MTLNOVEL Chapter 27: Chapter 26. 1:
Chapter 26. 1:
…..
-July 28, 1990
If there was one thing Adam quickly learned about being a Malfoy, it was that luxury and tradition came at a price: endless events filled with adults talking in circles, calculated glances, and unwritten rules he was expected to instinctively understand.
Not that he hated it exactly.....
There was something fascinating about how the magical aristocracy moved like a giant chessboard, each family playing their own strategic game.
But on the other hand, it was also bloody boring.
And in the past few weeks, Lucius and Narcissa seemed determined to make him attend every possible event. Which was very annoying, considering he hadn't been in the best mood since the Bogus disaster. Even if he had decided to move past it, it still weighed on him. And now, the magical world—his usual escape from everything back home—was becoming just as tedious thanks to Lucius.
"It is important that the members of magical society recognize you," Lucius had said in that usual this is not optional tone of his.
Adam would love to drop his Draco act for once and tell the man exactly what he thought of him to his face… but no. He held back. It wouldn't be smart to openly go against his supposed father in this world—especially without fully knowing the consequences. Things would only get worse for him if he defied the man. But God, the temptation was there.
Narcissa, on her part, had simply adjusted his robes with the precision of someone who never allowed a wrinkle out of place.
She supported Lucius, obviously.
But at least she seemed to care a little more about Draco's well-being. She had noticed his less-than-pleasant mood these past weeks—Bogus was still a lingering frustration.
Thankfully, his Natural Occlumency had helped him a lot. Not only did it allow him to keep his emotions in check, but it also helped him hide them and avoid making any rash decisions—like yelling everything he thought about Lucius straight to his face. Which, honestly, was a lot.
But once again, having a skill that helped him think logically in moments of emotional chaos was proving to be very, very useful.
So here he was.
Another night. Another event.
The Conclave—a gathering so exclusive that even some pureblood families never got the chance to step foot in it.
The invitation had arrived on black parchment with silver inscriptions, sealed with the emblem of the Silver Book, the official registry of the most influential and wealthiest magical families.
Narcissa had placed the invitation in front of him at breakfast with the same solemnity as a minister declaring war.
"You will attend with us this year. It is time," she had said.
"Time for what?" Adam had wanted to ask, but he knew his mother wouldn't tolerate objections. If he even tried to protest, she'd simply sit him down for another long, serious conversation to convince him. And no, thank you.
Yet.... At least she tried to reason with him.
Lucius, on the other hand?
Lucius simply ordered things to be done and never explained himself. Complaining? Out of the question. Defying him? Not an option.
And honestly? Adam wasn't in the mood to argue, nor to make his situation in the magical world any more complicated.
At least… not yet.
And that's why he was here now, getting ready for tonight's event.
Adam caught his reflection in the mirror—he was the epitome of aristocratic elegance. He wore deep black robes embroidered with silver constellations woven subtly into the fabric.
Narcissa, as impeccable as ever, gave his appearance a slight approving nod.
...
When they arrived at the palace where the Conclave was being held, Adam finally understood why this event was so highly revered.
The gathering took place in an ancient, hidden palace, completely concealed from Muggle eyes. The ceilings seemed to open up into the universe, with constellations drifting smoothly across the vast enchanted sky—obviously the work of masterful spellwork. Breathtaking? Absolutely. But after a while, the effect started to wear off.
The music of enchanted harps created a mesmerizing atmosphere, while floating lanterns cast elegant shadows across the finely dressed guests. Every wizard and witch present looked as if they had stepped out of a Renaissance painting—robes embroidered with golden thread, enchanted jewels that shimmered with hidden magic, and the faint glimmer of intricate rune-worked brooches pinned to their attire. Floating chandeliers bathed the grand hall in an ethereal golden light, while the dancing platforms themselves levitated slightly, shifting gracefully with every movement.
It was, without a doubt, visually spectacular.
And also, absolutely unbearable.
If there was one word to describe it, it was excess.
At least, that's how Adam saw it. At first, he had been genuinely impressed.
But now?
His expression had shifted into a mix of awe and skepticism.
'Was it really necessary for the floor to float? What happens if someone trips and falls at the worst possible moment?'
It was a valid question in his mind.
Yes, magic made everything look more impressive, but there were some details that just felt... ridiculous.
Though, of course, no one else seemed to think so.
"Draco," Lucius called him in his usual authoritative tone. "Come. There are people I want you to meet."
Adam barely held back a sigh before following him.
What followed was an endless series of introductions—Lords and Ladies of the magical world, their surnames likely woven into history itself. Every single one of them studied him closely, as if he were a piece on their personal chessboard.
Some offered polite smiles, others looked at him with genuine interest. And, of course, there were those with that subtle air of superiority—the kind of cold arrogance that reminded him of both Lucius and Narcissa.
"You've grown quite a bit since I last saw you, Draco," a man with dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard remarked.
It was Lord Selwyn—one of the most influential wizards in the Ministry.
Adam offered a diplomatic smile.
"Well, it's a rather common side effect of aging, I hear," he replied lightly.
A few of the surrounding wizards let out small, restrained chuckles.
Selwyn studied him for a moment before offering a slight nod.
"Witty. I quite like that."
Lucius shot him a warning look, but this time, Adam didn't even flinch.
Though, knowing that getting too carried away would only land him in unnecessary trouble, he decided to hold back on any further sarcasm—for now.
Yes, he was stuck here, playing the role of the perfect heir.
But that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun with it.
...
"Draco, have you greeted Lord Rosier?" Narcissa murmured in his ear with the calculated elegance of someone who never took a misstep.
Ah, the current Lord Rosier—he had taken the position after the previous Lord Rosier and his heir perished in the war against Voldemort.
Adam barely had time to turn before a man with a stern face and dark hair regarded him with a scrutinizing gaze.
"Ah, the young Malfoy," the man said with a slight smile that never reached his eyes. "Enjoying the event?"
"Enjoying" was definitely not the word he would have used. But he smiled with the expected courtesy.
"It's… interesting."
Lord Rosier let out a low chuckle, as if he found Adam's attempt at neutrality amusing.
"Good answer," the man murmured before turning back to Lucius to resume what was undoubtedly a far more important conversation about alliances and business affairs.
Not that Adam was actually listening, but those always seemed to be the topics his father discussed.
Adam sighed internally.
Another night, another pointless conversation.
...
...
-France, Hippodrome of Le Grand Tournoi d'Abraxan Ailé
-July 31, 1990
Adam had to admit it—this was something else entirely.
The Grand Tournament of the Winged Abraxans, a legendary event in the French wizarding world. Of course, here it was called Le Grand Tournoi d'Abraxan Ailé.
As they arrived, the hippodrome unfolded before them like a coliseum suspended among the clouds.
It was held in an ancient floating racetrack, hidden within the sky and upheld by ancestral runes. The grandstands shimmered with golden enchantments, and on the main track, the towering Abraxans—majestic and immense—stood in formation, their massive wings stirring the air, their deep neighs filled with anticipation.
These creatures were born for speed, and they knew it.
Beside them, their riders stood ready—clad in enchanted armor and flowing competition robes, their figures outlined against the stormy sky.
The event was packed with aristocrats, all engrossed in placing bets, their coin purses brimming with Galleons and enchanted gemstones.
From the Malfoy's private box, Adam had a clear view of the track and the sheer excitement painted across the spectators' faces as the riders prepared their mounts.
Yes—unlike the Conclave, this event actually had excitement.
A lot of excitement.
For anyone with even a hint of common sense, this was simply epic.
This was an ultra-exclusive, one-of-a-kind event that only a select few could attend. Entry was dictated by influence, connections, wealth, or noble lineage.
Adam tried to maintain a neutral expression, as if he were completely accustomed to this level of grandeur…
But inside?
He was completely fascinated.
'Alright, being a Malfoy does have its perks'
As always, Lucius had secured a spot in one of the most exclusive private boxes, surrounded by other high-ranking figures of magical aristocracy. Narcissa sat beside him, elegantly dressed, her expression as composed as ever—one that never seemed to waver.
Meanwhile, Adam—or rather, Draco—sat watching everything with a mix of interest and curiosity.
Yep… This was by far one of the coolest things he'd ever witnessed. And in moments like this, he actually appreciated being part of the Malfoy family because it meant he could experience this firsthand.
It was absolutely incredible to be here.
And, on top of that, he wasn't alone.
"Are you going to place a bet?" asked a familiar voice.
Adam turned his head to see Blaise Zabini sitting nearby, wearing that same effortless, refined nonchalance he seemed to carry in every situation. Next to him, his mother—as stunning and impressive as always—was engaged in conversation with a group of French wizards, her air of mystery making her all the more captivating.
Yes, perhaps Adam had looked at his friend's mother a second too long—but, being the great actor he was, he covered it up flawlessly.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Bet? I doubt my mother would allow it..."
"Well, my mother's already placed a bet on the Derkin team," Blaise replied with a smirk. "Technically, if they win, part of the winnings are mine."
Adam rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help the small smile forming on his lips.
'Maybe I should ask Narcissa if I can do the same…'
He immediately shook his head—yeah, not likely, knowing her.
...
Adam, who had grown quite familiar with this world's economy, was still surprised by how insane these bets were. Even though, as a Malfoy, he was filthy rich, he wasn't blind to the actual value of money.
"Ten thousand Galleons on Ragniar's Abraxan to win the second race," he overheard an older wizard say casually.
Adam raised an eyebrow.
'You could buy a damn mansion with that, but sure—let's throw it all on a race with winged horses.'
"Draco," Lucius called, handing him a list of the competitors. "I want you to pick a rider and place your first bet."
Adam blinked.
"Just like that?"
"Consider this a lesson," Lucius responded. "A Malfoy must know when to take risks and when to walk away."
Adam sighed.
That made no bloody sense.
But since he did want to bet, he didn't complain too much.
'Right. Nothing like throwing away thousands of Galleons like Honeydukes sweets to learn about life lessons.'
Still, he took his time considering his options—not that he had any real idea of who would win, but he debated internally over which name felt right for reasons that were, frankly, nonsensical.
After making his choice, he finally shifted his full attention back to the track, where the riders were beginning to line up.
The Abraxans, massive and majestic, looked restless, their hooves pounding against the floating racetrack with impressive force, causing the entire structure to tremble slightly.
The tension in the air was thick.
The tournament's announcer, a French wizard with a voice charmed to echo across the entire stadium, declared the start of the race.
Adam leaned forward, resting against the edge of the private box, feeling a thrill of excitement rise in his chest.
'This is going to be good.'