Content Warning: physical violence

Chapter 7: Conflict 2

The following day, Harry decided that there was no reason to stay holed up in his room all the time. Sure, outside of it he'd likely run into one of those irritating Malfoys, but so what? He would simply ignore them. With a bit of luck, he could annoy them to death. They were so full of themselves, surely they hated being ignored. That thought instantly improved Harry's mood.

After breakfast, Harry made his way to the library. He sat down in an armchair at the back and delved into a book about transformations. McGonagall had given them a lot of homework, he remembered, to make up for her absence during the previous year.

Of course, his worksheet had burned along with all the rest of his stuff. Still, Harry had grown interested in the more complex transformations of living beings they had talked about last year. With just a simple command, most books would refer him to any other books in the library containing additional information about a topic.

Harry was a tad embarrassed at only finding out about it now. Surely, Hermione had known since first grade. Same with finding a specific book on a shelf or getting a book to flip to a particular topic or chapter. This could have saved him a lot of effort if he had learned about it earlier. All that time spent in the library and he never figured that it would have its own magic.

Then again, he hadn't read as much back then. Harry had been too busy with his friends and Quidditch. In hindsight, he had missed out.

For the first time in years, Harry truly understood Hermione. He smiled. If she could see him now… no, if Ron could see him… they would believe that he was under some sort of spell. Harry's smile faded and he stared at the book. He didn't just look different, he also wasn't behaving like himself. Maybe this was an aftereffect of that potion. But what would be the point of making him read less beforehand? And it wasn't just that. He also felt more aloof. He thought about his actions and considered his actions. Before, he often acted rashly, driven by his feelings. He remembered Professor Snape's words.

"Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked so easily – weak people, in other words – they stand no chance against his powers…"

Harry would never like the man, but in hindsight he had to admit that he had been right in a way. If he had thought things through, if he hadn't let Snape provoke him… maybe he would have learned Occlumency and Sirius would still be alive. He had been weak. He would never allow himself to act like that again.

Harry grinned faintly. At least he had kept his calm when he ran into Snape. He doubted that Snape had become suspicious of him. Even Malfoy had been impressed. Then again, that had only served to show him that Harry was provoking him on purpose… He had lost an advantage. Not that he really cared. If anything, he was enjoying it more now that Malfoy knew he was doing it on purpose.

Maybe he was simply growing up. Maybe he had simply never realized how fun reading could be, because he had never had so much time or this many books. It was hard to say.

When Harry returned to the library after lunch, Draco disrupted his comfortable solitude. He entered and sat down at a table a fair way off. However, he didn't approach Harry, opting to focus on school essays instead, as Harry surmised. Most of the time, he was writing, only getting up to grab a book on occasion. This made it easy to ignore him. Draco seemed engrossed in his homework, which surprised Harry. He had never taken Draco to be particularly eager for knowledge, or diligent. Well, Draco would probably say the same about Harry.

Harry concentrated on his own book, 'Advanced Transformation of the Living', acting as if he was alone. Barring the scratching of Draco's pen on parchment, nothing disrupted him. Harry was so used to the noise that he noticed when it stopped for a while. When he looked up, he found Draco wandering along the shelves. He was obviously looking for a book.

Harry wondered if Draco didn't know the command to find books. He considered telling him for a moment, but purged that thought immediately. Draco would insult him at best, and it would go against his resolution to ignore him. Thus, Harry delved back into his book.

"Excuse me, Tigris?"

Harry was surprised when Draco came up to him. And he was being civil as well. He noted how the other stood only one step away. Still, he pretended not to hear. A few seconds passed in silence.

"Look at me. I know you heard me."

This time, he sounded much more unfriendly. Harry continued to ignore him.

"Potter!" hissed Draco finally.

When that didn't work either, he wrenched the book out of Harry's hand. Harry pulled it back, irritated, and looked up at Draco. He had just reached an exciting paragraph.

"What do you want?"

Draco smirked. "Finally. So you didn't go deaf after all."

Harry glared at him and flipped through his book to find his page.

"My apologies," said Draco to his surprise.

It astonished Harry enough to look back up. His former enemy — wait, since when was this supposed to be in the past tense? — was apparently fighting an inner battle.

"I wanted to ask if I could borrow your book real quick. I need it for my essay."

"No," said Harry simply.

Draco's mouth twitched, but he remained calm.

"Look, I only need it for half an hour, then you'll be rid of me. Please?"

So he knew that word after all, thought Harry with amusement.

"No," he repeated.

"Why not?" Draco asked, growing angrier.

"Because I'm reading it right now."

"There are many other books in this library."

"Then how about you take one of those?"

"They aren't the ones I need!"

"Neither are they the ones that currently hold my interest."

"You can always read it later!"

"But I want to read it now."

Draco grabbed for the book.

"Just read something else!"

His gray eyes sparked with fury. Harry held onto the book with a sneer.

"If your father was upset about what you said at the table, then what do you think he'd say about this?"

Draco stiffened, glaring at Harry in hatred. Then, he abruptly let go of the book and left. Harry grinned and watched from behind his book as he resumed his search along the shelves. Harry knew full well that he wouldn't find anything. After all, every book about this subject sat in a neat pile underneath his table.

Of course, he'd rather eat unknown sweets from the Weasley twins than tell him that. Finally, Draco gave up and sat down to go over what he had already written.

Harry's good mood was disturbed when Malfoy entered. Draco instantly rose. Harry pretended he didn't notice.

"There will be dinner in half an hour," announced Mr. Malfoy, walking over to Draco.

Harry wondered why Malfoy came over to tell them. He was surprised that the man did something that a house-elf could handle. He watched him from behind his book.

"Did you finish your essays?" asked Malfoy, leafing through the parchments on the table.

Draco stared at the floor. "No, Father."

Malfoy paused, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "No?"

"I was missing a book," explained Draco.

Malfoy considered him with a cold glare. "Really? You disappoint me, boy. That'll be five for not completing my orders."

"Yes, Father."

"What are you waiting for? To your knees."

Harry froze, barely noting how he'd lowered his book, as Draco took off his Robe and fell to his knees in front of his father. When he leaned forward, Harry saw several red welts on his back that seemed to be a bit older. His stomach cramped up, but he didn't move. He felt numb. He wasn't sure why he hadn't believed that the older Malfoy would do something like this. Harry stared at both of them, as Malfoy conjured a whip with a move of his wand.

Maybe it was due to how spoiled and arrogant Draco acted at school. Or maybe because Malfoy had always been so relaxed towards Harry. He never screamed or lost his temper like Harry's uncle. Despite everything he knew about the man, Harry had actually believed that he wouldn't touch his family.

Suddenly, he saw Draco's earlier behavior in a different light. It terrified Harry how calm Draco was. As if this was a common occurrence.

'Maybe it is.'

He jumped to his feet as the whip hit Draco's back with a sickening noise. It left behind bloody welts that healed in front of his eyes.

"Stop!" shouted Harry without thinking, when Malfoy raised his hand for the second time. "It's my fault! He asked me for the book but I refused to give it to him!"

Draco lifted his head a little, visibly surprised. Malfoy glanced at him.

"So, do you want me to punish you in his stead?"

Harry hesitated and Malfoy sneered.

"That's what I thought."

A second blow hit Draco. Harry heard him count. His voice was calm, almost detached. But Harry had seen him flinch at the blows.

"Stop!" Harry repeated. "Do it. It's my fault."

He grasped to open his robe. Malfoy paused and scrutinized him with a calculating glance.

"Stop that," he said. "I'm not going to do that. Besides, there is more than one book in this library."

'But I took all of them,' Harry wanted to say. He kept silent. Obviously, nothing he said would have any effect. He watched as Draco received the final three blows. Afterwards, Malfoy caused the whip to vanish and left. Draco got up and got dressed again. He didn't look at Harry, but Harry felt his eyes on him when he put all the books back into their shelves. It was his fault. Why had he refused to give him the book? It had been childish. He could've guessed that there would be consequences if Draco didn't finish his essays. 'But you did consider that,' said a traitorous little voice from within. 'You were hoping for it. You hoped he'd get into trouble. And he knows.'

They went downstairs for dinner in absolute silence. This time, Harry stayed until the end despite everything within him screaming at him to leave. He watched as Draco went to his room which was right next to his own. For a moment, Harry was uncertain, but then he knocked and opened the door.

Draco's room was similar to his own. There were more shelves lining the walls, filled with books. He had a small table with equipment and ingredients for potions. Apparently, he was actually interested in those. A glass cabinet housed several weapons, among them daggers and rapiers. What surprised Harry was the piano that stood in a corner of the room. Draco sat on his bed when he entered. His eyes narrowed as he saw Harry.

"What do you want?"

"How are you?" asked Harry hesitantly.

"What do you care?" answered Draco with hostility.

Harry took a step back. "I… I'm sorry."

"Don't bother." Draco sounded icy.

"I don't need your pity. You were pretty clear about what you think of me. As we saw, he won't touch you. You're the precious firstborn." Draco laughed bitterly. "I always knew I wasn't good enough for him, but it's harsh to see it on display like this."

Harry didn't know what to say. "I never wanted…" he began helplessly, but paused when he saw fury return to Draco's eyes. He stared at the floor.

"If you need reassurance," said Draco coldly. "I'm fine. This was nothing. I got fifteen after that thing at breakfast. Something upset him. It wouldn't have had something to do with you, would it? Now get lost. I've had enough of your sublime presence for today."

Harry didn't know what to say, so he left.

That evening, Harry had trouble falling asleep. The scene in the library kept replaying in his mind. He was disgusted by himself. He had known how cruel that man was. How he had no conscience. He was a Death Eater, damn it. Harry had heard him laugh when Voldemort used the Cruciatus curse on him. Why was he so bothered? 'He is your father,' said that traitorous voice in the back of his mind. Harry pressed his face into the pillow.

No. This man was not his father. That was Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater, fanatical follower of Lord Voldemort. He was not his father. James Potter was his father. An Auror, fighting for what's right. The man who died to save him, his patronus.

"Prongs," muttered Harry.

He ignored the tears running down his cheeks.

"Prongs is my father. No one else…"

Part of him knew that it was nothing but a lie.

When Harry woke up in the morning, the thought of going downstairs for breakfast left him paralysed. He was terrified to see Draco. Furthermore, he abhorred the thought of sitting next to Malfoy. All in all, the idea of simply staying in bed and pulling the blanket over his head was much more comfortable. Harry's stomach, however, was of a different opinion. He hadn't eaten much the previous evening. Now, he was hungry. Harry curled up and tried to repress the feeling, but didn't succeed for long. Finally, he resigned himself to his fate and stood up.

Breakfast passed in baleful silence. Finally, Malfoy leaned back and considered Harry with thoughtful eyes.

"It seems like you've settled in by now, Tigris," he said with fake cheer. "Perhaps it's time to establish a few rules."

Harry furiously glared at him.

"I'll never settle in," he spat, venom in his voice. "Why should I follow any of your rules?"

Narcissa looked at him, then Malfoy, before frowning.

"Did something happen that I don't know about?"

Harry glared at her. "Why don't you ask your husband?"

She turned to Malfoy, confused. "Lucius?"

"Stay out of this, Narcissa," answered Malfoy with his usual calm tone.

Narcissa suddenly showed concern, but she averted her eyes, opting to stare at her plate.

"Do you order all your family members around?" hissed Harry. "What if she doesn't do what you want? Do you hit her, as well?"

Suddenly, his anger got the better of him. He jumped to his feet, his chair clattering to the floor, and rushed from the room.

"Stay seated," warned Malfoy behind him.

Harry crossed the hall, but once he reached the stairs, he ran into an invisible wall.

"I wanted to have a chat," said Malfoy behind him.

Harry whipped around, hands balled into fists.

"Why? I'll never listen to you!"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed.

"So you'll drop to your knees when ordered by a filthy muggle, but you refuse your own father?"

"You are not my father!" shouted Harry. "James Potter is my father. I am not related to someone like you and I never will be!"

"Merlin, look into a mirror, brother," yelled Draco. Harry hadn't noticed that he had followed them. Now, Draco stormed past him up the stairs.

"Draco!" Malfoy was enraged, but his son had already vanished down the upper corridor.

Malfoy was fuming. He pointed his wand at Harry. "You…" he turned with a jerk. "Follow me!"

Malfoy rushed towards a door next to the staircase. An invisible force pulled Harry after him. He tried to fight against it without success. It was like they were joined with a rope.

Behind the door, a small stone staircase led down. Harry followed Malfoy without a choice, deeper and deeper. With every step he took, his discomfort grew. What if he had gone too far? But Malfoy claimed to be his father. Surely, he wouldn't hurt his own son.

'Sure,' snorted his inner voice. 'Look what he did yesterday.'

'Even still,' answered another voice. 'I'm not going to give in. I will never start calling that man Father or following his crazy rules. Whatever he does.'

Still, the thought of what Malfoy was capable of terrified Harry. At the end of the staircase, they entered a long, narrow corridor. The only light came from Malfoy's wand. At some point on their way down, he must have spoken the Lumos spell. Harry wondered how deep beneath the earth they were. The walls of this passage were rough rock with symbols carved into it. The most common ones were three spirals that blended into each other.

Harry's thoughts ground to a halt when they reached a large underground cave. Malfoy waved his wand in a circular movement.

"Lucesce!"

From one moment to the next, the chamber was filled with daylight without any source. Once Harry's eyes had acclimated to the sudden brightness, he looked around.

At the center stood a stone altar with bowls made of rock on the top. Ancient symbols were carved into the slab. To the left and right were alcoves containing smaller bowls. But Malfoy strode past the altar without paying it any attention, towards the back part of the cave. The ceiling sloped upward here, until it reached about eight meters in height. The cave ended in front of a huge, green slab made of diabase. It covered the entire wall.

Once Harry got closer, he saw that it was covered with a tree of silver names that originated somewhere at the ceiling. Many branches ended halfway down with only a few of them reaching all the way down to them. The highest up that Harry could still read were written runes. Further down, the font changed to archaic Latin, until it took the form of modern print about one and a half meters above them. The Malfoy family crest was engraved onto a plaque on the floor in front of it. Above it, there was a line of runes and another in Latin.

"Gens Malifontis nobilis omnisque".

It wasn't hard to figure out that this was the Malfoy's family tree. Against his will, Harry was impressed.

"Look at this," said Malfoy. Harry reluctantly stepped closer, staring at the names that Malfoy was pointing out. Most of the names were of a dull, dark silver. Some were brown like dried blood - just like the name "Agrippinilla Malfoy-Billard" that was situated next to Lucius'. A bit further up, next to Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius' father, a branch led to Eusebia Snape. Harry shuddered. Did this mean Snape and Malfoy were cousins?

His eyes wandered to the point Malfoy was pointing at. These names were a brighter, glowing silver. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. And below them first Livia in that darker silver, then Tigris, and finally Draco. He stared at it.

"Why aren't they on the Black family tree?" asked Harry dismissively.

"You saw the Black family tree?" Malfoy sounded surprised. Then, he shrugged. "I assume it isn't based on blood but on the ministry's records. That way, it wouldn't show any names that were never registered as wizards at a school - like Livia - or never officially acknowledged, like you. This tree here is different. Its magic is old and interwoven with our blood. As soon as a child receives their name, it appears here. And the names can never be removed."

Harry defensively stared at the silver letters. "What if someone gets disowned, like Sirius or Andromeda?" he asked mockingly. "Can't you remove them?"

"As a matter of fact, no," answered Malfoy with a hint of anger. "But the silver color would vanish. While it only fades with the death of a family member, the names of traitors of the bloodline turn red - or brown, once they die."

"So I'm allegedly the son of one of these traitors?" asked Harry cynically, pointing at Agrippinilla's brown name.

Malfoy's face darkened. "She ran away to a muggle, pregnant. Foolish of her, considering he left her once he found out she was a witch, marrying another. The child died at birth."

"Why doesn't it show up here?" asked Harry, curious against his own will.

"She died at birth, so it was never named. It also wouldn't show up unless she gave it the Malfoy name. None of the children with different last names show up here. I assume this is another difference to the Black family tree. The way I understand it, you saw Draco there?"

"Yes," muttered Harry. He gestured at the tree with impatience. "This doesn't prove anything. It only shows that you have a son called Tigris. Nothing more."

"How much longer do you want to deny the obvious, Tigris?" Malfoy sighed in frustration. "As you wish. I noticed how you're interested in potions. Follow me."

Again, Harry was dragged along behind Malfoy, up the stairs and down several hallways, until they reached a potions lab.

"Here," said Malfoy. "Brew the Paternitas Draught. I hope the results will serve as proof enough to you once you're done, because I'm slowly losing my temper. I offered you a lot of time, but we don't have eternity."

With that, he left, slamming the door shut behind him. Harry was too stunned to react. When he finally reached the door, it was locked. He was trapped in a laboratory filled with mysterious ingredients and books. Harry was pretty sure he couldn't leave until he had finished that draught. Suddenly, he regretted not paying more attention to professor Snape.

Harry wandered up and down in front of the door. He was furious and thus not at all in the mood to do as Malfoy ordered. Still, he was slowly growing hungry and there was no house-elf in sight. Would Malfoy let him starve in this room if he refused to obey him? At some point, he'd have to kill him regardless.

As soon as he realized that Harry wasn't about to play the role of his son. The mere thought of what an angry Lucius Malfoy could do, terrified Harry, but he wouldn't give in. He had defied Voldemort, and who was Lucius next to him? Harry stared at the shelf filled with pots, vials, and books. There was no fooling himself, he was incompetent when it came to potions. He may have found a theoretical interest with them, but brewing them was quite another matter. Whether Snape stood behind him or not. He simply wasn't built for it.

Lucius must be watching him to know that he had read about potions. Harry's anger at the man grew and grew, but so did his hunger.

Finally, he decided to at least try. He grabbed a few books and quickly developed a headache from the dim magical light illuminating the room. To his surprise, he found the potion quickly. It wasn't an easy potion, but Snape had made them brew more difficult ones before. Then again, Harry hadn't gotten any of those right.

He sighed and gathered the ingredients. This wasn't too easy either. They weren't sorted, some were spoiled, many unlabeled. Luckily, there was a book that helped him match them. Once Harry had gathered everything he needed, his body had accepted the fact that it wouldn't get any food for now. The hunger had morphed into a dull ache in his stomach area which Harry was used to ignoring. The fire lit itself when he set the kettle on top.

A bit later, Harry stared at a bilious green potion where there should have been a pale yellow one. Frustrated, he took the kettle and dumped it into the drain. After scrubbing it clean - at least this was something he had mastered thanks to countless detentions with Snape - he began anew. This time, he read the instructions more carefully. When he added the final ingredient, the potion turned into an ugly reddish violet. It should have smelled of peppermint, but the obnoxious odor wafting up from the kettle was anything but. Annoyed, he dumped this one as well.

When he set down the kettle, the drain hissed before emitting reeking white smoke. Harry's eyes burned and he began coughing. He waved the book about, to rid himself of the smoke to no effect. Shortly after, the room was covered in it.

Harry woke up on the stone floor with a splitting headache. Groaning, he sat up. The smoke had disappeared. On the table with the ingredients, he found a note.

"Never pour unknown potions down the drain. They could interact."

Harry let out an angry cry and kicked the table. That only aggravated his headache further, joined now with pain in his foot. He leaned on the wall and rubbed his throbbing forehead.

"To hell with you, Lucius!"

After Harry was done screaming, he felt better, if only a little. His hunger had returned in full force. This time, he knew from experience, there was no hope that it would go away any time soon. Harry glared at the potion ingredients.

"One last time," he muttered to himself, and set the kettle back onto the flame. This time he watched meticulously to make sure that all the ingredients were pure, correctly cut and ground, and that there were the right amount of each, all with the right weight. He monitored every little change in the potion and strove to stir it evenly and in the correct direction. At the end, he was exhausted, but the potion had a color that one could generously label pale yellow. The faint smell of peppermint was in the air. Without wanting to admit it, Harry felt a subtle pride. He slumped onto the only chair in the room and didn't look up when the door opened.

"I see you've been successful," said Lucius with a grin.

Harry bit back a sarcastic remark. He was too hungry and too exhausted.

"The only thing that's missing is both of our blood," continued Lucius and stepped up to the kettle, drawing his dagger. "Come here."

Harry threw him a furious glare, but was too tired to fight. Thus, he walked over and surrendered his arm. It was a quick, sharp cut across his lower arm and three drops of blood dripped into the potion. Harry barely felt anything. He was light-headed. Or rather his head felt like a balloon. Lucius repeated the process for himself. The potion turned into a bright blue color. Lucius grabbed the book.

"Yellow: no relation. Violet: distant relation. Blue: close relatives, parents and children, siblings," he read out loud. "Convinced, Tigris?"

"Fine," Harry snapped, not really in the mood to deal with the issue. "Can I go now?"

"Sure." Lucius smiled and went past him to exit the room. Harry resisted the urge to hit him. That wouldn't be the smartest move. Also, he felt so dizzy, he wasn't sure if he'd connect. He didn't feel like taking a punishment without the satisfaction of at least breaking that arrogant bastard's nose.

Harry stumbled from the room and up the stairs. Somehow, he made it to his room and into his bed, only staggering into a wall on occasion. He never noticed the pair of gray eyes following him as he crossed the lobby. As soon as he reached his bed, he crashed onto the mattress and surrendered to graceful darkness.

Lucius paced up and down his study. The feeling of unrest that had been plaguing him lately hadn't waned the way he had hoped it would. On the contrary it had grown. He hit the desk with his fist, struggling to regain his composure. What he really needed was a summons. But surprisingly, there hadn't been any these past weeks.

Maybe he just needed to meet up with the Lestranges and possibly the Parkinsons. They were always up for some illegal fun. Narcissa ripped him from his thoughts.

"Lucius."

He lifted his head and hid his anger. "Yes, dear?"

She watched him with sorrow and came a few steps closer. "We need to talk."

Lucius only looked at her wordlessly.

She sighed. "It can't continue like this, Lucius. It isn't fair towards Draco. It isn't fair towards all of us."

Lucius clenched his hands against the table in a futile attempt to appear indifferent. "You don't say."

"It doesn't make a difference!" Harry hit the table with his fist.

Draco and Narcissa flinched.

"I hate you, Lucius. I despise everything you believe in. We have nothing in common but blood and that isn't enough!"

"But it is," replied Lucius calmly.

He appeared unperturbed by Harry's words, but his eyes betrayed him. They were cold. As cold as they had been that night in the Department of Mysteries when Sirius died. Narcissa was paler than usual.

"Maybe you don't understand. No wonder, considering you were raised by muggles. I assume that fool Weasley and Dumbledore never taught you the meaning of bloodlines. I'm not surprised. But you'll understand eventually. It's enough. More than enough. It's enough for us to have taken you in despite everything you did, everything you are. You should be grateful."

Harry stared in disbelief. "Despite everything I did? Despite everything I am? What about what you did, Lucius? You can't seriously expect me to respect you as a father after everything you did?"

"And what would that be?" Lucius asked frostily.

"Oh, what would that be?" Repeated Harry mockingly. "Let me think. Maybe how you've been trying to kill me since we first met? Or how you hunted me and my friends in the Department of Mysteries and how most of them almost died? That unimportant fact that you led the group of murderers that killed my godfather? Or maybe it's enough that I heard you laugh while Voldemort was torturing me."

His voice had grown louder with every sentence until finally, he rose from his chair. Narcissa and Draco stared at him. While Narcissa wavered between shock and distaste, Draco showed fear and a little… admiration? At Harry's final sentence, Lucius stood up.

"You will not speak that name again!" He hissed with a threatening tone, forgetting to stay unperturbed. "I don't care what you learned in the past. In this house, we regard the Dark Lord with respect."

"I will never ever respect Tom Riddle!" Harry shouted back. "He's a murderer. A sadistic, disgusting creature. And I'll never…"

Lucius' fist ended the sentence. Harry crashed over the chair and onto the stone floor, almost somersaulting from the force of the blow. Narcissa let out a suppressed scream.

"That's enough," said Lucius, deathly silent. "You will learn respect. You've had enough time."

"So you've finally had enough of your little mind games and want to resort to raw violence?" Countered Harry mockingly. He grinned in provocation, despite the hellish pain in his chin. He didn't care about what he said anymore. He knew he had lost, no matter what. "Really, Lucius, I would have expected more from someone so proud of having been a Slytherin."

Lucius didn't answer. Instead, he roughly grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him to his feet.

Responses to Comments:

Guest: The way inheritances work in this story will come up again in later chapters and will be explained in greater detail! Also, just as a reminder, this isn't our original story but a translation of an almost twenty year old German fanfiction, so some of the information that this story is based on may no longer be valid. The parts we're currently translating were written before the release of The Half-Blood Prince :)