disclaimer: I do not own HP

warning: brief description of blood.

Hello my dear, patient readers, don't worry that I am not writing more for this story. I am still very much planning to finish this story, it just takes me awhile because of work. This chapter is oriented on Malfoy and Dumbledore. There is hardly anything about the trio, but I needed to add this filler to set up for future chapters. But please let me know what you think- Echo Harmony

Harry didn't leave his rooms that weekend. He hardly left the bedroom; only hiding in the spring if he needed to escape his mates' questioning to go outside. When they would stay quiet, Harry would curl up between them wishing he could be back at the manor. Harry was afraid that if he went outside, all the students and teachers would be staring at him, laughing at him, or accusing him of being dark.

The only people he would talk to, other than Severus and Remus, were Ron and Hermione. Anyone else who came knocking were turned away. Ron would talk to him about his experiences of growing up with a family that had creature inheritances, about how normal it was. For which Harry was thankful to hearing. Hermione was inquisitive about Harry and what had changed. But she also was the bearer of bad news announcing that Dumbledore had postponed classes on Monday so the press could be invited to Hogwarts. 'To promote the school' was the excuse Dumbledore gave, but Harry and his family knew better.

Dumbledore took to watching him Monday morning while the press buzzed around for Harry Potter. Over the weekend, something changed the boy's life. It made the headmaster curious. As he thought more on what might have happened, the more ideas he had on how to use it to his advantage. The boy was no longer on anyone's radar, not even his classmates'. It was as if they no longer wanted anything to do with him. Which would suit Dumbledore just fine when he thought of the perfect plan. The boy would listen to whatever he was asked because Dumbledore could promise anything.

Yes, whatever had happened after the feast on Friday, Draco Malfoy would perform well.

Before leaving breakfast to gather all the supplies he would need, Dumbledore penned a quick note for Malfoy to meet him at the end of the day. He watched carefully as Malfoy read the note, ensuring none of the other students showed any interest in the note. No one inquired what it read. No one even glanced his way. Perfect. For his plans to work, he would need the boy for a few days and it would be easier if no one noticed, or even cared, if Malfoy went missing. He was still curious about what might have happened to destroy the blonde's popularity. Dumbledore only shrugged, stood up from the table, and left for his office. He figures Malfoy will tell him later.

'What does the old coot want?' Malfoy wondered, not for the first time that day. He had been asking himself that ever since he got the note. He couldn't ask any of his classmates what they thought. Not since those comments about creatures. Hell, he couldn't even go to his head of house. Snape seemed to have become enamored with Potter, just like the rest of the school, protecting him. No one seemed to understand what he had meant about lying with creatures, why it was deplorable.

Didn't matter though. After this year, he has plans to get a private tutor and later take over his family's businesses. He would gain influence in the public and politics and come out on top and beat Harry Potter into a vague memory. And it seemed by the headmaster's note, that he wanted to help Malfoy.

That was the only reason why Malfoy was standing in front of Dumbledore's office, waiting to be let in.

"Come in, my dear boy!" the man called. "Nothing gets done if you don't open the door yourself."

Hesitantly, Malfoy entered. He didn't know what to expect. He had only been to this office a few times and the room was always cluttered with contraptions and that annoying phoenix screeching at him. But it was different this time, devoid of the usual chaos and quiet, no bird. On the desk was a variety of objects and potions. The main focus being a blood, red stone.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" he asked. The headmaster was standing next to a bookcase with his back to Malfoy. The man was reading a book while Malfoy stood waiting for the headmaster to respond. When he finally turned around, Malfoy took a step back at Dumbledore's smirk, it made his skin crawl being looked at that way. As it he were being appraised.

"Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore called in a sing-song way. He gestured to the two chairs close to the fire, waiting to sit down until his student did so first. "I care about all my students, but as headmaster I can't counsel them all. That's why we have heads of the houses. To delegate my wishes and to provide my counsel to students. However, there have been times I need to step in where a head of house cannot. Or in your case, will not."

Malfoy was pinned in place by the stare of Albus Dumbledore. It felt that the professor was searching his soul. And he knew Malfoy was having problems with Snape wasn't taking care of. Maybe e knows what happened. He knew that not everyone had the same thoughts he did about creatures. Maybe Snape told the headmaster what happened and he had to come here for punishment? He wasn't sure, but he was certain he would not be getting any sympathy from Dumbledore.

"I would like to hear in your own words, what happened after the feast?" the old man asked. It made Malfoy pause. The headmaster was allowing him to tell his side of the story? Maybe he hadn't heard about any of the details yet? He never thought Dumbledore would ever help him with anything, but he had given Malfoy this chance. So Malfoy shared an edited version, exaggerated what the others had said and made it sound that Malfoy was someone that no one understood and had become ostracized for. After he was done, Dumbledore sat back, hands folded in front of his mouth and what looked like a wild gleam in his eyes.

"Well Mister Malfoy, I can certainty help you," Dumbledore promised. "There is one thing I need clarified?"

"Yes?" Malfoy say at the edge of his seat eagerly. Only his upbringing stopped him from jumping or fidgeting.

"Was there at one point in your ancestors, pure Veela blood?" Dumbledore watched as Malfoy became angry. That was a clear yes, whether the boy was vernal about his answer or not. Now to find out if the anger was jealously or disgust. "If it manifested for you, would you like to have that power?"

"That is a large 'if', headmaster. Even if my opinions on creatures were different, my family has bred the Veela blood out of the line. Without doing an Ancestral Trace, you won't find an ounce of Veela blood."

"But what if I could take that trace and make it grow, leading to a Veela inheritance to manifest?" Dumbledore leaned forward, keeping his eyes locked on Malfoy's. He have a gentle push to Malfoy's mind to accept what he was saying. "Just think of it Mister Malfoy, you would have the glory of your family name and the power of a most formidable inheritance, even greater than a mer. People would listen and bow before you again. You could have anyone you wanted." Dumbledore leaned even further, dropping to a whisper: "Anyone. I could promise you someone worthy of your status if you accept my help."

"Anyone?" Malfoy gasped. Suddenly an image of a boy with black hair and green flashed in his mind. If he was a Veela, he would want someone with high status; someone he could use for his own ambitions. Someone like: "Harry Potter?"

"That would be a challenge, but I'm sure he can be convinced." Dumbledore just wanted to laugh at how easy this was. How easily Malfoy could be manipulated. If he managed to successfully transform Malfoy, he was convinced that Potter would be dead by the holiday break. Either Malfoy would kill Potter trying to pursue him, or Malfoy would kill Lupin and Snape to get rid of the competition, destroying Potter all the same.

"It's not because I fancy him!" Malfoy assured, the headmaster or himself, he wasn't sure. "But having him on a leash would benefit me the most. Having him at my side would put me at the top."

"Of course," Dumbledore placated. "I could care less what happens to Potter after. He has become - troublesome. Feel free to help with that."

"The pleasure would be mine," Malfoy replied a little too eagerly. To end the topic about Potter, Malfoy asked; "how are you going to manifest the Veela blood?"

"You partly answered that question earlier, using an ancestral trace to identify the Veela." Dumbledore walked to his desk, where all the supplies waited. "Once I have identified your Veela blood, I can use this stone to amplify that Veela, and mix it back into your blood."

Using the stone was the most important part, but also unpredictable. The Philosopher's Stone was made for the Elixir of Life. Although he was not intending to use it to extend Malfoy's life, it should work as a source of power and manipulation. Should. Who knew how it would react. Flamel never experimented further with the stone. He couldn't ask Flamel about what other properties there might be with the stone. He never thought to ask, he was only interested in the Elixir of Life. After he had promised to destroy the stone, Flamel and his wife allowed themselves to die. Dumbledore curled his fingers around the stone once again before turning back to Malfoy.

"Once that is done, I will attempt to connect your magical core to the Veela magic in the blood. Then the transformation should begin. I have a place you can stay at while you recuperate and become accustomed to your new powers."

"Attempt?" Malfoy cried. "You said you could, promised that I would have more power!"

"Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore sighed. "Any ritual or experiment is not without its risks. As someone who has shown great promise in potion making, even you should comprehend that?"

"I do," Malfoy pouted. "I just don't want to be made a fool."

"Of course." The headmaster clapped his hands and beckoned Malfoy to stand opposite of him at the desk. "First, the ancestral trace. Have you ever had this done?"

"Yes, right before I turned sixteen. My parents wanted to make sure I was not having a creature inheritance." Malfoy shuddered after his answer. This test was painful. It wasn't as simple as the quick identity test the goblins performed. This went deeper, into your soul through the blood. It searched and dug through everything that makes you who you are. He swore he could have felt it actually reach his ancestors. And when it found what it was looking for, it burned. The blood in your veins boiled.

When his parents had the ancestral trace performed before his maturity, the pain had been enough to render him unconscious. All it told his parents was there were ancestors at one point who had been Veela, but not for many generations and would not appear in him. He swore he could still feel an echo of the pain. Now he was going to let the headmaster do it again. He lay both arms on the desk, palms up, and took a long breath then nodded to Dumbledore to begin.

Malfoy flinched as Dumbledore began chanting. He watched as a writhing, black ball formed in front of him. It had terrified him to see it the first time, and it terrified him again. His parents said tensing would make it worse, but he couldn't help it. Long, shadowy tendrils shot out from the mass and bit into his arms.

Pain exploded. Blood ran down his arms and pooled, turning an inky black as the magic took hold. He could feel the leeching tendrils travel through his body; icy cold lead the way leaving behind boiling pain. If he screamed, he didn't know. He swore he could feels his cells on fire. The spell worked in waves, ebbing and flowing as it searched his body, sinking deeper. When it finally reached his head, crushing his skull, Malfoy succumbed to the pain.

Remus had called him after the feast, telling him what Dumbledore had said. The next day, Remus called again to let him know about the plans of the press conference on Monday. He had been planning to go to the school to give Dumbledore a piece of his mind, but the press conference made him wait. It was the best way to handle what had been done to Harry.

Now on Monday morning, Sirius was making his way to the top of the steps of Hogwarts. A lawyer following behind him as he stepped in front of the press, pushing McGonagall out of the way.

"I have an announcement to make!" Sirius called for attention. "I will be pressing charges against the headmaster of this school on behalf of my godson for the breach of confidentiality. Something as private as an inheritance should not have been announced in public, regardless of who the person is. It is no wonder than many of the other wizarding schools across the world has lost respect for Hogwarts with a headmaster that would do such a thing to a student and then invite the press to come and 'gawk' and harass said student. I know the cover story of inviting you to the school was to conduct interviews of students and teachers to promote the school. So if any of you try to ask about my godson, Harry Potter, or try to follow him, I will add your names alongside Dumbledore."

Ignoring the people shouting out countless questions, Sirius's lawyer approached Professor McGonagall. "Professor, my name is Edric Barret from Barret-Griffin Law Offices. I represent the Black Family, and recently the Potters. Could you please escort myself and Lord Black to Professor Dumbledore?"

"I'm sorry Mister Barret, but Dumbledore has made himself unavailable for the day. I am to take control of the press conference," McGonagall replied, twisting her hands nervously. Of all days for that man to disappear, it had to be now.

"That is most unfortunate. Please contact my office when he has made himself known again. This is my contact information," Barret said handing over a card. He then passed a packet to the professor. "And this is a notice of the civil suit my client will be taking against not only Professor Albus Dumbledore, but the school as well. Have a good day, madam."