This chapter will bring to light exactly where the term, 'Istar' comes from. There will be some cross-over themes within this story that meld with another favorite book series of mine.
Draco stared at himself in his mirror, eyeing his chosen ensemble for the evening.
If the choice had been left to him, he'd have stayed hidden in his suite of rooms and allowed his parents to host this farce of a dinner party, but that wasn't going to happen.
He couldn't even feign a case of Dragon Pox, to get out of this travesty.
Then a soft pop was heard from behind him and when he turned around, it was to the wide eyes of his personal House Elf, Bibi, who was rolling her hands around, clearly fretting...
"Master, you needed downstairs. The guests have arrived."
"Shite.." he mumbled to himself and then nodded, "Thank you, Bibi. I'll be down in a moment."
His elf popped away, leaving him alone for a much needed moment to collect his thoughts. His Mother wouldn't be pleased with him, not being there to greet their guests. Grabbing his wand, he disapparated, and reappeared outside the receiving room, sauntering in and coming to a complete stop when he saw Potter standing there—decked out in what were obviously, a new set of formal robes.
His steely gaze then flittered towards Hermione, and for a split second he allowed himself to take in her appearance. She looked stunning and he could see the clear resolve behind her gaze.
She didn't look happy to be here either.
And then the truth hit him, and he grimaced slightly...
The last time she'd been in his home was when...
Fuck!
He didn't even want to think about that day, and he couldn't imagine what was going through her own mind at this very moment.
Thankfully, his Mother decided to put an end to his inner dialogue...
"There you are, Draco. As you can see, our guests have arrived."
Bringing his formal manners to the forefront, he bowed in welcome...even if his jaw was clenched and his teeth were locked in ire.
"Thank you for the invitation, Lady Malfoy." Hermione's voice was unwavering, but not unkind...
When his eyes met Hermione's again, there was barely a simmer of emotion at all.
"We are gratified to have you all here," his Mother responded politely, "dinner will be served in thirty minutes. Draco did mention to me the other day, how impressed he was with your family library, Pierre. Perhaps, if you're all in agreement, we might venture to our library here?"
Pierre glanced down at his daughter, who simply nodded once.
"That would be most welcome, Narcissa."
Lucius took his wife's arm, and Pierre did the same for his daughter, leaving Draco and Harry to walk behind their small group together.
Draco so wanted to refuse to speak with Potter, but knew that he'd have to grin and bear it at some point in the evening, and perhaps it was best to just get it over with.
"New set of dress robes?" He drawled emotionlessly, and felt Potter side-eyeing him skeptically.
"Yes."
He dropped his voice lower, so only Potter could hear him, "How was she about coming back here?"
Eyebrows lifted in surprise at the question, but all Potter replied with was, "Resigned."
"Hmmm."
A few moments later, they all strolled into the Malfoy Family Library, and Draco smirked, at the flummoxed expression on Hermione's face. She quickly disengaged from her Father and made her way over to the nearest bookshelf, mumbling the names of certain titles that captured her interest.
"Angel, do try and refrain from getting lost."
Hermione huffed, "That was one time, Papa—and I was hardly lost."
"What would you have called it?"
Amber eyes glanced over her shoulder and she grinned, before replying with, "I can hardly be blamed for wishing to beg off my dance lessons, Papa. Lady Seraphine was a menace."
"That she was." Pierre agreed readily.
"Lady Seraphine?" Narcissa inquired with interest, "The head of the Dauphine Magical Ballet?"
"The very one." Pierre offered, while he watched his daughter move gracefully over to another book shelf and peruse through the contents, "Angelique was a talented ballerina, and started Hermione in lessons at the age of three. By eleven, she was prodigy, but preferred reading books to taking dance."
"And yet I continued on with it until sixteen."
"Yes, you did," Pierre smiled affectionately at his only child, "your mother would've approved."
Harry grinned at his best friend, stating teasingly, "You never told me this, Hermione."
She turned around and rolled her eyes playfully, replying, "I do have a few secrets, Harry."
"Such as?"
This had come from Draco, and Hermione turned to him and shrugged before quipping sassily, "I can speak four languages, play piano, violin and cello. My singing voice is passable..."
Pierre coughed and interrupted with, "More than passable, Angel."
"Fine. I was trained in Opera too."
Draco's eyebrows lifted, and one look over at his parents, told him that they were just as stunned as he was.
Potter's shoulders however, were shaking with mirth.
"What's so funny, Harry?"
"Nothing, Hermione. Just trying to picture you on a large stage, singing Opera in front of a crowd in your bossiest tone of voice..."
She snickered, and Draco's mouth lifted into a half-smile, while his Father actually cracked a grin.
"Nice, Harry."
"Sorry, Hermione."
"No, you're not."
"Guilty as charged."
Pierre watched his daughter and her best friend, and could easily see the warm affection they held for each other. It was so clear to see, that he wasn't surprised by the look of irritation on the face of the youngest Malfoy.
Deciding to cut to the chase, he spoke up, "Your library is most impressive, but I'm fairly certain not the reason we've been invited here this evening?"
"No," this was from Lucius, "it was not."
"Then perhaps it might be easier to discuss the particulars after dinner?"
Narcissa nodded, and at that moment one of the Malfoy elves popped into the library, announcing dinner was ready.
Pierre took his daughter's arm and led her from the library downstairs to a large formal dining room. He had to give his Angel credit, she didn't seem to be too traumatized by returning to the place of her torture, but perhaps her demeanor was more due to her own stubbornness than disaffection.
Dinner was a lovely affair, superbly detailed down to the paired wines, delicate cheeses and sumptuous dessert. About two hours later, the small group found themselves sipping coffee in a small parlour, with a warm fire shining a soft glow along the artwork within the room.
"That was a lovely dinner, Narcissa," Pierre offered kindly, "the wines in particular, were very well done."
"Thank you, Pierre," Narcissa responded with a slight bow of her head, "Lucius has always excelled at picking just the right vintage for each course."
"I'm not a huge fan of sparkling wines, but the rosé was quite refreshing."
"It's one of our latter vintages," Lucius drawled in that haughty way of his, "but perhaps we might table the social niceties, and discuss why we're here?"
"A wise idea." Pierre replied.
Lucius gazed over at his son, and Draco sighed and then nodded.
"Perhaps it might be a good idea to start from the beginning," Lucius offered evenly, "as I'm sure you're aware, Pierre, House Malfoy was founded nearly 1000 years ago, by my ancestor Armand Malfoy. Prior to his sojourn here to this country, the Malfoy family hailed from Marseilles, France and were known under the moniker of Malfoi, which in its earliest incarnation, was from the old French. Are you familiar with the Ardante, Pierre?"
"Cursorily," Pierre nodded, "I believe it refers to something called the enjoining. An ancient rite that has not been practiced in well over 15 centuries, Lucius."
"I'm sorry?" Hermione interrupted softly, seeing Harry's matching look of confusion, "But I've never heard of the Ardante?"
"It's not surprising, Miss Alphonse," Lucius replied, "there are not many who have. Centuries past, when Witches and Wizards practiced elemental magic, only those who held the greatest of power, could practice as such. Merlin, Morgana, and the Druids were purveyors of these kind of Magic's."
"I do know a bit about that," she admitted, "but what does that have to do with us?"
"What do you know about werewolf bonds, Miss Alphonse?"
"Well," she glanced over at Harry nervously, and could see his shoulders stiffening at the mention of werewolves. Neither one of them had forgotten that it had been due to Lucius Malfoy that Remus had lost his position as their Defense Professor Third Year, "werewolves carry a venom that usually can only be transmitted on the night of the full moon, but I do believe Greyback was an exception to this?"
Lucius nodded, and Draco's face pinched in disgust at the reminder of the feral beast.
"Werewolves have mates, but it's exceedingly rare for an Alpha to find its mate. Our former defense Professor Lupin was mated to his wife, Dora Tonks, but from what Remus shared with us, it's not common."
"No, it isn't," Lucius admitted lowly, "in most cases, werewolves have larger packs with an Alpha, Beta's and Omega's. Each live within the hierarchy of the pack. The Alpha, is the leader and most powerful. The Beta's are workers, and the Omega's breeders. The Ardante bonds, are similar in that there is a hierarchy...or a triad if you will. An Alpha, an Omega and an Istar."
"What's an Istar?" Hermione asked intrigued, never hearing the word before.
"It believe it comes from the term, Istari." Pierre clarified.
"Excuse me?" Hermione turned to her Father and gaped at him, "Like in the Lord of the Rings?"
Pierre chuckled and nodded, enjoying the gobsmacked look on his daughter's face and the looks of confusion from the others.
"I'm sorry," Draco murmured, "but what is that?"
"It's a book, that was written by a man JRR Tolkien. I believe he was a squib." Pierre clarified.
"Really?" Hermione queried, and her Father nodded.
"I don't understand?" Lucius questioned, trying to figure out the exact connection, "Are you saying a squib wrote a book about these Istari?"
"Yes," Pierre hummed, "decades ago. In the book, the Istari were known as messengers from what he called the Valar. In the canon of these novels, within the world Tolkien created, the Istari were said to be a group of Spirits who originated as members of the ancient Ainur, but later were known as the Maiar. In the books, there was a Dark Lord, Sauron, who created a horcrux—the one ring. He was defeated for a time, but his spirit remained and because of this, the Valar sent emissaries forth, in the guise of Men, but many of these were mistaken for members of a race called the Eldar—the high elves, of which their descendants, or perhaps what remains of their Magic, are likely what we commonly know of today as House Elves. The Maiar in these stories, were denoted by a specific color, and each carried a staff, from which some of their powers seemed to originate, and these staffs were likely the precursor of the wands we now carry. The number of the original Maiar were unknown, but in the books there were five, and all held elemental magics. It has been theorized amongst some, that of the five Maiar in the books, two of them may have been the progenitors of Magic as we know it. The elves within the story, had their own languages, which were believed to have been lost, or at least until Tolkien wrote his books. The chief amongst these languages were denoted within the tale by the word Wizard, and this was translated from the Quenyan word istar or the Sindarin word ithron: both of which were believed to be the original languages of the High Elves."
Hermione smiled at her Father, remembering fondly how he had read to her the books of Tolkein as a child, but she'd never put much stock into how the words on the pages of the author's fiction, might've been based in fact.
"Are you saying, Papa—that there is some truth to Tolkien's words?"
"I've always suspected their might be, but never had any proof of such until now," he glanced back to Lucius and asked, "and you're saying that is what was written within the Ardante?"
Lucius turned to his son, and Draco nodded deciding to share what he'd discovered.
"The Malfoy family has within our library, a room which is known as the sanctum. It can only be entered by those of Malfoy blood, and we do have an original copy of the Ardante."
Pierre leant forward, his eyes gleaming with curiosity, asking, "And?"
"The moon, the sun and the Istar dwell in the abyss, and announce to the world what they are to expect. Their magic is enjoined, from ages undone and triumph over all to claim their rightful place as the one."
Pierre sat back and pondered these words, and with one look at his daughter, noted that she too, appeared as perplexed as he was.
"There's more." Draco drawled.
"Oh?"
"Yes, Sir. In the sanctum, there's an old Prophecy that has likely been there at least as long as the founding of House Malfoy. When I finished reading the words within the Ardante, the orb glowed and I heard the Prophecy."
"Which was?" Hermione asked tightly, while Harry sat back, his arms folded in what Draco could only describe as irritation.
He sighed and then reiterated the Prophecy...
Alpha and Omega...the first and the last shall be
It's power unrivaled
Passed through shadow and death
Marks each as equals
A hallowed triad
The moon, the sun and the Istar
Dwell together eternally
Everyone was quiet for an interminable amount of time, until Hermione finally spoke, "I think I understand at least one part of the Prophecy."
All eyes were on her, but Harry nodded in understanding, so she took the Elder Wand out of her bag and handed it to her best friend.
"Is that what I think it is?" Draco breathed out shakily.
"Yes," Harry replied evenly, "the Elder Wand."
Lucius gaze was openly fixated on it, while Narcissa looked like she wanted to say something, but thought better of it.
"I'm not sure I fully understand." Draco admitted.
With a single glance at Hermione, Harry forged ahead...
Knowing deep down, he didn't really have a choice at this point.
"I'm assuming that the three of you are familiar with the Tale of the Three Brothers?"
"Yes." Lucius drawled out, his gaze still fixated on the Deathstick.
"Do you know the significance of the items in the story, and what they represent?"
All three Malfoy's shook their heads in the negative.
"Are you familiar with the term, Deathly Hallows?"
Again, the same response.
Harry turned his gaze back to Hermione, and she pulled the book out of her beaded bag, that Dumbledore had left her after his passing.
"Is that an original copy?" Narcissa queried softly, and Hermione nodded.
"It is. It belonged to Dumbledore, and he left it to me after he died."
"Why?" Draco inquired, confusion marring his aristocratic features.
She opened the book and found the page she was looking for, before handing it to Draco and pointed to the small runic insignia at the top of the page.
"That rune there, denotes the Deathly Hallows. Xenophilius Lovegood shared with us, while we were out on the run, what this runic symbol means. The outer triangle depicts the Invisibility Cloak that the third brother received from Death in the story. This is the same cloak that Harry has."
Draco's eyebrows lifted, remembering well Potter's cloak from sixth year on the Hogwarts Express. Based on Scarhead's scowl, the git was remembering that moment too.
"The circle inside the triangle, represents the Resurrection Stone, given to the second brother. The single line bisecting the rune, is representative of the Elder Wand, which was given to the first brother. Each of these items are known as hallows, but to have possession of all three makes one, Master of Death."
Draco's face turned back to Potter, as did both his parents, who were eyeing the Boy Who Lived speculatively.
"You have all three?" Draco asked, and Harry nodded.
"I'm the Master of Death."
"Shite."
"Draco!" His Mother admonished, and he winced at her rebuke, while Pierre just smirked.
"Sorry, Mum."
"That's how you were able to survive the killing curse a second time?" Lucius inquired deeply.
"Yes and no," Harry replied stoically, his green gaze locked onto the elder Malfoy and he wasn't even trying to hide his open dislike of the older wizard, "the night Voldemort (the Malfoy's cringed and Hermione rolled her eyes, which caused Pierre to chuckle) killed my parents, and then tried to kill me, his spell rebounded due to a blood protection spell my Mother placed upon me at the moment of her death. Voldemort's soul fractured, and that piece attached itself to me. I was the horcrux he never intended to make. When he sent the killing curse in the Forbidden Forest, it killed the piece of his soul attached to mine. At the moment the spell collided with me, I was taken to a waiting area if you will, and spoke with Dumbledore. I had the choice to return, and because I was Master of Death, I did."
"And killed the Dark Lord." Lucius offered, to which Harry smirked back.
"Not sorry." He gritted out.
"No one is sad that monster is dead, Mr. Potter," Lucius parlayed back, "least of all my family."
"Could've fooled me."
"Harry." Hermione's voice was soft, and only slightly rebuking, but he just shook his head.
"Look, I get that whatever is going on here, involves Hermione, myself and Malfoy, but what I don't get, is how in the world does it matter? Hermione is stuck in a blood marriage contract, and as far as I can tell, I'm kinda the odd man out here. If Hermione decides to give this thing with you, Malfoy, an honest try, as much as I'd not like the idea, I won't stand in her way."
"Really?" Draco sneered contemptuously, "Didn't look that way earlier today."
"Draco!" Hermione hissed, "Don't be a prat!"
"Excuse me for not being thrilled at seeing my betrothed half naked in the arms of someone other than myself!"
The expressions on Draco's parents faces were priceless. Lucius looked like he'd bit into something sour, and Narcissa was smirking smugly, as if she wasn't surprised at all.
However, her Father just sat back, arms folded and looking far too pleased with himself.
"I was under the impression that the contract expressly forbade such relations other than with your intended?" Lucius remarked, his voice back to his haughty disdainful one.
"Based on the language of the day," Pierre supplied helpfully, "it likely meant penetration. Quite the loophole."
Harry coughed, and Hermione blushed, while Draco just glared at them both.
"How thoughtful," Draco bit out, "so at least if nothing else, my soon to be wife will at least technically remain a virgin until our wedding night?"
"Consummation clause leading to procreation notwithstanding," Pierre piped in, looking now like the cat who'd gotten the cream, "I do believe that's another loophole our dear ancestors didn't foresee as a possibility."
"What do you mean?" Narcissa inquired, and both Harry and Hermione were trying awfully hard not to react.
"Muggles have a procedure called in vitro," Pierre explained smugly, "sexual intercourse isn't required. They can take sperm from the male, and artificially inseminate the eggs from the female, and voila!"
The matching horrified looks on the Malfoy's faces, frankly, were to be expected, but then hardened silver grey eyes turned to her, and Hermione could see the blistering suppressed rage there...
...but deep down, there was a flicker of hurt too...
Had she not known what to look for, she might've missed it.
Then suddenly, Draco stood up and stormed out of the parlour, leaving everyone staring after him utterly speechless.