Chapter 4: Instruction
"Sit up straight!" Narcissa barked, swooping down on Harry as he squirmed in his chair. "No child in this house will slouch in such an undignified manner." Huffing, Harry forced his straining back muscles to support him in a vertical position, something he was not at all used to. He was hot and tired, his leg was throbbing, and he was angry. Across from him, Draco was perfectly poised, hands folded on the table and smirking smugly at Harry's pitiful efforts. "For Merlin's sake, child, will you do as you're told?" Narcissa snapped, whipping out her wand. A muttered word and suddenly Harry was ramrod straight, and unable to move an inch. His eyes sparked brightly with fury and embarrassment.
Not more than two months had he been there, but already he was wishing Lucius hadn't rescued him from the car. Almost he wanted to be back with the Dursleys, though he realised that they probably seemed more appealing now because he was beginning to forget them. He could no longer remember clearly the sound of Uncle Vernon shouting, or Aunt Petunia's pale face, or Dudley's high-pitched snorts of laughter. It was a good thing that he had been rescued, he knew, but it didn't make him like these lessons any better.
"Harry, you will sit in that position for the rest of this morning's instruction, understood?" Narcissa said. As his movement was completely restricted, Harry couldn't even nod his head. "Good. Now as I was saying, Pureblood families like the Malfoys are far superior to mixed blood families because …"
Every muscle in Harry's back and thighs was trembling with exhaustion by the time Narcissa dismissed them. For two hours she had instructed them in purity studies, explaining in detail why Malfoys could never mingle with Muggles or Muggleborns. It was all frightfully dull, and even Draco had looked glassy-eyed by the end. They had a short break before their next lesson, with a hired tutor called Mr Stanton, a severe man with high standards and a short temper. Harry used the time to sneak down to the kitchens for a quick snack, unaware that Draco was secretly following him.
"Mr Harry Potter sir!" Dobby crowed delightedly when Harry entered, and immediately the house-elves crowded around the small boy. He smiled at them pleasantly.
"Hello everyone," he said. This excited them more, naturally, until Harry was trying desperately to shush them, lest someone heard. "I've not got long, Dobby. I'd just like a small sandwich. Just a small one." Dobby leapt around joyfully.
"Oh yes, Harry Potter sir! Dobby is getting it at once!" Within minutes, Harry was being plied with several small sandwiches, with different fillings, and a large salad on the side. He took the plate gratefully, and waved cheery goodbyes to all the house-elves, who seemed simultaneously bewildered, unnerved and pleased by his friendliness.
The door closed, and Harry turned to head back up the stairs, only to find Draco leaning against the wall, watching. From the very smug look on his face, Harry had no doubt that Draco had heard every last word he had exchanged with the house-elves, and was now going to rat him out to Lucius. There would be no point in trying to stop him, because Harry had nothing to bargain with.
Suddenly, his snack was not so appealing. In fact, his stomach was beginning to hurt. He knew Lucius didn't like the house-elves because they were inferiors, and he encouraged Draco and Harry to act like him in yelling at and hitting the little servants. But every time Harry thought of doing it, he remember the Dursleys, and how they had treated him because they thought they were his superiors. It made him feel sick, and so he had actually gone out of his way to be friends with Dobby. And now he had been found out.
"I'm telling Father," Draco taunted.
"I know," said Harry. Picking out an egg sandwich, he nibbled on it as he followed Draco up the stairs to class. Stanton was not pleased the both of them were late, which cheered Harry slightly that Draco got into trouble too, but as the lesson droned – about the theory behind levitation and manipulation of floating objects, including diagrams – Harry grew more and more nervous. Lucius was always irritable when he returned from work at the Ministry, full of "blustering simpletons and scheming Mudbloods". To have Draco reveal Harry's little secret would not please him at all.
"Harry! Will you pay attention, boy!" Stanton snarled, and slammed his cane on the table inches from Harry's hand. He leaned over the table, until their eyes were level. "I'm warning you boy," he growled, "you'll get no special treatment here. You do as you're told, or so help me, I will beat you till you bleed!"
Shakily Harry nodded. He didn't doubt at all that Stanton really would beat him. For the rest of the lesson, he paid close attention. He even volunteered a few answers, which Stanton was loath to accept. Every lesson, Stanton went out of his way to remind Harry that he would "get no special treatment", though Harry could never figure out why. If anything, Draco was the one who get special treatment, which irked Harry at times. One day, he always vowed, he would beat Draco at his own game.
All too soon, the dreaded time came for Lucius to arrive home. As always, Narcissa gathered the boys and had them stand in front of the fireplace. At exactly six o'clock, Lucius stepped over the grate, not a smudge of soot on him (Harry always suspected magic, but he could never be sure).
"Good evening, Lucius," Narcissa greeted, "How was your day at work?" To all their surprise, Lucius smirked. His normal answer was a long diatribe about Weasleys, Diggorys and Aurors, but not today, apparently.
"My dear, the papers have all been officially witnessed and signed," he said. Narcissa gave a brittle smile and approached her husband.
"No questions?" she asked. Lucius snorted.
"Of course there were questions. But none were uttered, if you catch my meaning," he said. The two smirked wickedly at each other.
"Father?" Draco piped up, and Harry felt his stomach drop. All hope fled him.
"Yes?" said Lucius. There was a slight hint of annoyance in his tone that made Harry feel even worse.
"Harry did something earlier that I thought you should know," Draco said boldly. For his part, Harry wished that glares could kill, so hard was he glowering at Draco's back.
"Oh? And what was that?" Lucius said, eyeing Harry distrustfully.
"I heard him talking to the house-elves in the kitchen. He was being friendly to them, Father. They are our inferiors, and he was treating them like human beings," Draco sneered. Harry stared rigidly at the floor, but his cheeks were red with shame. It wasn't so much that he had been found out, though that was part of it; he felt embarrassed because he had disappointed Lucius, his saviour.
"Is Draco right, Harry?" came the soft reproach. Harry nodded miserably. Lucius placed a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, Draco, follow me," he ordered, and swept out of the room. A sharp glance from Narcissa sent them both scurrying after him.
Lucius led them to his office, a ground-floor room furnished entirely out of mahogany, and indicated to the chairs by the fireplace. When the boys had settled themselves, Lucius pulled from one of his robe's secret pockets a sealed envelope. He broke the wax with an ornate knife from his large desk, and opened the folded parchment within.
"Father, what is that?" Draco dared to ask, when Lucius did nothing but stare at the document in his hand. He glanced up, and smiled coldly at his son.
"This, Draco, is a legally binding contract. It states that I, Lucius Octavius Malfoy, and Narcissa Astra Malfoy, are legally made the guardians of one Harry James Potter, formally adopting said child into the Malfoy family; and additionally, altering the full name of said child to include the new family name, thus becoming Harry James Malfoy-Potter, effective immediately, and witnessed by the undersigned." Lucius looked up with a sly smirk on his face.
Harry stared, trying to comprehend the words and failing abysmally. Draco didn't appear to have done much better, and with a frown, he asked, "What does all that mean?"
"It means that Harry is now legally a Malfoy. He is my foster son, and heir to whatever I choose to leave him in my will. Furthermore, it means that he is your foster brother, Draco." The pale boy seemed stunned to hear this, and sat in shock for a long moment. Harry himself was not much better. "What this also means, boys, is that I expect you to start behaving like Malfoy brothers. I want to hear no more tales about one another. If you have disagreements, you must sort them out yourselves. It is unbefitting your station, Draco." The boy in question flushed and looked down. "Now go to the table. I have a few words I must speak with your brother." The term seemed to jar with Draco, judging by the perplexed look on his face, but he did as he was told.
Harry glanced up at his new foster father, feeling indebted and oddly trapped. Tucking the document away, Lucius took Draco's seat, and folded his hands on his knees, as Narcissa had taught in the morning's instruction. Lucius looked at Harry expectantly, so Harry sought for something to say. "Thank you," was what he eventually came up with, though it sounded weak even to his young ears. Lucius smirked.
"It was entirely my pleasure," he said, a sly twist to his words that Harry didn't comprehend. Lucius leaned forward. "I don't know what Draco was talking about regarding you and certain house-elves, and to be perfectly honest I would really rather not know. I simply do not care. However, I expect members of my family to behave in a manner appropriate to their upbringing and position in society." Harry nodded guiltily, feeling even worse for the knowledge that he would have to start being cruel to Dobby.
"Yes sir," he murmured. Lucius snapped his fingers, causing Harry to look up sharply.
"However," he said clearly, "if one should feel the need to behave in an inappropriate manner, it would be wise for one to be discreet about it." Harry blinked in confusion, causing Lucius to smirk. "Even Draco is not as obedient as he pretends to be, though he thinks I do not know it. You would do well to copy Draco's words and actions where you can. You are not a born Malfoy, Harry, and thus you are never going to be as good as Draco. But I expect you to strive towards that goal of perfection. It will please me if you do." Swallowing thickly, Harry nodded, and at a gesture from Lucius, he slipped out of the door and padded over to the dining room.
Waiting for Lucius to join them at table, Harry felt burdened with expectation. He knew without a doubt that he would try to please Lucius; after all, it was the least he could do for the man who had saved him. But a small part of him was resentful, and it was that part of him which mourned for his life with the Dursleys, where they expected him to amount to absolutely nothing.
He was turning seven next month, but faced with such pressure, he suddenly felt much older.
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