[A/N: Once again, I'd like to thank Volksbrot for beta-reading this whole story.

Just so we're clear, I am not endorsing the viewpoint of any character in this chapter regardless of how sympathetically they're portrayed.

This will probably be the last chapter I post till June, as I have a family event and extended foreign travel coming up. I apologize for the break in posting and I hope you all stay safe out there.]

Chapter 5: The Same Mistake

Harry awoke to the rosy light of dawn, a terrible smell, and someone pressing a steel wool pad into the back of his head. He jerked up a few inches, startling awake the vulpine monstrosity he'd been using as a pillow and did the whole of reality shatter while he was asleep or something because bloody hell it's a fox monster!

The monster looked down at him and jumped, as well, nearly knocking him off the bench he'd been laying on. His back hurt, the back of his head was a fun combination of oily and raw, and somehow it was still the best night's sleep he'd had since Ginny moved out.

"I'm sorry," the monster rumbled, and he finally remembered just what on Earth was going on. "We've been alone so long I forgot anyone was here."

"I forgot I was here, too," Harry said. "And I really forgot you were here."

She looked down at him and gave the bestial chuckle he was improbably getting used to. "I'm not sure which one of us is more of a mess, so I'm going to assume it's you."

Harry rose slowly back to a sitting position and tried to stretch the kinks out of his back. "Yeah," he said, "but my hair is always a disaster. What's your excuse?"

Daphne's chuckle turned into full-on laughter. "Well played, Harry," she said. "Now that we're up, shall we get some breakfast?"

"That sounds good," he said. "What are you in the mood for?"

"A Full English. You?" she asked.

"How about a Full Scottish? I haven't had one of those since I was at Hogwarts."

"Now that you mention it, I haven't, either," she responded. "OK, Full Scottish it is."

"Thanks," Harry said, though the word came out more quietly than he'd intended.

One of Daphne's heavy paws clapped onto his shoulder and brought him to a complete halt. "Harry, I need you to promise me something," she said.

Harry nodded, in part because of the seriousness of her tone and in part because his hindbrain apparently had a strict "Do not annoy the seven-foot-tall vulpine monstrosities" policy.

"In two days, I will be dead and/or gone," Daphne said. "After that, you are going to go home and contact St. Mungo's. They have an orphanage there, and you are going to work as a volunteer no fewer than five hours a day, five days a week. Don't worry about your fame; all it will do is serve to attract even more attention to the orphanage. Is that clear?"

He stared at her in shock.

"I said, is that clear?"

"That's a great idea," Harry said. "I'll do it. Thank you for the suggestion."

"You're welcome." She released his shoulder. "Now, let's get that breakfast. Be quiet as you enter the house in case our other guests haven't risen yet."

Daphne's prediction proved accurate as soon as they walked into the foyer. Narcissa was still asleep on the couch, with Draco and Tori sitting on the floor and resting their backs against the couch below her and their heads against one another. It didn't look terribly comfortable, but it was probably a good way to make sure they awoke if she did.

They crept past the sleepers and into the dining room. Daphne closed the door before summoning Flopsy and asking her to quietly prepare them a Full Scottish Breakfast. The mousy little house elf with unusually floppy ears nodded enthusiastically and popped away to begin work on breakfast.

"Was that an embroidered pillowcase she was wearing?" Harry asked. "I only just noticed it."

Daphne nodded. "My mother made it when I was little, put it in a bag, and put that bag into the trash. She told Flopsy what she'd done, asked her to empty the trash, and told her she wouldn't be offended to find Flopsy wearing that pillowcase were she inclined to do so. She's never taken it off since."

"That was nice of her," Harry said.

The elf came in a few minutes later bearing two plates loaded with baked beans, sunny side-up eggs, lorne sausage, haggis, black pudding (because every culture needed at least one disgusting dish) fried mushrooms, fried potatoes (Professor McGonagall called them "tattie scones" for reasons Harry never figured out), and other items. They both thanked Flopsy and tore into their food.

After stuffing his face for a few minutes, Harry hit upon an idea. "Hey, Daphne? Want to trade some fried potatoes for my black pudding?"

She swallowed her current mouthful and nodded. "Yes, please. Normally I hate black pudding, but in my current form it's delicious."

They traded food and kept eating. Daphne's table manners were still mildly horrifying in her current form, but Harry found himself inured to them and largely ignored her. They were just finishing up breakfast when Tori and Draco came in. Tori looked about ready to murder something, but Harry reminded himself sleep-deprived monstrous fox beasts probably just looked like that normally. Draco had ridiculous bed-head and bags under his eyes.

"How's your mother?" Harry asked.

"Waking up every couple of hours," Draco replied as he pulled out a chair for Tori before sitting down himself. Harry had to hand it to him; he could be quite polite if he thought someone deserved it. "I think this is my punishment for ever being a baby. She's stable for now, at least from what I can tell. She's regained consciousness a couple of times, but she's been a little out of it and I've had to Stupefy her to keep her from overreacting to Tori or the environment."

"I understand," Harry said. "I'm she's stable." Daphne nodded in agreement.

"By the way," Tori said, "around midnight last night I smelled some Death Eaters on the wind outside. They definitely haven't given up on us."

"Harry and I were out walking around then," Daphne said. "I smelled them, too."

"Oh, good," Tori said. "I'm glad you were aware of them. I thought about trying to wake you, but I decided it probably wasn't necessary."

Draco smirked. "Rather late for a walk, wasn't it?"

"I couldn't sleep," Harry said. He suddenly found himself wondering if even a rocket launcher could remove Draco's smirk and came to the conclusion he'd love to get his hands on one and try.

"I see," Tori said, and snorted. "Daph, were you making sure he didn't escape?"

"Yes," Daphne said. "It turned out to be entirely unnecessary, but I thought I should at least try to be cautious about our safety."

"That's fine," Tori said. "I hope you had a nice time on your predictably unnecessary moonlit stroll through our gardens."

"As nice as possible," Harry said, "with skulking Death Eaters as chaperones."

Tori growled/laughed. "So they are good for something. How lovely. Well, hopefully we'll be able to revive Narcissa after breakfast and she can chaperone you more congenially."

"I hope so," Draco said. His smirk was gone and even his neutral expression was clearly forced. "If not, I may need to get help. I think she'll be all right, though."

"Good luck," Daphne said. Her voice was low, almost a growl. "Make sure you take her wand first in case she wakes up angry."

"Fine," Tori said. "We'll be careful."

Daphne gave her a sharp look, but said nothing. Instead, she rose to her feet. "We're done with breakfast, so we should probably get back to the artifact research. Good luck with her."

Harry nodded and followed her. Theoretically, she probably should have asked him instead of just dragging him out of the room, but as a practical matter it meant he had to spend less time with Draco, so he couldn't complain.

Tori and Draco ate a light breakfast (just some toast and tea for Draco, and a single pound of steak for Tori) before returning to the parlor to check on Narcissa. They'd done their best to ease her sleep the previous night, at much cost to their own, and it seemed to have done her some good.

Tori gently laid a paw on the woman's shoulder. "Do you think she's ready?"

Draco heard both meanings of the question as he ran another yet diagnostic charm on his mother. He'd done so many in the last twenty-four hours that neither he nor Tori noticed he'd done this one non-verbally. "No real change from when we woke up," he said. "I'm worried there are some bone fragments near her lungs, but I can't get enough detail on the charm to be sure. I think she's ready, but if she takes a turn for the worse, we're going to have to risk taking her to St. Mungo's."

"I understand," Tori said. "I...I won't let Daphne keep her here if she gets that sick. She shouldn't d...die because of us."

"Thank you," Draco said. "That means a lot to me." He stared at his mother for a moment. It would be simple to intentionally mess up a bone-mending charm to shove a bit of rib into her lung, and the resultant bloody cough she'd develop would be more than enough to convince Tori to let him take her to St. Mungo's. All he'd have to do was risk killing his own mother and take advantage of the kindness of an orphan.

Draco sighed. He wished he'd learnt sooner the difference between being "ambitious and cunning" and "an arsehole."

"She'll be all right," Tori said, misunderstanding the meaning behind his sigh. She moved her paw to Draco's shoulder and patted it in a manner that she probably thought was gentle, but that forced him to tense all of the muscles on the left side of his body to avoid staggering. Regardless, he appreciated the gesture. "You're better than anyone our age I've ever met at healing charms."

"We all got pretty good at patching each other up from Cruciatus-related injuries during the war," Draco said. "Those were usually neurological issues or breakages in extremities, though, not internal injuries like broken ribs can cause. I'm out of my depth here."

"You're doing a great job," Tori said. She released a sigh that rippled her cheeks and flung a bit of drool around the couch. "Oh, sorry," she said. "I forgot that happens now."

Draco shrugged and wiped up his sleeve and his mother's blouse. "It's not exactly your fault. Is something on your mind?"

"Well...no...I mean," she shook her head. "Oh, Morgana's knickers, why not? I'll be dead in forty-eight hours, anyway. Draco, what possessed your damn fool family to pledge their loyalty to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? You're sitting here talking casually about how good you got at repairing Cruciatus damage on your own parents, for Merlin's sake!"

He took a deep breath. "Father raised me to believe blood mattered," he began, "and that people like you and I owed it to the world to lead them with our superior power and abilities. Noblesse oblige, if you will, and like all stories of noblesse oblige it was more than a little self-serving. Father started following Riddle-"

"Who?" Tori asked.

"I'll get to that in a moment," Draco said. "In his first war Voldemort offered his supporters a path to restoring that order and power, and men like Father jumped at the chance to set the world right again. Everyone they hurt, everyone they murdered, was just one more piece of collateral damage on the way to a better world.

"It was all a lie, of course. Voldemort was really a half-blood named Tom Riddle, and his revolution attracted the dregs of Pureblooded society, the wastrels, the cruel, and the petty, and turned them loose upon the country with the offer to reward their basest desires with power."

Tori stared at him. "Voldemort was a half-blood?"

"Potter proved it to me beyond a reasonable doubt," Draco said. "I have no idea why Dumbledore kept that to himself rather than shouting it from the rooftops. That man was inscrutable to the point of madness sometimes."

"Are you kidding me?" Tori turned to face Draco fully and drew herself to her full height. "All of the death and the chaos that man caused, my whole family dead including my sister and me, all for a blood purity crusade led by a damned half-blood? That is so stupid on so many levels I..." she trailed off and let off a thoroughly bestial growl of sheer frustration. "How did you fall for that, Draco? You're smarter than that! I've met your father and he's not stupid, but you're twice the wizard he is and you know it."

"I know it now," Draco said. "When I was little, I just wanted him to be proud of me. I thought I was doing everything right, but then Potter and Granger walked into Hogwarts and started outdoing me. And instead of just recognizing that I needed to work harder, my father told me they were cheating me of my rightful place in the world. That's a tempting lie to believe, and I fell for it.

"That's the really stupid thing," he continued. "If I'd tried as hard to earn better grades as I did to undermine and cheat Potter, I'd probably have beaten him fairly. Instead, I threw that chance away, just like my parents threw away our family's wealth, power, and prestige." He shook his head. "We were genuinely extraordinary, and we sacrificed almost everything to a lie."

"You really were." Tori shook her head. "I was head-over-heels in love with you until the year before last when you betrayed the whole damn school, Draco."

"I wish I could say knowing that would have made a difference," Draco said, "but I'd be lying. I was so focused on who I wasn't that I would never have believed someone could have loved me for who I was."

"You didn't seem to have any trouble accepting Pansy's affections," Tori said archly.

Draco shrugged and did his best to stifle a grin at that tone coming from a huge fox monster who claimed to be over him. "Pansy loved me for who she thought I was going to be," he said. "She no longer has any use for me, and I can't say I have any use for that kind of affection anymore, either."

"I see. So, once you're released from captivity by hideous monsters, what are you going to do with your life?"

Draco laughed sadly at her self-deprecating humor. "First, I'll need to plan your funerals. I know Harry will want to help, but let's be honest: he'll be terrible at it. I'll have him handle the paperwork or something to keep him busy and away from the more formal aspects."

Tori gave that snorting, horking giggle again. "Indeed. He'd make a right hash of it. Thank you for thinking of us."

"It's the absolute least I can do," Draco said. "Think nothing of it. After that, well, I'm not sure. I'm still coming to terms with the end of the war, and I also want to study for my N.E.W.T.s, and I hadn't thought any farther ahead than that. Realistically, it's probably going to be my life's work to try to rebuild a fraction of the wealth and power my family had before we threw it away.

"I don't believe you," Tori said, shaking her head. "You're making the same mistake your father made."

"What do you mean?"

"If it's just power you want," Tori responded, "then you'll never have enough."

Draco sighed. "You're right, but what else can I do? I won't give up on my family's legacy, even as tarnished as it is now."

"I know you well enough not to suggest that," Tori said, the low growl in her throat somehow conveying disappointment and reproach. "I just want you to think. The difference between a miser and a great businessman is that the former hoards wealth and the latter risks it for the success he truly wants. What do you want enough to risk the power you're accumulating, Draco?"

He stared at her and tried to put his thoughts together coherently. "I never...you're right. I've been going at this backwards. What I want is to educate other Purebloods and help them see more value in themselves than just their family trees. I know the world is changing, but I think the traditions and history of the oldest Wizarding families can still teach valuable lessons even today. There aren't that many of us left, and I'd hate to see even more of our heritage lost."

Tori patted him on the back, and once again he had to brace himself against the impact. "Now that is a worthy goal for a skilled and cunning wizard. I'm sorry I won't live to see you succeed."

"I am, too." He reached up with his left hand and awkwardly patted one of her claws. Silence fell around them for a moment before he spoke again. "I guess we should get started on my mother."

"I suppose so." Tori released his shoulder. "Thank you for letting me get that off of my chest. I doubt I'd have been brave enough to say anything were I going to live longer, but…" she shrugged.

"No, it's fine," Draco said. "I think I needed to hear that." He bent over his mother and began one last bone-mending charm. Once he was satisfied he'd done all he could for her ribs, he began a series of Episkey charms on the rear of her lungs, trying to reduce the swelling and strengthen the injured tissue. When he was done, he cast one final diagnostic charm and pocketed her wand.

"She's ready," he said.

"I'll step out into the foyer," Tori replied. "Let me know when she's ready to see me."

Draco nodded and, as Tori slipped out, leveled his wand at his mother and said, "Rennervate."

Narcissa groaned and put her hands over her eyes. "Draco? Is that you?" She groaned again.

"Yes, Mother," Draco said thickly. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm all right," she said, with possibly the most obvious lie he'd ever seen. "Are you well?"

"I am," he said.

"Oh, good," Narcissa replied. "I was so worried about you, but I don't remember why…" She gasped and tried to sit up, but stopped about two-thirds of the way to a sitting position and groaned again.

"Everything is fine." Draco dropped to one knee and wrapped his arms around her. He couldn't remember the last time they'd embraced, but it was probably after they'd all dodged prison sentences three months before. His family wasn't much for physical affection. "Let me help you." He gently moved her all the way to a sitting position.

She returned the embrace and sobbed a few times into his shoulder. "I thought I'd lost you!" she said. "I haven't been so worried since the war. I was going to go get Harry...wait, did I? Draco, where are we?"

"You did," Draco said. "We're at Greengrass Manor, and Harry is here, too. We're safe."

"Safe? But...weren't there monsters? I dreamt I fought one here."

"There are no monsters here, Mother." Draco took a deep breath. "Just two of my classmates trying to defend their home after being cursed by a Dark Artifact."

"Cursed?" Narcissa asked.

"Yes. An old Cossack hand mirror that turns people into large, fox-like creatures. Daphne and Astoria are still here, but they...look different."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," she said.

"I'm going to get Astoria now," Draco told her. "She looks monstrous right now, but I promise you it's Astoria. Please trust me, Mother."

"Very well," Narcissa said.

Draco walked over to the foyer door and held out his hand. Tori took it and, hunched as if she were trying to make herself smaller, followed him back into the parlor.

Narcissa gasped. "That's...that's one of the monsters!"

Tori flinched, but Draco responded calmly, "She's not a monster, Mother. She never was. This is Astoria Greengrass."

"Draco, you're being mind-controlled or subjected to an illusion. Please, return my wand and let me help you."

"I remember," Tori began hesitantly, but even her soft, rumbling words were enough to quiet the Malfoys, "the garden party at Malfoy Manor before the 1994 Quidditch World Cup. I was only twelve and I was thrilled to attend my first adult party. Your house was so beautiful when we arrived. The floating fairy lights in the garden glowed like fiery gems in the sunset and lit the twilight afterward like a snowstorm of candles. Everyone's robes and gowns were gorgeous, the adults all spoke of such sophisticated things, and I couldn't wait to grow up a little more so I could join them all properly. The whole time, though, Lucius was planning that Death Eater attack at the World Cup." Her gaze fell to the parlor floor. "How did the war poison the good memories from before it even started? How could you have planned something so beautiful and something so ugly simultaneously?"

Narcissa stared at her in slack-jawed astonishment. Draco, though, reached over and patted the bristly, oil fur on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I know that's not enough and I can't repay you for the memories we tarnished, but apologies are all I have to give you."

That comment finally shook his mother out of her stupor. "Astoria...it really is you, isn't it? I remember you at that party. You'd grown easily three inches since the last time I'd seen you and I couldn't believe how you'd turned into a young woman so quickly. What's happened to you?"

"The war," Tori said simply. "It's not quite over for Daphne and me, but it will be tonight. My sister and Harry are working on a way to destroy the cursed mirror before the curse takes our minds, but the destruction of the mirror will kill us, too."

"I'm so sorry." Narcissa rested her head in her hands. "We never meant for little girls like you to be hurt."

"And Vincent," Draco said bitterly, "never meant to be consumed by his own Fiendfyre. You can't start a war and think you can control it. We did this, Mother. We started a war to gain power for Purebloods and all we accomplished was putting more of them in the ground."

"Draco!" Narcissa spoke sharply, then put her hands to her temples and leaned back against the couch. "Ugh, my head. Draco, I've never heard you take that tone with me in public."

"I'm sorry," Draco said. "I know you see every day what the war did to our family, but I'm the one who's out managing our remaining business interests and trying to salvage our name working with the Aurors, and I see what it did to everyone else. What we did. That's why I got upset when you called Tori a 'monster,' because she only looks like that because of what we did to our world."

"What do you want me to say?" Narcissa asked him. "Haven't we suffered enough?"

"I don't want anyone to suffer," Tori said. "Draco told me how he wants to rebuild, and that's enough for me. Your son has grown up tremendously, Mrs. Malfoy. I hope you're proud."

Draco inwardly winced. He appreciated the sentiment, but hadn't exactly told his parents about his plans and wasn't sure they would approve, especially after the argument he and his mother had just had.

"Thank you, dear," Narcissa said. "I've always been proud of him."

He breathed an imperceptible sigh of relief. Right now, he just wanted to bask in his mother's good health. Inevitable arguments could wait. He finally had a moment's peace, and he was enjoying it immensely until the sharp crack of an apparition shattered it.

"All right, Harry," Daphne said as soon as they'd settled back into the lab, "you got all of the theory yesterday. Are you ready for your practical exam?"

"I think so," Harry said. "Studying with you reminded me of studying with Hermione, and I usually did well after I studied with her."

Daphne snorted with gentle laughter. "You missed this, didn't you?"

"You have no idea. I never knew how much I truly loved Hogwarts until I couldn't return last year, and now...I've seen too much death there. I don't think I can return to study and walk past places where my classmates died."

"I understand. Well, when you see Hermione again, tell her I appreciate all of the time she spent drilling theory into your Quidditch-addled skull. You picked it up quickly."

Harry laughed. "Will do. So, what next?"

"I've never done any curse-breaking myself," Daphne said, "but from what I've read in our library-which was not easy in this form, I might add-you can apply what you've learned by using your wand and sort of feeling around for the layers of spells Father left notes about. You don't have to rip any apart just yet, just familiarize yourself with how they interact and where you could pull them apart if you were so inclined."

"I think I can do that." Harry drew his wand, pointed it at the mirror, and reached out with his magic. The spells surrounding the mirror felt oily and rancid, almost as if the magic itself were rotting and putrefying in front of them. Harry kept prodding at it, though, and focused on looking for where the different "scents" of putrefaction that he sensed transitioned from one to the other.

Mentally, he began to map those points out, but he had to take periodic breaks as the strain of focusing began to take its toll. Daphne's support didn't waver, though, and she let him take his time on the project. Finally, he released his focus and turned to her. "I think I can do this," he said. "May I try peeling back the first layer of spells? I'd like to see if I'm on the right track."

"Go ahead," Daphne said. "From the work Father did, I doubt that will destroy the mirror by itself, and if it does, well, that's an acceptable outcome."

Harry suppressed a shudder at that and focused on the mirror. As gently as he could, he inserted his own magic into the first spell junction he'd felt and pushed, trying to pry apart the two layers of spells.

Absolutely nothing happened.

"Harry?" Daphne asked. "Did it work?"

"No," he said. "I'm going to try this again." He let his magic flow into the junction and really pushed this time, not holding anything back or trying to do the work delicately. The mirror's magic did its best to protect itself, but Harry's onslaught proved too much for it in the end and, with a snapping sound and a swirl of black smoke whipping through the room, Harry finally tore off the first spell layered into the artifact.

Daphne raised her eyebrows and looked at the mirror. It was still intact, but a quarter-inch crack ran inward from the lower left edge. "I'm not sure that was 'nice' work," she said, "but it definitely did something. I've got to hand it to you: you seem to have an innate ability to apply magical theory to destructive ends."

Harry laughed. "That certainly sounds like me. Unfortunately, this took a lot more power than I was anticipating just to tear off the first spell layered into the artifact, and that was probably just a basic preservation spell to keep it from tarnishing. I'm not sure how long it's going to take me to rip this apart."

"Time is not something we have a lot of right now," Daphne said. "Is there anything-" She froze. "Someone just apparated in."

Harry shot to his feet. "Where?"

"The front gate." Daphne pushed the chair she was sitting in out of the way and rose to her full height. "This isn't your fight," she said. "Tori and I will handle it."

"If it's Aurors," Harry said, "I might be able to convince them to leave. If it's Death Eaters, it damn well is my fight. And if it's door-to-door broom salesmen, then I get to see the looks on their faces. Let's go."

Daphne smiled (an expression that hardly even terrified Harry anymore) as she hurried to the door. "How do you do that? There are people outside trying to kill me and you're making me smile."

Harry shrugged. She didn't seem like she expected an answer, which was good because he didn't have one.