Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.

Chapter 33: The End of the Beginning (Pt. 1)

Updated 8/18/2015: To correct my failed attempts at Italian. Future chapters featuring the Countess Zabini will have a Beta who can proofread Italian for me.

20 June 1992

In the end, Slytherin won the House Cup by forty points. After discovering that Professor Snape was not in his rooms, Olivia Kolumbiko used her cheetah Patronus to send a message to Snape, McGonagall and Flitwick advising them that she had an important message from Harry Potter about a life-threatening emergency involving Professor Quirrell and "some stone" stored on the Third Floor. It was actually Flitwick who awarded her ten points for quick thinking and a creative use of an extremely difficult Charm. Harry made a point of not gloating or even looking at Jim as Dumbledore awarded the Cup to the Sytherins, which the Boy-Who-Lived thought was probably the nicest gesture Harry had ever made to him.

Hermione finished the year top-ranked among the firsties, as expected, though Neville topped her in Herbology and Harry narrowly did in DADA. In potions, she only beat out Lavender Brown by two points, which the other girl accepted with good humor even as she promised to study all summer long so she could beat Hermione in the fall. Among Slytherins, Harry finished at the top, followed by Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, and Draco Malfoy. Theo Nott had solid grades, and Crabbe and Goyle passed by a comfortable margin to the astonishment of them both. Jim barely snuck into the top ten in his class, with Ron quite a bit lower. Finally, early on the morning of the 20th, the students loaded onto the Hogwarts Express for the long journey home. For Harry, that meant the Dursleys, though he'd been communicating with his solicitors for weeks and was actually looking forward to seeing his relatives again ... and their reaction to the changes that were forthcoming.

As his two sons were boarding the train for home, James Potter was hundreds of miles away, sitting in a stately office with a panoramic window view of Gringotts Bank and the London skyline beyond it. While Harry communicated with his solicitors through owls, James had both the time and money for a private consultation. The receptionist, a pretty young Beauxbatons graduate named Yvette, presented him with a tray of tea, watercress sandwiches and biscuits and politely asked "Lord Potter" to wait patiently for just a few minutes, as her employer was on an important floo call but would be in soon. Left to his own devices, James took in the expensive artwork on the walls and the antique desk in front of the window. He considered once again how well his friend had done for himself over the last decade, a success that was due in no small part James' own patronage. As he waited, James idly bit into a macaroon while thinking back to his last conversation with Dumbledore. The old man wasn't totally on board. He was still outraged by James' treatment of Harry, which was only fair since James was quite disgusted with it himself. But once James had revealed his secret to the Headmaster, Albus agreed to remain neutral in the Wizengamot, at least for the time being. He still insisted that he would reveal the Prophecy to Harry if and when he mastered Occlumency. James shuddered. He remembered his own Occlumency training at the Auror Academy. He'd reached third level (the minimum requirement for an auror) and stopped, unnerved by the way Occlumency affected his personality, and he was uncomfortable with Harry learning it, let alone Jim. Of course, he'd pretty much forfeited his right to forbid Harry from studying the field at this point, but he hoped the boy wouldn't delve too far into mind magic.

Suddenly, the door opened, and a dignified man roughly James's age strode in. He'd lost a good bit of weight since the last time James had been here in person, but his elegant professional robes still fit well. James seemed to remember the man complaining about a new diet the healers had him on during their last floo call. It was obviously working – although still rather stout, the other man was down to only one chin. His face was leaner and his hair was so much better styled than the scraggly mullet he'd worn during their school days. He was by no means a handsome man, but the years had been relatively kind, and his wealth and success made up for his physical appearance, though even today, many people were still put off by that burning, rat-like gleam that his eyes always held.

"Good morning, James!" exclaimed Peter Pettigrew, Esq., Solicitor-At-Law, Order of Merlin (First Class), and Steward and Proxy for the House of Potter. "And what can I do for my favorite client today?"

Around four o'clock, the Express arrived at King's Cross. Hermione introduced her parents to Harry, Neville and several of the other members of the study group. Blaise introduced everyone to Gunther, a large and imposing man in traditional gray chauffeur's uniform (complete with knee-high boots and a cap) who, according to Blaise, "did things" for his mother. Draco also introduced Theo, Blaise and Harry to his father, Lucius Malfoy, who was every bit as cordial and sophisticated as Harry expected. There was only a brief instance when a look of ... distaste passed over his face, but Harry realized that it was not directed at any of them but rather at a red-headed man some distance away who was obviously the patriarch of the Weasley family.

"I really need to figure out what that's all about at some point," Harry thought to himself. "How the hell did these to families become such enemies."

But then, Harry's own face darkened, as James Potter showed up to meet with the Weasleys and talk amiably with their family, his hand on Jim's shoulder the whole time. As he said his goodbyes to Draco and Theo, Harry ignored the tiny stab of jealousy and anger that still plagued him over the difference in how Lord Potter treated his two sons. Focusing on his friends, he promised to owl everyone and also got phone numbers from those friends who actually knew what a phone was. Everyone made tentative plans to go shopping for school supplies on the same day so that the group could meet up in Diagon Alley for dinner. Hermione actually wanted everyone to meet up in London at some point and take in a movie or a play, an idea that delighted the Muggleborns but clearly unnerved the more traditionally-raised children. Finally, Harry noticed two people off to the side (in slightly old-fashioned but still "normal" Muggle attire) who were waiting patiently for them: a brunette woman in her early-30's in a dark-blue pencil skirt and matching jacket and a slightly older man in a charcoal business suit with a cut appropriate to the 1940's. As the crowd thinned, the two walked over.

"Mr. Harry Potter, I presume?" said the woman. Harry nodded. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you face to face. I'm Hestia Jones, and this is Artemus Podmore."

"The pleasure's all mine," he said warmly as he shook both their hands. Hermione, Blaise and Neville were the only friends still waiting around. "Guys, this is Miss Jones and Mr. Podmore, my solicitors."

"It's nice to meet you all," Podmore said with a warm smile. "However, Mr. Potter, we should head on now if we're to get to Gringott's before the end of normal business hours. Their rates double after seven o'clock."

"Dare I ask what you're doing at Gringott's," asked Hermione almost teasingly.

"Stuff," replied Harry with a wink.

"Slytherin stuff?" asked Neville.

Harry thought for a few seconds. "Maybe. Mainly, it's more like ... Potter stuff."

Neville laughed. "Give 'em hell, Harry." Then he picked up Harry into a bear hug. After followup hugs with the rest of his friends, Harry accompanied the two attorneys out of the station, carrying Hedwig in her cage (the rest of his luggage having already been magically conveyed to a vehicle outside). Harry never looked back towards James and so never saw the look of anguish that briefly flashed across his father's face.

Blaise followed the silent Gunther to a Rolls Royce parked near the station. As the chauffeur was loading the boy's trunk, a stylish woman with olive skin and jet-black hair stepped out of the vehicle to give the boy a hug and a kiss on the forehead. Then, Serena Zabini, her son and her driver got back into the Rolls and it pulled away.

"I want to hear all about your first year, Passeroto, but first things first. Are you still convinced Harry Potter is the one we seek?" asked the Countess Zabini in her cultured Italian accent.

Blaise smiled at the woman who'd raised him. "Yes, mamma. I am quite certain of it."

"We shall see, Passeroto. I still wish to meet him. Meet him and read him."

"I know. I have told him you wish to meet with him, mamma, and he is amenable, though I said nothing of Divination. We will have time over the summer."

She nodded and smiled. "These are exciting times, mio figlio. We must be cautious ... and well-prepared."

Blaise nodded. As if there was any other way for a Zabini to go through life.

Lucius side-apparated Draco and Theo directly to the gates of Malfoy Manor. To Theo, it was quite impressive and yet, rather surprisingly, much more ... homey than he was expecting. The House of Nott was a gloomy place whose master had let it fall into disrepair, but Malfoy Manor was pristine, with walls as white as the cliffs of Dover, gleaming towers, and immaculately kept grounds populated by what appeared to be a flock of albino peacocks. It was a short walk up the drive to the manor's entrance. Along the way, Lucius asked both Draco and Theo questions about how their first year had gone. Once inside, Lucius pulled out a gold pocket watch and then turned to his son.

"It is half-past four, Draco, so I expect your mother will be in the conservatory with her harpsichord. Go and let her know that you have returned. I would speak with young Master Nott."

Draco nodded, gave Theo a reassuring look, and then left the foyer. Lucius studied Theo, who did his best not to show nervousness.

"I have known your father for many, many years, Master Nott. Did you know that?"

"Yes sir. My father has spoken of you many times."

"I also knew your mother, Master Nott. She was a fine woman. I was grieved to hear of her passing."

Theo swallowed. "Thank you, sir."

Lucius took a deep breath. "In this house, Master Nott, you will find a number of rooms which are warded shut. If you find a locked door, do not attempt to open it with magic. The House of Malfoy is home to a number of ... antiques, many of which are of magical character and some of which are quite dangerous if misused. You will not seek them out. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"In the back of the house is the ophidiarium within which are housed a great many snakes, many of which are quite poisonous. There are also stables here on the grounds which house several Abraxan flying stallions. Abraxans are also quite dangerous to those not trained in handling them. They are also carnivorous – maneaters when they get the chance. You will not enter the ophidiarium nor will you visit the stables unless you in my company. Do you understand?"

Theo swallowed again. "Yes sir."

Then ... Lucius smiled. "If you obey those rules, Theodore Nott, then I promise you this." He bent down do look Theo squarely in the eye. "You will be safe here. No matter what your father may have told you of me. No matter what you may think of me that I was once your father's ... associate. I swear on the honor of House Malfoy, that you will be safe from all harm while you are my guest."

Theo relaxed at that. "Thank you, sir. It is an honor to be a guest in your home."

Lucius nodded and then called out. "Prixie! Lemmy! Dobby! Mogli!" Four house elves popped into the foyer. Theo regarded them with some interest. Two looked like normal house elves. The third one – Dobby – seemed unusually anxious and fidgety. The fourth one – Mogli – was different from the other three and had an almost feral gleam in its eyes. It reminded Theo uncomfortably of his father's more ... dangerous house elves.

"Prixie, please escort Master Nott here to his rooms. He will be staying in the second East Wing guest room, across from Master Draco. Dobby, convey his baggage to that room. Lemmy, I would like to have dinner at seven o'clock. Something special to welcome our new guest." Lemmy curtsied and smiled at the thought of cooking something particularly exotic. Then, Lucius spoke more coldly to the fourth house elf. "Mogli, remain here. Master Theo, Prixie will show you to your room where you can refresh yourself before dinner."

Theo bowed respectfully and followed Prixie up the stairs as the other two elves popped away. Once the others were gone, Lucius stared balefully at Mogli. "Has your mistress given you any instructions regarding Theodore Nott, Mogli?"

The strange elf let out a soft growl from deep within its throat. "None ... master."

Lucius stared at his wife's favorite house elf, the one gifted to her by her Auntie Walburga as a wedding present. Technically, as head of the household, Mogli owed its loyalty to Lucius, but it was a slippery, foul little thing, and Lucius never trusted it. "If she gives you any instructions pertaining to Theo Nott, you will inform me immediately. You will not reveal to her that I have given you this instruction. Do you understand?"

"Yessss ... master," said Mogli, spitefully.

Lucius's jaw clenched. "If you fail to do so, Mogli, I will give you clothes no matter what your Mistress wants. And if any harm comes to Theo Nott while he is my guest due to your actions or inactions ... I will kill you. Do you understand?"

Fire flashed in Mogli's eyes for a brief second before he growled his acknowledgment. Lucius studied the house elf for a moment, as if trying to read its heart, before finally dismissing it.

Upstairs, Draco entered the conservatory to find his mother Narcissa playing a fugue on her harpsichord. It was a Muggle piece by someone named ... Bach or something. According to Narcissa, his musical genius was enough to compensate for his Muggle inferiority, and so playing his music was acceptable to the House of Black (and by extension to the House of Malfoy, as his father didn't care about music whatever its origin). By painful experience, Draco knew not to approach his mother or even to speak while she was playing, and so he waited patiently in the doorway.

"Come closer, Dragon," she finally said without looking up from the keyboard. Draco drew near but still did not speak.

"Your last letter to me was rather ... terse. Can I assume that there is more that you would tell me ... if you were able?"

Draco said nothing, and Narcissa sighed. "We will not speak of this again lest we tempt the wrath of Magic. I shall study this matter carefully before choosing a course of action. Yes, I shall definitely make a study of this ... Harry Potter." She continued playing for a few seconds before speaking again. "I must confess, my Dragon – I find myself ... disappointed."

Draco looked down at the ground. "I'm sorry, Mother," he said very softly. Finally, after a few more uncomfortable seconds, she finished the piece. Then, she turned to look at her son for the first time and then held out her arms to him. Draco rushed to embrace his mother.

"Shhh, my Dragon. It will be alright. Mummy will make it better. She always does."

A little after five o'clock, Harry found himself sitting between Hestia and Artemus ("Artie" to his friends and favored clients) in a luxurious and yet somehow menacing office on the top floor of Gringott's. On the opposite end of the long table was a goblin account manager who was talking angrily with a subordinate. Well, Harry assumed the goblin was angry. Everything in the goblin tongue sounded like incoherent rage to him. He'd been astonished to learn that the name of the goblin language really was "Gobbledegook." Apparently, it meant "noble tongue" to them, but first wizards and then Muggles adopted it as a loan word meaning "incomprehensible gibberish." Harry shook his head. "And wizards wonder why goblin revolts keep happening." Of course, the goblins weren't exactly known for their diplomacy either. Harry had looked into buying an educational potion so that he could learn Gobbledegook as a way to show respect, but Hestia and Artie had strongly recommended against it. First, such potions were illegal to sell in Britain under the most recent Goblin Treaty, as goblins didn't want wizards to understand what goblins were saying behind their backs. More importantly, Gobbledegook was such a nuanced language that it was trivially easy for a novice speaker to make an embarrassing faux pas or even a horrific insult out of a simple "hello." Hestia did suggest that if he wanted to learn it when he was older, the potion was available overseas. She recommended that he learn it but never let any goblin know about it so that he could listen in on what the goblins assumed were private conversations.

After several minutes, the goblin (whose name was Gottschalk) turned to the three wizards. "Based upon the information you have provided, we believe we have a match. However, we will need a blood sample for confirmation. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes," said Hestia, "provided that the sample is destroyed completely in the process." Gottschalk waved his hand dismissively as if only an idiot would have thought otherwise. Then, he gestured, and a long blank parchment appeared on the table in front of Harry along with a red quill pen. There was a line drawn at the bottom of the page for Harry to sign.

"You'll need to sign your full wizarding name, which is Hadrian Remus Potter," said Artie. "Also, don't bear down on the pen too much or you might cut yourself."

Harry signed as instructed, only slightly surprised by the faint itching sensation on his arm that tracked the trail of blood-red ink the pen left on the parchment. "Remus, huh? Let me guess – Jim's middle name is Romulus or something like that?"

"No idea, actually," replied Podmore. "I'll check if you want."

Harry shrugged. The question wasn't really important to him. As soon as he finished signing, the blood ink that the pen produced turned black, and then the ink spread quickly up the page forming a crude family tree. First Lily and Petunia Evans, then their mother and father who had both died before he was born, and then other names as the tree grew. Some he recognized, others he did not. About halfway up the page, the spreading ink paused, and then the next name to appear was not in black, but rather a vivid purple. Thinking back to Slytherin's tapestry, Harry was certain he recognized the surname.

"Huh," said Artie noncommittally. "Was not expecting that."

"Is it good news or bad?" Harry asked.

Arty opened his mouth, closed it again, and then considered the matter. "I guess it's what you make of it. It's ... potentially controversial, maybe even enough for James to make hay out of it, although that will be difficult since your mother and brother are also descendants. But there could be enormous potential as well. I'll have Gottschalk pull the family's asset list."

"Any other living heirs?"

"Possibly, but none that can contest your claim. The Wizengamot gave notice that the House was set for line extinction a few years ago." He looked over at Harry. "Obviously, that's about to change."

"When do we need to announce this to preserve my rights? Do we have enough time for me to come of age first?"

"Oh yes. We have several years before we need to formally announce anything officially. Plenty of time."

"Hmm. So what can we do with this in the meantime without letting James or anyone else know about it?" asked Harry.

"Oh, Harry," said Hestia with an almost predatory gleam in her eye. "All sorts of interesting things." Harry smiled at that.

The final chapter of "Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin" will be uploaded on Monday, July 27 between noon and 2:00 p.m. CST. "The End of the Beginning, Pt. 2," in which secrets are revealed, threats are made, and treacle tart is served.