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Chapter 159
Listen to Malfoy as he arrogantly said, "Weasley, you shouldn't be here."
"There's no rule against prefects being here," Percy replied coldly, deliberately emphasizing his position.
Malfoy let out a sneer and said viciously, "I hope you don't trip and fall flat on your face in this dark corridor."
Percy refused to back down. "You must show respect to prefects. I don't like your attitude. Five points from Slytherin."
Malfoy snorted. "I hope you can keep talking tough forever."
He stopped arguing only because he had already spotted Harry and Ron approaching.
"How long have you two been stuffing yourselves in the Great Hall? I've been looking for you. I've got something interesting to show you."
Ignoring Percy completely, Malfoy motioned for Harry and Ron to follow him and walked toward the end of the tunnel.
"Was that Peter Weasley just now?" Malfoy said, unable to recognize which Weasley he was. There were simply too many of them.
"Percy," Ron corrected automatically.
"Whatever his name is," Malfoy said coldly, "I've noticed him lurking around here lately. I know what he's up to—trying to catch the Heir of Slytherin. He doesn't even dare look him in the eye. I wonder who it is."
He sneered. "I'm not sure his luck will last much longer."
Ron narrowed his eyes and asked unexpectedly, "Would you attack him?"
Malfoy said disdainfully, "Why would I attack him? He's an enemy of the Heir. The Heir will deal with him."
Harry almost blurted out, Are you the Heir? but held back, knowing he couldn't ask directly.
Malfoy stopped in front of an empty stone wall.
"What's the new password?" he muttered.
Harry and Ron exchanged a glance. Of course, they had no idea—they had to stay silent.
Fortunately, Malfoy hadn't intended to ask them anyway. He soon remembered.
"Oh right… it's pureblood," he said to himself.
Hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Hermione felt a wave of disgust and couldn't help criticizing Slytherin.
"Slytherin is truly shameless. They don't even have many pure-blood wizards, yet they constantly talk about pure blood."
But then she recalled what George had once said—that most conflicts are really about interests. The "pure-blood" label is just a tool for discrimination. Since Voldemort appeared, many Slytherin students had grown up admiring dark power and becoming more and more twisted.
She couldn't help thinking bitterly: Maybe only after Voldemort is killed can Slytherin return to normal. I'd love to see what those so-called "pure-blood supporters" would feel like when the wizard they once feared is killed by those they despise.
The stone wall slid open to reveal a hidden door. Malfoy strode inside confidently, with Harry and Ron following closely behind, and Hermione slipping in quietly under the cloak.
The Slytherin common room was like a dungeon—low, narrow, and underground. The walls and ceiling were made of rough stone, and round lamps hanging from iron chains cast a green glow.
The strange atmosphere made it hard to tell whether it was meant for the living or the dead. Harry and Ron both shivered at the sight.
Fortunately, there was still a strange warmth in the room: a beautifully carved fireplace burned near the entrance, crackling and sending sparks into the air.
Harry sneered quietly. "At least the fire isn't green. Otherwise, with those pale Slytherin faces, black robes, and all these living devils and ghosts around, it would be even worse."
Malfoy told Harry and Ron, "You two wait here." He motioned for them to sit in two empty chairs away from the fire and not near the other students. "I'll go get something. My father delivered it."
Harry and Ron guessed what it might be, but since they weren't really Crabbe and Goyle, they couldn't read Malfoy's thoughts. They had to act natural.
After a while, Malfoy returned happily holding something that looked like a newspaper clipping and tossed it to Crabbe.
"You'll find this funny," he said.
Harry saw Ron's eyes widen. Ron quickly scanned the article, forced a stiff smile on his swollen face, and handed it to Harry.
It was a clipping from the Daily Prophet.
It reported that Arthur Weasley, head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, had secretly bewitched a Muggle car, breaking the law and being fined fifty Galleons.
The enchanted car had flown across more than half of Britain before crashing into Hogwarts in September. Lucius Malfoy, a school governor, had recently contacted the Ministry demanding Arthur Weasley's resignation.
"Arthur Weasley knowingly broke the law, damaging the Ministry's reputation," Malfoy was quoted as saying. "He is clearly unfit to hold office or make laws. He and his ridiculous Muggle Protection Act should both be removed immediately."
Mr. Weasley had no comment, but his wife reportedly told journalists to leave—or she would release a ghoul to bite them.
"Funny, isn't it?" Malfoy asked eagerly.
Harry gave a dry laugh. "Ha… ha…"
"Arthur Weasley is far too fond of Muggles. His wand should be confiscated and he should become a Muggle himself," Malfoy said contemptuously. "The Weasley family is a disgrace to pure-blood wizards."
Ron's swollen face twisted at the words.
Noticing this, Malfoy snapped, "What's wrong with you, Crabbe?"
Ron blushed and groaned, "Stomach ache."
"You must have eaten too much," Malfoy said immediately. "Go on—remember to kick those petrified Mudbloods for me."
He believed the excuse without hesitation.
Then Malfoy continued, "What I find strange is that the Daily Prophet hasn't reported anything about the attacks at Hogwarts." He frowned thoughtfully. "It must be Dumbledore covering it up. If he didn't, he'd be fired."
(To be continued.)