September 1991, 1st year

"Good morning, Draco," Lynea said on Saturday morning.

She had just finished her morning routine and come down to the common room to see whether one of the boys was already up and ready to go to breakfast. On the girls' side, only Daphne was awake, but she didn't feel like going to breakfast just yet and the other girls had planned to sleep in.

"Good morning," Draco greeted her, his voice neutral.

The blonde was seated on a couch in front of one of the fireplaces, a book lying open in his lap.

It seemed like he had mostly gotten over his wariness and returned to treating her the way he had done before the whole thing with the Lémures had happened. All it had taken was a week of trying to be friends with Harry, who was usually in the company of Lynea.

"Are you waiting for someone specific?" Lynea asked.

Draco nodded. "Harry wasn't even awake when I left, though, so I don't know how long I'll have to wait."

Lynea hummed. "You're trying very hard to become his friend, huh?"

Draco smirked. "According to him, I already am."

"As am I. Why do you want to be his friend so badly?"

To an outsider it would look like every other developing friendship, but Lynea knew better. She had grown up with Draco, after all. Him agreeing to visit Hagrid and be civil for the most part was already a huge effort. That he was willing to wait for an unknown amount of time only to go to breakfast with Harry, when he could have just gone with Theodore and Blaise (who were probably already in the Great Hall), was another very telling sign.

Draco sighed and gestured for her to sit down. "He seems like a very nice guy, doesn't he? Not at all what my father thought him to be. He's the Boy Who Lived, for Merlin's sake! We all thought the one who defeated the Dark Lord as a baby would turn out to be a very powerful dark wizard, himself – especially since Dumbledore hid him from the rest of the wizarding world right after that fateful night. And now look at him."

"But this isn't about your father, Draco," Lynea said quietly. "Lucius might have seen an opportunity in the Boy Who Lived, not that there seems to be any, but you – you are actually trying to truly become his friend."

Draco crossed his arms. "Well, he's famous, isn't he?"

"Is that truly your reason?"

He averted his eyes. "If he turns out to be a Muggle lover, someone associating with mudbloods …"

"Then what, Draco?" Lynea sighed. "I know your father would never approve of you befriending a … Muggle lover, but neither would mine."

"Your father is rotting in Azkaban."

"And he deserves it."

Draco's head whipped around.

"We'll talk about this in today's meeting," Lynea said with a pointed look. "But for now, I'd really like know why you want to be friends with Harry. If you're just doing it for those superficial reasons, then it's not going to work out."

Draco sighed resignedly. "I know that. And I'm not, okay? I just …"

"You don't want to incur your father's anger."

"Precisely." Draco shifted. "Why do you want to be friends with him?"

Lynea shrugged. "He's nice."

Draco narrowed his eyes, but didn't get the chance to question her further, because Harry chose that exact moment to appear from the dormitories.

"Who's nice?" he asked.

"Good morning to you, too," Lynea said. "We were just talking about you."

Harry looked startled at that, but quickly caught himself and schooled his expression into something more neutral. He was learning. Good.

"Nothing bad, I hope?"

Lynea smiled. "Oh, that depends." She rose. "Ready for breakfast?"

"Did you guys wait just for me?" Harry asked with wide eyes.

Draco closed his book with a snap and stood up. "Of course, Harry. Come, now, you've made me wait long enough."

"You could have gone ahead with Theodore and Blaise," Lynea pointed out.

Draco wrinkled his nose. "And listen to them discuss classes and homework? No, thank you."

They made their way up to the Great Hall, where they spotted Theodore and Blaise at one end of the Slytherin table, near the entrance. As Draco had predicted, they were currently deeply engrossed in a discussion about their Transfiguration homework.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Draco asked them.

Blaise snorted. "Like bragging about the sweets we constantly receive from home?"

Draco perked up at that. "Did some mail arrive for me?"

Blaise rolled his eyes and pushed a large packet towards him. Draco took the letter that was attached to it and read through it with a pleased expression and then opened the packet to reveal a variety of sweets. He had already received quite a few of these during their first week and Lynea wondered how he managed to eat them all – he certainly wasn't sharing any of them, except occasionally giving some to Harry.

They spent their morning doing homework in the library, where the other first-year Slytherins soon joined them, then headed to lunch together and went their separate ways afterwards. Lynea and Theodore went back to the library to do some light reading, joined by the people that weren't finished with their homework yet, while Harry was dragged to the dungeons by Draco to learn how to play wizarding chess.

o

"Alright, everyone, let's do this," Pansy said and clapped her hands excitedly. "Our very first meeting. Who's going to lead today's discussion? Me? Great!"

They were all sitting in a half-circle in front of one of the fireplaces – all of the first-year Slytherins. Millicent and Lynea both had their cats in their laps and Pansy, who liked everything that was cute, was eyeing them surreptitiously.

The three halfbloods among them – Harry, Millicent and Tracey – didn't quite know what this was about, but they would learn soon enough. That was part of the reason why they were doing this, after all.

"Actually," Blaise said. "The person of the highest ranking should do it."

He looked at Lynea. Lynea looked at Draco. Draco stared back at her.

"Let Pansy lead the discussion," Lynea said.

"Oh, no," Pansy said. "As much as I would love to, you just revealed an issue we didn't even now we had. And don't you deny it." She gave Lynea a glare. "I know that look."

Seemed like Pansy had gotten over her fear of Lynea's white streak as well. That was nice, if not her words themselves.

Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please tell me we don't have an issue with the hierarchy, of all things."

"I don't see any issue," Lynea replied calmly. "Draco has the highest social standing among us."

"Excuse me?" Draco exclaimed. "Are you trying to insult me? You are a Lémure. There is no family that stands above the Lémures. There isn't even anyone left that would be on the same level as them, because both the Gaunt and the Peverell lines have died out."

"I am not a Lémure," Lynea said.

"Not by name, but by blood."

"We have never gone by blood. Otherwise, we would have to do a whole lot of calculations to determine who has inherited the superior blood through both of their parents' sides. I am a Fawley in name and the Fawleys rank below the Malfoys. As it has always been."

"Have the Lémures not officially accepted you and your family into their ranks?" Draco said in a low tone. "Have they not taken you in and allowed you to live with them, to share their knowledge, their power and their secrets? If I remember correctly, they did that because you showed an aptitude for the Forbidden Arts, which makes you a legitimate member of the Lémure family."

Lynea nearly gritted her teeth, but that just wouldn't do. She had to keep a level head and stay calm. The others were watching their interaction with rapt attention.

"Even if we were to take that out of the count," Draco continued, "you are still not related to the Fawleys in any way. As your mother was born a Nott and the Notts are of the same standing as the Malfoys, you would still be the one with the highest ranking, because you are the oldest among the three of us." Draco gestured to himself, Theodore and Lynea.

"I am not," Lynea said, her voice steady, "the one with the highest status here – not by name, not by the wealth my family doesn't possess anymore, and not by knowledge or power."

Her father's arrest had put her family in a difficult position. Only the Lémures' sudden kindness had saved Lynea, her mother and her brother. And it had all been because she had shown an aptitude for Necromancy. The very reason they had always refused her father. The reason he had turned to the Dark Lord almost eagerly. The reason he –

"Not by name," Draco said, "but by blood. And that is all this is about – blood. We are purebloods, everything in our lives resolves around blood status and blood lines. That is precisely what this is about. If you won't accept this, then I will have no choice but to formally challenge you to a duel."

"There will be no need for that," Lynea said and looked around. "Let's put it to a vote."

"All in favour of Lynea Fawley?" Draco asked and raised his hand.

Theodore, Blaise and Daphne followed suit. Four out of eight – they didn't count the halfbloods.

"All in favour of Draco Malfoy?" Lynea asked and raised her hand.

Gregory, Vincent and Pansy joined her, although the two boys kept glancing at Lynea with frightened eyes, as if they were expecting her to curse them any second now for voting against her – never mind that that was what she actually wanted.

"Great," Lynea said. "A tie."

"It's decided, then," Draco said. "You're older than me. Or do I need to humiliate myself by losing to you in a duel?"

Lynea sighed. "Like I said, there won't be any need for that."

They both came from long lines of Slytherins. They had been taught how to defend themselves, because they expected to be sorted into the house of the snakes and face threats from the other houses.

Lynea would only prove Draco's point right, for they both knew who was the better duellist between them as of right now.

Lynea's brother, Thelus, had shown her several spells for self-defence (and offence) with the occasional input from her grand-aunt Naenia. It was the latter that would have decided their duel. Naenia was, like all of the Lémures (the real ones, the ones born into the family and under their name) an extraordinarily skilled and powerful witch. She was quite experienced on top of that and had imparted that knowledge to Lynea. Through real fights, mind you. Quite dangerous fights that had given Lynea nearly as much bruises as her father's upbringing had. At least her grand-aunt had healed them afterwards.

This was what it meant to be a Lémure – a Lémure was feared and respected, a Lémure was strong and knowledgeable and a Lémure was of the highest social standing. Lynea hated all of it. She didn't want it, any of it. All she had ever wanted was a quiet life far away from the nightmare that was her father. That was what Naenia had promised her when she had invited Lynea and the rest of her family to her small house next to the graveyard of the remote little village she was living in. Lynea hadn't been born into the family, she had merely been the one that showed signs of her ancestry. There was no need for Lynea to move into the Lémure estate, where all the other family members resided and devoted themselves to the Forbidden Arts.

A quiet life and protection from those that meant her and her family harm. That was all there had been to it, back then.

"Don't fight your own blood, Lémure," one of the older students loitering about said loudly.

It wasn't often that the hierarchy among purebloods was questioned and they had likely all listened in with great interest.

Lynea buried a hand in Choco's fur to reassure herself and took a deep breath.

"Fawley," she said, loud and clear, for the whole common room to hear. "My name is Lynea Misapinoa Fawley. No matter my blood, no matter my status, I was born a Fawley and I will remain a Fawley."

The older student inclined his head in acknowledgement and then everyone went back to their own business.

"What you just witnessed," Blaise said to the three halfbloods among them. "Was a very rare occurrence." He nodded for Lynea to continue.

"There is a set hierarchy among the purebloods," she began, "based on the purity of our bloodline, wealth, knowledge and power, among others. Normally, it is very clear where everyone falls in the ranks."

She looked at Harry and Tracey in particular. Millicent was at least slightly more familiar with all of this. Her family had already been of low standing before and with her mother's blood status they were officially out of the picture – but her father should have told her a thing or two, anyway.

"This is important for you to know," Lynea continued, "because it ties in with a lot of the rules of Slytherin House. As you have already heard, Slytherin's always present a united front. Any disputes between housemates will be sorted out behind closed doors. Should such an issue cause any problems in public, then the one of higher standing will be in the right until it is solved – either the one involved in the argument or anyone who steps in. We will all listen to those ranking above us in any public situation. It is an entirely different matter in private."

Both Harry and Tracey looked rather uncomfortable by this point.

Lynea sighed. "That is to say, most of the time your social status doesn't matter. It is just one of the many precautions we take to prevent appearing weak or causing a public scandal. It is meant for safety," her voice turned stern, "not to be abused for one's personal gain. We Slytherins are known for our ambitiousness, pride and self-preservation, not for arrogance, selfishness and spite. We are cunning and resourceful and we protect our own. Is that understood?"

There was a chorus of "Yes, ma'am!" and it wasn't even spoken sardonically. Lynea hated every last bit of it.

"Now, then," Lynea said and looked at Pansy. "If you would like to take it from here?"

"Gladly," Pansy said with a grin.

"I have a question, if you don't mind," Daphne said, "before we continue with the main points of this meeting."

Pansy sighed dramatically. "Fine, go ahead."

Daphne nodded and turned to Lynea, her posture suddenly losing its confidence. "Please don't take this the wrong way. You don't even have to answer, if you don't want to, I'm just curious ... We all know about your family history," she glanced at the halfbloods. "Most of us, anyway. But I don't understand why you are so adamant about being a Fawley, despite not being related to them by blood."

It was a valid question, one that Lynea had pondered about rather often, if she were to be honest.

"My grandfather," she began. "My …" She sighed. "Sullivan Fawley agreed to marry his fiancée, my grandmother, despite the fact that she was pregnant with another man's child. He raised my father as his own son and my brother and me as his own grandchildren, even though we're not related by blood. The Lémures never even acknowledged us, because my father never showed an aptitude for Necromancy. They only began showing some interest in us when I did and even then, they only took us in after my father's arrest."

She took a breath to gather her thoughts.

"I respect the Lémures very much. They are an old and powerful family and despite their reputation – or rather because of their reputation – they have always made a point to stay neutral in every conflict. But being a Lémure means to be someone who has knowledge, who has power, someone who practices the Old Magics and the Forbidden Arts, someone who is worthy of the respect the rest of the wizarding world treats them with – someone I am not."

"So you feel like you're not able to live up to the expectations the Lémure name brings," Daphne said.

"Yes," Lynea said. "And even though they've been very nice and helpful to us so far," her grand-aunt Naenia had been, in any case, "I will never truly be one of them. The Fawleys are my real family."

"But your father –"

Lynea laughed. "My father was – is a cruel man, but he's not a real Fawley, either, is he?" She shook her head. "The Fawleys, not my father, have always been kind to me. They are my family, not the Lémures. That is why I am so insistent on my last name."

"What about the Notts?" Daphne asked. "Your mother is a Nott, isn't she?"

"She is. The Notts are … fine, I suppose." Lynea gave Theodore a small smile and his lips quirked up in response. "They've always been kind to us, but they're also loyal followers of the Dark Lord." She paused. "My maternal grandfather was a very close friend of my grand-aunt's, even after he joined the ranks of the Death eaters. They stayed friends until he died in the First Wizarding War."

"Was – was there a second one?" Harry asked timidly. "A second war, I mean?"

"Not exactly," Lynea said. "There was another war before that one, though - when Gellert Grindelwald rose to power. Unlike the First Wizarding War, which was mostly contained to the British Isles, this one affected mostly continental Europe, as well as parts of America."

Harry furrowed his brows. "But why is it called the 'First Wizarding War'?"

Lynea shrugged. "Sounds oddly like the Muggle world wars, doesn't it?"

Draco wrinkled his nose. "The Ministry certainly didn't name it after the Muggle wars."

"But you can't deny it sounds oddly similar," Lynea pointed out. "And it also suggests that there could be a second one …"

They all shifted uncomfortably at that. They knew their families' opinions on that matter were pretty much divided. It was a matter they might have to discuss eventually, but certainly not during their very first meeting just a week after they had started their first year at Hogwarts. If they were lucky, they would never have to discuss it at all.

"On that matter," Pansy began. "Potter, Harry, I've been wondering why you seem so clueless all the time."

Harry blinked. "Excuse me?"

"We know you were raised by Muggles," Pansy continued. "But you seem like you don't know anything about magic at all."

Harry shrugged helplessly. "I didn't even know I was a wizard until I got my letter."

The Slytherins all gaped at him.

"You're the Harry Potter," Pansy said incredulously, "and you didn't even know you were a wizard before your eleventh birthday?"

Harry shrugged again. "My Muggle relatives didn't tell me."

Draco scrunched up his face. "Weren't there any magical relatives that could have taken care of you?"

Harry shrugged for the third time. "I don't know."

"But didn't your relatives know about your parents?" Lynea asked.

"They did," Harry said quietly, eyes cast down.

The others looked at him silently. Theodore glanced at Lynea.

"Harry," she said softly. "Are you alright?"

"What?" Harry raised his head. "Yeah, I – I'm okay. It's fine. Can we just talk about something else, please?"

"Back on track, then," Pansy said. "We have other matters to cover." She gave the others a meaningful look.

If Harry didn't want to tell them, they had to respect that. It wasn't like they actually knew what was going on with his relatives and whether it was something they had any right to meddle with. He would tell them, if he wanted to.