Shiary – Thanks!

WolfGirl75 – Here it is, then!

Kairan1979 – Lucius Malfoy is no Molly Weasley – he's too 'dignified' for Howlers. But you'll find out now!

Lee – I'm glad you like it!

RRW – Thanks a lot!

StillSchmerz – Thanks! And that is for me to know and for you to wonder... and wait for the next chapters. I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

A/N: I'm changing the name of the story, because after further investigation, I have come to the conclusion that it's BLOODY STUPID! Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed or added this story to their favourites.

Chapter Ten: The Renouncement

"Harry, you cannot possibly be this stupid," said Tonks. "Let me handle the object beneath the trapdoor. You're only eleven. You'll get yourself killed."

Harry clenched his jaw. "I can do this, Dora," he muttered, so quietly that no one else could hear. "We'll go together – the four of us. If Voldemort is behind this..."

"How do you know it's him?" snapped Tonks. "What if it's Dumbledore? What if it's a trick? What will you do then, Harry?"

"I have to do this! What is it isn't a trick? What if the school is genuinely in danger? What if we're risking Hogwarts by not going?" he said angrily.

"Then the professors would have taken care of it!" said Tonks. "No one, apart from Quirrell, is stupid enough to put Hogwarts's fate in the hands of an underage wizard."

Harry huffed. "Fine," he said. "You can stay here. I'm going and so are Fred and George."

Before Tonks could answer, Hermione Granger appeared. "Going where?" she asked.

"Nowhere," said Harry quickly.

Hermione frowned. "You'd better not get into trouble, or I'll tell McGonagall you're planning something."

"Will you just mind your own business?" said Harry, still outraged from his argument with Tonks, who now gave him a hard cuff for being rude.

Hermione left disappointedly. She had meant to talk to Harry – he seemed like one of the more pleasant Gryffindors, but it seemed like she would never make friends. Hermione wasn't very fond of wizards and witches, even though she found magic fascinating.

It seemed that all Gryffindors were lost in their thoughts. Fred and George were trying to imagine what was hidden beneath the three-headed-dog's feet, Harry and Tonks were wondering whether it was all planned out, Hermione was wallowing in her misery, Lee was trying to guess what was up with his friends and Neville was just sitting around, looking at everyone longingly. They were liked and appreciated and he wasn't.

Perhaps he and Hermione had more in common than either of them would have guessed.

But the Gryffindors weren't the only upset ones. Draco Malfoy was sitting on his bed in the Slytherin dormitories, a crumpled letter in his hands and tear tracks on his face. He had asked an older student named Terence Higgs to place privacy charms around Draco's bed – he couldn't be seen so miserable, so weak. Everyone expected him to look perfectly and Draco couldn't disappoint them.

Thankfully, Terence had understood the younger boy's pain, having been a victim of pureblood ideology. Professor Snape had asked him to look out for the younger students – particularly Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson, who came from more violent and supremacist families.

But Draco, despite the youth's help, was terrified. He could feel the fear coursing through him. He felt like he was being held underwater, unable to breathe. His chest hurt with every breath and his lungs seemed to constrict. Draco choked out a breath and tightened his hold on the letter, his knuckles turning white. The letter was his worst nightmare.

Draco,

I expressed my disapproval of the company you choose to keep in my last letter to you. However, it seems as if it wasn't nearly enough for you to understand that I was being very serious when I threatened to disown you.

Messrs V. Crabbe and G. Goyle have once again informed be of your whereabouts. They noticed you outside the Great Hall on Wednesday morning speaking to Messrs Weasley. I thought I had made it very clear that my heir will not associate with such filth. Furthermore, your betrothed, Pansy Parkinson, saw you by the infamous 'Whomping Willow,' keeping company to a Gryffindor.

The number of wrongdoings you have committed since the beginning of term has risen to three. I had hoped my previous warning would have been my last, but it seems that I did not raise you properly.

Perhaps I was too soft with you. It is a mistake many lords have made. Orion Black was firm with his son Regulus and the boy turned out well. Anyhow, it is not my intention to discuss former Lord Black's parenting with you. The one sole purpose of this letter is to do the only thing I have left to do. You have left me no choice. You have turned into a disgrace, Draco. I do not know where things went wrong, but I did not teach you to associate with blood traitors.

I, Lord Lucius Malfoy, Son of Abraxas II, Lord of the Noble House of Malfoy, hereby disown my only son, Draco Lucius. He is not to return to the Malfoy family ever again. I strip him of his title of Heir Malfoy and denounce his Malfoy blood. So mote it be.

You have disappointed me.

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy

Lord of the Noble House of Malfoy

It was done. Draco had been left without a name, without a home, without a family. He hoped with all his heart that Lord Black would accept him. What would become of him? Neither a Black, nor a Malfoy. He lay back in his bed, trying to hold back tears.

"I'm sorry I disappointed you, Father," he muttered.

How come all of the other purebloods could put up with this lifestyle, but he couldn't? He was just eleven years old, but already disowned. Only one person had ever been disowned this young – Marius Black, who had been born a Squib. Marius had been disowned after he had failed to receive his Hogwarts letter, but had been taken by Phineas Black, his uncle and another outcast of the Black family.

Draco knew the story well – his mother had told him everything about the Blacks. Everything, but two names he was forbidden to ask about – Andromeda and Sirius. Draco had seen them on a replica of the Black family tree, but his mother had gone pale and yelled at him when he had asked about them.

Draco hoped his mother would write soon. She had promised she would, but his barn owl, Notus, was nowhere to be seen.

Draco could only pray that Harry hadn't changed his mind.

"Please help me, Harry," he muttered.

Little did Draco know, he wasn't the only one asking the young Gryffindor for help. On Harry Potter, or Black's, bed lay a note.

Harry –

See you tomorrow at midnight in the passageway.

– Elf Wears Dye

Harry could only snort at the pathetic anagram Fred Weasley had created for himself. Elf Wears Dye... Sometimes, Harry wondered why he even bothered. Nevertheless, he was grateful for the not. It gave him a sense of adrenaline and excitement. Tomorrow, he would find the object beneath the trapdoor. Tomorrow, he would solve this mystery.