A/N: Cookies to OccAmy Phyre who figured out a bit about Lily's parentage back in chapter 14.

Cookies to rotsapv who got my movie reference. Neigh!

I admit to using this date to give more information about our main suitor so some of you may be disappointed. Ah, well… It's still an interesting chapter. I think, anyway. And the information is important later.

Colin Creevey. He will get his next chapter – nothing too, too drastic.

A bit of Veela-ness here, but more Veela-ness and fireballs next chapter!

Chapter 21 – Goyle

--May 3--

The good natured squabbling between Dean and Seamus ended abruptly upon the screech that issued from the direction of Harry's bed. The subsequent groans galvanized the two boys into action and they quickly grabbed their clothes and left for the showers without another word. Neither boy felt any remorse whatsoever in leaving Neville behind to deal with…whatever is was that was bothering Harry this morning.

Neville watched his dorm-mates leave with alacrity and could only thank Merlin that Ron had already left. At least he didn't have to deal with the redhead in addition to Harry's entry into stage two of Désespoir. He quickly cast a few cleansing charms on himself in lieu of a shower and donned his clothes for the day. He dug out a dozen Honey Humps from his trunk then sat on his bed to wait for a bit. He'd give Harry ten minutes before approaching…

"I'd like my candy now," Harry said seven and a half minutes later.

Neville snorted but obediently brought the candies over to where Harry still lay in his bed. "Are you going to sit up?"

"No," Harry said, gritting his teeth and holding out a hand demandingly. "I feel like the bloody Hogwarts Express ran me over. Just give me some sugar."

Neville unwrapped one of the candies and placed it in Harry's hand. He watched as Harry made quick work of the honey treat and gave him another and another and another. When he was handing the fifth candy to Harry he asked, "Mind if I sit?"

Harry nodded and waved a hand vaguely so Neville took a seat on Harry's bed. It was after Harry had finished his eighth candy that he finally sat up with a heavy sigh. "Damn, but I feel like crap."

"At least it's not a Sunday this time," Neville said with a small smile.

A disgusted snort was the only reply Harry deigned to give.

Neville fed Harry another two candies before he asked, "Are you going to be able to go out today?"

"I have to," Harry said around his candy. "I can't afford to lose any time."

"You have those extra three weeks," Neville reminded his friend.

"Which I'm grateful for because I'm going to need them to make round four easier," Harry said in agitation. "I really need to go out today."

"You want to have breakfast in the kitchens?" Neville offered as he passed over another candy.

"Can't," Harry said as he unwrapped the treat. "Mail."

"I could collect it for you. Or Hermione could," Neville said. "You don't get much anymore and Nichol isn't due today."

Harry grunted noncommittally as he sucked on his candy. That was a tempting offer, actually. Merlin knew the littlest thing would probably set him off today. Going to the kitchens for breakfast was probably the best solution. He nodded as he put out a hand for the last candy Neville was holding.

Neville dropped the candy in Harry's hand and stood up. "I'm just going to go let Hermione know, all right. I'll be back in a few minutes then we'll go have a nice, quiet, uh…" he trailed off thinking about how the house elves weren't actually quiet.

Harry snorted a small laugh but waved his friend off.

Neville left the dorm and Harry flopped back onto his bed with a groan. Why couldn't this have happened yesterday? Yesterday he wasn't scheduled for an afternoon meeting with a Death Eater, and a Death Eater thug at that. Then he perked up slightly. Perhaps his increased sensitivity due to the degeneration of his magic would cause the man to be summarily eliminated. Of course, with his luck, his magic's desperation would be more likely to make him want to mate with the man immediately upon meeting him. He sighed in resignation and stood to get ready for the day.

--Goyle--

Harry was pacing agitatedly in the common room of their suite at The Rose Inn. That morning's date had not gone well. The man had refused to accept the fact that he was going to be eliminated for magic incompatibility and had opted to continue the date. Then the man had touched him several times as they sat side-by-side watching a matinee. It was so bad that he'd had to have Julien change seats with him just so he could be protected from the man's groping. By the time the date was over he was entirely disgusted with the man's boorish behavior and highly agitated due to the repetitive assaults on his magic. He'd almost fried the man. Compounded with having just entered the second stage of Désespoir…. Well, he was a very unhappy Veela right now.

And a Death Eater was next! Merlin save him!

Harry turned at the knock on the door and watched, scowling, as Julien entered the room. "Mr. Goyle has passed inspection," the guard said deferentially.

Harry snorted and turned away. "Of course he did," he murmured disgustedly. "I would never be so lucky."

"We'll be out in a few moments, Julien," Robert said softly. Once the guard had left, Robert approached his grandson. "Would you like to cancel the date? No one would blame you."

"He would," Harry denied in agitation. "And you know why I don't want to do that unless absolutely necessary."

"This could easily be considered necessary," Robert argued. "And if he protests it makes a good reason to eliminate him."

Harry groaned. "I'd rather not. Let's just go meet the Death Eater thug and get this over with."

"If you are certain," Robert said reluctantly.

Harry released a deep sigh and squared his shoulders. "I'm certain," he said.

Robert nodded and pulled up the hood of his cloak. A few moments later he followed his grandson out to the sitting room.

"Good afternoon," Martin Goyle said pleasantly. "I hope you are well."

"Good afternoon," Harry replied with a small forced smile. "And I've had better days. Yourself?"

"I am well. Thank you for asking," Martin said. "Do you need to reschedule?"

Harry blinked in surprise. He'd certainly not expected such solicitousness from a Death Eater. "I don't know," he said softly. "Let's see." He held out a hand expectantly.

Martin took the two steps needed to close the gap between them and grasped Harry's hand firmly.

Harry closed his eyes briefly in both surprise and pleasure. Martin's magic felt nice, very nice, and soothing. He released Martin's hand reluctantly and opened his eyes. "No, we can continue," he said softly, feeling slightly more in control after encountering such soothing magic.

"If you are certain," Martin said with concern.

Harry smiled in amusement at the unknowing repetition of his grandfather's words. "I'm certain."

Martin nodded then held out a smallish bag. "This is for you. It's for you to wear today."

Harry accepted the bag and peeked at its contents curiously. Not being able to discern anything other than it contained clothes of some sort, he looked at his date questioningly.

In reply, Martin opened his robes to show off an outfit comprised of a tank top and Bermuda shorts. Brightly patterned Bermuda shorts, at that.

Harry opened his mouth to ask just where they were going then snapped it shut on the hysterical giggle that wanted to escape instead.

"I thought I might share my hobby with you," Martin explained. "I like to collect shells. While many shells are collected in not so hospitable locations, many may be found along the beaches of the Atlantic. The portkey shall take us to a nice sunny beach in southern Florida. It will only be morning there and so I've included a warm sweatshirt to counteract the cool ocean breezes."

Harry was silent for several moments, then nodded and turned without a word to reenter the common room. His grandfather followed him in and when the door was once again closed he collapsed into helpless, hysterical giggles.

"Harry?" Robert asked in concern.

Harry shook his head and gasped out, "Did you…see those shorts? I just…the big bad Death Eater…wearing Bermuda shorts!" Harry continued to laugh.

"They were a bit bright," Robert said with his own chuckle.

"No, no, I'm here to torture you, ignore the bright pink and yellow flowers," Harry said grandly before once again falling into peals of laughter.

Harry eventually regained control and was only snickering slightly as he ventured again into the bag Martin had given him. He pulled out a light green tank top and a pair of, thankfully, plain dark green Bermuda shorts. He also pulled out the promised sweatshirt (in dark green), a potion, a bag, and what looked like plastic sandals. The potion label read "Sally's Sun Soother – protects against sun exposure – 4 hour elixir." The directions said to drink it so he pulled the top and sniffed the contents dubiously. He was shocked that the concoction smelled of coconuts and even more surprised when it also tasted like coconuts.

He dismissed the oddity of a good-tasting potion from his mind and changed into the provided clothes. When it came to the sandals, however… "Are these plastic?" he asked his grandfather in confusion. They were transparent like plastic, but they didn't feel like plastic…

Robert took one of the sandals and examined it briefly. "It looks like jellyfish," he said as he handed it back.

"What?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Jellyfish make the best inner-soles for shoes," Robert said matter-of-factly. "They are comfortable and durable. Most well-made shoes, like those boots you're so fond of, have jellyfish inner-soles. They also make excellent beach shoes because of their ability to make you feel like you are walking barefoot but still offer protection from sharp rocks and other debris."

Harry could only stare as he held the sandal in one hand. "You mean these are made from real jellyfish? Ocean-swimming, long-tentacled, transparent, formerly-living jellyfish?"

"Of course," Robert said with a small smile, understanding now the source of his grandson's confusion and amazement. "Just put them on and worry about where they came from and how they were made at some later time."

Harry blinked his astonishment for several long moments before following his grandfather's advice. He wiggled his toes then stood and took several steps before deciding that he liked the feel of the sandals, even knowing where they came from. He nodded to his grandfather, picked up the bag that he presumed was to hold his collected shells, and the two of them rejoined the others in the sitting room.

Martin looked at Harry appraisingly and Harry quirked an amused smile at the man's blatant interest. "I've never worn anything quite like this," he said wryly.

"You look fantastic," Martin said with a return smile. He was not the least bit ashamed at having been caught gazing. "Do you mind if I leave my robe here?"

Harry shook his head slightly. "Please feel free," he said. He watched as his date shrugged off his robe, folded it over, and placed it on the small table. Martin turned back to face him and Harry was surprised to see that the Dark Mark was easily visible. He glanced at it and raised his eyebrows.

"I will cover it if you wish," Martin said calmly.

"That's not necessary," Harry said with a small shrug. "I was well aware before this meeting that you had sworn allegiance to Voldemort. I'm just surprised that you aren't trying to hide it."

"This Mark denotes my master, not my allegiances," Martin said with quiet intensity.

Harry studied Martin carefully. The man had just essentially claimed that he wasn't loyal to Voldemort. Given the man's expression, Harry was inclined to believe him. He nodded once in acknowledgement and asked, "Shall we go, then?"

Martin nodded and held out a two-foot long piece of hemp rope.

Harry watched the others grasp a section and was about to also touch the portkey when he paused. "Don't you need a sweatshirt?"

"No, Mr. Potter," Martin said with a small smile. "I like the cold ocean air on my skin."

"Oh, all right," Harry said and grasped an empty section of rope. "Please call me Harry."

"Florida," Martin said firmly and the party was whisked into the twisting maelstrom of magic.

When the twisting stopped several seconds later, Harry was sprawled gracelessly in the sand of their destination. He groaned as he sat up and started brushing sand from his face. "I hate portkeys. No matter what I try, I can't land on my feet."

Martin chuckled slightly and held out a hand. "It's because you're too powerful," Martin said.

Harry grasped the offered hand and accepted the help regaining a standing position. "What do you mean?" Harry asked curiously.

"The more power you hold the worse it is for you to travel by portkey," Martin explained. "A portkey has very little of its own magic; it is merely a destination keyed into a parasitic artifact. A portkey taps into the magic of those holding it and forces their magic to transport them to the keyed location. The more powerful you are, the more your magic resists being forcibly commandeered. And, unfortunately, the greater the resistance of a person's magic, the worse the landing will be for them. It's the same with anything that tries to guide your magic along a specified path, whether or not you are willing."

Harry stared at Martin for a moment before saying, "That explain so many things."

"There are some benefits to this," Martin offered. He tugged slightly on Harry's hand and the two started walking towards the water hand-in-hand. He was surprised that Harry allowed the continued contact and wondered if he found the contact soothing. That led Martin to wonder just how badly the young man was being affected by his degenerating magic.

"Like what?" Harry asked curiously as he finally took note of their surroundings. The beach they were on was nearly deserted. Given the wands he could see, and the fact that they'd arrived out in the open for anyone to notice, he surmised that this was a wizard-only beach. The water they were walking towards was about 200 feet away. And he finally noticed that it was, indeed, quite cold.

"Nobody can apparate you if you're unwilling," Martin answered. "This makes kidnapping attempts a bit more difficult."

"What if I'm unconscious?" Harry asked, watching the waves in fascination. He'd seen lakes and rivers, but never before had he seen the ocean in person. That little trip to the rundown hut before Hagrid had come didn't really count - it was dark and he hadn't had a chance to simply stare at the water.

"Your magic never sleeps," Martin said with a glance at Harry. "Generally, a person's magic views unconscious the same as unwilling."

Harry looked at Martin in surprise. "Really? How interesting. I suppose my kidnappers would need to use a portkey, then, and I doubt they'd care if I landed gracefully," he said wryly.

Martin chuckled. "True. But I wouldn't be surprised if you could resist a portkey as well if you put your mind to it. It is possible and your arrival difficulties imply that you would be able to do so."

"I'll have to try that," Harry said in surprise. What fascinating things he learned on these dates… "So, where are we exactly and how do we find these shells?"

The next hour was filled with a beginner's lesson in shell collecting. Harry listened attentively as Martin explained about his hobby and accepted some of the shells the man picked up and passed to him. He found some of his own shells, too, as they slowly meandered in and out of the waves. He had collected several pretty specimens, some whole and some not, when Martin changed the subject abruptly.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked me about this," he said waving to his Mark. "And about what I implied at the hotel regarding my allegiances."

"I admit I'm curious," Harry said as he looked up from evaluating the orangey shell he was holding. "I would have asked eventually, but since you brought it up now I guess I'll go ahead and ask. What exactly are your beliefs in regards to magical beings and muggle-borns?"

Martin smiled bitterly and passed Harry a smooth mottled-brown shell. "My beliefs are very simple and are adequately summarized by the phrase: To each their own."

Harry admired the intact shell he'd been given and placed it in his little bag. "I don't think I understand," he said.

Martin returned his attention to the sands and said, "Basically, I don't believe that the magical and non-magical worlds should mix. Magical animals do not mate with their non-magical counterparts. The same should hold true for magical beings. Wizards should not mate with muggles."

Harry bent down to pick up a shell that caught his eye then tossed it into the ocean once he saw that it was broken. "What about kneazles?"

"What about them?" Martin asked, looking up from where he'd been digging in the sand.

"They crossbreed with regular cats," Harry said. "One of my friends has a crossbreed as her pet."

Martin shook his head as he stood, abandoning his rapidly filling hole in the sand. "Then her pet is the result of a forced breeding. Likely a captive female kneazle in heat was mated with a regular tomcat. If far enough into her heat, a female kneazle is unable to refuse a non-magical tomcat. In the wild, however, such a pairing would never have occurred."

"Is the same true for all magical animals?" he asked curiously. Despite having taken three years of Care of Magical Creatures, this particular topic had never been covered.

"Yes," Martin said firmly as he looked at Harry. "In fact, it's only wizards that go against the natural order of things and mate with muggles. No other race of sentient beings will do so."

"What about Veelas?" Harry asked.

"They don't mate with muggles," Martin said in surprise. "I would have figured you knew that. A muggle man cannot impregnate a Veela submissive and a muggle woman cannot carry to term a halfling child of any non-human race."

"So I've heard," Harry said blandly. "And yet, my mother was muggle-born."

Martin examined Harry's expression and thought he saw a bit of a challenge in the bright green eyes hiding behind the mask of polite interest. He smiled in acceptance of the unspoken challenge and said, "Your grandmother was an untrained muggle-born witch who obviously wasn't enamored enough with her husband to remain faithful."

Harry smiled insincerely. "I always do like to hear what theory my suitors subscribe to in regards to how my mother and I received our Veela inheritance."

Martin smiled grimly in return and knew that what he would say next would inspire a great number of questions, questions for which he'd been given authorization to answer. In fact, he'd been approached and asked to specifically ensure that Harry Potter learned certain things. He had his suspicions about why that might be, but had not questioned the request.

"Rebecca Marie Evans nee Lancaster received her Hogwarts letter on the seventh of July in the year 1955. Her parents, John and Victoria, were devout Christians who reacted negatively to being informed that their daughter was a witch and forbade her attendance at Hogwarts. Tired of her parents' vicious attempts to exorcise the demons out of her, Rebecca married very young. She was barely fourteen when she married Peter and was fourteen still when her first child, Petunia, was born in 1958 and only sixteen when her second child, Lily, was born in 1960. When she was seventeen she was again offered magical training. She considered it, but declined in favor of raising her two daughters."

Harry was speechless for nearly a full minute as he stared at Martin Goyle in utter amazement. When he finally regained his faculties, he said softly, "You have very interesting information."

Martin nodded. "I have sources not available to the general public, either wizard or muggle. If you like, I can arrange what documentation is available about your grandmother to be sent to you."

"I'd like that," Harry murmured. "Where… No. Nevermind. I'd like that, please. Let's get back to the topic. So, you don't feel wizards and muggles should mix. Is that why you joined Voldemort? And if you're not loyal to him, to whom are you loyal?"

"All of those answers are actually intertwined," Martin said. He gestured slightly then and said, "Let us keep walking while I answer them."

Harry nodded warily but once again began his wandering search for pretty shells.

They walked and searched in silence for nearly a minute before Martin said, "My most immediate loyalty is to Lucius Malfoy. As Lucius joined Voldemort, I joined Voldemort. It was, and remains, my duty to protect him to the best of my abilities."

"Your duty," Harry repeated with mild curiosity as he picked up a starfish and tossed it back into the ocean.

Martin glanced over then turned his eyes back to the sand and water. "Yes," he said. "My duty. Mine and Clement Crabbe's. Just as it is our sons' duty to protect Draco Malfoy. Just as it is my great-uncle's and Clement's grandfather's duty to protect Gaius Malfoy, the current Malfoy Head. Just as it is the duty of every Goyle and Crabbe to protect every Malfoy. Such has been our duty since our families swore fealty to the Malfoy family. We protect and guard as per the oath of vassals our forefathers' took nearly 100 years ago."

"What kind of vassals are you?" Harry asked curiously. Due to some of his studies in the past couple of summers he was well aware that there were several different oaths that the families could have taken.

"Full vassals," Martin replied. "And the oath is renewed by each generation upon their fourteenth birthday."

Harry blinked in surprise. "That's... unusual," he said.

Martin chuckled slightly. "Yes."

"And…are you happy with that?" Harry asked in bemusement.

Martin looked Harry in the eyes and said, "I'm not pleased with some of Lucius' choices, but gladly do I serve the Malfoy family."

Harry stared at Martin for several moments. "Why?" he asked, truly curious. Most modern wizards felt that fealty oaths were archaic and held no place in modern wizarding life.

Martin glanced briefly at the guards and chaperone and asked, "Are the others spelled for secrecy?"

Harry blinked in surprise and said, "The guards are, yes, but not my chaperone. Still, he is trustworthy if that's what you're worried about."

Martin nodded and said, "Then I will tell you a bit about my family history and why we owe our very existence to the Malfoys."

"All right," Harry said agreeably and stooped to pick up a smoothed rock.

"Entry into Hogwarts used to be handled much differently than it is today," Martin started explaining. He kept an eye on Harry as he was curious as to what the young man's reaction would be. "When a child turned eleven, Hogwarts would send a representative and explain everything to the child. It was then the child's choice whether or not to attend Hogwarts or to stay in the Muggle world. All muggle-born children, even those with supportive families, feel isolated and different as they grow up. As you can imagine, finding out that there was a reason for these feelings made most children eager to attend Hogwarts. It was a very rare child who chose to remain in the muggle world."

Harry listened in fascination. Why were things like this never covered in History of Magic?

"When the children were introduced to wizarding society, a request was sent out to the wealthier families for one of them to sponsor the child. The sponsor family would then take responsibility for the child's welfare and education. The family paid any expenses, such as textbooks and school fees, that the muggle family couldn't or wouldn't. Sometimes the sponsors provided a stipend for the child to spend as they wished. The sponsor's most important role, however, was to teach the child about the wizarding world and provide a safe summer home should the child not wish to return to the muggle world for the summer."

For several moments Harry felt a blinding jealousy of those children who'd had the chance to escape abusive situations such as the one he'd been in. That jealousy turned to anger at all those who had caused that law to be changed. "Why don't they do it that way anymore?" Harry asked through gritted teeth. "I think it could still be beneficial."

"Of course you do," Martin said sadly. "If rumors are to be believed, you didn't have a good childhood in the muggle world. It makes a great deal of sense to you."

Harry nodded but said nothing.

"In 1885 a faction in the Wizengamot started making noises about how it was wrong to let a child make such a life-changing decision. They said it was the right and responsibility of the parents to make that decision. They said it was wrong to take children from their families without so much as a by-your-leave." Martin snorted in disgust. "Their petty little minds wanted to overturn a practice that had been working successfully for nearly a thousand years all because of some misplaced sympathies."

Harry echoed the snort. Morons. He could already see where this story was heading. "Do you know if the Potters supported this faction?"

Martin nodded. "They did."

"Wonderful," Harry said with a grimace. Never before had he been ashamed of his father's family. But this…

"This was the beginning of the schism between light and dark families," Martin explained. "The light families…"

"Supported the change," Harry interrupted. "And the so-called dark ones didn't. I get it."

"Yes," Martin said, taking no offense at Harry's anger. "The Malfoy family headed the faction that was against the changes and for five years there was a stalemate in the Wizengamot."

"And then…?" Harry asked leadingly.

"Then Octavian Malfoy died," Martin answered. "He was only fifty-five and so his death was completely unexpected and there was no one to take his place as leader of the faction he had created to oppose the muggle-lovers, as he called them. His brothers and son were not nearly as charismatic as he was. And so, in 1890, the muggle-lovers held power and the law was changed."

"Was he murdered?" Harry asked. "You know, political intrigue and all."

"No," Martin shook his head. "He died in a riding accident on the Malfoy estates amongst many familial witnesses. There was no foul play. It truly was an accident."

"So let me guess," Harry said as he tossed a rejected shell into the waves a little harder than necessary. "The new law sentenced hundreds of children to abuse and neglect when their parents refused to let them attend Hogwarts."

"Or worse," Martin said sadly.

Harry looked over in surprise then shuddered in realization. "Merlin. They were murdered, weren't they?"

"My great-grandfather would have considered murder a blessing," Martin said grimly. "As it was, he was subject to all the cruelty his parents, siblings, former friends, fellow villagers, and local church could heap upon him."

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly. His own trials with the Dursleys seemed completely insignificant now.

"My ancestor, John, was one of the first people affected by this new law," Martin continued. "He went from being the favored son of a well-off merchant family to a maltreated slave, all in the righteous attempt to drive the demons from him, of course."

"Of course," Harry muttered. Merlin, he felt like being sick right here on the sand.

"And now you will understand why John swore fealty and why each generation is happy to reaffirm his choice," Martin said.

"They rescued him?" Harry asked hopefully. "The Malfoys rescued John?"

"Yes and no," Martin said as he started digging another hole in the sand. "Once Octavian died and the law was passed, the remaining family looked at what could be done and found a loophole in the law. You see, the Ministry put a spell on each child after the parent's refusal that kept wizards from contacting the child and monitored any magic in the child's vicinity. The spell was specifically added to the law to keep the opposing faction from interfering. But the spell had two limitations. The first was that it only functioned until the child's majority."

"Seventeen," Harry murmured.

Martin nodded. "The second limitation was that the spell would not start being effective until the next morning. So there was a window of opportunity of several hours, a window the Malfoy family exploited to its fullest."

"How?" Harry asked as he watched Martin pull a shell up from the sand and wash it in the surf. "They obviously didn't kidnap the children right away or else John wouldn't have suffered."

"No, they didn't take the children," Martin said as he washed the shell he'd just found. "They couldn't. One of the other spells cast on the children was a magical tether. The tether required the child to be within two hundred feet of a parent for at least eight hours each day. Officially, the tether kept the child from being kidnapped by the opposing faction even if they found a way around the repellant spell, which they did because it's not too difficult if you know what you're doing. In practical use, however, the tether tied children to bad situations and kept them from running away. Trying to break the tether would have endangered the Malfoy family and any help they could provide the affected children would have been curtailed."

"So what did they do instead?" Harry asked as he accepted the newly washed shell.

"What they did, and still do, is three things," Martin said. "They arrange an account with a local vendor to provide the child with sufficient food should they ever need it. If possible, they also arrange alternate housing. This often isn't possible since the housing has to be both unwarded and within two hundred feet of the parents' home. The last thing they do is explain about the law and its loopholes and tell the child how to contact them when the child turns seventeen. They tell the children that if they can survive until then, the Malfoy family will take them in and teach them."

"And your ancestor survived," Harry said as he put away his new shell and picked up another smoothed rock. A moment later he tossed it into the ocean.

"Yes," Martin said. He moved several feet to the left and started digging another hole. "The day he turned seventeen he sent an owl to the Malfoys and at dawn the next morning he was taken to the Malfoy estate. Eventually, the Malfoys created a separate estate to see to the needs of these children, but they hadn't yet at that time."

"And they taught him magic," Harry said.

"Among the normal things a sponsor is supposed to teach," Martin replied. "When John finished his education seven years later, he insisted on swearing fealty even though it wasn't required, nor even encouraged. Most of his schoolmates did the same. He then went into service as a personal guard and such has been the occupation of my family since. The same is true of the Crabbe family. We serve together in these positions because the first of our families, John and Matthew, became blood brothers and our two families continue to work well together."

Harry was quiet for several minutes as he digested the story he'd just been told and its implications. He found another shell to keep before he spoke again. "They did…do this with all muggle-borns?"

"All muggle-borns whose parents or guardians refuse to allow them to attend Hogwarts," Martin confirmed as he let the sea fill in the unprofitable hole he had dug.

"Then I imagine yours and Crabbe's aren't the only families to have sworn fealty to the Malfoys," Harry said, flipping over a large piece of wood with one foot.

"Indeed not," Martin said with a chuckle. "In fact, most students the Malfoys take in swear fealty, though about fifty years ago the Malfoys started requiring the person swearing fealty to be at least thirty-four. In other words, the person must have had ten years on their own before they make that decision."

"But you said you re-affirmed yours at fourteen," Harry protested.

"Any new oath-takers," Martin amended as he picked up a shell. "There is a difference between taking a new oath and re-affirming an old one."

"And how many swear fealty?" Harry asked. That was potentially quite a number of vassals the Malfoys had.

"Nine out of ten will swear fealty, despite the delay," Martin answered. "They recognize, as John did, just how much worse their life could have been were it not for the Malfoys' intervention."

"And how many is that, exactly?" Harry pressed.

Gregory smiled and handed another shell to Harry. "Do you know how many muggle-borns are in your year?"

"Seven," Harry said promptly as he accepted the shell and looked it over before putting it in his bag.

"Really?" Martin said in amazement. "That's quite a lot. Usually there are only four, give or take. There are only two amongst this year's incoming students."

Harry shrugged. "And?"

"Do you know how many there used to be every year before the law changed?" Martin asked.

"No," Harry said. Of course he didn't. Binns rarely talked about anything other than goblins.

"A dozen," Martin said simply. "There are always an even dozen wizards and witches born to muggles every year and most of them used to go to Hogwarts."

"A dozen?" Harry said with interest. "Consistently?"

"Yes, though nobody understands why," Martin said. "But as you can see, even in your year five of the muggle-borns are missing."

"Will they go to the Malfoys?" Harry asked, stepping over a strand of seaweed.

"Yes," Martin said as he followed Harry. "Some of them already have, in fact."

"So what you're saying," Harry began thoughtfully, "is that for the past nearly one hundred years the Malfoy family has been gaining eight families of vassals a year, give or take."

"About that," Martin said.

"That's a lot of people," Harry said seriously.

"Yes," Martin agreed.

"Well, I imagine the Malfoys have contacts nearly everywhere, then," Harry said in amusement.

Martin chuckled. "Yes. And it's even worse than you think because many of the vassals leave England. Some leave because they have too many bad memories here. Some leave because they don't feel they can live under a Ministry that allowed what happened to them. And some leave simply to protect the Malfoys, so that the secret doesn't get out that the abandoned muggle-borns have been receiving training from someone else."

"A ready-made international network of contacts," Harry said. He couldn't imagine what kind of information the Malfoy family had access to with those kinds of resources.

"Exactly," Martin said.

"So…so…you don't hate muggle-borns," Harry concluded, trying desperately to once again get an answer to his questions.

"No," Martin said. "I think the current policies have left them woefully undereducated, but I certainly don't hate them."

"Muggles?" Harry asked curiously.

Martin shrugged indifferently. "I don't hate them universally, though there are quite a number I'd like to see fed to the Dark Lord. The ones that have denied their children their birthright, for instance, I'd love to see dead."

Harry made a noncommittal sound. He rather agreed with the sentiment but thought it best not to actually say so. "What about Lucius?"

"Lucius is…," Martin sighed. "Lucius suffers from delusions of persecution and takes out his anger on anybody he can get away with. His hatred of muggles and muggle-borns is simply an extension of his feelings of isolation from his family."

"And his son takes after Daddy," Harry said. He didn't believe that now, of course, but he wasn't above fishing for information about one of his favorite suitors.

"Actually, Draco takes after his great-grandfather Gaius," Martin said as he dropped the broken shell he had just picked up. "He has strong ideals and is rather even-tempered."

"That's hard to believe," Harry said with a snort.

"Draco is in a very precarious position until he turns seventeen," Martin said seriously. "I won't tell you exactly why, but various laws that favor Lucius require Draco to not anger his father overly much until he can stand on his own as a man. I think you'll find that next year Draco will be an entirely different person at school."

"We'll see," Harry said with contrived doubt, all the while burning with curiosity over Draco's position.

"Yes," Martin said and held out a hand. "There's a small restaurant just behind those trees. Would you like to eat?"

Harry placed his hand in Martin's and visibly relaxed. "I am a bit hungry," he said. They walked in silence as Harry thought about everything he'd been told. "Martin?"

"Yes?" Martin asked encouragingly.

"Who led the opposing faction?" Harry asked.

Martin smiled at Harry in amusement. "Can't you guess?"

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

"Close," Martin allowed. "They were big supporters, but no, they weren't the original driving force."

Harry shrugged and shook his head.

"Who do the Malfoys hate?" Martin hinted.

Harry's eyes widened. "Oh. Oh. Really?"

"Yes," Martin said with a nod. "Until the law is repealed, the Malfoys have promised that the Weasleys will live just as miserably as the children they have condemned."

Harry gripped Martin's hand hard as they continued walking towards the copse of trees that hid the café. He was horrified that the Weasleys he knew were paying such a harsh sentence for the sin of an ancestor, but, given his own experiences, and what he now knew about the plight of muggle-borns, he couldn't find it within himself to protest.