He stared at Draco as if trying to imprint his face in his mind. "I must say, I am very pleased with your performance at Hogwarts, in every sense of the word. The other day, I ran into an old friend at the Sanatorium—Horace Slughorn. He came specifically to congratulate me on having a grandson who won the Order of Merlin."
Draco smiled nonchalantly at his grandfather.
"That old man will not do anything without a profit." Abraxas's face broke into a series of smug lines, and his cloudy eyes narrowed. "However, to some extent, I do admire him. Most of the students he has shown interest in have achieved great success in their respective fields. I would not be surprised if he came to you in the next couple of days."
Draco always felt that there was some exaggeration in his grandfather's words.
In his previous life, he had never received the slightest favour from Slughorn, not even mentioning Abraxas's name. He thought the two of them were completely unfamiliar with each other.
As they were talking, a bald old man, as fat as a walrus, slowly walked over. He casually stroked his thick, silver walrus moustache, and his bulging eyes slowly scanned them.
"Horace!" Abraxas beckoned to him lazily. "We were just talking about you—"
"Oh, I hope you are talking about the good side of me," Slughorn said cheerfully.
"Of course," Abraxas said with a shrewd, fake smile, deliberately teasing his old friend who had such a clear purpose. "Do I have any gold coins here that attracted you, Niffler? I remember at this time of year you should be replying to your beloved disciples."
"Ah, I was indeed writing a reply, but then I thought, the weather is so nice today, it is a good idea to go for a stroll." Slughorn ignored the ill intent in Abraxas's words and said nonchalantly.
This seemingly insignificant figure, whom Abraxas had mentioned, had long been interested in the "gold coin" he had his eye on. As if he had only just noticed Draco beside his old friend, an affected look of surprise appeared on his face. "If I am not mistaken, this is the young man who received the Order of Merlin, Second Class, your grandson Draco, is he not?"
Abraxas nodded reservedly, displaying an air of arrogant disdain. That old spider Slughorn… he knew he was up to no good.
"Come, let me introduce you to my grandson, Draco; and my old friend, Horace Slughorn, who used to be the Head of our Slytherin, a legendary figure with countless students!" Abraxas's tone was slightly exaggerated, as if he were reciting a poem with an aria.
"It is not as exaggerated as you make it out to be!" Slughorn plopped down on a nearby deck chair and said with a chuckle, "I just have a few students I am on good terms with!"
When Slughorn appeared, Draco had already stood up.
After the two old friends finished their pleasantries, he bowed politely to Slughorn to greet him.
Slughorn waved his hand amicably. "No need to be so polite, Draco. Your grandfather and I are very close; you are practically like a grandson to me. He brags about you to us several times a day—his precious eldest grandson—"
Abraxas could not stand being exposed like that, so he secretly rolled his eyes at Slughorn, which Draco caught on.
"What a pity, I retired too early. Look how many talented young people I missed!" Slughorn said regretfully, counting on his fingers. "Just from your year alone, I can name at least two or three promising talents.... What a pity!"
He said "What a pity" again.
Anyone could hear the obvious regret in his voice.
"My grandfather often told me that you are a highly skilled Potions Master. Hogwarts is a loss for its students without you," Draco complimented him.
"That is what your grandfather said?" Slughorn glanced at Abraxas, who was pretending to sunbathe, with a smile, and his mood suddenly improved a lot.
He looked Draco up and down with interest. "I heard you did well in Potions class. It is rare to meet you. If you have any questions about Potions during the holidays, feel free to ask me! I would be happy to answer them for you."
Draco knew this was Slughorn's way of showing goodwill—he was willing to teach any student he was interested in some potion-making knowledge.
He was speechless, and with a strange feeling, he bowed deeply to Slughorn in gratitude.
Slughorn nodded to him, seemingly pleased with the results of his walk that day. He waved his hand, slowly rose from the deck chair, and swayed away.
Draco watched his retreating figure, pondering: Should he take this opportunity to ask him how to make some advanced magic potions?
In his previous life, his understanding of certain potions was not thorough, especially after he learnt how to make advanced potions. At that time, he devoted a lot of his energy to the "assassination of Dumbledore"; moreover, Slughorn was completely unwilling to pay attention to him, let alone teach him anything.
After a brief encounter with Slughorn, Draco suddenly understood the fundamental reason why Slughorn had ignored him in his previous life.
It was not because the Potions Master was unfamiliar with Abraxas, but because Lucius was imprisoned in Azkaban. Draco was no longer his old friend's grandson, but the son of a Death Eater and prisoner.
The slick and opportunistic Slughorn. As a typical Slytherin, it was perfectly normal to avoid him like the plague.
In their spare time, Draco and Hermione would occasionally study the process of making advanced potions like Felix Felicis. Just reading the books, without even trying, they got stuck on certain details, unable to figure them out.
Now that I got to know this old man beforehand—would it not be a waste not to make good use of his intelligence? Draco pondered deeply.
"You did a good job, Draco." Abraxas watched Slughorn's departing figure and said with a sly smile, "There is no harm in befriending him; he can always give you some unexpected resources. Of course, you shall have to give him something in return—a box of crystallised pineapple, or some privileges."
Draco nodded in agreement, still lost in his own thoughts.
He was lost in thought when his grandfather suddenly flicked him on the head. Confused, he looked at his grandfather and found that Abraxas had reverted to his unserious, mischievous self—the grandfather who had just been talking to him seriously seemed to have been gone in an instant.
"All right, Malfoy, stop looking all gloomy like an old man! Do not waste your time cooped up in the sanatorium with me. I have a private gathering of old men to attend today, so I cannot take you. Go out for a walk by yourself; you need to relax once in a whilst." He cheerfully told his grandson, "Bath is a great place for a holiday!"
Abraxas believed that his grandson's only flaw was his lack of interest in enjoying life.
Draco seemed to be too hard on himself; he was constantly working hard and keeping himself too tense—which was not good for his health at all.
With his grandfather's unquestionable attitude, Draco had no choice but to surrender.
He shrugged, put on his baseball cap, turned and walked out of the nursing home, leaving its leisurely atmosphere to his unreliable grandfather. He turned left and right through a deep alley, eventually emerging from an inconspicuous narrow passageway onto the bustling, orderly, and clean main street of Bath.
It was around two or three in the afternoon, and the tourists listlessly avoided the sun. They either went to a souvenir shop by the roadside to browse, or sought refuge in a famous museum, or sat under a huge parasol by the roadside, drinking coffee or other alcoholic beverages with small parasols attached.
Draco was disinterested.
He felt uneasy whenever he thought of his grandfather Abraxas's fate. He wanted to do something to change it, but it was not easy—dragon pox was an unsolved mystery in the magical world.
He stared straight ahead, troubled as he tried to recall the improved magic potion recipe for treating dragon pox that had appeared in his previous life, but he could never quite remember it clearly.
He was extremely frustrated. He walked past a group of tourists who were basking in the sun, and then passed a small square before finally deciding to find a quiet café to whilst away the boring afternoon.
Unexpectedly, a hesitant voice suddenly called out from behind: "Malfoy?"