Harry Potter: Returning from Hogwarts Legacy

“Good morning.” Lucius greeted him with a smile. “Are you here to buy books as well?”

There was no real reason for him and Arthur to fall out completely. After all, there had never been any direct conflict between them, so they maintained a polite and civil front.

Besides, given Harry’s good relationship with the Weasley family, Lucius had long forgotten about the so-called “disgrace of pure-bloods.”

Ah, the Malfoys’ bottom line was always flexible.

“Yes.” Arthur’s response was somewhat awkward, clearly making conversation for the sake of it.

He and Lucius were merely colleagues at the Ministry of Magic, not close acquaintances. Their usual interactions were limited to exchanging nods when passing each other in the hallways.

Now, with Lucius deliberately engaging him in small talk, Arthur felt a little… uncomfortable.

Fortunately, even though Lucius disapproved of the Weasley family’s attitude toward Muggles, he never openly expressed it. This allowed their interactions to remain relatively amicable.

“Oh, Weasley.”

Draco swaggered forward the moment he spotted Ron, wearing his signature smirk. “Look at that, we meet again.”

“Looking for another ‘Scourgify’ spell, Malfoy?” Ron shot back without missing a beat.

“Draco…” Lucius prodded his son with his wand, a silent warning. “Be polite.”

“Oh.” Draco reluctantly responded, suddenly recalling the words of the family’s elder before they left home.

The elder had reminded him that Harry had received the most care from the Weasley family in the past. Because of this, he would naturally have a strong bond with them.

The wisest choice, therefore, was to avoid conflicts with the Weasleys as much as possible.

The elder had also questioned: Why the need for conflict? Why cling so stubbornly to the so-called pride of pure-bloods?

Wouldn’t it be far better to gain more friends and reduce the number of enemies?

Draco, to his credit, was a child who could listen to reason—especially when it came from the family elder.

Couple that with Lucius’s subtle threats before they left, and Draco quickly chose to be pragmatic.

Acting a little friendlier toward the Weasleys? No problem!

“Let’s go. Hermione’s still waiting for us.” Ron patted Harry’s hand.

“Hermione?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, she’s probably withdrawing money over at Gringotts.” Ron explained.

“Then…” Harry turned to Lucius. “Mr. Malfoy, would you like to join us?”

He swore he was just being polite.

But to his surprise, Lucius actually agreed.

“Why not?” he said.

Together, they made their way through the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley.

Walking behind the group, Draco glanced at his father and couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

For a brief moment, he thought he saw an emotion in his father’s eyes as he looked at the Weasley family—envy.

Yes, that’s right. Envy…

Of course, Draco had no idea why his father would envy this “family with too many kids to afford.”

Lucius would never tell him that, financially, he could afford as many children as he wanted—but he only had one.

After a while, they finally arrived at Gringotts.

Harry spotted Hermione’s parents standing uneasily near the marble counter that stretched across the grand hall, seemingly waiting for Hermione to introduce them.

“Hermione! Uncle Askin! Aunt Claire!” Ron greeted them cheerfully, waving his hand.

At the sight of the Weasley family, Askin Granger and his wife visibly relaxed, looking relieved.

“Ron, my goodness.” Askin clutched his chest. “So this is the wizarding world? Absolutely fascinating! Won’t you introduce me to your family?”

After exchanging introductions, Mr. Weasley beamed. “Ah, you’re Muggles! We simply must go for a drink together! What’s that in your hand? Oh, you’re exchanging Muggle currency.”

“Molly, look!” He turned excitedly to his wife, pointing at the ten-pound note in Mr. Granger’s hand.

“Arthur!” Molly scolded, feeling that her husband was getting a little too carried away.

“Granger, we meet again.”

Draco, still playing the part of a classic antagonist, suddenly appeared in front of Hermione.

Hermione shot him a look of disdain. “Looking for another ‘Scourgify’ spell, Malfoy?”

Draco was momentarily stunned.

Wait a minute, why are you saying the exact same thing as Ron?

Lucius, meanwhile, had an expression of pure exasperation. He could only imagine just how insufferable his son’s mouth must be at school.

At least, thank Merlin, he hadn’t offended Mr. Potter.

“Miss Granger, hello.” Lucius swiftly pushed Draco aside as if his own son was nothing but an obstacle. “I am Draco’s father, Lucius Malfoy. I must apologize for his rudeness toward you at school.”

“Oh…” Hermione was caught off guard. If Lucius had come at her with arrogance, she would have been ready with a retort.

But an apology?

She wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” she finally said. “It’s all in the past. I’ve already… well…”

“Are these your parents?” Lucius glanced with interest at the well-dressed Granger couple. “They’re Muggles, correct?”

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy.” Hermione nodded.

“I believe Arthur is right. We should definitely join you for a drink at the pub later.” He smiled.

Arthur opened his mouth, wanting to tell Lucius to go jump into a lake. But then he hesitated, uncertain how to refuse.

After all, as the saying goes, one doesn’t slap a smiling face. Besides, they hadn’t openly fallen out…

Forget it, Arthur thought in resignation. Let him do as he pleases.

Harry didn’t need to withdraw any money, so he waited in the main hall of Gringotts.

When the goblin Griphook spotted Harry, he hesitated for a brief second but soon shook his head and returned to his post at the counter.

Before long, everyone had finished their transactions. However, Ron didn’t seem too excited about the upcoming shopping trip.

After a quick discussion, they decided to split up and handle their own errands first. Percy mumbled something about buying a new quill, while Molly and Ginny headed to a shop selling second-hand robes.

As for Arthur, he insisted on taking the Granger family and Lucius to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink.

His curiosity about the Muggle world outweighed his irritation toward Lucius, so having him around didn’t seem all that unbearable.

"Oh, it's just one more person, no big deal."

After Lucius offered to cover the bill this time, Arthur's attitude noticeably warmed up.

Once everyone else had left, Draco was now an addition to Harry’s trio.

Draco, Ron, and Hermione stared each other down, none willing to back down.

"What kind of trick are you trying to pull now?" Hermione eyed Draco with disdain.

"Granger, I need to correct you—I’m not pulling any tricks." Draco smoothed back his slicked hair. "I admit that last school year, I wasn’t exactly the friendliest, so I’ve decided to turn over a new leaf."

"Really?" Ron asked skeptically.

"Of course. Besides, I can’t beat you lot anyway." Draco sighed.

"Miss Merope's ‘gift’ to him has expired," someone remarked. "He spent nearly a week recovering at home, and even now, he still walks a bit unsteadily."

Thinking back, Draco deeply regretted his decision—particularly, how he ever fell for Miss Merope’s scheme in the first place. Allowing her to siphon his life force—what a brilliant idea that had been.

Now, look at him.

Luckily, he pulled back in time. Otherwise…

The more Draco thought about it, the more terrified he became. What if she had actually drained him dry? His mother would have been devastated.

"Then just follow us quietly and don’t cause trouble," Hermione said, still somewhat unconvinced. "Alright, let’s get some ice cream first."

"I’ll pay." Draco quickly volunteered.

Opportunities to show off in front of his great-uncle were rare. If the old man got in a good mood and taught him a few powerful spells, wouldn’t that be worth it?

Draco, ever the rich heir, bought four chocolate-raspberry nut-covered ice creams from Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour. This significantly reduced Ron and Hermione’s hostility towards him.

Of course, Draco’s main offense had always been his sharp tongue. It was usually him who got smacked around, so while Ron and Hermione didn’t exactly like him, their grudge wasn’t that deep.

When they passed by the Quidditch shop, both Draco and Ron came to a halt, unable to tear their eyes away.

Quidditch was one of the few things they both loved.

"This broom is incredible—the Nimbus 2001." Draco sighed in admiration. "Harry, if I convince my father to donate a Nimbus 2001 to every player on the Slytherin team, do you think Flint would let me join?"

"You’re insane." Ron scoffed. "What’s wrong with earning your spot through skill? Buying your way in—honestly, Malfoy, you’ve got too much money and not enough sense."

"What else do you expect? That’s just how Slytherin operates." Draco shrugged. "Talent alone isn’t enough to make the team—you need some… external advantages too."

"I suggest you drop the idea, Drama King," Hermione said, calling him by his nickname. "Money should be spent wisely, not wasted on nonsense."

"Don’t call me Drama King!" Draco snapped.

"Alright, alright, I won’t." Hermione held up her hands in surrender, then tugged at Ron, who was still admiring a Chudley Cannons jersey. "Let’s go, Ron. You two have been staring at that broom for half an hour!"

Ron reluctantly tore his gaze away and trailed after Hermione, looking dejected.

Passing by a second-hand bookstore, they spotted Percy sitting by the entrance, nose buried in a battered old book titled How Prefects Gain Power.

"Hogwarts Prefects and Their Careers After Graduation," Ron read aloud from the back cover. "Sounds fascinating. But—just one book?"

"Go away!" Percy snapped, shooing Ron off as if he were an annoying goose.

"Honestly, Percy, I think you’d be better off watching some television instead." Hermione gave him a complicated look. She doubted that book had much real insight. "If I were you, I’d study some Muggle TV shows—like Yes, Minister or Yes, Prime Minister. I think they depict our country’s political scene brilliantly. Even in the wizarding world, the dynamics aren’t all that different."

"Really?" Percy hesitated, lowering his book.

Being a scholar himself, he was inclined to trust Hermione’s opinion. There was a kind of mutual respect among academic minds.

"Of course. If you’re interested, I can also find you some memoirs—perhaps Bernard’s writings. I believe they’d be quite helpful in understanding politics." Hermione offered.

Percy beamed and eagerly thanked her.

As they walked away, Ron muttered under his breath, "Percy’s obsessed with becoming Minister for Magic. His craving for power is ridiculous."

"There’s nothing wrong with ambition," Harry mused. "It’s all about how you go about it."

"That’s actually quite insightful. Who said that?" Draco asked, playing along.

"Your ancestor." Harry smirked.

He wasn’t lying—Septimus Malfoy had indeed said those exact words once.

That was during the summer before fourth year, when Septimus was lecturing his son, Ignatius Malfoy. Harry had been fortunate enough to listen in alongside Cassandra.

"Alright, we need to get to Flourish and Blotts," Hermione checked her watch. "It’s about time."

Outside the bookstore, a massive crowd had gathered. Some were clutching books, others were empty-handed, all trying to squeeze their way inside.

A large banner hung overhead:

Gilderoy Lockhart – Book Signing for Magical Me

Today, 12:30–4:30 PM

"It’s him! He’s actually doing a signing!" Hermione clasped her hands together, visibly excited.

Using their smaller frames to their advantage, they weaved through the packed crowd.

Most of the attendees were middle-aged witches like Mrs. Weasley—evidently, Lockhart had quite the mom-fanbase.

When they squeezed their way forward, Lockhart was in the middle of a photo session, flashing an impossibly bright smile that showcased his pearly white teeth.

To be fair, he was quite handsome. That much had to be acknowledged.

"There you are!" Mrs. Weasley spotted her children at last.

But before she could call them over, Lockhart’s sharp eyes locked onto Harry in the crowd.

"Merlin’s beard, look who’s here!" Lockhart’s eyes glowed with excitement. "Isn’t this Harry Potter himself?"

He waded through the throng, grabbed Harry’s arm, and, without giving him a chance to resist, dragged him onto the stage.

"Smile, Harry. Why aren’t you smiling?" Lockhart whispered into his ear.

For some reason, Harry got the distinct feeling that Lockhart… wasn’t entirely friendly towards him.

He racked his brain, but couldn’t recall ever crossing paths with Lockhart before.

"I think this should be front-page material, don’t you, Harry?" Lockhart beamed. "But before that, I have one question for you."

"Go ahead, Mr. Lockhart." Harry remained polite, subtly trying to free himself from Lockhart’s grip.

But Lockhart was an adult and far stronger. Instead of letting go, he leaned in close and murmured in Harry’s ear:

"Tell me… is it true that you’re Dumbledore’s favorite student?"

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