Saturday morning arrived at Hogwarts without the usual laughter or leisure. A thick layer of frost-laced mist smothered the grounds, pale and cold, as if the ancient castle had been sealed inside a massive glass box. The rough stone walls seeped with chill, damp enough that even touching them numbed the skin.

Harry Potter stood in the West Tower from very early on.

He did not know why he had come here. Perhaps instinct. Perhaps the unease that had taken root in his chest since the night before, refusing to let him sleep. Harry folded his arms, eyes fixed on the fog-shrouded courtyard below, where vague shapes were beginning to move.

Then he saw it.

A jet-black carriage, long and narrow, as though pulled straight from a funeral rather than a school visit. Gaunt Thestrals drew it forward, their hooves striking the stone in heavy rhythm, breath steaming in thin white plumes.

On the side of the carriage, a silver serpent-entwined cane emblem gleamed faintly in the weak morning light.

Harry clenched his jaw.

Lucius Malfoy had arrived.

Not as a parent. Not out of affection or longing for his son. A man like Lucius Malfoy did not bother with meaningless gestures.

He had come to inspect.

To see whether the weapon bearing the Malfoy name was still sharp. To see whether Draco Malfoy was still worthy.

The silver badge hidden beneath Harry's robes suddenly burned hot, as if reacting to the man's presence. Harry pressed a hand to his chest, breathing slowly as memories from the previous night surged back.

The Potions dungeon. Dim lamplight. Snape's low, cold voice.

"Do not look into his eyes, Potter. Lucius Malfoy does not need full Legilimency to destroy a young mind. Just one crack. One flicker of pity. One foolish thought about kindness."

Harry had nodded. He had practiced. Built walls. Locked away everything that needed locking.

But theory and reality were never the same.

The meeting was arranged in the corridor leading to the flying grounds. A barren space, swept by strong winds, with no corners to hide in, no shadows to cling to.

Snape was already there, tall and motionless like a stone statue. His black robes stirred slightly with the wind, his face betraying not a single emotion.

Draco stood beside him.

His back was straight, chin slightly raised in the posture of a Malfoy trained from birth. But Harry, with only a single glance, saw what Lucius never would.

Draco's lips were pale. His hands were clenched so tightly that the knuckles stood out beneath his bloodless skin.

Lucius Malfoy approached.

His fur-lined cloak brushed across the stone floor with a dry, chilling sound. His platinum-blond hair was perfectly slicked back, not a strand out of place. The serpent-headed cane in his hand tapped steadily, slowly, like an invisible countdown.

He did not look at Snape. Did not greet him. Did not bother with courtesy.

Lucius's cold gray gaze fixed solely on Draco.

"My son," Lucius said, his voice smooth and velvety, yet edged with a blade sharp enough to cut skin at the slightest touch. "Severus tells me you have made... notable progress."

Draco did not reply. He merely bowed his head just enough, a flawless gesture of obedience.

"But," Lucius continued, a thin smile curling his lips, "the Malfoy family does not place faith in words. We believe in action."

He turned, eyes sliding toward the opposite end of the corridor.

"Potter," Lucius said, as though remembering him only by chance. "How... convenient."

Harry stepped forward.

He felt every footstep echo against the stone, louder than necessary. His round glasses caught the dull gray light. His green eyes showed the familiar defiance, laced with undisguised hatred.

A perfect mask.

"Who are you here to threaten this time, Malfoy?" Harry snapped, his voice sharp with venom. "Or has Hogwarts started letting trash wander in freely?"

Ron and Hermione hid behind a distant corner of the corridor, hearts nearly leaping from their chests.

Lucius did not get angry. He never did with those he considered beneath him.

"I am here to watch my son put an end to a nuisance," Lucius said calmly, handing Draco a small, dark wooden box engraved with ancient symbols.

Draco opened it.

Inside was a small nightingale. Its feathers were silver-gray, its eyes glossy black, trembling in his palm.

"This bird has been enchanted," Lucius said indifferently. "It will not die. But it will feel every ounce of pain you inflict upon it."

Harry felt his stomach twist.

"Draco," Lucius continued, his voice dropping lower, "use Vibratio. Look Potter in the eyes. And tell him... what he is to you."

The air froze.

Harry understood immediately.

This was not merely a test of loyalty. It was an execution of humanity. Lucius wanted his son to crush whatever softness remained within him with his own hands. To learn how to cause pain without blinking.

Do it, Harry screamed silently. Lock your mind. Do not look at me.

Draco raised his wand.

His hand shook.

Then he saw his father's gaze. Saw the nearly imperceptible nod from Snape.

He drew a deep breath.

Stone walls rose inside his mind.

"Do you see anything, Potter?" Draco said, his voice arrogant, cold, so perfect Harry almost forgot it was an act. "This bird... it's just like you."

A faint red beam shot forth.

The bird's cry tore through the air.

Draco stepped closer, bottomless gray eyes locked onto Harry.

"The truth is, you are nothing," he said, each word like a nail driven in. "I hate you. I wish you had died with your parents."

Lucius laughed.

But beneath his cloak, Draco lightly pressed his shoe against the toe of Harry's boot.

I didn't mean it.

Harry stumbled back, pretending to collapse.

The performance ended. The test was complete.

But hearts do not know how to act.

That night, the nightingale flew past the Gryffindor window.

And their war had only just begun.