We're a few hours late due to sickness, but here's the next chapter!

Chapter 6: Conflict 1

The next few days went no differently from that morning. Harry came downstairs to eat, but refused to take part in any conversations. He answered questions with a terse and combative tone, but barring Malfoy himself, no one spoke with him anyway. Malfoy ignored his behavior, which only made Harry more furious. He regularly left as soon as he finished his plate.

Harry spent most of his time in his room, burying himself in books about spells, curses, transformations, and such. He only left to grab new ones from the library. He even developed an interest in the theory behind potions… it was astonishing how interesting they could be, once he learned about them from someone other than Snape.

Still, it was frustrating that Harry didn't have a wand to try the new spells. While he practiced the movements, earning praise from his mirror, he quickly felt silly doing so. What good would it do if he didn't know if it worked? Magic was more than spells and hand gestures. The most infuriating bit was the notion that he could have actually cast these spells here, if only he had a wand. The house was warded against the Ministry.

But then again, if he had a wand, he wouldn't be using it to learn silly spells. He'd be looking for a way to disappear. Surely, Dumbledore could help him. He was a manipulative old man, but he had a solution for almost everything. Everything would be resolved; Harry would return to his former appearance, and Malfoy would go to Azkaban, where he belonged.

But where would Harry go? The Dursleys were dead. Maybe the Weasleys would take him in, but they'd all be in danger if Harry lived in the Burrow. He could stay in Hogwarts, but did anyone but Filch actually spend the holidays there?

Harry effectively had no one he could stay with. Maybe it was better they thought him dead. This way, at least they were safe. No one else would die for him, like Sirius, Cedric, his parents… the Potters… his parents. The more he thought about it, the more it frustrated him.

Harry would have preferred to stay in his room for his meals, but the house-elves refused to bring him food there. Malfoy's work, no doubt. Harry didn't plan on starving, so he kept going downstairs, more and more angry each time. But no matter how rude he was, Narcissa would always smile silently, Draco would stare at his plate, and Malfoy would offer a few disinterested remarks. It drove him to insanity.

One morning, Harry woke up and found a pile of packages next to his bed. He stared at them for a few seconds in confusion before he realized that it must have been his birthday. He began seething.

Harry ignored the packages and started his day as always. After getting dressed, his eyes were drawn back to the presents. There were a lot of them, reminding him of Dudley's birthdays. Of course, the Dursleys had never given him any gifts. Still, this would be about the time that his friends' owls would be arriving. Mrs. Weasley would have made a cake. Hagrid would have sent a package of his inedible cookies. The Weasley twins would have informed him on the progress of their business, no doubt, and added a few of their newest inventions. Finally, Ron and Hermione would have sent a few carefully selected presents, together with encouraging letters about how their summer breaks were going, and maybe an invitation to the Burrow. Or to Grimmauld Place.

Harry suppressed the tears threatening to spill over. Only Sirius wouldn't have sent anything this year. But the way things were now, none of these owls would reach him. They all thought him dead. What were they thinking now? Did they grieve for him? Did they grieve for the "Savior of the Wizarding World"? Or had they forgotten already?

No, Ron and Hermione would be thinking about him. Surely, the Weasley twins and Mrs. Weasley would be too. Dumbledore… Dumbledore was probably already busy scheming. A few people may possibly be celebrating… like Snape. Harry considered the packages, filled with hate. He didn't want gifts from them. The ones who had ripped him from his world. Birthday presents were supposed to come from friends, not from those who had taken those friends away.

Harry spied a parchment scroll atop all the packages. He took it reluctantly. It was a letter, artfully penned by an unmistakably female hand. Narcissa, no doubt. He hadn't planned on reading it, but his curiosity was stronger than his disgust.

Beloved Tigris,

We are aware that you are still angry about everything that happened. It was a shock to all of us, but mostly you. You need time and we understand this. Still, we would like to give you something for your birthday. You can consider it part of our amends for all those years where we couldn't be there for you. We are your parents and we love you. At the moment, it may be difficult for you to see this, but it's the truth.

Lucius and Narcissa

Harry stared at the presents. The letter awoke opposing feelings within him. They were not his parents. They loved him? How could they? They didn't even know him! Also, they didn't even know what love was. They were death eaters. Understanding? Nonsense. Amends? For what? For the life they had taken from him? For all the years the Dursleys had treated him like filth? For all the years he didn't know he was a wizard? When the Dursleys made him think he was worthless, abnormal, a burden, misfortune personified? For what on Earth?

But then there was something different. A strange feeling. It was almost like he felt guilty for thinking the way he did. It only angered Harry more. They were not his parents! Why should he feel guilty for detesting them? For detesting everything that came from them? They deserved to be detested. They were Death Eaters. Murderers. Lowlifes. Still… Then why did this thought hurt so much?

In furious helplessness, he began ripping paper from packages. He tossed it to the side and kicked at it when it was too light, simply floating to the ground. There were books, all the school books he ever owned. "Hogwarts, A History". "Flying with the Cannons"... how did they know he had owned this in the first place? There was a kettle and a row of glass vials, jars with potion ingredients… Thanks to those books, he now knew many of them. A dress robe. A broom… Firebolt Advanced said the handle. In short, everything he lost to the fire at the Dursley's home, but new and more expensive. Everything except for his cloak of invisibility, the two-way mirror, and the Marauder's Map of course.

There was also a large trunk, adorned with carvings and ornaments. It had several keys. Harry assumed it was like the one Moody had owned, with every key opening a different interior. He didn't want to try it out. He felt taunted. It was as if they wanted to make up for the fact that they had taken his past by replacing his previous belongings with more expensive ones.

But those had been HIS things. Every single one bound to memories. How he had found out that he was a wizard and how Hagrid had taken him to Diagon Alley. Hermione's constant quotes from "Hogwarts, a History". Ron had gifted him the Quidditch book. Even Lockhart's ridiculous works reminded Harry of Ginny's first year.

He glared at the books. Malfoy's scheme had almost killed her. All for political gain… and to get rid of Arthur Weasley. The broom… how could anyone replace the broom that Sirius had given him? That broom was now ashes. Forever lost, like Sirius himself. Harry hit the floor with his fist. If only Ron had gotten it at least! But they just had to start a fire – a fire that would destroy every last memory. As if they could undo the past like that. Nothing could do that. It only left him with more pain, now that he had nothing left to hold on to.

There were other things among the presents: Robes. A few books Harry had read these past few days and found interesting. Some books on related topics that he was unfamiliar with. A brooch and a ring with those two familiar snakes and the sword. Harry concluded that it must be the Malfoys' family crest.

He remembered how Sirius had thrown away a similar ring in contempt. The ring of his father. He didn't touch anything more than once. Even if he was a Malfoy, that didn't mean he had to think like one. Sirius hadn't followed the ideals of his parents and his brother. He had run away when he was as old as Harry was now. He had made his own choices.

Harry's hand went to the necklace. Sirius had fled to the Potters, to his best friend, James. Where would he go? He didn't have anywhere to stay. The Weasleys? Maybe they wouldn't even believe him when he said who he was. Maybe they'd think he was a spy. After all, he looked like a Malfoy, a member of a family full of dark wizards. Harry laughed bitterly. It was ironic. In a way, Harry Potter had actually died. There wasn't much left to prove otherwise.

During breakfast, Harry acted as if nothing had happened. He noticed Narcissa's questioning glances, but ignored them. He felt the urge to look up at her and ask what she wanted, but didn't. He wasn't sure why exactly.

Suddenly, Narcissa got up and excused herself. Harry almost sighed a breath of relief. Draco set his cutlery to the side. When Harry looked up, he was met with a glare.

"What do you want?" he asked, this time out loud.

Draco clenched his fists. "You don't care, do you? How unhappy you make her? You could at least say thank you."

"Draco!" warned Mr. Malfoy.

Draco shot his father a glare.

Harry leaned back. "Why should I?"

"It's an act of courtesy," Draco answered, shaking in anger. "Of course you wouldn't know, ignorant boor that you are."

"Draco!" repeated Mr. Malfoy, this time with a dangerous undertone to his voice.

Draco looked at him. "I apologize, Father. I know I crossed the line. But you know what? I don't care. I can usually ignore him, but I'm not letting him hurt Mother - and neither should you. Now, if you'll excuse me… If I stay here, I'll do something I'll regret. I'll be in my room."

With those words, Draco stood up and left the room. Harry watched him go, then shrugged and continued eating. He felt Mr. Malfoy's eyes on him.

"Do you really think there's no reason to thank her?" asked Malfoy then. "I understand that you don't want to thank me. But she never did anything to draw your ire. So why?"

Harry set down his knife and fork and stared at him.

"Why?" His voice was trembling. "You're asking me why?" Harry's hand balled into a fist. "Why should I thank you for the presents? You've taken everything from me – everything I owned, my fortune, my keepsakes, my entire inheritance. Why should I thank you for a few gifts? It's a fraction of what you took!"

He resisted the urge to hit the table with his fist.

"The Potters weren't your parents," answered Malfoy calmly.

Harry hated that calm. He probably killed with that same serenity. He had an urge to hit him in the face, if only to break through his façade.

"Their fortune was never your inheritance."

Harry gritted his teeth. He didn't want to listen to this.

"Maybe it wasn't," he hissed. "But that isn't everything you took from me. The Potter fortune was never that important to me. It was just gold in a dungeon."

"Then what's this about?" asked Malfoy. He seemed confused.

Harry laughed coldly. Suddenly, he knew exactly how to hit Malfoy where it hurt. People didn't matter to him. Money and status, however… "You don't know? How ironic, considering who your wife is. I'm happy to explain. Did you know that Sirius Black was my godfather? He was the last surviving Black and appointed me his sole heir. I am… was… the owner of the entire Black estate."

Malfoy blanched once he understood. Harry grinned. So his facade wasn't perfect after all.

With sadistic glee, Harry continued. "Do you know what happened with all those assets? You're gonna love this… I left a will. And I left everything to the one family I owe so very much…" He paused to savor the moment. "...the Weasleys."

The horror on Malfoy's face was the best birthday present Harry could have wished for.

He grinned. "Now, if you'd excuse me…"

He left the room in a much better mood than he had entered it in. Just before he shut the door, he heard the crash of a chair hitting the floor. Harry snickered to himself and hurried back to his room. He didn't really want to deal with an angry Lucius Malfoy.

Then again… it could be amusing. Narcissa stood at the top of the stairs, face pale.

"What did you tell him, Tigris?"

Harry grinned. Not even that damned name could ruin his good mood now.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

He continued past her and to his room, where he shut the door behind himself. Maybe this day wasn't going to be too bad after all.

'That damned boy. He actually made me lose my cool.' Lucius stared at the broken chairs in front of him before repairing them with a wave of his wand. The Weasleys… out of all people… as if a penniless Arthur Weasley wasn't enough of a nuisance.

'And here I thought a dead Harry Potter wouldn't be able to make my life a living hell.' Lucius started laughing. It was a hysterical laugh. 'He's haunting me from the grave. This is not funny.' He calmed himself a little when Narcissa came around the corner.

"Lucius?"

"Don't ask," he answered. He stared at the ceiling. He'd still need to talk to Draco. While he understood his actions, he couldn't tolerate behavior like that. Bad timing. He sighed deeply.

"He willed the Black estate to the Weasleys."

Narcissa stared at him with large eyes. "He didn't… how?"

Lucius grinned humorlessly. "Your idiot cousin. Apparently, he was his godfather. And of course he did. The way he always hung out with that Weasley boy, that whole rabble… they must have been like a second family to him. Think about it… those muggles he was living with… while they were Weasleys, they must have been the only decent people he knew."

"I understand," she whispered.

Then, she fainted. Great. Just great.

Harry refused to head down for lunch, ignoring the rumbling from his stomach. He was used to hunger, after all. Sometimes, the Dursleys hadn't fed him for days. Instead, he leafed through a book on potions ingredients, trying to identify the jars he had been gifted.

Once he figured out what was what, he labeled them. He remembered how Snape had done so for all of his jars.

He didn't quite understand why Snape did this, since surely he knew the ingredients by heart. But it was convenient. Harry caught himself thinking about the uses of each ingredient as he was labeling it. He was astonished. Apparently, he had remembered some of the potions he had read about.

Harry was surprised by himself. It was so much easier to pick up a potions book when he didn't feel automatic aversion. Where had that aversion gone? He wasn't sure.

Once he was done, he sat down on the balcony to read a history book until evening. It wasn't like the books that Binns gave them to read. This one covered the history of the founders of Hogwarts and the time period they lived in.

Dinner passed in silence. Draco didn't even look at Harry. His face was rigid and whenever he happened to look in Harry's general direction, his gaze went straight through him. Narcissa and Malfoy both ignored him. Narcissa didn't smile a single time. Harry felt miserable after he left. At the same time, he was angry at his guilt because he knew that the reason was Narcissa. She wasn't his mother, so why should he care that she was upset? She was probably fuming about how he had left the Black estate to the Weasleys. How pathetic.

Sirius had hated his family and liked the Weasleys. He would have agreed with Harry's decision. The Weasleys were good wizards that would do the right thing with the money. Unlike the Malfoys or the Lestranges. Also, they needed the money. There was no reason not to like the Weasleys, unless you were one of Voldemort's servants.

Which the Malfoys were. That's why Harry hated them. That's why he'd never see them as his family, whether they were related or not. Which they weren't.

As the evening progressed, he developed a headache. So, he went to bed, falling into a restless sleep.

The following days passed uneventfully. Two days later, Harry was on his way to the library, when he heard voices from the ground floor. Malfoy obviously had a guest. Harry froze as he recognized the voice.

"Yes. The Weasleys moved into the old Potter manor," said someone with a silky voice. "Dumbledore encouraged them to do it. The twins, however, stayed in the Burrow. I believe Dumbledore is trying to make Arthur Weasley appear respectable. The old man is growing his influence within the Ministry. It seems like he's trying to replace Fudge. Weasley would be a good candidate, especially considering how he's part of the Order like most of the family."

A shiver ran down Harry's spine at those words. They weren't supposed to know about the Order. Why were they talking about it? Suspicion rose within him. If it was true, Dumbledore needed to know. But how?

"We should concentrate on Percy. He's easy to influence and hates his father. His family, however, is still trying to win him back. You have a guest, Lucius?"

Harry froze. In his attempt to listen in, he had gotten too close to the staircase. He stepped out of the darkness, glancing down at the two men in the hall.

"Tigris!" said Malfoy with a well-practiced smile. "May I introduce Severus Snape? He is an old friend of the family."

Harry hid his reluctance behind a cold mask and came down the stairs. Snape wasn't allowed to find out who he was. Not while he didn't know where his loyalties stood. If Snape had been a loyal member of the Order, he could have been Harry's salvation. Damn. Harry offered him his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you. My name is Tigris Malfoy."

"The pleasure is all mine."

Snape watched him with a glare. Harry avoided looking into his eyes.

"I didn't know Draco had a brother."

"I'm his cousin," he answered before Malfoy could.

"The son of my sister Agrippinilla," added Malfoy.

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Really? Excuse my curiosity, but is he…"

"No, he isn't," Malfoy cut in.

Harry turned to him before the conversation got any more dangerous.

"If you would excuse me, uncle… I was on the way to the library."

"Of course, Tigris," smiled Malfoy.

Harry bowed slightly. "Mister Snape."

"He spends most of his time in the library," Harry heard Malfoy say after he left. "I hope he doesn't end up a Ravenclaw. He reminds me of a certain acquaintance of mine."

Both of them laughed. It was eerie, hearing Snape laugh openly.

"Come on, I wasn't that bad…," said Snape, and Harry felt sick.

"So you want to send him to Hogwarts?"

"Yes. This year. He's the same age as Draco, which will be convenient."

"He seems to be a clever boy. Ravenclaw isn't that bad, you know… as long as it isn't Gryffindor…"

They laughed again, and Harry hurried to get out of earshot before he had to actually throw up.

"So," Malfoy said at dinner. "You know how to behave after all, if you feel like it."

Harry shot him an angry glare. "Of course. I'm not an idiot."

"Now, I believe it would be easier for all of us if you were to use some of that common sense during everyday life."

"Thanks," Harry replied with a sneer. "Not interested."

"You know…," said Malfoy casually. "I'm a very patient man, but I've already exercised a lot of patience with you."

"So what are you going to do about it?" Harry answered mockingly. "Beat me to my senses?"

Malfoy just smiled and sipped his tea. "Don't give me any ideas, my boy."

This was the first time he referred to Harry like this. Normally, that term was reserved for Draco, while Harry was called Tigris. Draco shot his father a quick glance that Harry didn't miss.

"Better people than you have tried that." Harry watched Malfoy carefully when he said this. "But why am I telling you? You were there after all, weren't you?"

Malfoy held his glare without batting an eye.

"At least you have good judgment of who would be considered 'better'. Surprising. I hope it stays this way."

Harry stared at him, mouth agape, struggling to regain his composure. Malfoy grinned and continued eating in silence. Harry was in too much of a shock to get up early as usual. Malfoy had twisted his words so that it sounded as if he… He hadn't actually said that, right? Well, technically he had, but he hadn't meant it. Of course not. Calling Voldemort better than anyone was absurd. Bastard.

"Dinner is finished," said Malfoy, amused. "Have a good night, my sons. Narcissa, dear…"

The adults stood up and left the room. Draco grinned.

"At a loss for words, brother?"

"Shut up," spat Harry. "And don't call me brother."

Draco's grin widened. "Good night, dear brother."

Harry whipped around. "Say that one more time and I swear…"

"What?" grinned Draco. "That you're going to use magic on me? Curse me? Pull a scary face?" He walked past Harry. "I'm already shaking in fear, oh dearest brother."

He waved at Harry and disappeared upstairs. Harry clenched his fists and fought to keep down a childish tantrum. Slowly, he calmed himself and returned to his room. He hated the whole lot of them.