In a corner of Bath, in eastern Avon, England, Abraxas Malfoy lay on a deck chair at the renowned Wizards' Spa, enjoying the late June sunshine and breeze.
This was a thin old man with platinum-blond hair. He was arrogant and languid, and at first glance, he seemed no different from any other grumpy old man. However, anyone who knew him well could not ignore the sharp glint that occasionally flashed in his cloudy grey eyes.
Beside him, a boy in a black Muggle T-shirt slowly stretched, like a big cat that had just woken up. He wore a black baseball cap to shield his face from the slightly glaring sunlight, but even without seeing his face, the passing waiters could feel the vibrant energy emanating from the boy.
The contrast between youth and old age was striking on these two deck chairs standing side by side.
At this moment, the only thing that might suggest a connection between them was a few strands of platinum-blonde hair peeking out from the edge of the boy's hat. This hair colour had once convinced the receptionist that he must be Draco Malfoy, Abraxas's most beloved grandson.
"I heard that your father spoke with you a few days ago." Abraxas glanced at Draco beside him with interest.
"Yes." Draco finally removed his hat from his face. More of their similar features became apparent—they both had grey eyes, and their underlying aloofness and haughty demeanour were identical.
Draco glanced cautiously at his grandfather, and seeing that his expression remained calm, he continued, "He thinks I am getting too close to some Gryffindors."
"Making a mountain out of a molehill! Being good at making friends with all sorts of people is a remarkable talent! As long as someone is exceptional, we should bring them into our fold—that is true Slytherin wisdom. Does he think just anyone can break into Gryffindor's circle?" Abraxas said dismissively. "Even me... never mind, let us not talk about it."
The old man turned his body slightly to the side, allowing the warm sunlight to cover his frail, dry body, which often felt cold, more evenly.
As he searched for the best angle to dry himself, he said to Draco, "My decades of life experience have taught me that the more friends you make, the more paths you open. As long as you do not harm the Malfoy family's interests, do whatever you want, make any friends you can, and one day you might thank yourself for who you are now."
Draco nodded. In this respect, his grandfather was indeed more open-minded than Lucius, being more open to making friends of all kinds; but he was, after all, a true Malfoy, and his motives for making friends would never be entirely pure.
"I shall talk to your father. Lucius… he is a devoted head of the household, a good husband, a good son, and a good father, I suppose?" Abraxas said, scratching his nose with little confidence. "But he lacks a bit of strategic vision; he is too short-sighted! I heard he did something foolish recently! Of course, your mother has good judgement and is quite perceptive; she advised him to make up for this shortcoming. That is his good fortune."
Draco sat up straight in his deck chair.
He looked at his grandfather in surprise—this was the first time he had ever heard his grandfather evaluate Lucius with such a serious expression.
Although he was cold and aloof to outsiders, Abraxas always treated his grandson differently. He was usually all smiles and acted without a care in the world, showing a mischievous side to Draco.
Such genuine conversations were rare.
"When he was young, I did not guide him much. I was too busy and always preoccupied with my own affairs." Abraxas chuckled briefly. "I once told him not to put himself in front of others, but to stand behind the leader, in a safe position where he could always oversee the overall situation. I reckon he did not understand the true meaning of that sentence. Over the years, he has done a lot of things by 'going out on his own.'"
Draco nodded silently. Although his grandfather was enjoying his retirement and outwardly appeared like a playful old man, not getting involved much in the Malfoy family's affairs, his assessment of his father remained as sharp as ever.
"Your father is somewhat shrewd and pragmatic. I must say, Lucius has done quite well these past few years; he has been enterprising, cultivating connections, actively accumulating wealth and gaining influence for the family. But on the other hand, an enterprising personality is always accompanied by the drawbacks of extremism, recklessness, and arrogance, which can affect his rational judgement as the head of the family. No one can always be watching him and cleaning up his messes." Abraxas pondered, his brow furrowing. "The Malfoy family has existed for centuries and will continue to do so. Do you know what is most important to our family right now?"
Draco looked at his grandfather quietly, without answering rashly.
"The most important thing is to preserve our core strength and know how to maintain it. With the Malfoy family's current wealth and influence, it would be great if we could further advance our power and status; if not, at least we should not fall to a point where our ancestors would feel ashamed. Draco, do you understand?" He looked solemnly at his precocious grandson, who was looking at him calmly, seemingly fully understanding the profound meaning behind his words.
In recent years, Abraxas had been secretly observing and had increasingly felt that his grandson was growing up very fast.
He was not as ignorant and foolish as an ordinary thirteen-year-old boy. He learnt things quickly, and the magical subjects he studied were often surprisingly profound, such as Potions and Dark magic. Every year, Abraxas was proud of his Hogwarts report card.
He was purposeful and resourceful. Despite the difference in schools, once he arrived at Hogwarts, he made connections with the famous Harry Potter—something not just anyone could do.
He had a keen sense of smell and a meticulous mind. This was evident in his capture of Peter Pettigrew. He really did not know how the boy did it—yet the Order of Merlin, Second Class, hung prominently above the fireplace in Malfoy Manor, and any visitor would marvel at it.
His speech and manners were quite appropriate. He navigated social situations with grace, displaying both the noble bearing of the Malfoys, commanding respect, and the pragmatic ability to approach those he could befriend. This was something Abraxas had recently come to understand; Draco treated some of his old friends with the same attitude—he often managed to win the favour of those old men.
Although he was proud and reserved, he was not arrogant or conceited. Abraxas understood perfectly well that Draco was very good at reading people; he could almost instinctively interpret anyone's expression and words, something that would be difficult to do without rigorous training, but he did it as if it were a natural ability.
Most importantly, he was enigmatic. Draco never showed any admiration or contempt for any wizard; he was outwardly polite to them, but kept his true thoughts to himself.
These were all qualities that a good head of household should possess.
How did Lucius and Narcissa raise such an outstanding child? Abraxas pondered, stroking his chin as he sized up the boy who was smiling at him.
"You need to be more ambitious and think long-term. After I am gone, the Malfoy family will be counting on you." He could not understand the boy, but he admired him. So, he finally said those words.
"Grandfather, you will surely live to be a hundred years old." Draco's words seemed more sincere. He had always held his grandfather in high esteem. In his previous life, Abraxas had died of dragon pox when Draco started sixth year.
That year also marked the beginning of the Malfoy family's turbulent years. It seemed that after his death, the Malfoy family began to sink into an increasingly dark abyss.
"Silly child, no one lives that long now." Abraxas waved his hand, trying to appear indifferent, but he was still moved by his grandson's sincere expression.