to get closer to Harry and the Weasley children—learn from each other, help each other. That's what classmates should be like." He spoke so naturally, as if he were earnestly instructing his son on how to conduct himself in the world, completely erasing all past conflicts and grudges.
Draco looked up at his father with a start, his gray eyes filled with disbelief, shock, and confusion. His cheeks flushed slightly, but under his father's calm yet unquestionable gaze, he could only nod barely and almost imperceptibly, his lips pressed tightly together.
Lucius then looked at Lynch again, as if he had just completed a trivial matter, his expression becoming even more respectful, even carrying a hint of seeking instructions: "Speaking of which, Mr. Lynch, Minister Fudge is also in VIP Box Number One not far away tonight. What do you think—should we, as the Chamber of Commerce, take the lead and go over to say hello? The minister seems to have been looking forward to having more direct communication with you."
Lynch looked at him and said calmly, "Mr. Malfoy, you are the vice president and can fully represent the Chamber of Commerce."
In this situation, you'll handle it.
Lucius bowed slightly, but did not give up, his tone becoming even more earnest: "You are right. However—the Minister has mentioned several times that he always hopes to see you in person. Tonight is a rare opportunity, and if you could come for a moment, it would surely be more beneficial for the Chamber of Commerce and for—many things in the future. Of course, it is entirely up to you."
He spoke humbly, yet he clearly indicated Fudge's expectations and potential benefits, respectfully returning the choice to Lynch.
Lynch paused for a moment, as if considering Lucius's suggestion, then nodded: "Alright. I'll go over there during the break in the match later."
Lucius's face immediately lit up with a relieved and satisfied smile, and he bowed again: "Then I'll wait for you over there later. I won't disturb you any longer. Draco, let's go."
He calmly nodded to the others in the private room, and then, with Draco still looking dazed, as if he hadn't yet recovered from his father's "teachings," he walked away steadily.
The private room remained silent for a few seconds until they disappeared from sight.
"Merlin's beard!" Ron was the first to exclaim, rubbing his ears vigorously before turning to Harry with an exaggerated expression. "Am I under a curse? Old Malfoy is getting Malfoy—to help us—and be closer to us?" He said these words as if spitting out poisonous snails.
Harry didn't say anything, but he realized once again that Uncle Lynch's presence was more significant than he had imagined.
Arthur and Molly exchanged a glance, both seeing the surprise in each other's eyes.
Professor McGonagall slowly took a sip of mead, her gaze lingering for a moment on Lynch's still smiling profile, her eyes behind her glasses deep and unfathomable.
On the other side, after leaving Lynch's private room and entering the relatively quiet top-floor corridor, Lucius's respectful and warm demeanor quickly faded, returning to his usual coldness.
He walked at a leisurely pace, his cane tapping dully on the soft carpet. Draco followed beside him, still wearing an expression of unresolved difficulty and hesitation.
After taking a few steps, Lucius didn't look at his son. His voice wasn't loud, but it reached Draco's ears clearly: "I know that you and that boy who survived Potter's ordeal" have had some—unpleasantness—at school.
Draco abruptly raised his head, a hint of embarrassment at being exposed and an instinctive resistance flashing across his face.
He didn't expect his father to bring this up so suddenly and directly in such a setting.
He pursed his lips, uttering a muffled syllable that sounded both like an admission and a hint of resentment.
Lucius didn't wait for him to gather his thoughts before continuing, his tone calm yet understated: "That childish backstabbing, the point deductions, or the little squabbles on the Quidditch pitch, that's it."
Draco finally couldn't hold back any longer. The pent-up resentment and frustration of youth burst forth, his voice rising slightly with emotion: "But Father! He was the one who—"
/
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"He was the one who rejected your outstretched hand first, on the train, right? You've said it so many times at home." Lucius interrupted his son, even accurately recounting the scene from years ago that Draco still resented. His gray eyes swept sharply over his son, showing no sympathy for his son's frustration.
"Then, you chose to retaliate with confrontation and humiliation, and you enjoyed it immensely, treating it as a game, a game to prove that you were superior to that 'savior.'"
Draco's cheeks flushed instantly. His father's words were like a precise scalpel, peeling away the initial sense of frustration and subsequent burgeoning desire for revenge hidden beneath all his actions.
He opened his mouth, unable to find the words to refute it, because what his father said was largely true.
"If every member of the Malfoy family," Lucius's voice remained steady, yet carried a heavy weight of history, "had chosen to push the other party to the opposite side completely after the first attempt at goodwill was rejected, after the first setback, and had wallowed in this futile confrontation, then our family would have long since vanished into the annals of history, leaving not a trace. Confrontation is only a choice when it serves a higher purpose, or when there is absolute superiority. Otherwise, it is foolish and dangerous."
Draco flinched at the cold reality and harsh judgment in his father's words, his previous resentment replaced by a deeper sense of awe.
Lucius softened his tone, but the instruction became clearer: "Listen, from now on, stop your childish provocations and tricks. Stop creating trouble. Keep your distance and let things go peacefully; that's the bottom line."
He paused, his gaze drifting to the end of the corridor where the sounds of commotion from Box Number One could be faintly heard. His voice was low, carrying a more complex meaning: "If possible—observe, even try to send out a faint, non-offensive signal of goodwill. Assessing the situation, discerning who are easy opponents and who require careful consideration and even a reassessment of their value, is a survival skill Malfoy must master, more important than any spell. Potter—his value and that of those around him—needs to be re-evaluated. This is not surrender, Draco, this is wisdom."
Do you understand?
Draco's face turned pale and then red; his father's words completely overturned his previous understanding.
For a long time, he had viewed his hostility toward Harry Potter as part of maintaining his pure-blood pride and Slytherin dignity, but now his father was telling him that it might be "foolish and dangerous" and that he needed to make way for "higher goals."
He felt incredibly aggrieved, yet dared not refute under his father's cold gaze.
Finally, he nodded with extreme difficulty, almost imperceptibly, and squeezed out a breathy sound: "—Understood."
"Remember your promise. And put away that humiliated look on your face," Lucius warned, his facial muscles already adjusting their contours. "We're here."
As soon as they finished speaking, they found themselves standing before a much wider and more ornate door, bearing the emblem of the Ministry of Magic.
The waiter respectfully opened the door, and a symphony of power and luxury rushed in.
The atmosphere inside VIP Box No. 1 was completely different from that on Lin Qi's side.
The moment Lucius stepped in, he had perfectly switched to his impeccable social persona, exuding a moderate arrogance and a warm, approachable charm, chatting and laughing with the officials who came to greet him.
Draco followed behind him, trying to straighten his back and mimic his father's expression, but his eyes were still somewhat vacant, his thoughts still lingering on the conversation that had just disturbed him.
"Lucius! You've finally arrived!" A Ministry of Magic official approached, holding a wine glass. "Didn't Narcissa come along?"
It would be such a shame if she missed such a fantastic match.
Lucius smiled perfectly, raised his glass in a gesture of greeting, and spoke smoothly and naturally: "Narcissa needs to rest lately; she's not feeling well. Besides, you know, she's never been a fan of overly noisy occasions like Quidditch. Enjoying quiet time at home suits her taste much better."
He easily changed the subject, as if family matters were insignificant, and then chatted with another official about the activities of the International Quidditch Federation.
Draco stood somewhat blankly in the background beside his father, his gaze occasionally drifting to the bustling stadium below the window, his father's words echoing repeatedly in his mind.
With some time still to go before the final match officially begins, the top-floor VIP box area is already bustling with activity.
Lynch put down the booklet about the team and whispered something to Mr. Weasley beside him.
Weasley nodded. "I'll be right back. Molly, keep an eye on the kids."
He gave instructions to his wife, who was distributing snacks, and then got up with Lynch and left the private room.
They walked along the thickly carpeted corridor toward the more lavish No. 1 VIP room, deeper inside. Even before entering, the sounds of clinking glasses and loud conversations could be clearly heard.
Mr. Weasley took a deep breath, straightened his somewhat old but neat robe, and followed Lynch inside.
The scene inside VIP Box No. 1 was no different from before: luxurious, bright, and filled with an atmosphere of power and money.
However, amidst this scene of elegant attire and glamorous figures, a particularly striking figure, somewhat out of place with the surrounding atmosphere, was surrounded by several Ministry of Magic officials and foreign guests—Sirius Black.
He had clearly tidied himself up; his long black hair was neatly tied back, and he wore a well-fitting dark formal robe that barely concealed his innate unruliness, but the fatigue and subtle impatience in his eyes still betrayed him.
As a "tragic war hero" who has just been exonerated, the nominal current head of the oldest Black family, and a guest of honor specially arranged by the Ministry of Magic for the opening ceremony, he has to stand here to fulfill his social obligations and will soon give a short speech.
At this moment, he was trying his best to maintain a polite smile, dealing with the compliments and probing of those around him, but his eyes kept drifting towards the exit.
Lynch and Arthur's arrival was like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, causing small ripples.
Especially when Minister Cornelius-Fudge noticed Lynch, his round face immediately broke into an even more enthusiastic smile than before, and he even temporarily put aside the representatives of the International Confederation of Wizards he was talking to and took the initiative to come forward.
"Ah! Mr. Lynch! You've finally arrived!" Fudge's voice boomed as he extended his hand. "It's so good to have you here! I was worried you'd be held up by something else!"
"Good evening, Mr. Minister." Lynch shook hands with him, his manner gentle and courteous. "It's a grand opening, so of course I had to come. Mr. Weasley was also looking forward to sending his greetings to you and all of you." He then led Mr. Weasley, who was beside him, into the dialogue center.
Fudge seemed to only just notice Arthur then, his smile unchanged but much more formulaic: "Ah, Arthur! You're here too, good, good." He casually patted Arthur's arm, his attention quickly returning to Lynch, "How is it? Are you satisfied with tonight's match arrangements? Let me know if you need anything!"
Lucius Malfoy, who had been standing not far away, talking quietly with several ancient family patriarchs, instinctively wanted to adjust his position when he saw Lynch enter, to approach Lynch as a deputy or important follower—this was a conditioned reflex of his mind regarding the status and subordinate relationship between the two.
However, just as he began to move, Lin Qi's seemingly unintentional gaze fell upon him, his calm eyes clearly conveying disapproval.
Lucius immediately stopped, quickly put on an impeccable social smile, raised his glass to Lynch from a distance, and then continued the conversation as if nothing had happened.
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