Disclaimer: I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.

Chapter 10 - The House of Nott

The House of Nott was neither Ancient or Most Noble, for all that the family had been around nearly as long as the Blacks. On the rare occasion that Theo was in the mood to think about such weighty things as the family's history, he often suspected that the lack of status was directly due to centuries spent on the sidelines; what he knew of his father and grandfather certainly seemed to support this theory. They were not well-known, nor were they particularly well-liked (indeed, what few social graces Theo himself had possessed upon starting school had been entirely due to his late mother's influence); but they were possessed of a singularly rare gift: they could read potential with rather frightening clarity.

According to his grandfather, Nicodemus, the talent was rare even within the family, and practically unheard-of outside of it. Family lore suggested it was a bastardization of the gift of prophecy, and about as reliable; nevertheless, Theo had been terrified when, as a toddler, he saw the sickly greyish nimbus of light around his mother's head as she sat sewing in her favorite chair, and more so three weeks later, when she succumbed to the strange illness that the Healers could find no cure for. The same 'illness' later claimed his grandfather's life, as well, but by then Theo was old enough to recognize his father's skill with dark and obscure potions; it was his grandfather who had explained that the rivalry between father and son was inevitable, and often lethal as the balance of power shifted within the family dynamic.

Nicodemus had also taught his grandson the rudimentary mental disciplines he would later use to learn Occlumency, as well as the art of self-control. Under the elder Nott's tutelage, Theo honed and sharpened his gift, learning to interpret the threads of potential when he saw them; he learned, too, how to close himself off so that his thoughts were known only to himself, which was as much a survival technique as a way of life, once he arrived at school. The tall, withdrawn, somewhat socially awkward and bookish boy that Theo was in his youth drew little attention to himself, and few ever suspected that he was anything other than what he appeared to be.

Arriving in the house's foyer, Theo paused to allow the elves to fawn over him, as was their wont. His requests were simple, and the little creatures were practically tripping over themselves to comply, disappearing with a cacophony of cracks as he turned his attention to the portraits. One of the first things he'd done, as master of the house, had been to cast a series of silencing charms on the portraits; they were, for all intents and purposes, considered to be permanent, though he could remove them if the mood for conversation struck him and no one else was at hand. Thaddeus Nott's portrait was displayed rather prominently for a number of reasons, one of which had to do with the mirror that hung next to it. Theo faced it squarely, contemplating his father's features, then comparing them to his own in the reflection beside it: the same patrician features, the same dark hair with a tendency to curl if left too long (not that his father had ever let his hair grow, but he'd seen pictures from his father's school days that suggested the tendency was there), their eyes were even the same shade of forget-me-not blue.

Their similarities ended at the physical, however, and Theo turned away from both portrait and mirror to walk down the hall to the library. The elves had been in ahead of him, of course, so that his preferred table to sit at already had the tea service waiting for him, and more wood had been added to the fire in the hearth. Seating himself in the chair, he sipped from the teacup and contemplated his next move; he knew Blaise would alert him if there were anything to report, but it didn't make the waiting any easier, and Theo was oddly restless.

He knew his plan was sound, knew that having Granger as an addition to the 'family' of talented individuals that he'd gathered around himself was a wise decision, particularly if the conditioning was as successful as he hoped it would be. It was, he felt, the key difference between himself and those wizards who'd gone before him; others had gathered followers, certainly, but those so-called leaders had assumed control by fear and intimidation when charisma failed, and in both cases had deeply underestimated their opposition. Theo wasn't about to make that mistake; it was one of the reasons why he'd become as skilled in mind-magics as he had.

A noise sounded from the foyer, the distinctive crack alerting him to his visitor's identity even before he heard the clearing of a throat from the doorway. "Come in, Draco," he said, without looking away from the fireplace.

"He knows all, he sees all, the omniscient Theodore Nott." Malfoy's voice dripped sarcasm, as he crossed the room to sit in the chair closest to Theo. "One of these days, you really will have to give up the secrets behind your little parlor tricks."

"No tricks, Draco, you're just embarrassingly predictable." Theo finally turned his attention to his visitor, arching an eyebrow expectantly. "You have news?"

"Mm. Potter took the bait. He sent a squad to comb through Granger's flat." He paused, then added, "They found nothing, of course."

"Don't sound so disappointed, Draco."

"I'll admit I have some reservations where Granger is concerned. Are you sure this is the best way to go about securing her cooperation?"

"Must I remind you again that it's not your place to be questioning my plans?" Theo was careful to keep his tone cool, almost bored-sounding, as a warning.

Malfoy winced, shaking his head. "No, no reminder will be necessary. Still, even you have to admit that it's a bit of a risk, snatching one of Potter's best friends out from under his nose."

"Ah, but she's not in his circle any more, remember? And since he seems to have dropped the proverbial ball regarding his friendship with Granger, you can hardly blame me for wanting to scoop it up. Brightest witch of our age, and all of that." Theo tilted his head slightly, regarding Malfoy more closely, and remarked, "If this is your way of expressing displeasure at having to keep tabs on Potter the toerag, let me reassure you that those days are coming to an end."

"It's true, maintaining the pretense of civility around Potty and the Weasel on a daily basis has had rather a detrimental effect on my manners," Malfoy agreed, with a smirk. "At least with Granger there's intelligent conversation. If I never hear about Quidditch again, it'll be too soon, and to think I used to like the game."

"Tsk. Such a hardship, I'm sure. Perhaps I'll arrange a vacation for you once Granger's been inducted into the family. Somewhere sunny, hm? You can take that girl you've been seeing. Astoria. Daphne's sister, isn't she?"

"It's exceedingly annoying that you keep tabs on every aspect of my personal life, you know that?"

"We're family."

"You're worse than my mother."

"Oh, now that hurts, Draco. At least I don't call you by some ridiculous pet name. What was it? Boo-boo bear?"

"You are worse than my mother." Malfoy sighed and shook his head. "So, you finish with Granger and then what? Finally take over the world?"

"Ah, now that would be telling. Granger is the final piece I need in play, and then we begin the endgame. So much untapped potential in that brilliant mind of hers, just as there was with yours before we unlocked it. It's why I need to keep her relatively intact, rather than simply breaking her outright. I don't expect it to be all that problematic, though."

Malfoy nodded, but he was looking thoughtful, and Theo waited expectantly for him to finally get to whatever else had brought him by. "The guest list for the ball has been checked and double checked, and Potter seems to think that Goyle was behind what happened."

"I see. Such a shame that our dear Gregory isn't available for questioning."

"It did have all the subtlety of a brick, yes. Still, the illusion seemed rather elaborate, for Goyle. He's never been particularly good at charmwork. Or planning, for that matter. Someone else may have pushed his buttons, then left him to hang." Malfoy inclined his head, then added, "I thought I should let you know."

Theo frowned. He'd been trying not to think too hard about Blaise's admission that Goyle had been behind the events at the Ball, but Malfoy's instincts were generally reliable. It was one of the reasons Theo had sent him to spy on the Ministry, and he'd proved damn good at it. "I'll keep it in mind. Anything else?"

"No, I'm done. I'll see myself out, shall I?"

"Yes, do that." Theo returned his attention to the fireplace, frowning at the flames as he mulled over the information Draco had brought.