"It took me some time to arrange but you've paid for the best, Greengrass," Blaise Zabini's image spoke from the mirror in front of her. "As of today, the Mamertines are yours. They'll be contacting you shortly to arrange their transportation to Britain."
Daphne grinned happily at the news. There'd be her smiling image displayed on the mirror on Blaise's end right now. All respectable pureblood families possessed such mirrors. Along with lenses focusing a beam of light towards the fireplace, they allowed instantaneous and perfectly secure communication over the floo without the need to actually leave the comfort of your home. There was the alternative method of sticking your head inside the fireplace that people sometimes utilized. But it was dangerous and uncomfortable, not to mention ridiculous – a poor man's solution. Using the mirrors was far more dignified.
"You sound almost surprised, Blaise," Daphne quipped with amusement.
"I am," her classmate admitted. "Great-grandmother doesn't normally accept new customers. But your surname tends to change people's minds a lot," he told her with a hint of envy.
'You don't know the half of it,' Daphne thought before smirking at him in response. Although pureblood himself, her classmate had never been overly interested in their philosophy. And while they had always been amicable to each other, they weren't close friends as they had very little in common. But now that Blaise had delivered her a small mercenary army, Daphne found herself revising some of the opinions she had of the Italian boy. And it wasn't just any army. The Mamertines were notoriously ruthless and efficient and would be incredibly useful in the coming weeks. "Regardless... thank you, Blaise," she told him honestly.
"Thank you for giving me five percent commission on every contract, Greengrass," the boy said to her in return and Daphne rolled her eyes as it was such a 'Zabini thing' to say. Blaise had tried to haggle on the percentage, but after realizing the value of the contracts, he settled for five percent. To make sure the boy wouldn't betray her in some way, in addition to standard secrecy oaths, Daphne also insisted the payments be made in instalments over the next two years. While she couldn't entirely count on Blaise's loyalty, Daphne was certain she could always count on his greed.
"About that... are you clear on the conditions of our arrangement?" she asked him seriously.
"Yes... yes," Blaise replied with disinterest. "Full non-disclosure or the payments stop," he recited before shaking his head and saying. "You know, if you want to impress the dark lord, there are cheaper ways to do it."
'So that's what he thinks I'm doing,' Daphne thought before purposefully widening her eyes for a moment to make it appear like he caught her off guard. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she told him far too quickly.
"Right," he said, rolling his eyes before turning back to business. "I'll put out feelers on the other organizations you mentioned," he told her and Daphne nodded. The Mamertines were the biggest and should be enough but there were several smaller magical mercenary companies, some with special abilities, she would've preferred to hire as well.
"Excellent. Thank you," Daphne thanked him again.
"No problem," the black boy's image said and smiled. "Just consider it my way of getting more of your money."
"Seriously, Blaise!" she exclaimed and shook her head. Being a passionate believer in the pureblood supremacy herself, Daphne had trouble imagining a person's actions could be so strongly motivated by something as shallow as material wealth. At least not to the degree Blaise Zabini was. "Is there anything you care about besides money?" she wondered, not judging him in any way, just honestly curious.
"Of course there is!" Zabini protested with mock hurt and when Daphne raised an eyebrow, he added, "For one hundred thousand galleons, I'll tell you what it is."
Daphne smiled. "Tempting... but I'll pass."
"Are you sure? For one million galleons, I can sell it to you too…"
This time, she giggled. "Goodbye, Blaise," she told him and after saying farewell too, the boy's image disappeared from the mirror and the green flames in the fireplace next to the mirror returned to their natural color. The mirror now simply showed her reflection and Daphne stared at in contemplation while absentmindedly adjusting first her sky-blue dress and then her blonde hair. Both the dress and her hairstyle were more conservative today than she normally preferred but a perfect choice for the crowd she would soon be facing.
After a while, she heard a voice coming from behind her. "So… the Mamertines. Not bad. The dark lord once tried to recruit them, you know. Without success, I might add."
Daphne turned around to face her grandfather. "I wouldn't have succeeded either. Not without Karl Hartstark vouching for me to Zabini's grandmother," she said even as she walked over to Adrian Selwyn's table where he had been sitting and waiting for her to finish her call. She was inside her grandfather's office and it was the Selwyn castle they were inside right now.
"You really trust that old snake?" Lord Selwyn questioned while gently stroking the black cat sitting on his lap. It would have been a cute image – an old man and his pet cat. Except the gently purring animal was a notoriously savage beast to literally everyone else. No one in her grandfather's family knew where he got it except it was decades ago and as a result, there were many family legends associated with the beast. Her sister Astoria had a theory the cat was a devil banished out of hell that had ultimately found a soulmate in their grandfather. Her little sister could be right for all Daphne knew. But it was far more likely the animal was a result of magical experimentation as no ordinary house cat had a right to live that long.
"One would have to be insane to trust the Order of Loki," Daphne said with a grimace. "But for now, our interests align. Besides, Harry seemed to have found some common ground with the man... a fellow fighter and all that."
The old man nodded. "I already said it once before but well done, my dear," he told her, beaming with pride at the fact Harry Potter was now her devoted boyfriend.
"Thank you," she replied, knowing her grandfather still mostly focused on what a victory her relationship was for their political cause. He was not wrong either as it was admittedly a massive boon on all accounts. The idea Harry Potter was now actively aiding the pureblood cause because she asked him to... that never failed to make Daphne all tingly. He had even delivered his dirty mudblood to her! It could be said without much exaggeration that Harry will soon become saviour of the magical world three times over – twice by defeating Voldemort and once by allowing Daphne to curtail Granger's dangerously high ambitions and showing the mudblood her rightful place.
But Daphne liked to think her grandfather was also beginning to appreciate what Harry Potter meant for her personally. Since she was a little girl and first accepted the concept she'd be married one day, Daphne dreamed her future husband would cherish and adore her and attend to her every wish. And she would love him for it in return. But after getting to meet the various pureblood boys of her age that she'd be expected to marry, she realized it was just a childish fantasy. At best, they were all spoiled brats who couldn't be bothered with anyone but themselves. At worst, they'd actually demand that she obeyed them. As she grew older, Daphne slowly accepted she'd never find the man of her dreams and merely hoped her future marriage wouldn't be completely unbearable.
And then she met Harry.
It felt surreal that Harry Potter, a person she should by all rights hate and who should hate her in return, was the one perfect for her. In hindsight it made sense because what Daphne actually hated was the boy-who-lived, the famed and arrogant champion of mudbloods and blood traitors. But as it turned out, Harry and his moniker weren't one and the same – they were in fact as far apart from each other as humanly possible. Luckily for the boy or else Daphne would've had no choice but to break him or at least keep him imprisoned for the rest of his life.
But as the fate would have it, it turned out Harry deeply resented the title thrust upon him when he was a baby. He resented it so much there was no need for Daphne to use any trickery against him. Neither did she have to actively seduce him although her physical beauty had certainly drawn Harry's initial interest. But in the end, the thing that made Harry Potter truly fall in love with her was almost unbelievable – Daphne simply became the first person in his life who honestly asked him a simple question.
What do you want?
And that was how Harry Potter, a supposed saviour of muggleborns, found himself completely submitting to Daphne Greengrass, the leading pureblood supremacist of their generations. By asking himself a simple question like what he wanted from his life. In her, Harry for the first time saw the opportunity to let go of his unwanted legacy, because just like him Daphne truly hated the boy-who-lived and didn't want him to exist. Instead of fighting for what he was meant to believe in like he always did, he let Daphne take it all away knowing it's what the pureblood girl wanted and that she'd never resent him for it. Finally, he could stop pretending.
And as for Daphne... she found herself helplessly smitten with the man Harry Potter turned to be. Where other men would rebel against her orders, Harry Potter welcomed her authority almost on instinct. Instead of finding it humiliating, he found joy in her control over him. He was immensely powerful with untold magical potential but he willingly and happily laid it all at her feet. As far as she was concerned, Harry was absolutely perfect and Daphne was both humbled and emboldened by his devotion to her. For her part, she vowed she'd always be there for him and give him exactly what he needed. She would love him for who he was and would never ask him to be someone else.
At least not in his heart. With Harry's blessings, she of course planned to use his fame and future status as the vanquisher of the dark lord to further her political cause. Daphne already had several of her people preparing a story that was going to put Harry into an excellent position to do that in the future. She was hesitant at first, not wanting to do to Harry what others had been doing to him all his life. But Harry assured her he was fine with it and that it was different. And it really was because this time, Harry knew he was merely pretending and that at the end of the day, he was perfectly free to be who he truly wanted to be, who he was born to be – hers.
"How much longer?" Daphne asked her grandfather impatiently, wanting to have the meeting ahead over so she could get back to Harry.
The man smiled knowingly, almost like he knew what she was thinking right now. And perhaps he really did know. Astoria had repeatedly teased her about having a "dopey smile" when thinking of her boyfriend. Given the younger girl sighed loudly practically every time Draco Malfoy was mentioned, Daphne thought it was rich coming from her.
"Soon. They're still gathering," her grandfather answered.
Daphne nodded before she raised an eyebrow and asked. "And you actually invited the dark lord?" she said and chuckled.
"Yes... as always. Doing otherwise would've been regarded as suspicious. But no worries, dear. The dark lord hadn't come to one of my gatherings in decades," he assured her.
Daphne knew all that. But it still felt strange knowing the dark lord might actually show up. That would've been awkward seeing as Daphne planned to use one of her grandfather's semi-regular meetings with his old friends to induct some of the most influential pureblood lords and ladies into their plans to overthrow the muggle bastard.
Daphne felt uncertain all of a sudden as she realized just how close they were to hopefully getting rid of the dark lord for good. She really wished Harry could be with her as she presented their plan to her pureblood peers. She missed him. But they had both agreed showing him to her grandfather's friends right away wasn't a good idea. Not all of them were as open-minded about Harry Potter's type of blood status as Daphne was. While she'd definitely declare Harry's support for herself, openly parading a son of a mudblood in front of some of the more conservative lords and ladies could prove detrimental to their plans and was best left for when the war was over.
Her grandfather noticed her nervousness. "Relax, child. I've already talked with most of them. They should be most receptive to our proposals. The meeting could end up being just a formality," he said and paused before adding. "There's one or two we might need to murder afterwards but that's all," he said, casually talking about murdering some of his oldest friends.
The cat sitting on his lap purred loudly. Daphne suspected not because of being scratched behind its ears by her grandfather at the moment but rather at the mention violence. One of the family legends surrounding the cat suggested Lord Adrian Selwyn had been using it to torture muggle trespassers, something she certainly wouldn't put past him. A small vindictive part of Daphne briefly wondered whether the cat might enjoy a taste of Granger but she quickly shook the thought away.
"It's not that..." Daphne told him. "They're all so much older and-"
"... and wiser?" her grandfather finished for her and she slowly nodded. The man chuckled and said, "It is true age gives you experience," he said. "It also makes you frail, stubborn, crotchety, and far too preoccupied with children stepping on your lawn. Take it from me because I've been both – it's better to be young and stupid than old and wise."
Daphne laughed at that but was still quite worried. She realized the success of their plans was more or less riding on her managing to convince everyone. Her grandfather looked at her for a while longer before he sighed. "Very well... there's something else and I think the time has come that I can finally tell you," he said and began to stand up.
"Tell me? Tell me what?" Daphne asked in confusion, watching as her grandfather took the cat in his arms and then bent over to put it on the floor. The devil creature looked at Daphne crossly, no doubt blaming her for her snuggle session being interrupted. But then it bolted away, disappearing through the small flap door in the regular door to her grandfather's office. Daphne preferred not to imagine where it was going or what it'd do there.
"Something that happened to me a very long time ago," the old man began and his eyes unfocused for the moment as they sometimes did when he was recalling a particularly old memory. "You see, when I was a young man I had a vision..." he started.
Daphne stared at him in wonder. "I didn't know you had that ability!" she exclaimed.
"Hush child, it's impolite to interrupt your elders!"
"Sorry..."
"Where was I? Oh, yes, my ability. The reason you haven't heard about it is because my so called gift is barely worth the name. I can't consciously trigger it and the only time I ever get any glimpses of the future at all is when I'm heavily drunk... at which point it's difficult to tell apart a genuine vision from drunken imagery. I can count on one hand the number of visions I had in my whole life that I'm convinced were real."
Daphne nodded in understanding. She herself had no talent for divination but knew the basic theory. What many people failed to realize was that essentially all wizards and witches had a potential for divination, or rather precognition. They unknowingly utilized it every day in form of their magical instincts (with the notable and unfortunate exception of rogue mudbloods). For instance, Daphne's magic warning her from touching a dangerous cursed object represented a distant echo from one of the potential futures where she actually touched it. The same was true for sensing magical spells flying towards you and many other instincts purebloods and halfbloods took almost for granted.
But to intentionally see the future was far more difficult. Magic seemed to exist outside of regular time and space and all magical creatures should in theory be able to do it, to see outside of linear time. In practice, almost none of them could and the reason for that was that to consciously comprehend a vision of the future required one to think more like magic and less like human. And that was much harder than it sounded. For this reason, people with borderline talent for divination often had to resort to mind-altering substances in order to utilize their gift to even a little degree. It was also why the few natural seers and oracles were almost always highly eccentric, or to put it crassly, total weirdoes.
"Anyway, in my vision I saw a beautiful young blonde woman confidently addressing a room full of my friends and me before we all gave her an applause. Only everyone, including me, was looking much older. That's how I came to know the vision was real and not just my imagination. Over the years, I saw all my friends slowly growing into the appearance they had in my vision," her grandfather explained to her and it left Daphne speechless.
"A- are you saying you saw me?!"
Lord Selwyn nodded and then looked at Daphne contemplatively. "Given her looks, I always thought the girl in my vision might've been a Greengrass. But there was also something of my family there. It's one of the reasons why I happily consented to your mother's marriage... I wanted to see if I was right in my suspicion."
"You knew it was me... how long did you know it was me?!" Daphne murmured.
Her grandfather shook his head. "I didn't know for many years... not until you grew up to be recognizable as the girl in my vision. And up until few months ago, I had no idea what the meeting in my vision was all about. For years I simply assumed it was your induction ceremony to the death eater ranks," he said wistfully. "I had figured you were perhaps destined to become the dark lord's most important lieutenant."
At one point Daphne would've loved that idea. For years she saw Voldemort as the champion of purebloods but the memory now filled her with repulsion and shame. Repressing her disgust at ever wanting to serve a murdering son of a muggle, Daphne instead focused on the implication of her grandfather's words.
"It was the today's meeting you saw..." Daphne breathed out.
The man nodded. "Which is why I know you'll do fine... because magic showed it to me over eighty years ago," he finished and silence fell on the room.
Daphne thought about what he said for a long while before she finally smiled and nodded. "Thank you, sir," she told him. "It's all really incredible if you think about it. I truly envy you this talent."
"As I said, dear, my gift is hardly worth mentioning."
Daphne shook her head. "Oh, I don't mean. What I envy you is the ability to come up with such a detailed story, right on the spot... just to make me feel better," Daphne said and looked at the old man pointedly, making it clear she wasn't buying his lies for one second... even though she greatly appreciated the sentiment behind them.
Adrian Selwyn slowly started grinning. "You saw through that," he told her with pride. "You're clever enough to do that and bold enough to call me out on it too. I also know you're smart enough to have left me thinking I tricked you had you for a moment though it would help you."
Daphne nodded at that assessment. She thought about playing along but in this case saw no point. Her grandfather stepped forward and put hands on her shoulder. "And that right there is why you've always been my favourite, Daphne. It's also why I don't need any visions to know you'll do just fine in there."
The young girl simply smiled and then hugged him. "Thank you, grandfather," Daphne said before stepping back and looking like the confident and noble pureblood lady she was. "I'm ready."
Astoria Greengrass exited the shop in a good mood, having just expanded her wardrobe considerably. Some of the items she bought had already been handed over to her family's elf and taken back to Greengrass manor. For many others they took her measurements and would deliver the attires later, something she looked forward to. Unfortunately, the girl's elation from the successful shopping spree didn't seem to extend to her companion.
Narcissa Malfoy bought nothing. More than that, she also looked like she swallowed a lemon the entire time. Except of few obligatory comments on poor fashion choices of today's youth, the older woman barely said two words to her since they came in. She also continued to be morose even after they left the shop. Finally, Astoria couldn't take it anymore. "If you didn't want to go in there so much, all you had to do was say so," she told the older woman with annoyance, suspecting what this was about.
Among other things, the store they just visited specialized on fashion adapted from muggles. A lot of even the most traditional pureblood women were appreciative of their fashion ideas but she knew Cissy was one of a kind. Therefore, Astoria feared going inside could be uncomfortable for her future mother-in-law. She merely suggested it as a joke and was quite shocked when Narcissa actually consented to going inside. Just to make sure, Astoria had asked the woman twice if she really was okay with visiting the shop and twice Narcissa had assured her she was. So what the hell was all this silent treatment about?!
She found it difficult to believe the older woman was so annoyed by the clothes alone. Even Astoria's eldest sister, who otherwise considered muggles the scum of the Earth, would regularly wear dresses and clothing items adapted from their designers. Astoria had once teased her about it and Daphne responded with passionate lecture about why it wasn't really a hypocrisy. At the end, Astoria believed her too. Her sister possessed an uncanny ability of persuasion when it came to pureblood philosophy. Astoria reckoned it was because Daphne wasn't lying when speaking about the superiority of purebloods... or rather she thought she wasn't.
Many people, including her fiancé, weren't all that serious about pureblood supremacy. But Daphne's heart was truly in it and it showed in the way she spoke, giving her arguments emotional impact that was impossible to fake for people like Draco or her. Astoria wasn't convinced that was a good thing but she figured it explained why even famous Harry Potter stood no chance against her sister. Unless one truly believed the opposite with equally burning passion, it was very easy to let Daphne convince you of her point of view, to let her passion sweep you away. Hell, Astoria suspected even Hermione Granger, on some level, wished to be able to believe Daphne's words, if only to finally end her torment.
But going back to the muggle fashion designs... it's not like Daphne would just wear the same clothes as muggles did. Even when utilizing their designs, all the items had to always be made from magical fibres and materials. According to Daphne, it was then fine to use crude ideas from muggles after they had been made so much better by the magical folk. 'My oh so noble pureblood sister would never let anything made by muggle hand touch her exquisite flesh,' Astoria thought sarcastically. Although to be honest, she sort of agreed with Daphne on that one – wearing clothes made from standard muggle materials (and therefore lacking any magic) felt weird. For wizards and witches greatly attuned to their magic, it could be outright uncomfortable and disturbing.
Narcissa paused in her step and so did Astoria, along with the two bodyguards who were walking closely behind them. "It's not what you're thinking," the older woman whispered and actually looked at her apologetically. "Just... I used to secretly visit there when I was a little girl… with my sister. I suppose it's disturbed me more than I thought it would. I'm sorry about that," she admitted and apologized to her companion.
Astoria could not help but smile at the image of young Narcissa Malfoy or rather Narcissa Black sneaking into muggle-inspired clothing shop. It probably made sense though as she couldn't imagine the Black family being okay with something like that. Then she caught up with the rest of her words. She definitely couldn't see Bellatrix Lestrange going where they'd just been… ever. In fact, Astoria was surprised the shop had been allowed to stay open instead of being shutdown and burned to the ground by the death eaters like many others.
But then again, although muggle-inspired, everything inside was being made by magicals for magicals. Furthermore, magic-induced cotton and flax was among the plants grown by the Greengrass family and several others. They were even experimenting with artificial fibre materials directly conjured from graphite and water. This one and several other shops and designers were their business clients. Perhaps this was the reason why they had allowed the shop to remain open.
Anyway, since Astoria couldn't see Bellatrix visiting the store with Cissy, it left only one option. "I'm sorry. I should've realized," she apologized in return, knowing what a touchy subject Andromeda Tonks née Black was for her future mother-in-law.
"I didn't really want to go there but she always talked me into it," Narcissa reminisced and then frowned. "Perhaps I should've told on her to our parents. It would've had me punished as well but maybe, just maybe, my dear sister wouldn't have married an animal," she spat with disgust.
Astoria seriously doubted being interested in muggle fashion was what led Andromeda to marry a muggleborn. Also, if anyone was an animal, it would definitely have to be Bellatrix's husband and not Ted Tonks. But Astoria also knew telling any of that to Cissy would be pointless and not exactly in her interest. "How about a coffee and some dessert?" she suggested, thinking the older woman could use some pick-me-up sugar rush right now. To her relief Narcissa readily agreed.
"I know just the place. This way," the older woman said and steered them into one of the dingy looking side alleys which crisscrossed the magical section of London. Astoria wouldn't normally go in there but since she was with Narcissa and two armed guards right now, she figured it was fine. Besides, her future mother-in-law knew the Diagon alley and the surrounding areas well. She could be trusted to pick the shortest route.
Of course, Astoria's assessment of the situation quickly changed when she noticed the dark alley wasn't as deserted as she expected. Instead, there were people sitting on the filthy ground and eyeing the newcomers fearfully. Astoria immediately knew who they were. Anger and pity swelled inside her at equal measure as she saw what the once proud muggleborn wizards and witches had been reduced to.
Astoria wasn't privy to all the details but from her talks with Daphne and Draco, she knew for a fact only those deemed truly dangerous were sent to Azkaban after their hearings – muggleborn politicians, writers, business owners... that sort of people. It's where Hermione Granger would've been sent as well had she actually chosen to attend her hearing. Once in Azkaban, the muggleborn prisoners had dementors stationed outside their cells 24/7, quickly crushing their rebellious spirits with despair.
But those were relatively few. The vast majority of the muggleborns had their fates instead decided based on their answers during their trials for 'having stolen magic'. Those who confessed to the ridiculous accusation and threw themselves at the mercy of the Commission were even allowed to keep their wands. They were then put into Ministry-supervised work programs where they had up to 50% of their wages garnished every month as compensation for their crimes. Naturally, the required recompense was always set so high the sentenced muggleborns had effectively no chance to repay it in their lifetimes.
It was an awful fate but still luxurious compared to what happened to muggleborns who actively fought the accusations. Most of them were not deemed dangerous enough to be killed or imprisoned and the Ministry merely confiscated all their assets as punishment. They had everything taken away – their wands, money, homes, and possessions. Finally, when they had nothing at all to their name, they were thrown out to scratch out an existence as beggars on the streets of magical London, broken and powerless. They were not allowed to return to the muggle world either to possibly escape their torment. Those who attempted to do so were named as traitors to magic and given the Kiss. Astoria found that most ironic of all – the magical society refused to accept the muggleborns for who they were but neither would it allow them to leave.
Instead of asking for money, the muggleborn beggars retreated away as soon as they noticed their two bodyguards. Both had wands in their hands and wouldn't hesitate to use them. Or perhaps it was Narcissa's scowl that scared them away, Astoria wasn't sure. They were almost to the end and she thought they were going to get away unmolested when a brown-haired woman in dirty robes crawled out from besides a garbage bin. She might've been braver than the others but given how bug-eyed she was as she stared at their group, she most likely just hadn't noticed their bodyguards until it was too late.
"C- c- could you spare me a knut, Miss? P- please... I beg you," the poor woman stuttered nervously towards Astoria, probably seeing her as the least threatening of the four. The muggleborn could be about thirty years old but still cowered fearfully before the young pureblood girl. Astoria gave her a kind smile and took out a sickle out of her pocket. The woman's eyes widened at the sight of the silver coin, no doubt used to purebloods giving her knuts at best, as she originally asked for. Astoria imagined some of her people might give the woman money just for the enjoyment of hitting a mudblood's face with few copper coins and watching her flinch.
"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" the muggleborn gushed over the sickle like it was some kind of treasure when it was just a meaningless pittance to Astoria. Prior to being reduced to her current state, it probably hadn't been a lot to the woman either, but right now it meant the difference between eating and starvation. Astoria wished she could give her more than that. But anything more than a sickle was bound to get her beat up and robbed by the other homeless muggleborns and Astoria refused to add even more to the poor woman's troubles.
"You're welcome," Astoria told her before whispering. "Stay safe."
The woman nodded seriously and was about to retreat from them. Unfortunately, Narcissa chose that exact moment to urge them on. "Let's go, Tori," she said impatiently, no doubt annoyed by Astoria's act of charity towards the muggleborn. The homeless woman froze at the sound of Narcissa's voice and she looked towards her.
"Y- you're N- Narcissa Malfoy!" she exclaimed in shock. And then the poor woman did something incredibly foolish. She tried to jump to her feet and towards Astoria's future mother-in-law. "WHERE ARE MY CHILDREN? WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY CHILDREN?!"
She never even came close to reaching Narcissa, of course.
First, the muggleborn found herself flung back, hitting the wall painfully. And then the guards were upon her, raining punches on her gaunt body, punishing her for her impudence. "That's enough!" Astoria cried when the woman collapsed into a fetal position on the ground and they were about to start kicking her where she fell. Her guard obeyed immediately but the one who came with Narcissa did so with obvious reluctance and only after his mistress nodded her assent.
"Nice reflexes," Narcissa told her calmly. She seemed completely unperturbed by what just transpired and by the woman's strange words.
"W-what? What reflexes?" Astoria asked, breathing fast as adrenaline coursed through her body. The older woman nodded and glanced to Astoria's hands. The girl followed her gaze to find a wand gripped in her right hand. Only then did Astoria realize she must have been the one to cast the first depulso against their attacker, acting on pure instinct. She didn't even think about it! Too much defence training with Ron Weasley and the household guards it seemed.
"Let's just get out of here," she suggested in hurry before Narcissa could decide to have the woman executed or something. The four of them then walked away while the beaten up muggleborn moaned on the alley's floor in pain. Astoria walked like she was in a fog, her mind busy trying to understand what just happened. Her companion didn't say a word about the attack, instead engaging in standard conversation like nothing at all happened. Finally, they reached the coffee shop. The weather wasn't very nice today so they sat inside at one of the tables. The shop keeper brought them coffee and a selection of some delicious desserts.
"What the hell happened in that alley?!" Astoria finally demanded to know.
Narcissa pursed her lips at her questions, likely having hoped she wouldn't ask. She then sighed and glanced at her bodyguard who nodded imperceptibly and then put on a privacy charm around their table.
"This sometimes happens," the older blonde then explained. "Both my face and name as well as my family's associations are well-known in magical Britain," she told her unhappily. "It makes us a convenient target for people's anger."
"So they blame you for everything because you're a Malfoy?" Astoria asked with horror, wondering whether that would be something she'd also face after marrying Draco. Would people hate her and attack her just for being Astoria Malfoy!?
"And that's all?" she asked suspiciously, thinking the muggleborn's reaction sounded far too personal for it to be just about the Malfoy surname.
Narcissa was silent for a moment before she said quietly, "If she'd refused the summons, Lucius might've been on the team that had her brought in... I honestly don't know," she admitted, seemingly completely calm. If there was a shame behind her words, Astoria couldn't sense it. In fact, the older blonde seemed just short of adding '... and I don't really care.'
In any case, this was all so unfair! Astoria Greengrass wasn't a naive fool. She of course realized people might not be exactly happy with the Malfoy family after the war. But this was the first time Astoria got to experience it for herself. And it was absolutely awful! She didn't want Draco and herself blamed for the crimes of his parents. Hell, she didn't want to be blamed for her father's crimes either! But what could she do to prevent that? The answer came to her a moment later like an epiphany – Ron Weasley.
That boy was her chance to cleanse the Malfoy reputation in the eyes of the public! With Harry's best friend and a popular war hero standing guard over her and Draco, nobody would try to accost and blame them for what happened during the war. At the very least it would deter all but the most determined of harassers if they saw a member of the golden trio acting as her loyal servant and bodyguard. Or rather the golden duo as Daphne was no doubt going to heavily downplay Hermione's contributions to the war effort, if not outright ruin her reputation.
The small pang of guilt Astoria felt at the idea of essentially using her friend as a means to an end was quickly banished. She had nothing to feel guilty about as by making Ron her bodyguard, she'd be giving him exactly what he had been asking her for constantly. Astoria wasn't a fan of snap decisions but in this case, it was all so very obvious – she'd accept Ron's request to be her bodyguard. Draco might not like it at first but she'd talk him into it. The benefit far outweighed any potential awkwardness her future husband might feel. Besides, Ron had already promised he would do everything to get along with Draco... for her sake. The boy was really sweet to her, a true friend despite her past actions towards him. Astoria was sure he would come to like Draco too after time!
She lifted her head and looked straight into Narcissa's eyes. "And her children? Why would she ask you about her children?" she questioned her companion. Come to think about it, Astoria had never considered what would've had happened to children of the muggleborns who were made homeless by the Commission. She couldn't recall seeing any children with any of the beggars.
The older blonde shrugged. "I have no idea. Naturally, mudbloods like her can't take care of children," she explained.
"Meaning... the Ministry takes their children away from them?!" she asked angrily, wondering what in the name of sanity had her father and sister ever been thinking in supporting the dark lord and his regime.
Narcissa nodded, a deadpan expression on her face like Astoria's question was perfectly obvious. "Of course, we couldn't let real wizards and witches suffer along with their trash of a parent! If their other parent is a half-blood or pureblood, they're allowed to stay with them. If not... fostering is arranged."
"I- I think I'm gonna be sick," Astoria spat the words. She knew saying that wouldn't buy her a favour with her future mother-in-law... and Astoria honestly wanted the woman to like her. But stealing children from their parents was where she drew the line. "I had enough for today. I'm going home," she decided, fearing she might say something even worse to the woman.
"Tori... don't be like this," Narcissa said and sighed, looking at her with disappointment. But Astoria refused to be mollified or intimidated on this. Assuming the pureblood supremacy was a good thing, how come it produced atrocities like forcibly separating children from their parents?! She of course knew what her sister would say right now: The dark lord had perverted their original philosophy to an absurd degree. He was a bastard son of a muggle and his actions were not representative of what they were trying to accomplish at all.
Astoria honestly believed her sister wasn't a monster and she knew for sure Daphne wouldn't tolerate crap like this happening anymore. The muggleborns made homeless would get their wands and homes back and receive some compensation. In the future, Daphne and people like her would put an end to the torture and imprisonments. She'd give muggleborns the basic freedoms and security to pacify them and discourage rebellions. But in the end, they would never be truly equal and those wishing to live fully would have no choice but to submit to purebloods eventually.
Intellectually, Astoria also realized the regime Daphne wanted to establish would benefit her personally. She was a pureblood, Draco was a pureblood and their future children would be purebloods as well. Ergo, having purebloods rule the world was to her advantage. Astoria also thought the muggleborns receiving some guidance from her kind was a good thing, even if she didn't believe their blood status made them inherently inferior. But accepting such guidance should always be strictly voluntary. Muggleborns shouldn't face legal restrictions and discrimination for refusing it!
"Let's just deal with the official stuff," Astoria then said tiredly, not wanting to think about this anymore. She had a lot of soul searching to do, but not today and especially not here. For now, she took out the small box she had been carrying all day in her pocket. "Please accept this gift in the name of House Greengrass, my lady," she declared formally, reminding Narcissa that today's outing wasn't just for pleasure.
The older woman was obviously still annoyed by her earlier outburst but quickly composed herself. "In the name of House Malfoy, I accept," she replied. Narcissa took the box from her and slowly opened it. "It's beautiful," she declared earnestly when she saw the silver ring with pearl. The colour of the precious stone fluctuated between coppery and gold, creating a truly breathtaking dance of light, even in the relatively sparse illumination of the coffee shop.
"Since this is a precious heirloom of my family, I also have a letter for you from my sister detailing its significance," Astoria then added, taking the magically sealed envelope from her pocket. According to Harry, only members of the Black family should be able to read it, so she first discreetly looked around to check that Bellatrix wasn't anywhere nearby.
Narcissa's expression instantly became guarded as she noticed her birth family's crest stamped on the envelope along with the one belonging to the Greengrasses. She took the envelope cautiously and tore it open to read the letter. Astoria had no idea what was inside but knew it had something to do with the war effort and that it somehow also involved the ring she just handed off to Narcissa. That was strange in itself because as far as Astoria could tell, it was just a ring. Certainly beautiful and valuable but there was no unusual magic about it she could detect.
Astoria noticed the lip of her future mother-in-law trembling as she finished the letter and looked straight at her. "Very well, you can tell lady Greengrass I will take the necessary care of your family's heirloom."
The girl nodded. "Please do so. My sister and her... advisor... were very insistent on it. In fact, there might have been talks about it having implications for membership in one very prestigious and ancient pureblood family," Astoria recited the warning she'd been told to give Narcissa if necessary. The girl figured it was better to do it as reminding Lady Malfoy that Harry Potter possessed the power to banish her from House Black was a sure way to get her to comply. Narcissa couldn't bare the idea of all three of them – her two sisters and her – being declared blood traitors, to be utterly shamed and kicked out like trash.
"Understood," she said. "I'll handle it."
Astoria nodded and started to stand from her seat. "Can't you stay a little while longer?" Narcissa suddenly asked with obvious disappointment. Perhaps part of her really enjoyed Astoria's company, or so the girl hoped. But mostly the older woman probably didn't want her to go because it meant she'd have to return to the Malfoy manor, a place Narcissa had come to hate and relished in leaving at any opportunity.
"Sorry, Cissi. After what happened... I feel like just going home," she told her truthfully.
The older woman frowned but ultimately accepted her decision. "Very well," she said. "I'm sorry that awful mudblood ruined our day," she told her and Astoria paused, noticing a strange vengeful gleam in the woman's eye as she said the words. But it lasted only a second before it was gone.
Astoria said her goodbyes and then she and her guard departed the coffee shop.
Hermione entered the Hall of glory for the first time in days. She hadn't been here since the incident with the guard assigned to her in order not to arouse suspicion. But now it was time. Both Greengrass sisters were away from the manor on their respective businesses and they would be gone for a while. More importantly, they had taken a number of the household guards away with them. And while there still were a lot of guards standing between Hermione and freedom, she believed her prison was now as unguarded as it would ever be. That and she was also running out of time. Whatever evil plan Daphne Greengrass planned to execute was now imminent and Hermione had a duty to warn people before it was too late.
For them... and for her too.
The goblin prisoner, Griphook, was dead. Committed suicide in his cell or so she heard the guards claim. But Hermione knew what really happened – the goblin was no longer useful to her so their pureblood captor had him brutally murdered. She also knew it was only a matter of time before Daphne Greengrass had her murdered too and just like with the poor goblin, Harry wouldn't do anything to stop his girlfriend or care about her death. Case in point, the blonde had actually looked more disturbed by Griphook's suicide than Harry did. It was clear to Hermione the friend she used to know no longer existed...
She stood in front of the same goblin suit of armor she was eyeing earlier. She touched the breastplate with her hand and waited. Nothing happened. Hermione picked up the helmet and put it on her head. Then she took a deep breath and picked up the round shield... and still nothing happened. Her heart started to beat faster as she realized this was it. She reached for the sword and yanked it away as fast as possible while spinning around on the spot.
She almost made it in time to see her guard materialise in front of her, wand ready. "Have you lost your mind?!" he muttered in shock when he saw Hermione with the goblin helmet on her head, a shield in her left hand and the sword in her right.
"I am the goblin queen!" she loudly declared with manic smile, fully committing to the crazy persona the guard already assumed her to have.
The man shook his head in disbelief. "Drop the sword now and come with me, mudblood!" he declared with finality.
"Death to purebloods!" Hermione cried out and then charged towards the guard with the sword swinging high above her head. As soon as she did that, the guard responded exactly the way she knew he would – he sent a stunner towards her. Timing was critical but Hermione was ready. With her eyes she followed the red beam emerging from the man's wand and right before it could connect with her body, she flicked her left hand up, interposing the goblin-made shield between her and the incoming spell.
The red beam impacted the shield and immediately ricocheted towards the man whose eyes widened in shock. Had he been paying attention to her shield, as he should've had he known what it could do, perhaps he could've done something. But he was entirely focused on the sword instead, thinking it the main threat... exactly as Hermione knew he would. And since she was charging towards him the entire time, she was now too close for him to react, either dodge or shield against the rebounded stunner.
Hermione watched as his own rebounded spell hit him and the man fell down to the floor like a sack of potatoes. She stopped in her tracks and waited for few seconds. But again, nothing happened. No reinforcements barged into the room to pacify her. Hermione dropped the sword and the shield to the floor and took of her helmet. Then she slowly walked towards the stunned guard and cautiously prodded his body with her foot. She smiled, realizing he was totally out. Obviously, the stunner he sent her way was very powerful.
At last, Hermione leaned towards the floor and picked up the wand the guard had dropped as he fell. For the first time in months, there was a wand in her hand. Tears of joy streamed down her face as Hermione Granger laughed.
