Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.  I wish with all my heart that I did, but, alas, if wishes were pies I'd be larger than I already am.  Once again, I've included passages from the original text.

Author's Note: Thank you to all the people who have reviewed! Eighty-three!

Author's Note#2: I don't ship Hermione. "LIBERTY OR DEATH, WHAT WE SO PROUDLY HAIL

ONCE YOU PROVOKE HER, RATTLING OF HER TAIL

NEVER BEGINS IT, NEVER, BUT ONCE ENGAGED…

NEVER SURRENDERS, SHOWING THE FANGS OF RAGE"

            -"Don't Tread On Me," Metallica (The Black Album), Metallica (Doesn't that just describe a Slytherin?)

Halloween morning found Harry and Draco sitting in the Great Hall…early for once (Draco had woken up on time).  Just as they were finishing, Hedwig, the beautiful snowy owl Hagrid had given Harry, flew down holding a package shaped like a broomstick.  It's here! Harry thought excitedly.  Hedwig dropped it into his outstretched hands before hurrying back into the Owlery.  (She had the uncanny ability of sensing when he had Oculi on his arm). Harry tapped Draco on the shoulder and nodded toward the doors.

They made their way out of the Great Hall and were right about to descend down to the Dungeons when Weasley, Finnigan, and Thomas stopped them.

"What have you got there?" Ron demanded.

"I can't see that is any of your business, Weasley."

"Let me see it!"  He snatched it out of Harry's hands.  "This is a Broomstick!" he cackled with glee.  "Now nothing will stop you from getting expelled!"

"Give it back!" Harry demanded.

A woman's voice sounded in the corridor: "What's going on?"

Harry looked behind him and saw Professor McGonagall standing there, her face stern.

Weasley, ever the idiot, grinned at the sight of his head-of-house.  "Professor, Black has a Broomstick."  He presented the package to her.

She took it into her hands and felt along its length.  "Yes…definitely a broomstick…what model?" she asked Harry curiously.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, I believe; that's the one Grandmother said she'd send me."

"Madam Hooch told me of your skill on a broom.  Maybe now that there are players who can actually fly in a straight line there won't be so much cheating."

She handed him the broom and said, "Your parents would be proud, they were both chasers—on different teams of course."  And with a smile she left.

"Wow.  So both of your parents were chasers?"

"Apparently."

"You don't know?"

"McGonagall said they were; she's not the type to lie."

"Oh, all right… What are we doing again?"

"We're listening to Flitwick explain how to levitate objects using to standard levitation spell."

"Wingardium Leviosa?"

"Yes."

"Oh…wake me up when we're allowed to use magic."

"All right."

A few minutes later: "…and flick.  Pronunciation is quite important as well!  Remember the Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

Harry cuffed Draco sharply over the head, drawing a glare from the other boy.  Then he pointed his wand at the feather.  A swish, a flick, and a muttered "Wingardium Leviosa" later, the feather was floating upwards.

"Oh look!  Mr. Black has done it!  Oh and Ms. Granger!  Ten points each!"

Harry looked at the brown-haired Gryffindor.  She always seemed to master the spells quickly, much as Harry had when his grandmother had taught him.  He smiled; there was definitely more to Granger than met the eye.

"Did you hear?  Granger is in the bathroom crying.  Filthy mudblood finally realized that no one likes her…"

Harry listened to Pansy's babble for a while longer before tuning her out.  His attention was devoted solely to his food until the Great Hall doors slammed open and Professor Quirrell came running in, shouting at the top of his lung, "TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS.  TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!"   He broke off with a hysterical sob and fainted.

The Hall burst out screaming and everyone scrambled to escape the room.

There was an explosion from the tip of Dumbledore's wand, and the Hall fell silent.  "Prefects, lead your houses to your common rooms.  The teachers and I will deal with the troll."

"Draco…wait," Harry said.

"Why?  There's a troll!  We should go with the prefects!"

"Draco, first of all, the Slytherin Common Room is in the Dungeon.  Second, the only way to get to the Great Hall from the Dungeons is through one of the secondary entrance ways, definitely not the Main Entrance!"

"What's your point?"

"My point is that we are going to the third floor corridor to head off Quirrell.  I don't know what's in there, but I'll be damned if someone besides me steals it!"

"Which translates into, 'I want whatever's in there, so he can't have it'?"

"Naturally."

Draco sighed, "Fine, but we better not get caught."

"Good.  Follow me."

 On the second floor, they encountered Snape.

"What are you two doing here?" he demanded.

"Were trying to sto—"

Harry stomped on his foot "—Nothing, sir."

Snape, noticing the interaction, smiled.  "Have you seen anything suspicious?"

"A man fainting backwards."

"What?"

"When a person faints, they fall forward, always."

Snape's eyes lit up.  "Ah…I see."

"Yes sir.  The only way you can get past Fluffy is by playing music to him."

"Eh?"

"I'm assuming you want to check the third floor?"

"Oh…Fluffy…of course.  Thank you.  Mr. Black, Mr. Malfoy, you should head to your common room now."

They both nodded and fled.

Harry and Draco ran towards the stairs, but they came to an abrupt stop when they heard a scream from the girls bathroom.

"That's Granger; we should go and save her."

"And risk our necks?  I think not."

"Think of all the points we could earn."

"No."

Harry sighed.  "Very well, you go tell McGonagall that the troll is now in the second floor girls bathroom."

"Fine."  With that he strolled down the hall.

"Coward," Harry muttered as he ran toward the girls bathroom.

He nearly fainted when he entered the bathroom: the stench was horrible!

First He saw the troll happily pounding away at the toilets.  He then saw Granger cowering behind a broken sink.  He noticed that her wand hand was bleeding.  Suddenly his earlier suspicions came to him and he was struck by an idea:

"Granger!"

She looked at him fearfully, a question in her eyes.

"Granger, take out your wand and cover it in your blood."

She obeyed him, as she would a teacher.

"Good, now point your wand at the troll and say, 'Morere'!"

He could see the shock in her eyes: "Yes…you know what it means."

She glanced at him once more, and then she raised her wand and shouted, "Morere!"

A black and red light shot out of her wand and enveloped the troll.  A second later, it fell to the ground with a mighty "CRASH."  When the dust cleared, Harry walked over to Hermione and smiled happily.  "I knew I was right!"

Granger gave a little sniffle.  "About what?"

"About you being a pureblood…" he paused and considered his words "…at least partly.  We'll have to change that."

"B-but, my parents are Muggles, Dentists!"

Harry nodded thoughtfully and was about to ask a question when three teachers burst in.

McGonagall was the first to recover: "What happened?"

Hermione was about to answer when Harry interrupted.

"I got lost as I was heading for the first floor.  I heard a scream, ran into the bathroom, and I saw the troll with his club raised standing over her.  I rushed over and, in my hurry to get her up, I cut myself and got blood on my wand…"

McGonagall noticed that he had no cuts.  Nor did he have his wand out.  She was about to tell him off for lying to her, but he cut her off with a glare and an almost imperceptible nod toward Professor Quirrell.  Having known his father, she accepted this (though she vowed to get to the bottom of his suspicion of Professor Quirrell).

"…I cast the Stupefying spell, but, as you can see, it was a lot stronger than usual."

McGonagall again accepted this with a nod and muttered, "Both of you in my office at ten o'clock tonight."  Then in a louder voice: "It was a brave thing you did, Mr. Black.  Ten points to Slytherin for saving the life of one of your classmates."  She looked at the troll with disgust.  "Both of you, off to your common rooms."  She gave Harry a look and muttered, "Just wait in my office."

Harry nodded and grabbed Granger's arm.  "I'll escort her to her common room."

"Yes—" this time it was Snape who spoke up— "Thank you, Mr. Black."

"This isn't the way to the Gryffindor common room."

"I know.  McGonagall wants us to meet her in her office."

"Oh…. What did you mean about me being a Pureblood?"

"You used Blood Magic; you're most definitely a Pureblood.  If a Mudblood attempted to cast a Blood Magic spell, they would die…especially Command Blood Magic."

"I don't understand; what's 'Blood Magic'?"

"It's magic that requires the user to sacrifice his or her own blood.  The blood has to be centuries old to use blood magic."

"Isn't it illegal?"

"Of course!  Anything that the Mudbloods can't do is banned by the Ministry."

"But…Professor Dumbledore told me that Mud-" she paused and grimaced "—that Muggle-Borns could do anything Purebloods could."

"Dumbledore cannot be trusted.  Why do you think the Dark Arts are banned?  Because most of them require the user to have Wizarding blood.  The Killing Curse?  It would rebound on any mudblood who tried to use it.  The Stabbing Hex?  The same results.  Dumbledore hates old magic; he uses only the magic that you could teach any common Mudblood.  Light Magic, indeed!  Did you know that the first spell to be labeled 'light' was one that made the target unable to breath?  It's called the Suffocation Hex…. They teach it to third years."  Harry stopped his rant.

"But all of that is beside the point… Dumbledore lied; you are a Pureblood.  And we are now at McGonagall's office."

Hermione looked up, startled.  She had been mulling over his announcements and hadn't even seen where her feet were taking her.

Professor McGonagall came in twenty minutes later and sat behind her desk.  She gazed at the students before her.  "Now," she said, "would you like to tell me what really happened, Mr. Black?"

"Yes Ma'am.  I've suspected for a while that Granger is actually a Pureblood, so when I walked into the bathroom and noticed that her hand was bleeding I told her to smear blood on her wand and say, 'Morere.'"

"It worked. So what do you plan to do now?"

"I will remove all Muggle impurities and then take her under my wing.  Once she is trained, she will be a powerful ally."

"Do you intend to marry her?"

"No.  My grandmother has already chosen my betrothed… I don't know who, but I know it isn't her."

"How could I possibly be a Pureblood?" Hermione suddenly asked, incredulous.

McGonagall got up and paced for a while.  She then turned to Granger: "What's your mother's name, child?" she asked kindly.

"Abigail Granger."

" I meant her maiden name."

"Oh.  It's Euric."

McGonagall nodded thoughtfully. "Has she ever lived in a town called Orleans?"

"Um…no, but my grandmother was from there.  She moved to England during the Great War."

"Then you most certainly are a Pureblood…well, half-blood until Mr. Black removes your muggle traits."

"But…why would I want to be a Pureblood?"

Harry spoke up: "The name 'Granger' means nothing in the Wizarding world.  The Eurics, however, are a well-known family, who have ties in both France and Britain.  They originated in Ireland about three thousand years ago, moved to France about two thousand years ago, consorted with the Great Kings of France…that's where the name 'Euric' comes from.  They deteriorated into a Squib line about two hundred years ago, and they disappeared about sixty years ago.  Their fortune is currently in trust, waiting for an heir…you… and they are a hell of a lot richer than the Malfoys."

"Aren't you friends with Malfoy?"

"We are more allies than anything else—kinsmen."

"So the Eurics are richer than the Malfoys?"

"Yes."

"How do you know so much about them?"

"The Blacks have a significant presence in France, so I had to learn about all of the old French families, their positions, politics, and origins…but back to the point: if you took the name "Euric," you would have instant standing; the Minister would cower at your feet…though," he said thoughtfully, "he cowers at the feet of anyone who comes from a family older than his."

"How old is his family?"

"Just around two hundred years old; he's practically a muggle."

"Are there any other benefits?"

"Money…with the amount of money you have at you fingertips, you could have your family living like kings."

"But according to Pureblood law, I'd have to give it all to my husband…should I find one."

"Not so.  My grandmother is a Black.  As the oldest, she claimed the right of consort and married a younger son of the Parkinson line.  She then put a type of Blood Purification on my father to remove all traces of the Parkinson family.  She might as well have produced asexually… It's a common practice among the old families who abide by the old laws.  First born inherits," he added, seeing her confusion.

Granger seemed to ponder all of this, before shaking her head in frustration.  "It won't kill me?"

            "No, it won't kill you."

            "Do it then."

            "Very well."  He looked at Professor McGonagall.  "We'll do it here.  Give our excuses and don't tell the Headmaster!"

            "All right."

            "Swear."

            "I give my solemn oath as Head of the Clan McGonagall.  By the name of my father, Morgle McGonagall, I swear to hold what has transpired here in silence."

            Harry nodded, "Thank you."

            She got up out of her seat, said, "Good luck," and left.

            Harry turned toward Hermione, "Let's get started."