Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. It and any characters from the franchise that may appear in this fanfiction are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. This story was written for entertainment purposes only and no profit is made from this story.
Author's note: Thank you for all the nice comments, I have a general idea of where the story is going, but I'm also looking forward to see what I come up with in between.
Maybe it was living in a magical time wave for almost two months that made him feel so tired. Exhaustion was the first thing he felt when time finally started to slow down again, back to its regular ticking rhythm. The second thing he felt was silk under his hands. Hands which were considerably smaller than a few seconds ago. The third was the cold metal against his skin. The time-turner had come with him? How in Merlin's name was he supposed to hide that? A simple notice-me-not would have to do once he got his wand.
"Deandra," he cried out loud as he sat up straight, wondering for a split second if it had all just been a nightmare.
"I am here, little dragon," she spoke in his mind as she magically opened the curtains for him to let the sunlight in. "I will always be here."
Draco felt relief flow over him. Even if they had been meticulous in their planning, he was also terrified. He wasn't a bloody Gryffindor. Yes, he had jumped back in time to save Hermione. To save everyone really. And yes, he was cunning and witty enough to come up with a plan along with Deandra. That didn't mean that he wasn't anxious about the whole thing. What if it would blow up in his face?
As he got out of bed, he noticed his clothes were already laid out for him. While dressing, the distinct *pop* of an elf coming into his room almost made him jump. However, Malfoys had dignity. So, all he did was raise an eyebrow in surprise.
Dobby was staring up at him, his eyes big as saucers. "Dobby is sorry to disturb young master," he began. "Mistress told Dobby that young master should get ready so we can head to Diagon Alley for the fitting of your robes and the purchase of your wand." He bowed, clearly scared that he would be in for a punishment by appearing in his master's room without notice.
Draco and Deandra had talked about this. He couldn't just switch personalities overnight. However, he also refused to keep being a git. Well, mostly. He was still a Malfoy after all. "Thank you, Dobby. We can leave soon," Draco answered as he stood up straight, adjusting his collar.
Dobby raised his ears at him in wonder, at being thanked. Fuck. Maybe he did overdo it? He had listened to multiple rants and Hermione trying to get him to anonymously spread S.P.E.W. flyers in the Slytherin common room. One time she had even sneaked in with him under Potter's invisibility cloak and left the damn things lying around. Some poor second year had gotten the blame for spreading the "nonsense" and had been hexed so their ears would grow to typical house elf size every time they walked into the Slytherin common room. Draco definitely never told Hermione that.
Maybe Dobby would blame his politeness on his excitement for getting his wand. Who knew? His house elf was not his biggest concern right now.
"No thanks are needed, master," the elf said as he disappeared, probably informing Narcissa of the fact that her son had finally awoken.
He decided not to have his hair all sleeked back this time around - he'd gotten over that phase by the time he was 14 after all.
"We should get Potter a birthday gift to establish our relationship," Draco told Deandra as he made his way out of his room, his robes bellowing behind him like he'd learnt from his godfather. Maybe he should quit doing that. He looked like a little 11-year-old snob, something which would definitely not impress Hermione and Potter. "A book on quidditch should do."
He could feel Deandra's approving hum as he opened the doors to the dining room, greeting his mother and father respectfully.
"Draco, dear," his mother said. "I know I promised I would go to Diagon Alley with you today, but Lady Parkinson has invited me and Lady Greengrass over for tea today to discuss some… matters. Dobby will apparate the two of you there and I will meet you for ice cream at Fortescues around one o'clock."
"Remember to behave, Draco," his father drawled as he closed the economic section of The Daily Prophet. "And make sure not to mingle with any… lesser beings."
Draco almost had to snort and roll his eyes at his father. This was the time to put the first part of his plan in motion. "Of course, father," he agreed. "I was just thinking, there might be a possibility that I run into Harry Potter today. Do you think it would be politically advantageous for us if I would associate myself with him?"
His mother gave him a proud look, and his father raised an eyebrow, interested. "Mister Potter has been hidden quite well by Dumbledore," his father answered. "If you do manage to be acquainted with him today, at least learn where his loyalties lie before we decide on how to proceed?"
"Yes, father," Draco said, pleased that this time his father would be the victim of many manipulations. The tables were finally turned. "It would not be advantageous for us to have my father opposing us and the changes we will make," he thought as he felt Deandra's approval at his words, her presence settling in his mind. "There is much to do. But first, we need to go get that gift for Harry Potter."
Nothing more was said as he finished his breakfast, and Dobby came running at him with a rain-repellent robe before whisking both of them off to Diagon Alley.
- Diagon Alley, 31st of July 1991 -
One of the privileges of being rich and spoiled was that he did not have to explain to anyone, least of all his house elf, why exactly he wanted a second copy of Quidditch Through the Ages as well as two copies of Seeking the Snitch for beginners. If he was going to do his best to become friends with Harry Potter, the best way to start was on common ground. Quidditch. He told Dobby to run ahead to Madam Malkin's to tell her he might be running a tad late. Even if it was bad decorum to be late, it was even worse to not notify the witch that he'd made a small detour. Deandra approved and was pleased that at least his father had insisted on teaching him proper etiquette.
As he walked into Flourish and Blotts, thinking if there was anything else he could get Potter, or going over what he would say when they finally met, he was not prepared to hear 11-year-old Hermione Granger babbling to her mother and explaining exactly how important it was for her to get the original copy of Hogwarts a History. His breath caught in his throat as he saw her. She was here. She was alive. She was the reason he'd gone back. She was the reason he and Deandra would do what they could to set this foolishness right.
She turned her head at him, frizzy hair and buck teeth and all. He'd forgotten what her teeth looked like before she let Madame Pomfrey correct them. Honestly, she looked adorable. The familiar magical tug in his stomach almost made him walk up to her but he didn't want to scare her off.
He contemplated what to do next. His parents would not consider it good manners for introducing himself to, what was in their eyes a "mudblood". They had after all told him not to associate with "lesser beings". Well. Screw them.
"Are you going to Hogwarts as well next term?" he casually asked as he stepped towards Hermione, following the pull of her magic after all.
Hermione's face lit up. "Yes, I was ever so pleased when I got my Hogwarts letter. I didn't know I was a witch you see. My name is Hermione Granger, and you are?" she rattled on as she put out her hand for him to shake.
"Malfoy," he answered, taking her hand and shaking it. "Draco Malfoy. I was born to an old wizarding family so it came as no surprise to me."
She smiled as Hermione's mother also extended her hand. "Dr. Jean Granger, Hermione's mother," she said. Ah. This was one of those muggle healers who worked with teeth. Peculiar they didn't fix their daughters', Draco thought as he shook hands with Hermione's mother.
Before Draco could answer, Dobby had suddenly reappeared. Oh no. He had been on the end of more than one rant about S.P.E.W. He would have to save this fast.
"Oh Dobby, there you are," he casually said. "Please introduce yourself to doctor Granger and her daughter Hermione."
"Of course, master," he said as he winced for before shaking Dr. Granger's hand. Poor thing was probably scared Lucius would make him iron his hands to get the muggle filth of his hands. He would definitely need to order him never to do that.
"I is Dobby" he said as he took Hermione's hand. Draco could already see the frown building on her face. "I am master Draco's personal elf and I serve the Malfoy family. Pleased to meet you, mistress."
Both Draco and Dobby looked at each other in alarm. Had he just called Hermione his mistress? Thank Merlin that neither Hermione or her mother knew what this meant. But Dobby did. Magic had forced him to recognize the bond between them. Shite. He thought that particular thing would've disappeared when traveling back in time.
"You were technically married in front of magic itself, Draco," Deandra said. "You can't just break a bond like that."
"She should have a choice in this matter," he gritted out to her. "I will speak to the goblins about having it annulled as soon as possible. You make sure the family tapestry doesn't show the connection to any Malfoy or Malfoy elf living at the manor. Merlin knows what would happen if they ever found out." Deandra agreed and told him it was done. No Malfoy or their elves living at the manor would see Hermione's name on the magical family tapestry which was in the hidden studty in the back of Malfoy library. They didn't need to protect it against outsiders as the study could only be entered by those of the Malfoy line.
Now. How was he going to save this?
"Dobby, miss Hermione might not feel as comfortable with you calling her mistress, since she hasn't learnt about our customs yet. I'd advise you refer to her as Miss Hermione."
"Of course, master," Dobby said, the gears turning in his little head. Magic knew the girl in front of him was his mistress, his master's beloved. Why was he denying it? Had he not felt it himself? Dobby had heard stories of the older elves of Malfoy heirs finding their soulmates at Hogwarts, but a muggleborn… This was unheard off. He definitely wasn't planning on telling master Malfoy's father anytime soon.
"Master?" Hermione said, her eyes squinting at him. "Is he your slave?" Her nostrils flaring.
"Hermione," her mother scolded her.
"No, it's alright doctor Granger," Draco said, holding up his hand in the air. "It might seem confusing. Some house elves are indeed mistreated and seen as slaves. Most, however, are equivalent to what muggles call butlers. You see, house elves need the magic of their family to be able to survive. I can recommend a book on it, if you'd want?"
Hermione seemed unsure, but since books and knowledge had always been where she'd found her answers the first time around, she nodded the. "I suppose it would be a good idea to learn of other wizarding customs, and not just read up on classes and Hogwarts," she agreed. "Are there any other books you could recommend?"
The both of them went of to the shelves as Dr. Granger and Dobby engaged in conversation about house elves and their duties. Draco also picked out the books he was planning to buy for Harry and paid for them, Hermione asking him what felt like more than a million questions about what it is like growing up in a wizarding family.
"It was very nice to meet someone before I actually start Hogwarts," Hermione admitted quietly as they left the store. "I've never met someone like me before."
He cringed inwardly. He remembered how she'd been bullied. Seen as a freak by her peers. Not only for her intelligence, but also for any accidental magic which occurred around her. How she'd been so happy to be part of the magical community, only to feel as an outsider once more because of the idiotic focus on her blood status.
"If you want, we could write," he said. "It is still a month until school begins after all, and I could answer your questions in writing. I assume you don't have an owl, or the posting service set up yet?"
Dr. Granger answered his question. "We have a subscription to The Daily Prophet," she said. "But we haven't gotten an owl yet, even though Professor McGonagall advised us to. It isn't as easy for us and our busy schedules to raise and take care of an owl you see. And Hermione would like to take a cat to Hogwarts instead of an owl."
Ah yes. Crookshanks. That little devil. At least the scar the half-kneazle had given him had also disappeared. He was sure that one would be replaced, however. Perhaps even by multiple ones.
"I would advise getting a subscription for The Quibbler as well. The Daily Prophet does not always print the truth in my experience," Draco said, remembering the Lovegoods. Dear Merlin. He'd forgotten all about Loony, no. Luna. Even though Hermione had thought she was a bit eccentric, they had been friends. He wondered if Potter, Weasley and Dobby had managed to save her from the dungeons in Malfoy Manor before they had come barging in, killing his aunt.
"Dobby could always send messages back and forth if you would allow him to apparate to your house, right Dobby?". He tried to at least make it look like he was asking the elf to agree, even though he knew Dobby couldn't do anything but obey.
"Of course, master, sir," Dobby nodded enthusiastically. "If Dr. Grangey and miss Hermie allow Dobby to enter their house, he can bring letters in the mornings?"
"If Dobby wouldn't mind, then that would be wonderful to be able to get Hermione to write to her new friends," Dr. Granger said with what seemed to be some tears in her eyes. If Draco had his way he would find those bullies and teach them a lesson. Alas, magic on muggles was not allowed. "I'm sorry, but what is "apparating" if Dobby is to deliver the letters to us?" Dr. Granger asked, suddenly confused.
"Oh," Draco laughed. "It's a magical way of transportation. Much like teleporting from one place to the other." Thank Merlin Hermione had made him read those sci-fi novels and actually taught him something about the muggle world.
"Teleportation?" Hermione asked, her eyes growing wide and a smile forming on her face. "Wicked."
They exchanged goodbyes and Draco told her she could call on Dobby any time if she had a letter to send to him or any other people she met. He also encouraged her to read upon the history of house elves, and to take most of the books concerning Harry Potter with a grain of salt. She was confused at this, but nodded at him and shook his hand one more time before leaving to muggle London.
"Master," Dobby said unsure, hopping from one foot to the other as they watched the two ladies walk away. "Why is Miss Grangey Dobby's… Mistress," he whispered, holding his head in his hands, scared he would be punished.
"I'm not sure, Dobby," Draco lied to him. "Perhaps Hermione and I will become great friends in the future and magic has recognized it?". The elf was probably dumb enough to believe that. "You also call Mrs. Parkinson "mistress" when she visits, right?"
"Of course, master," the little elf agreed as he started guiding them to Madam Malkin's. "Dobby has also heard stories however, from the head house elf… About mates…"
Bloody hell. When had his elf started to grow a backbone. And why was he so nosy that he would pick up all of this unnecessary information. Draco pinched the tip of his nose. "Yes, Dobby," Draco agreed. "But considering Ms. Granger's background, perhaps we should keep this our little secret and you should stop referring to her as "mistress"?
Dobby nodded, opening the door to Madam Malkin's, making a motion of zipping his mouth with his tiny fingers.
This time, Draco only arrived a few minutes earlier than Harry did. He had never noticed how small the boy had been for his age. How skinny. The rags that one could barely refer to as clothes didn't help him, neither did his glasses that were taped together. Had he really been that much of a git the first time around to not notice the signs?
Deandra bristled in his head. "How dare they?!" she almost screamed. "I can barely feel his magical core. I never realized it when looking at your memories, Draco. This child has been mistreated severely. How they ever expected him to grow into the wizard who would defeat the Dark Lord is beyond me! I can't believe he was able to produce a Patronus at 13. His core must've grown immensely during his time at Hogwarts."
He had to agree with her. Potter looked pathetic. Hermione had told him bits and pieces of his treatment by the muggles he lived with. But even she hadn't realized how severe it had been in the beginning.
"Hi mate, off to Hogwarts? I'm Draco Malfoy." Draco asked as he put out his hand for Harry to shake. The dark-haired boy just blinked at him a few times, clearly not used to being addressed in a friendly manner. Dear Merlin. What the fuck had Potter actually gone through? And why had none of the actual adults done something about this?
Harry finally seemed to find the courage to go up to Draco and shake his hand. That definitely went better than the first time around. "Harry Potter. And, yeah. Just found out I'm a wizard today, actually."
Madam Malkin froze. She, like anyone walking through Diagon Alley that day, had of course recognized the saviour of the Wizarding World at a first glance. If not for the scar on his forehead, then him being the spitting image of James Potter was definitely an indicator for most of the older generation of witches and wizards.
"Mr. Potter," she began. "You surely must have known that your mother and father fought … You-Know-Who? They were two very accomplished magicals…"
Harry turned his head to her and shrugged. "Voldemort? Yeah, Hagrid told me about that today."
"You shouldn't speak his name," the older witch scolded him as she started uttering spells to get his measurements. Draco noticed the slight frown as she too must have noticed he was way too small for an 11-year-old boy.
He leant over to Harry "the older generation is still a bit twitchy around Moldy Pant's name," Draco whispered. "Best to just call him You-Know-Who around them if you don't want to be scolded 24/7."
Harry smiled at him and waved at Hagrid who was standing behind the window, ice cream in hand. "Oh, I forgot I was meeting my mother for ice cream afterwards," Draco said. "By the way Harry, it is your birthday today, right? Congratulations."
Harry looked at him suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.
"You're claimed to be the saviour of the wizarding world, mate," Draco said. "Everyone knows your name and your birthday. Better get used to the fame."
Harry seemed to contemplate that information for a second. "I never asked to be famous," he said. "If anything, it's probably my mother who should be considered a hero. I don't think a 1-year-old baby could defeat a dark wizard."
Madam Malkin seemed to think over his answer. Even Draco had never really thought about that. Why exactly was Harry seen as a hero, whereas it was his mother who had given her life for his that night?
Trying to brighten the mood, Draco said: "You know, your dad used to be a quidditch player at Hogwarts. One of the best chasers Gryffindor team ever had. Dobby, could you give me those books I bought earlier today?"
Dobby came running and enlarged the books from his pocket, bowing as he met Harry. "Dobby is pleased to meet Mister Harry Potter, sir," Dobby said.
Harry seemed to be surprised by the elf's strange appearance but didn't say anything and instead shook hands with him, almost making Dobby die with excitement. Draco rolled his eyes.
"Here, as a birthday gift. I'm sure your dad would've at least attempted to get you to like quidditch, it's a wizarding sport as popular as football" Draco said, holding out the books.
Harry looked at the books. No one had ever gotten him any gifts before. Yet this kid, this stranger, had not only given him the precious gift of telling him something about his father, but was also granting him an actual gift. Something new. Something for him alone.
"I-" Harry stammered. "I can't take these."
"Of course you can," Draco said. "Don't worry about the money, mate. The Malfoys are loaded just like the Potters. A book or two wouldn't make either one of us go broke."
"You don't understand," Harry said, shaking his head. "My… aunt and uncle they don't approve of magic. They will probably just lock this away along with the rest of my stuff until school begins. I'm not allowed to read even. Can't be smarter than their son Dudley…"
Draco frowned at that, Madam Malkin hovering near and listening to the conversation in disbelief. Deandra was raging in his mind, throwing off curses. "Why have the Potter elves never come to his aid? Why has no adult ever checked up on him? What is this ridiculousness?" she hissed again. That was a good question actually. Draco had fallen from his broom and broken his arm when he was seven. A whole army of house elves had shown up to make sure he was alright. Looking at Harry, he had definitely been mistreated. Either the elves too had been killed by Voldemort, or… They were kept from him.
"That's alright," Draco said. "Dobby here can bring them to you once you're alone at night and hide them for you. All you have to do is allow him to enter your home and call his name."
Dobby started nodding so hard and quickly that his ears were flapping around his head. "Of course, Dobby can run errands for mister Malfoy's friends. He is delivering letters to miss Grangey, he can also come to mister Harry Potter, sir. If Dobby would be permitted ofcourse."
"Miss Grangey?" Harry asked.
"Oh, I met her at the bookstore. Hermione Granger. She also grew up in a muggle family. Her family are dentists," Draco shrugged. "She didn't know she was a witch, just like you. If you want, I could ask her to write to you? You probably have some things to bond over. And I could let you in on the wizarding world?"
This was bloody perfect. Thank Merlin for Dobby. If he could get Hermione and Harry acquainted before they went off to Hogwarts, their friendship could be established from the get-go.
"I would like that," Harry whispered. "Could you… Also bring me some writing materials, Dobby?" he asked the house elf sheepishly.
Oh no. Dobby got that murderous look in his eyes. Well. As long as he didn't order his elf to hurt the muggles, and he did of his own accord instead, that technically didn't equal breaking the law.
"Dobby will make sure everything is in order," he said.
"Thanks, Draco," Harry said as Madam Malkin finished up taking his measurements. "I have to go now though, seems like Hagrid is waiting for me. It was nice to meet you." Sincerity filled Harry's voice.
"No problem, Harry," Draco answered. "Oh, and if you want to get started on something before the school year starts, you can read up on Potions ingredients and Potion making beforehand. My godfather, professor Snape, teaches the course and he can be quite strict. I'll send an extra book with Dobby if you'd like?" Draco remembered his godfather's treatment of Harry the first time round. Even though it had amused him to no end back then, it definitely wouldn't this time around. He needed any advantage he could get. And Severus Snape was a good ally to have. He could teach them potions, defence, dark arts, and occlumency.
Harry thanked him for the information and said he would like to have a look at it if he could sneak the book with him.
Draco frowned, but nodded and shook Harry's hand before they both left the store. Thank Merlin that this meeting had gone way smoother than the one seven years earlier.
- Malfoy Manner, dinnertime the same day -
"So, Draco," his godfather began as they were eating dinner. Lucius had been called away to the ministry, so it was just him, his mother and Severus. "A little bird told me that you've been making some friends at Diagon Alley today?"
Draco looked up at that, his godfather had eyes and ears everywhere. He did his best not to let any of his emotions show. Not only was Severus Snape an accomplished occlumence, he was also a legillimens. He felt Deandra add to the strength of his mental walls.
His mother looked up expectantly. This was the first she had heard of this.
"I was planning to tell father as well," Draco said as he dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. "I met two rather interesting individuals today. Potential snakes, if it would please you, godfather," Draco began.
"Please indulge me," he said as he raised his glass at Draco, urging him to continue.
Draco would have to play this innocently yet smart. No way he could manipulate both his godfather and his mother if he didn't use every ounce of cunning in his body.
"When Dobby and I arrived at Flourish and Blotts, I met a certain Miss Granger and her mother. I couldn't help but wonder if she was perhaps a descendant of the Dagworth-Granger line, as he was such an established potioneer, godfather. But it seemed she was muggleborn."
"It could be possible she is the descendant of an unknown squib," his mother said. "Granger is not a very common name in the wizarding world, so it is certainly a possibility."
"My thoughts exactly, mother," Draco agreed. "And wouldn't it be marvellous if the Malfoy family was the one to reintroduce the Dagworth-Granger line to magical society? Their vaults must have been gathering dust for decades. A potential heir would have access to the vaults and riches within. Perhaps even some unknown potion recipes?"
He was doing his best to play on both his mother's want for ever-increasing societal status, as well as his godfather's interest in potions. Even if he had always been more interested in the dark arts, potions had come naturally to him as they did Draco. Merlin, even Draco himself was excited to see if there was anything left in the Dagworth-Granger vaults – if Hermione actually was a descendant. In the past timeline they'd assumed she was.
His mother nodded approvingly. "We can't be sure until she has visited Gringotts, of course. Perhaps you could convince her to take a heritage test? If it turns out positive, her standing in the wizarding world would definitely increase. I'll accompany them to Gringotts and make sure that she would be introduced to the right circles and trained in our ways afterwards, as any proper heir of an ancient house."
Of course, his mother would think about appearances first. One look at his godfather made it clear to Draco that he also seemed to agree with the plan.
"I also heard you ran into our new… celebrity," Snape drawled. "Mister Potter. Is he a potential snake?" he raised his eyebrows unbelievingly. Draco had heard of some of the rivalry between Potter senior and his godfather, but had always been unsure where it stemmed from.
"It was actually a quite disturbing encounter," Draco began. "I am sure Madam Malkin agrees. For all the stories that are told about him, he seemed to be a small and scrawny child. I asked Dobby about it later and he said he was sure that Mr. Potter hadn't been fed properly his entire life. He was also wearing rags for clothes and didn't know he was a wizard until today."
His mother might be cool and collected, but she loved children. She had always wanted to have more after Draco, but… Being pure-blooded and interbreeding had its disadvantages. Having issues getting pregnant was one of them. Another thing to add on the ever growing list of why mainly having purebloods rule the magical world of Britain was not the way to go. "Are you saying, dragon," Narcissa began. "That mister Potter has been raised with muggles?"
"Even so," Severus interceded. "The headmaster has always ensured Minerva and any other member of staff that the Potter child was taken care off in a loving family. Even if they are muggles, I am sure that he's well taken care off. Perhaps the boy just does not care for his appearance. His father definitely lacked proper manners and etiquette," he sneered.
"I am just telling you what me and Dobby observed, godfather," Draco said, feigning innocence. "He even mentioned he wasn't allowed to read as it could potentially make him smarter than his cousin, and how his family was so opposed to magic they would probably lock all of his things away until September first."
"His cousin?" his godfather hissed, losing all sense of composure, dropping his spoon onto the table. "Don't tell me he is being raised by Petunia Dursley?"
Narcissa looked up at one of her oldest friends. He had told her about his childhood and his love for Lily. As she came from an upstanding pureblood family, she would never understand what it was like to grow up alone, hated for being magical. But both Severus Snape and Lily Potter had suffered by the hand of some of their muggle family members. Now it seemed that her son Harry was facing the same fate.
Draco looked at his godfather in surprise. Did he know the Potters that well? "I'm not sure," he answered. "Did you know Mrs. Potter and her family?"
"We grew up in the same village," Severus said, trying to keep calm. "Her older sister, Petunia, called her a freak."
Freak. Hermione had once told Draco that Harry didn't know his own name before he was forced to go to school. How he had thought his name was "freak" or "boy". Dear Merlin.
"Tell them," Deandra spit out. "I do not care how we will spin this, how we will claim knowing this. Maybe they will never ask. But tell them. No child should grow up like this."
"I think they refer to him as a freak as well," Draco said quietly, trying not to blow his cover.
Severus stood up immediately. "I'm sorry Narcissa. I need to go and check on some things," he said. "I will stop by again next week to test Draco on his occlumency before he heads off to Hogwarts."
His mother nodded, worry in her eyes. "Of course, Severus. Please. If there is anything me or Lucius can do to help…"
He nodded once before running hastily to the floo. Seems like Dumbledore was in for a treat. Draco smirked at his godfather's back.
"Your godfather," his mother began once Severus left the room. "He used to love Lily. Tried to make a pact with the Dark Lord to spare her life."
Draco's head whipped around. His godfather had tried to save Potter's mother? Then why had he spent the past seven years making the boy's life a literal hell? That didn't seem like honouring the woman you loved.
"He hated Lord Potter though. Loathed him with a passion. For good reason I should say," his mother continued, sipping her wine. "When I was a prefect, I would constantly find them in the hallways casting hexes at each other. But it was always two or three against one, against Severus. My cousin Sirius being on Lord Potter's side." She sighed deeply. "Don't tell your father, but whatever comes out of this acquaintanceship with you and Potter, I will support you. In fact, I had already prepared for such an occasion since you mentioned it might be beneficial becoming friends with him earlier this morning."
She snapped her fingers and Tipsy showed up, holding two notebooks, no, diaries in her hands. "This is a two-way-diary," his mother said, handing the first green leatherbound book to him. "We Blacks always like to keep our secrets close to us, but we are also not afraid to share them with the ones we trust the most. You can use it to communicate with anyone you'd like. It seems like Mr. Potter could use a friend," she smiled at him encouragingly. The "so do you, Draco," was left unsaid.
He took the two leatherbound diaries and bowed his head at his mother, thanking her. "Would you happen to have another set, mother? If miss Granger turns out to be a Dagworth-Granger, I would like to attempt to get to know her as well."
"Of course. Perhaps even a copy the three of you could share? Since you are attempting to turn the both of them into snakes?" she said, smirking. Draco smirked right back at her. If only she knew.
- A few nights later, Draco's bedroom -
He had sent Dobby to both Harry and Hermione right after his mother had given him the diaries. He'd given Harry a green diary to communicate with him, as well as a self-inking quill, urging Harry to start practicing before they started Hogwarts. He'd also included a black diary where he, Hermione and Harry could communicate in so that the two Gryffindorks – well he guessed they wouldn't be that for much longer if everything went according to plan – could communicate with each other and him. In his note to them, he'd mentioned all they had to do was ask if they also wanted a private diary between the two of them.
Hermione had gotten the same black diary, but also a silver one which was for just himself and her. The three of them had been writing back and forth for a few days now, getting to know each other. Hermione's texts were usually longer, and filled with questions about the magical world which Harry was also eager to learn about. Potter was actually quite sassy, something Draco had never learned about him the first time around.
It was then the question Draco had been waiting for had suddenly popped up in Hermione's handwriting.
"What house do you two think you will end up in?" she wrote. "I am still debating if Ravenclaw or Gryffindor would fit me best."
Draco started answering immediately. "Most children who come from magical families are sorted in the same house as their parents and ancestors. As I come from a pureblood family whose members have mostly been sorted into Slytherin, it is very likely that I will also end up there."
Harry was the first to answer. "I thought you said yesterday that the hat took into consideration your personality when picking a house which fit best. But it is actually based on family relations?"
Hermione wrote shorter than usual, disappointment flooding through the paper. "If that's the case, then the three of us will not end up in the same house. Harry's parents were in Gryffindor, yours in Slytherin and me- I'm a muggleborn. Slytherin wouldn't even be an option for me."
Draco wasn't sure how to answer. He had to make sure Hermione would doubt being an actual muggleborn. But he also wanted both of them to consider Slytherin. No way was he going to become part of the Lion's den. Well, he would if he had to. But having to share a dorm with Weasley for the next seven years? Dear Merlin help him. No, he'd need to be able to keep an eye on them together with Severus. And keep the meddling headmaster out of his way.
"Firstly, the sorting hat takes your wishes into account. I believe that a lot of witches and wizards do not want to disappoint their parents by being sorted in a different house, therefore they usually end up in the same house rather than the one that suits their personality best. My cousin Nymphadora, for example, never cared about any of it and ended up being sorted into Hufflepuff, even though her mother was a Slytherin." He left out that no one in the family was still speaking to either Nymphadora or Andromeda because his aunt had dared to marry a mudblood. "Sadly, I also have certain expectations to live up to. But I would like to think that I am cunning, resourceful, and ambitious which are the traits of Slytherin. Secondly, are you sure you are muggleborn, Hermione? I talked with my family earlier and they were wondering if you weren't a descendant from the Dagsworth-Granger family. Some pure-blooded families to this day leave their non-magical children in muggle orphanages I'm afraid."
Both Harry and Hermione were outraged at this. Harry because he felt it was unfair for children to be taken from their parents, seeing as he had never known his. Hermione was furious because she couldn't believe the magical world was so bigoted. If only she knew how they'd react to her. Draco agreed with their sentiments, and tried to get back on topic. He needed them to do a heritage test. Even Potter. They needed the political clout.
After some more back and forth, they had established two things. The first was that they would try to stay together, seeing as they were each other's first real friends. Even in the case of Draco that was true. Since Hermione would be the first out of the three of them to be sorted, they'd follow her lead. All four houses had potential, but Hermione and Harry both considered Gryffindor and Slytherin to be their main choices by the end of the conversations they'd had that evening. The second thing they agreed on was that Dobby, Draco, and his mother, would pick each of them up some time in the next week, Dr. Granger also joining them, to head to Gringotts for a heritage test.
"Better get to planning", he told Deandra. "Any tips on how to sneak out of the manor without Mother noticing?"
The spirit smiled at him. "I can make a small adjustment to the wards, making it seem as if you're still here."
Draco smirked. It felt good having a magical being on your side.
- The next day, Diagon Alley -
After Deandra had adjusted the wards, Draco had transfigured himself to look like his 18-year-old-self again, albeit with dark blond hair and blue eyes instead of his pale blond trademark hair and stormy grey eyes. He'd even added a freshly shaven stubble and grown his hair a bit longer.
"Merlin, it feels good being an actual adult again instead of an 11-year-old midget," he said to Deandra who laughed at him as he started strolling through Diagon Alley, looking around as the shops opened up. It also felt good to see the shopping area so alive and colourful again. Merlin, he hoped the second war really never came to pass.
He strode over to the bank, betting on the fact that not too many wizards and witches had entered yet. He greeted the guards as he entered the building, bowing respectfully with his hand on his heart as Deandra had advised him to do. The goblins looked surprised, but slightly bowed back at him.
He waited for one of the tellers to call on him and was surprised when it was Gornuk. He'd remembered when this goblin had been brought to the manor by Greyback… He was the account manager for quite a lot of Light families during the Second war so he'd needed to go in hiding. Sadly, the goblin hadn't made it out alive.
[Greetings, account manager Gornuk, may your vaults be filled with gold], Draco said in fluent Gobbledegook as he bowed slightly. [I was hoping to speak with Director Ragnok if he is available this morning. The matter is quite sensitive and not to be heard by the wrong ears].
Speaking about ears, the goblin in front of him his ears had straightened out, and so had the ones of the tellers next to Gornuk. The witch who was exchanging some galleons for muggle money next to him, was staring at him open-mouthed.
"I don't think the goblins are used to wizardkind speaking their language anymore," Deandra noted, amused.
Gornuk seemed to get himself back together before speaking. [And who, may I ask, wishes to speak with the director?].
He couldn't just say his name. People would hear him. The rumour mill would already be going about a young British wizard who spoke Gobbledegook, he didn't need anyone to hear that the same wizard thought he was actually Draco Lucius Malfoy.
[I would rather establish my identity in private, if that would be alright with you and the director, of course,] Draco answered. [I must also admit that I have transfigured and glamoured my appearance so no one may recognize me. I realize that Gringotts has measures in place to remove these tricks, so I would not want to be dishonest before we continue our conversation elsewhere.]
The goblin nodded at him. [Very well. Follow me]. He hopped down his way too high chair and lead Draco through a set of golden locked doors which once again lead into tunnels which went deeper under London. Eventually they reached a set of heavy metallic doors with golden doorknobs. Two guards were standing in front of them and showed their sharp teeth at Draco, who greeted them respectfully in Gobbledegook, baffling both of them as they opened the door.
As soon as Draco walked through the doors, the glamour and transfiguration disappeared, turning him into 11-year-old Draco Malfoy again. Gornuk jumped in surprise, Director Ragnok laughed out loud behind his desk.
"My, my. I certainly did not expect to see another Malfoy heir waltzing through these doors. There is only one reason you would know Gobbledegook. Deandra, where are you at, you old hag? It's been far too long."
"Wait what?" Draco thought as the spirit materialized in front of him, her long silver hair down to her waist, hanging down over her turquoise robes. Even though she looked slightly more human now, there was still a light silver hue around her body.
"I might not have told the whole truth, little dragon," Deandra laughed. "Gringotts was also built on strong leylines, just like Malfoy Manor. It is not the first time I am accompanying a Malfoy heir to the goblin bank. Where else did you think I learnt to speak Gobbledegook anyway?"
"You tricked me," he accused her.
"Only because I wanted to see your face when Director Ragnok would recognize us," she winked at him. "Which reminds me, old friend, why would you ever refer to me as an old hag?"
Ragnok raised an eyebrow at her. "You have to ask me that, woman? You've been a pain in my and my ancestors' arse for the past five hundred years. Ever since the bloody bank was established."
"Now, now, Ragnok. I did provide you with one of your best customers. The Malfoy family's investments have made both of our families richer," the spirit answered, sitting down at the desk opposite to Ragnok.
The director grumbled and waved his hand, motioning Draco to sit down next to Deandra. "I suppose this is not just any regular visit. What is it this time? A betrothal contract gone wrong? Magical illness? Or perhaps…" Ragnok looked at Draco properly now.
"What's that around your neck, Mr. Malfoy?" Ragnok said. "Don't tell me you've gotten one of the Ministry's precious time-turners?"
Draco jumped in surprise. He'd hidden the necklace with a notice-me-not but the wards at Ragnok's office had made it visible again. "Director, I would like this conversation to stay completely confidential," the blond began.
And so, Draco began his story, under a magical vow that both he and Deandra were speaking the truth. Ragnok had made a similar vow, promising to never talk of this conversation with anyone but the two of them. As Draco started explaining more and more about the second war, about goblins being killed by the Dark Lord, Ragnok had heard enough.
"What is it you want, Mr. Malfoy?" Ragnok sighed, sitting back in his chair and sipping his tea, brows furrowed.
"There's three main things," Draco began, his back straightened. Deandra smiled at him, encouraging him. Even though Draco was technically an adult, not everyone got an audience with the director of Gringotts. Goblins were not to be trifled with. It didn't help he was currently his 11-year-old self.
"First, the horcruxes. Deandra and I managed to steal the Diary from the drawing room on my first night back. I made a copy and put some dark magic in it, my father should be never the wiser. I would like you to check the signature and help me find the others. One of which, might be in the Lestrange vault."
Ragnok dropped his tea cup. "A HORCRUX?!" he yelled. "AT GRINGOTTS?!"
He called in the guards and gave them the magical signature of the diary before sending them off to the Lestrange vault. After about 10 minutes the guards returned, a cup levitating in front of them.
"Hufflepuff's cup," Draco said in awe. "This artifact has been lost for years. Why would one violate such a precious thing with foul magic?"
"Tom Riddle was never a man for tradition or nostalgia," Ragnok said. "I remember he took the locket from the Slytherin vault. Didn't even care about it at all. Not about its historical or monetary value. All that was important was that it was his. Proof that he was the heir of Slytherin."
Both Deandra and Draco stared at him. "Did you just say that the Dark Lord was the heir of Slytherin?" Draco whispered.
Ragnok grunted. "There is much the old fool and the ministry do not wish to share with the public. But we Goblins see everything. Everyone who comes into the bank, everyone who takes a heritage test, everyone who makes a will passes through these doors. There are no contracts or family ties that are hidden at the ministry which we don't know about."
"That would bring me to my second point, actually," Draco said. "I'd like for Miss Hermione Granger and Mister Harry Potter to do a heritage test. Myself as well, if possible. It could increase our political standing in the Wizengamot once we are of age."
"Certainly," Ragnok said. "I need Mr. Potter here anyway. I need someone to come and claim the lordship since he never bothered showing up at the reading of the will when he turned 11 last week."
"You mean the Potter's will was never shared before now?" Deandra asked in surprise. "It might explain why the house elves never came to his aid… They've been in a magical statis for ten years. But then how did Dumbledore know to put the boy with his aunt and uncle…"
"His aunt and uncle?" Ragnok asked perplexed. "I was only talking about the lordship and the vaults. Their will concerning Mr. Potter's upbringing was shared. His aunt and uncle were specifically mentioned as unsuitable, with Sirius Black, the Longbottoms, Remus Lupin and the Bones' being mentioned as potential guardians to raise him. Are you telling me he has been sent to live with muggles instead?"
Draco almost flinched at the Director's cold tone. Breaking Goblin contracts was not done. If someone had messed with the Potter's will concerning Harry's upbringing. Well. Draco was glad he wasn't the person who'd done that. His vaults would be emptied and he would be tried in front of the goblin courts.
"Draco and I have also discussed the potential of the Potter child having a Horcrux in him," Deandra sighed at Ragnok. "The Goblins have more experience with this. Do you think you could remove it from the boy? The items could potentially be destroyed, but I'd rather not see another child die to the madman that is Lord Voldemort."
Ragnok pinched his nose. "It can be done. For a price. Mr. Potter will have to pay in both blood and galleons. We can discuss it with him when you come for his heritage test."
Draco nodded at the director. What the goblin said made sense. They never did anything for free, so Potter having to pay seemed reasonable. Merlin, Draco had even offered the director a list of both muggle and magical companies to invest in which would become valuable enterprises within the next six years. Perhaps he should open an account for himself… Start making his own fortune instead of living off of his family's.
"Now, Mr. Malfoy. As to your last request before we conduct your heritage test?" Ragnok asked as he poured both him and Deandra some more tea.
"I would like the marriage between me and Hermione to be annulled," he said.
Ragnok raised an eyebrow at this. "A magical contract made in front of magic is not easy to be undone, Mr. Malfoy. Besides, based on your veela heritage, Miss Granger might very well be the only life partner you will ever be happy with, as she is your potential mate."
Draco sighed. He'd known that the small amount of veela blood running through him would potentially mean that Hermione would be the only one to ever truly make him happy. But he was the one with the blood of a magical being. Not she. She did not have to be bound to this.
"She should have a choice in the matter," was all Draco said before he sipped his tea. "If it is impossible to break the vow, then manipulate it into a life-debt, from me to her. It's the least I can do, considering everything she's done for me. You can take your time looking into the matter of the vow. Miss Granger and me are not of age to marry either way, so it wouldn't be an inconvenience for her yet if she chooses to marry someone else.
"As you wish," the director said. "I will also make sure to look in the Potter accounts and will before you and your friends visit us. I'm sure your mother will have a thing or two to say about the will, concerning both she and Mr. Potter descend from the Black family like yourself. For now, let's do a simple heritage test.
Once Draco dropped a small drop of his blood onto the parchment, instantly a line binding him to Hermione showed up. The emptiness he felt when Hermione had died, the magic he felt he had lost, lit up again once he saw that line. He felt stronger somehow, having it confirmed that they were in this together. But, he'd have to make do with being her friend. He'd let her go if that was what she wanted in the end. No matter how hard it would be.
Ragnok ensured both him and Deandra that he could enchant the parchment before Hermione's test so that it would not show if she was married or not. Brilliant. He didn't want to face his mother's, Dr. Granger's or Hermione's wrath thank you very much.
As suspected, Draco was not the heir of a long-lost vault, since both the Blacks and Malfoys had been doing heritage tests for many generations. The political power and seats in the Wizengamot would have to come from Harry and Hermione then.
Once they'd scheduled the tests for Harry and Hermione, and a promise from Ragnok that they would be looking out for any other Horcruxes and try and find a way to remove it from Harry, Deandra disappeared again and Draco glamoured himself as soon as he excited Ragnok's office, making his way to the apparition point in Diagon Alley.
- A few days later, Malfoy manor -
His mother had argued with his father, he could tell. Deandra had even heard them and had secretly made his dad choke up just so his mother could get the last word. You see, Lucius didn't believe in such nonsense as muggleborns being the offspring of squibs. Luckily, Narcissa Malfoy was not as aloof as her husband was. She had even yelled at Lucius that as a daughter of the house Black, it was her duty to go and check on Mr. Potter, who himself, was of Black descent through his great-grandmother. She had taken Draco by the hand, actually hissed at her husband that they would talk more about it later and let Tipsy apparate them away to Potter's house.
He had to say, Privet Drive seemed like an awfully dull and monotone place to live. Dobby showed up with Hermione and her mother, the two women greeting each other politely as Hermione enthusiastically started explaining what a "car" was to Draco. Oh, he hoped she'd never change.
As they started walking towards the house that Harry had told them about, asking them to please dress as normally as they could, Draco eyed his mother. She had agreed to Harry's request and was wearing muggle designer clothes. She, Mrs. Parkinson and Mrs. Greengrass would occasionally go shopping in muggle London, Paris and New York. Sometimes they'd even visit Milan if Mrs. Zabini invited them to her summer house in Italy. Even if they were upstanding pureblood wives, they appreciated fashion and agreed that was at least something the muggles were good at. She hadn't even flinched when shaking Dr. Granger's hand and had even complimented her on her purse and shoes. His mother was behaving very well to the mother of the potential heir of an ancient house. If only she knew that Hermione's mother was the descendant of Celeste Malfoy. She'd probably adopt the woman as her unofficial sister-in-law. That might still happen, considering that would show up when Hermione would take the heritage test.
On their way there, the two mothers mentioned their concern of Harry's living conditions since both of their children had mentioned some of the things Harry had spoken about to them. Both women were ready to put up an allied front if they would come face to face with Petunia Dursley.
Once they rounded the corner, they could hear a woman screeching. "Are you trying to be difficult, boy? Do you think now that you are going to that stupid school that you are more special than us? You are still nothing more than a freak! Now do it again. I want this garden to be spotless. No weeds at all."
Narcissa's hand went to the wand in her pocket as one of her eyes twitched. Dr. Granger also looked murderous.
"Now children," Narcissa said. "Let us ladies do the talking. I know exactly how to deal with this."
She put her head high up in the air as they walked closer and greeted Petunia. Harry looked up and smiled at his friends and rolled his eyes behind his aunt. Draco could tell Hermione was suppressing a giggle, and he smirked at Harry.
"Oh dear," Harry's aunt began, wiping her hands on her apron. "Can I help you two ladies?"
She must see the power and money his mother had. From what he'd heard of Potter's supposed family, they attempted to mingle with the higher ranks in their society. Harry's aunt would immediately recognize the two women for what they were. Rich and powerful.
"I am Lady Malfoy," his mother said, putting out her hand. "And this is my friend, Dr. Granger. We were wondering if you could help us?"
Petunia nodded at the two women eagerly, a lady had asked for her help. And a doctor. Harry suddenly hissed in pain and Draco noticed he was bleeding from clipping the hedges.
Both mothers looked at Harry, disgust on their faces. What Petunia Dursley didn't realize was that the disgust was aimed at her, rather than her nephew. "Oh, don't mind him. He's my nephew, he doesn't usually come out, he's mentally ill you see. What can I help you with?"
"Mrs. Dursley," Narcissa began. "Perhaps I should've introduced myself differently. My name is Lady Narcissa Malfoy, né Black. I am sure you've heard of my cousin and his associates? Lord Sirius Black and Lord James Potter?"
Petunia immediately took a step back. These women could not be wizards. They didn't even dress like them. She also knew that doctors weren't a thing in the magical world. What had Lily told their mother she was studying? Oh right. To be a healer.
"We are here to retrieve Heir Potter and take him to look at his funds and estates at Gringotts bank in London. I hope that suits you?" his mother smiled. Draco knew that smile. She was ready to kill.
"You are like them", Petunia spat at his mother, actual spit flying in her face. If his mother wasn't scared to be contaminated by muggles before, she probably was now. "Bunch of freaks. And I guess these children of yours-"
Dr. Granger raised her voice. "Don't you dare call my daughter a freak. If anyone is a freak, it is you and your husband for treating a child like this."
She turned to Potter with a smile on her face. "Why don't you grab your jacket, Harry?" she asked. "It is going to rain today."
Harry got up from kneeling in the garden, wiping the dirt on his hands on his pants, and scratched the back of his head. "I'm sorry Dr. Granger but I- uhm. I don't own a jacket."
All four of them blinked at Harry. He didn't own a jacket? Had he ever owned anything before coming to Hogwarts?
"Dear Merlin," Narcissa whispered. "Tipsy, get Mr. Potter some clothes suited to visit the goblins," she ordered, a house elf now appearing in the doorway, hidden from streetview. Mrs. Dursley however, turned around and screamed at the strange little creature.
Tipsy urged Harry to come inside with her and she ran up the stairs, ready to get him dressed.
"Like you, Mrs. Dursley," Hermione's mother began, "I am a muggle. And I can assure you, you and your perfect life could be ruined very easily if I let the authorities know of your child abuse. If the magical society will do nothing to protect Mr. Potter, then I will."
Petunia turned pale at that. If the authorities came after them, that would mean trouble. Bloody hell, Hermione's mother could be as ruthless as his. She might've been a Slytherin if she'd ever gone to Hogwarts.
Narcissa smiled as Harry came back down the stairs, finally dressed in clothes that actually fit him. His hair an eternal mess as always. "Please join us Mr. Potter. We have much to discuss," she said while offering him her hand.
When he took her hand in his, Draco thought for a moment that this was probably the boy's first friendly encounter in the house he grew up in.
As the five of them, Dobby and Tipsy apparated away, Petunia Dursley looked at the place they disappeared at in fear. What if the neighbours had just seen them?!
- Half an hour later, Gringotts -
Both mothers' instincts had kicked in when they saw Harry and they had offered to buy him some breakfast in Diagon Alley or muggle London if he would so prefer. The boy, not used to this attention, blushed sheepishly and mentioned he hadn't eaten breakfast for quite a while. The women just got angrier at that.
Draco, trying to lighten the mood, engaged both Harry and Hermione in conversations about quidditch, potions and Hogwarts as they made their way to Gringotts, all three of them nibbling on a croissant as they went. His two companions might not have noticed, but he did, when his mother had cast a muffliato around herself and Dr. Granger. They were probably discussing Harry's situation and how to proceed.
Now, they were patiently waiting as Hermione stepped up towards Ragnok first. Draco could feel Deandra's anticipation at the front of his mind.
"Now young lady, all you will need to do is prick your finger with the tip of the knife and let a single drop of blood fall onto the bottom of the parchment. I will immediately heal the wound afterwards, so don't be afraid," a goblin which Draco had never seen before said.
Ragnok was also watching. There was a lot of monetary gain to be had if either the Granger or Potter child turned out to be heirs from long forgotten houses. Maybe he should start a policy to test all young witches and wizards who came to set up an account at Gringotts. The Ministry would have a field day with that one. He grinned at the thought.
Hermione stepped forward and pricked her finger gently on the knife. As soon as the blood fell down, Draco was pleased to see there was no longer any connection to him. Ragnok subtly winked at him.
As suspected, Hermione's line went upwards, tracing the magic to its origins as. Through her father she was indeed, a Dagworth-Granger, the descendant of a squib granddaughter of the famous potioneer. What no one but Draco and Deandra had suspected, was that the line kept going back almost a thousand years through her mother's side of the family as well. The Malfoy name had long been lost, but in the end, it ended up at Celeste Malfoy and then, her adopted father, Armand Malfoy.
"Malfoy?" Hermione whispered. "Does that mean, we're related?" she asked Draco and Mrs. Malfoy.
"Technically and magically, yes," Ragnok said as he examined the parchment. "There are no blood relations however, as Celeste Malfoy seems to be the adopted daughter of Armand Malfoy. You could claim the last name in magical Britain, if you'd get Lord Malfoy's permission to do so."
Narcissa was smiling down at Hermione. "A Dagsworth-Granger and a Malfoy. Magical through both of your parents. Congratulations, Hermione."
Hermione and her mother didn't really understand what to make of this, however. "Does this mean my mother and father are squibs, rather than muggles?," the brunette witch asked.
"Yes, it seems there have been a few squib generations between the last wizards and witches of your line, and you yourself. There have also been regular muggles which they have married of course. Since your blood goes back all the way to the 11th century, you could be seen as pureblood and part of an ancient house. However, in modern society, I think a half-blood would be the term most commonly used as not all four of your grandparents had a magical lineage," Narcissa said as she also studied the parchment.
"Does this influence Hermione's life?" Dr. Granger asked.
Ragnok huffed. "What the deputy headmistress often forgets to mention when visiting muggleborn families is that the current political and social climate in wizarding Britain is very much against those who are not pure-bloods, or at least half-bloods. Miss Granger is lucky to have found out about her heritage before going to Hogwarts."
Narcissa Malfoy looked down in shame. "I too, come from such a family. Draco's father is definitely a believer. Malfoy blood has always been pure." Draco rolled his eyes at that one, remembering his veela great-great-whatever-grandmother. "And it is true that magical Britain is opposed to muggleborns. The disdain runs so deep in some families that they get cast out, just like my sister who married a muggleborn."
Harry and Hermione stared at Draco. They had no clue that either Draco or his mother had grown up with these beliefs. What they had seen from Draco had been something entirely different. He'd been kind to them, even if he was a bit of a self-righteous snob from time to time. Had their friendship just been a lie?
"I know what my father thinks," Draco said. "I know how society treats people who are not Sacred Twenty-Eight. It's all thanks to You-Know-Who. They are the ones in power at the ministry. But I…" He looked at his mother, unsure if to continue. "I don't believe in that. Not anymore."
Deandra's pride filled him, and so did his mother's when she smiled at him. "I'm glad to see you have more of me and your aunt Andy in you, than you have your father," she whispered as she put a supporting hand on his shoulder. Well. He didn't expect that one. Had his mother always just followed his father blindly and agreed with him in the past timeline? Why had she never tried to change him, her one and only son? Because he hadn't been ready to change?
Ragnok interrupted their musing and started speaking with the Grangers. "I would advise miss Granger to at least take the Dagworth-Granger name in her official title, and stick to Granger for more informal situations. The Dagworth-Grangers were great potioneers and their vaults have been waiting for an heir to claim them for many generations. All the contents in the vault, both those of monetary and intellectual value, would belong to your daughter, Dr. Granger."
Hermione's mother answered it was a lot of information to take in and asked if there were any books or documents she could take home with her to look at with her husband. Realizing that both of them came from magical lines had turned her life upside down. Maybe her French grandmother who always claimed to see parts and snippets of the future hadn't been so crazy after all… Ragnok agreed to provide them with paperwork and said they could stop by any time to accept the family vaults and its riches within. They could also get all the paperwork ready for Hermione to become Heir Dagsworth-Granger, and Lady Dagsworth-Granger upon her 17th birthday.
With all the excitement over, Harry who had been quiet and observing until now, stepped forward and was next to check his family lineage. Ragnok had mentioned it was a mere formality before he could get access to the vaults and assets of the Potter family, as well as access to the will his parents had left. Right before he pricked his finger he joked "bet I will just be a boring old Potter."
As soon as the lines started spreading in multiple directions, everyone was paying attention.
Ragnok cleared his throat as the lines seemed to reach the top of the parchment. "As suspected, Heir Potter through your parents," he began. "A strand of Bones and Rosier in your mother's family line, but those are still intact I'm afraid. There also seems to be some Spellman blood, a Northern-American family quite gifted in runes in her blood. What is peculiar however, is… The Peverell line, through your father."
"I thought they were extinct," Narcissa whispered. "The Peverell line turned into a myth almost. To find a living heir…"
Harry just shrugged his shoulders, not understanding the gravity of the situation. Draco should definitely get him and Hermione the Tales of Beedle the Bard which had some stories based on the Peverell brothers.
All the lines had stopped spreading, but suddenly, right next to Harry's name, a small dotted line appeared. Narcissa gasped, her right hand in front of her mouth, her left one grasping Draco's shoulder painfully. Draco just stood, silently staring at the parchment. Hermione and Harry were just blinking, and Dr. Granger had no clue exactly what had the others so shocked. Even Ragnok seemed to be surprised.
Draco looked at title, written in a blood-red colour.
"Lord Slytherin. By right of conquest," Dr. Granger said. "Isn't that one of the Hogwarts houses?"
Hermione looked like she was about to faint from excitement. "I wonder what your aunt would say if she finds out you're an actual lord," she joked.
Harry had a grin on his face and said, "well… Lord Slytherin can't be sorted into Gryffindor, right?"
Draco smirked. This had just gotten so much more interesting and his plans had been set in motion. Moldy Pants was in for a treat if he ever returned.