Disclaimer is in chapter 1.

Draco Malfoy glared as his mother arrived home, Alexander Harris in tow. They were both dressed in muggle attire, and his lips curled slightly at that.

"Where have you been, dressed like that?"

His mother turned slowly to look at him, one eyebrow raising as she sneered back at him, "Do you truly dare presume to demand information from me?"

Draco swallowed involuntarily at her cold tone, falling back a step from her. "I... No, Mother. I apologize."

She stared for a long moment, then nodded curtly before walking away.

Draco shook his head in silence for a moment, unable to get his thoughts together. It wasn't often his mother turned her presence on him, but he never wanted to feel it again when it happened.

"Your mom is a scary lady."

"You have no idea." Draco answered the statement before his mind fully engaged, then he glared at Xander. "Where were you anyway?"

"Out." Xander shrugged. "Not my place to tell you, it was her business."

"What do you have to do with my mother's business?" Draco curled his lip up, eyeing the American like he was a piece of dung on the floor.

Xander'd been pinned with worse, and just shrugged it off. "Think about, man. Why would she invite me here, really? It's not to setup a play date between you and me."

Draco snorted, shaking his head as he cracked an unwilling smirk. "You're a twisted fool, Harris."

"So I've been told."

Draco sighed, looking at his fellow Slytherin, "Good God, man. Have you no dignity? What are you wearing?"

"What?" Xander glanced down, "This is what rich and powerful non magicals wear on business, man."

"You're joking."

"Nope. I have a cheap one at home, I used when I had to do some banking last summer, but it didn't fit anymore. This one cost..." Xander frowned, trying to work out the exchange rate. "Probably around a hundred and fifty galleons I guess."

Draco's eyes widened. It wasn't the most expensive outfit he'd heard of, in fact he owned a few that topped it, but they were all far fancier in design and material. "For that? That's ludicrous."

"No, twenty thousand galleons for my trunk is ludicrous," Xander snorted. "This is just pricy. You should get one, you know, they're dead useful for when you have to go into London."

"Me? Dress like a common muggle?"

"Nothing common about this suit, man." Xander smirked, letting his jacket fall open as he slid his hand into his pants pocket. "Anyway, I'm beat. It's been a long friggin day. When's this Quidditch cup thing anyway?"

"Three weeks." Draco answered, smirking at the thought but his eyes noting the wands jammed into Harris' belt, "The Bulgarians are going to wipe the pitch with the Irish. Krum can't be beat."

"Yeah? Cool." Xander shrugged, as he walked past Draco and headed back to his room, "Don't know the teams. You think it'll be a decent game, though?"

Draco considered it, then allowed, "Sure. The Irish have a better team this year, so it'll probably be tighter than it should be."

"Sounds like fun." Xander stretched his neck.

"Hey." Draco stopped him, a hand on Xander's shoulder. "You do know you can't carry two wands like that, right? It's not legal."

"It is for me." Xander said, "Wand Crafter, level one. ICW Cert."

This time Draco's eyes widened more and he turned to look at Xander, "You can't be serious."

"Why not?" Xander shrugged, "It's easy."

"Wand making is a family secret!" Draco hissed.

"Wand Crafting isn't." Xander shrugged, "The basics are easy to learn. The real trick is being any good at it."

Draco was silent for a moment, hand dropping as Xander continued on past. Just as Xander reached the door to his room, Draco spoke up again.

"Are you?"

"What?" Xander paused, looking back.

"Any good at it?"

"Passing fair." Xander said after a moment's contemplation. "I'm no threat to Ollivander, but my wands have a couple edges."

Then he was gone, the door to his room closing, leaving Draco alone to consider the other boy.

When Lucius arrived home it was late in the evening, he set his cane down by his desk and settled in to his favorite chair to relax a bit. His meetings of the day with his Minister had gone well. The greedy fool was only to eager to accept any properly coached idea that included a generous donation on the back end, and while it would cut into his monthly budget, Lucius suspected that he'd make it back within two more months and be solidly in the black for the deal at the start of a third.

The new legislation would make it more difficult for muggle-borns to own vital businesses within the magical world. That would cut out some of the competition he'd been encountering of late, letting him raise the prices for magical ink and parchment.

That would put the Prophet within his palm by the end of the year.

Lucius smiled, knowing that the beating the old fool had taken in the press the previous year would leave him open to attack. With the Prophet dancing to his command, Albus Dumbledore and his Golden Boy would be in for very hard times soon enough.

He'd also managed to get the Werewolf laws tightened some more, thanks to Lupin raging around the grounds of Hogwarts. Soon even those few of that filthy cadre that had employment would have a difficult time keeping it. That should provide cheap, yet skilled labor to handle the expected upturn in his businesses.

All in all, it was a good few weeks work.

Now, if only he'd managed to get Black killed as well.

The blond man's lips tightened around his teeth as the thoughts of Black's escape caused his stomach to churn again. He'd been so close. How the man had survived so many years in Azkaban, Lucius didn't know, but his death would have put Draco directly into the Black title. The Black money was inconsequential though, thanks to himself and Lestrange, far from insignificant. The Title, however, would have locked his control over the Black proxies at the Wizengamot.

Now that fool was running loose in the states and, if Lucius' sources were correct, had made significant changes to the disposition of the family. Just what changes, he didn't know. The Goblins were keeping that tight to the chests, not even large offers of bribes being able to open their blasted claws.

"Oh well," He sighed, reaching for a decanter of fire whiskey and pouring himself a couple fingers of the amber liquid. "Two out of three isn't bad."

"Two out of three what isn't bad, husband?"

Lucius glanced up, long years of practice keeping him from looking surprised by his wife's unexpected arrival. "Nothing, dear. Just thinking about some political maneuvering I've been working on."

"Ah." Narcissa nodded, stepping over and pouring herself a drink to match his. "A similar day to mine."

"Oh?" Lucius asked with a curious smile. "Something to do with our guest I presume?"

She nodded, taking a sip of the searing liquid. "Yes. An agreement with his family lines will be beneficial."

Lucius nodded, not pressing. He knew that his wife was obsessed with the Black Line, and didn't want to get into that again. She was staying clear of Sirius, so it didn't concern him. Soon the Black line would be ended, one way or another, and then she could focus on the Malfoy name.

He just needed to learn what, precisely, Black had done about the disposition of the Black assets and title. Then he could counter it, and kill Black.

Well, have him killed, of course.

No need for him to go running about the barbaric wilderness of the Americas, there would be plenty willing to do that on his behalf, after all.

"Whatever you think, my dear." He said aloud, toasting her with his glass.

"He's an interesting boy," She said, "He carries a pair of wands, you know."

"Oh?" Lucius raised an eyebrow, thinking he saw an easy way to score some points and earn a debt. "Did he get caught? I suppose I can speak with the Minister."

"No need. He's certified by the ICW as a Crafter. Level one, of course," She shrugged, idly waving her glass, "Yet still."

"Huh." Lucius said thoughtfully, leaning back.

He knew several people who had wrote that exam, and had been informed that it wasn't terribly easy. One had to have good knowledge of magical creatures, the properties of wood, and the interaction of all types of magic with a focus. He had never bothered to write it himself, he didn't need to make use of that thinly disguised loophole the ICW had shoved through. In Britain crafters were rare, the skill buried by the ministry mostly due to that ICW decision.

For a few decades it had been illegal in Britain, Bulgaria, France, most of Europe really, to carry two wands. The ostensible reason was that one wand was easier for Aurors to deal with when it came to investigating a crime. The real reason was that the Ministry had resources available at the time to track wand usage, and wanted to know who was casting what spells at all times.

The Americas chafed at the restrictions when visiting civilized society, however, and managed to ally with a few other nations on the ICW to push through a few loopholes that would be enforced internationally. The European ministries probably would have fought harder, but only a couple decades later effective countermeasures to the Ministry detection scheme had become public and the point was moot.

Still, the Ministry preferred if Wizards had one wand, the one registered as theirs. It made things simpler, after all, if you could be confident that you'd snapped the right one in case of crimes against the state.

It made it easy since Ollivander owned the only legally licensed Wand Shop in Britain and, as far as mudbloods were concerned, the only one at all.

Still, Lucius had to admit that it was mildly impressive, so he said as much to his wife.

"Impressive. When did he write that?"

"This summer." She said, "Apparently he and his friends have been making wands for a year or so."

"There's more to him than the brash imbecile, then." Lucius said contemplatively.

"Indeed, I believe there is."

"Well, good luck in your familial endeavors, my dear."

Narcissa smiled, "And to you in your political ones."

Albus Percival Wulfric Dumbledore frowned slightly to himself as he worked through the paperwork that had been piling up in his office. In addition to his normal reams of parchment, detailing the day to day running of the school, and the yearly headache of finding a new Defense Professor, he now had to deal with constant nonsense associated with the tri wizard tournament that was to be held at Hogwarts.

It was a necessary evil, in his mind, bringing back the ancient competition. Voldemort was on the move again, and relations between the nation members of the ICW had fractured even farther than they had been in the darkest days of the last war. From their height, just after Grindlewald's death, relations had plummeted to all-time lows in recent years.

It was a situation that couldn't be permitted to continue, not with Tom's power sure to rise once more. Unfortunately, Fudge seemed bound and determined to destroy everything he could build. The latest legislation in the Wizengamot was just one more example, pushing muggle-born businesses out of the Wizarding World and sometimes entirely out of the country, and making the lives of Werewolves even harder to endure, these were not things calculated to make Britain popular in nations such as France that had actively protected it's non-human magical population against the likes of Grindlewald despite huge risks and equally huge losses of lives and property.

Even the massively pro pureblood, and still dark leaning, nations like Bulgaria had little but contempt for the anti-werewolf laws of Great Britain. In fact, Lycans controlled large portions of Eastern Europe, and even had strong presences in many western European cities such as Paris and Rome.

Politically they had little power, but great influence, and while Lycan packs were often involved in Organized Crime in those nations, they still maintained a level of decorum with the Wizarding public that kept their political ships from being sunk so easily.

The old man sighed, feeling his age. Reports from Remus Lupin had begun coming back to him of what were called underground railroads, for some reason. Networks of people who were sneaking Werewolves out of the country in open defiance of the Ministry's refusal of passage.

He had made a mistake, Albus admitted to himself, when he did not oppose Fudge's election campaign. At the time the man seemed no worse than any other candidate, in fact a great deal better than many. He was corrupt, true, but Albus had long since learned that Corruption was the way of Government. He decided for himself some time ago that so long as they did their jobs, he would ignore the kickbacks and bribes.

Cornelius was no longer doing his job, however. Sometime in the past few years, Lucius Malfoy had moved from minor opposition to the real power behind the throne, and with the beating he'd taken in the press over the Chamber of Secrets, Albus now found that Cornelius no longer listened to him.

So, in an effort to limit the damage the man was causing, he had not opposed the Tri Wizard Tournament as he normally might have. It was a dangerous contest, after all, even with all the concessions he had managed to wring from the others involved.

Dragons, Merfolk, and lets not even think of what would be waiting the contestants in the final trial. Even without the possibility of accidents, it was potentially lethal. And Albus knew well that one could never, ever, discount accidents.

He sighed, but signed off on the final details before pushing the parchment into the 'done' pile.

The next was a note from Mrs. Figg, and Albus turned his full attention on it.

' Let's see, ' He thought as he read it. ' A Limo picked up Harry and returned him a few hours later? What's a limo? '

He got up and walked over to the Floo, grabbing some powder and tossing it in. "Arthur Weasley's Office!"

The fire flashed green, and a moment later he saw Arthur's face appear in the flames.

"Yes, Headmaster?"

"Arthur, I just received a note from Arabella about Harry..."

"Is he alright?" Arthur immediately asked, concerned.

"Fine, fine. She just said that he had been picked up by a limo. I'm not familiar with the term, are you?"

"Limo... limo..." Arthur frowned, thinking. "I do believe that's a kind of muggle motor cart."

"Ah yes, well that explains it. I suppose Harry must have had some appointment or another with the muggles." Dumbledore said thoughtfully.

"Sounds like it. Are we still picking him up next week?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Yes."

"Should we ask him about it then?"

"No, Harry isn't aware of Mrs. Figg and it's safer if fewer people know."

"Alright then. Is there anything else, Headmaster?"

"No, that's all, thank you."

The fire flared again, then died down to its normal cheery reddish orange as Albus turned back to the rest of his paperwork.

Sunnydale.

Jessica Lavelle nodded politely to Matriarch Lavelle as she sat down across the coffee table from the woman.

"I presume that you have decided?"

"We have." Jessica said, "And we're willing to go with the family's wishes on this matter."

"Excellent."

"We do have some stipulations, however." Jessica said firmly.

The older woman smiled, "I expected you might."

"First, the family has requested this, so the family will support any child born of this agreement." Jessica said quite firmly. "Whether the child has magic or not."

"Agreed. The family will reserve the right to negate the agreement at any time, up until an agreed on child has been conceived, however."

Jessica nodded, "Agreed. We won't be a baby factory for the family, though. We get final say on if we desire another child."

"Of course."'

"We raise the children, they're ours." Jessica was quite firm. She regretted many of her slips with Alexander, and wanted to try and redeem herself in her own eyes.

"Provided they're not mistreated," Lady Lavelle held up a hand, "I'm not suggesting anything, Jessica, just being careful."

Jessica sighed, but nodded, "Yes, of course. Who decides what constitutes mistreatment?"

"Third party? Non-magical social services perhaps?"

"Acceptable, we'll have to agree on an arbiter, in case of disputes."

"Of course. That's standard, Jessica." Lady Lavelle said, a little affronted that Jessica would think she didn't know that.

"Then I think we have an agreement in principal."

"On my word."

"I think we'll have it writing, Lady." Jessica smiled tightly, "Not that I doubt your word, but even you won't live forever."

"Of course."

The Lady Lavelle understood her great, great, grand niece's reticence. The family hadn't treated er as well as it might have, nor had her husband's. Such things were tragic, in their way, but tended to happen no matter how much one might wish otherwise. As the Matriarch of the Family Line, her responsibilities were more to the future than the present.

Young Alexander showed a great deal of promise, not only with magic in general, but as an adept of the mental arts. Granted, it was unlikely that he would ever reach the peaks of the art that his potential allowed, he had started too late for that, but his genes were invaluable to the family if nothing else.

She had been keeping it quiet for the moment, but rumors were already starting to spread about his potential. An Adept of the Lavelle branch would be highly in demand as a husband and father, even if he were an otherwise worthless individual. Since, by all reports, Alexander was far from worthless... The Lady Lavelle found his potential future, in the short term, to be rather amusing indeed.

Which brought her to the second point of her visit to Sunnydale this time around.

"Well, with the agreement in principal settled, why don't we move on to more pleasant things?" She smiled, taking a sip of the coffee served up between them.

"Certainly, my Lady." Jessica nodded.

"I understand that the Lord Black is living in this area," The Lavelle Matriarch probed, less than subtly. With anyone else she might be more circumspect, but Jessica had trained with her when she was younger, more than almost anyone she would see through the subtleties.

Jessica smirked slightly as she sipped at her coffee, "Yes. Sirius is currently living in the area. I'm not sure for how long, though."

"Oh?"

"I expect he'll return to England at the first sign of trouble with his Godson."

"Ah."

That was worrisome. Her research indicated that Black was the only remaining holder of another highly sought after blood trait. The notorious Black Sense. If he were to run back to England, given the current state of affairs within their ministry, it was entirely possible that he'd be killed out of hand.

That would be a tragic waste.

"His cousin, Narcissa Black Malfoy will try and prevent this," Jessica said softly, "someone who wanted to save him from himself might look to her as an ally."

"Indeed?" The Lady Lavelle mused to herself. "I see. And the man himself?"

"Is not interested in saving his own life, merely that of his Godson."

The older woman hummed thoughtfully, "I see."

Young Mr. Potter, than. Another attractive male within this little web Alexander had found himself in. She would have to look into whether the Potter family had any interesting blood traits, but even without them it hardly mattered.

Politically, Mr. Potter was worth his weight in Platinum.

His name was infamous in almost every magical nation on the planet, and according to the best sources she could scrape together, he was of more than average magical strength, though the numbers were distinctly confused. His near antisocial tendencies made it difficult to get a hard read.

With coaching he could be a political power house, regardless of magical potency.

Her grandnephew, however many times removed, seemed to have a rather impressive bit of luck on his side. He seemed to find himself right at the fulcrum of several crossing events, poised to strongly affect the outcome of what was, if she was reading things correctly, history in the making.

Topics shifted to idle conversation as the Lady Lavelle's mind considered how she might position the Lavelle clans to best benefit from this strange conjunction of events.