Chapter 89: Disgusting Malfoy
After lunch, it was nearly one o'clock, and Herbology class was about to begin.
The lesson was held in the greenhouses outside the castle. Alexander and his group made their way past the vegetable patch and quickly arrived at the entrance.
This time, Herbology was a joint class with Ravenclaw and Slytherin.
From a distance, they spotted Draco Malfoy, who had just been bickering with Blaise Zabini and Crabbe. As soon as he noticed them, he straightened his robe in a pretentious manner and stared in Harry's direction.
"Hello, Pottah," Malfoy drawled with a smirk.
"I'm glad you didn't end up a foolish Gryffindor. As a Ravenclaw, surely you understand who's more worthy of your friendship," he continued, walking over slowly, his speech exaggerated and theatrical.
Alexander could only roll his eyes. In the female web novels of his past life, this was known as an aristocratic aria. But to him, it just sounded unbearably pompous and condescending.
Harry didn't appreciate it either.
"Shut it, Draco Malfoy."
"Take your ridiculous name and shove off!" Ron added, appearing from the side with a sarcastic grin.
If you're exceptionally good-looking—like me, for example—being called names wouldn't faze you. People usually get angry when someone hits a nerve.
Draco's name was just that: a sore spot. Draco meant "dragon" in Latin, in line with the Black family tradition of naming children after constellations. But Malfoy—derived from the French mal foi or mal foy—meant "bad faith" or "untrustworthy." Its pronunciation wasn't far from "malformed."
It was like meeting someone for the first time and being told, "Hi, I'm a defective dragon."
Draco knew this too. His pale cheeks flushed slightly, but he quickly retaliated.
"Oh, isn't this Weasley, whose family breeds more children than they can feed?"
"Let's see… even your wand looks second-hand. Got anything new, Weasley?"
"A Galleon card, perhaps?" he added mockingly. "Didn't you win that by sheer dumb luck? I'd say it used up all your fortune for life!"
"Opposing me will be your downfall. Crabbe, Goyle—let's go."
But then—
"Excuse me, children. What exactly are you doing?" asked a friendly, short witch wearing a patched hat. Her robes were muddy, and dirt lined her fingernails.
"Oh—Professor," Malfoy said with false sweetness, casting a subtle glance at her patched hat and soiled appearance.
Then, shooting a stupid grin at Crabbe and Goyle, he retreated with them into the Slytherin crowd.
"He's such a pain," muttered Terry Boot beside them. "Did you see the way he looked at us?"
"I wish I never met him. He's as annoying as Dudley," Harry said gloomily.
"Hey, mate," Ron joked, throwing an arm around Harry. "Don't forget—it's Fat Tiger, the bully, not Dudley!"
Laughing, the group followed the witch—clearly their professor—who was now gesturing for them to approach.
"Hello, everyone," she greeted cheerfully. "I'm Professor Pomona Sprout, your Herbology instructor."
"In this class, we'll explore magical and often dangerous plants. You'll learn how to cultivate them, use them in potions, and understand their magical properties."
"This subject will be one of the most useful after graduation."
"In my class, follow instructions carefully—unless you want to get hurt, or worse," she warned with a grin.
That afternoon, Alexander's group worked alongside the Slytherins to plant Dittany—a magical herb known for its powerful healing properties and use in potion-making.
But the best part? A rare 30-minute break. Something unheard of in Potions or Transfiguration.
By 3 o'clock, two hours had flown by. Though they wore dragon-hide gloves, everyone except Alexander was dusty and disheveled.
Few first-years could perform a Scouring Charm to clean themselves, and even if they could, most wouldn't dare. Blending in was just as important as standing out.
Alexander, as usual, remained unnoticed—content in the background.
"Ugh, look at this filth!"
"There's dirt everywhere! I've had it!" Filch, the caretaker, bellowed, his eyes bulging in outrage and his double chin wobbling with fury.
Several students tried to clean the floor using magic, but this only enraged him further. He declared that no magic was to be used in the corridors and punished those who did.
"He's completely bonkers," Ron muttered as they escaped.
There wasn't much time to rest. From 3:30 to 5:30, they had Transfiguration. After a quick wash, the group headed to the first-floor classroom.
Professor McGonagall entered with quiet authority. Alexander had half-expected a theatrical entrance, like her turning from a cat into a professor as in the films. Alas, no such drama.
"Transfiguration is the most complex and dangerous magic you'll learn at Hogwarts," she announced.
"Anyone who dares to fool around in my class will be expelled from it. Permanently. You've been warned."
To demonstrate, she turned her desk into a pig and then back again.
The class was instantly captivated. Everyone eagerly reached for their wands—only to be disappointed when Professor McGonagall instructed them to take out their quills instead.
For the next hour, they copied dense notes filled with complex theory.
It wasn't until nearly 4:00 that she handed out matches and instructed them to transform them into needles using the principles she'd taught.
With Seamus Finnigan absent, there were no accidental explosions. The classroom remained surprisingly calm.
Bored, Alexander leaned over and guided Hermione, holding her hand and whispering helpful tips. Near the end of class, Hermione successfully turned her match into a silver needle.
"Excellent, Miss Granger. You've completed the transformation on your first try. Five points to Ravenclaw," McGonagall said, lips pursed in what might've been approval.
Ron led the cheers, while Lisa Dupin leaned toward Hermione, begging her for advice.
By 5:10, the school day finally came to an end.
McGonagall assigned everyone—except Hermione—a one-inch essay on Transfiguration theory.
Hermione nearly volunteered to do it anyway, but thankfully, Alexander stopped her just in time.
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