In which Sirius is not Lord Black, even if the Secret Society of Grandmas thinks otherwise. And Draco Malfoy is not the one to get into the mud, but he's also not the one to lose!
Happy birthday, Harry and Neville!
The chapter is a little longer than average, have fun!
A_A
Sirius had a lot of good traits. He was honest, loyal, brave, funny, and quite smart. Others generally liked him, even if, on this or that occasion, he was a little haughty or fierce. Even if the years spent in Azkaban made him rough on the edges and left him with a collection of quirky habits. His confidence, sense of humour, and handsomeness attracted people (and the thrill of the Azkaban escapee additionally lured some), while the rest of his positive qualities invited them to stay for longer, ignoring his character flaws. The biggest of which were stubbornness and persistence. He was unwilling to change his negative opinions about others, and even when forced to accept someone in his company, he was rude to the letter.
Fortunately, there weren't many people whom Sirius hated to such an extent. There was Severus Snape, of course, Voldemort, Lucius Malfoy, and a few others. But none of them was even close to the hatred Sirius felt for the House of Black.
The House of Black was a collection of blood supremacists glorifying Dark Magic and every single one of its practitioners. Not to mention a racist, xenophobic, chauvinistic, sexist, sadistic, and self-righteous bunch of inbreeding hypocrites. Sadistic snobs. And the list of accusations did not end there! Oh no! Sirius could also point out the abuse, the favouritism, the choking expectations, and many, many other repulsive traits represented by the whole House of Black, but most of all - his mother.
Sirius wished them all a long and painful death (preferably by his own hand), and he was happy to find many obituaries for his wretched relatives after his escape from Azkaban. He hoped with all his heart that he was the last one to carry the blasted name and that it would die with him. He also hoped that every poisonous branch that infected other families would be forgotten and her influence erased.
He was in for a big disappointment.
He never saw the guest list for the birthday party, nor did he wish to. He was happy if Harry was happy, and Harry seemed happy and made no comments, at least not to Sirius. Sirius also tried to stick to the side when the guests were arriving, as Augusta wished to inform them discreetly about his presence and innocence. He observed how children and adults slowly pour in through the fireplace and how - after greetings, introductions, and birthday wishes to both birthday boys, they are directed to the garden. None gave any present directly to Neville or Harry, but every gift was handed to the house elf on the way from the fireplace. Sirius knew the custom and had already prepared a couple of jokes for when both of them would have to write thank-you notes.
The gardens were beautiful, and Sirius already praised Neville because of that. He wasn't a big fan of herbology himself, but he could appreciate the result in a quite knowledgeable way. He also knew enough to recognise that in the middle of the summer, it was the best place to host a party, possibly in the whole of Magical Britain.
Bored with a slow flow of guests (among whom he barely recognised anyone) he finally followed to the garden to grab something to eat and drink. He crossed the well-cared lawn, trying to recognise flowers, bushes, and trees decorating it, and caught a snack or two from floating trays, trying to stay on the side.
Among the children, he didn't recognise a soul - he was in Azkaban when most of them were born. Amongst adults, he caught a glimpse of Asmee whatever-her-name-now-was (a Ravenclaw whom he dated in the fifth year, an awful break up), Audrey now-mother-and-wife (whom he dated... yes it was fifth year as well, and even a part of the summer), Marienn also-married-and-accompanied-by-a-kid (that he wanted to date, but James was there first). After a while, he caught a glimpse of his cousin Narcissa, who was quite lovely for a Black but married a Malfoy (James kept dropping things through the whole fourth year if only a lock of her hair was in sight, but pretended not to for Sirius' sake). Narcissa entered with the bigger group of people, but judging by the sigh of the white-blond hair, she was with Malfoy's spawn. Sirius dreaded the thought that she had a child with Lucius Malfoy.
Finally Sirius spotted Harry entering the garden and moved towards him, but only after a couple of steps an imposing witch stood in his way. A witch that he knew. One that he hoped died years before. But he should know better.
Violetta Black, née Bulstrode, widow of Cygnus Black, was a formidable and handsome witch. She must have been significantly over a hundred years old and the oldest person present (not counting the founders, of course). Yet Violetta looked younger than many of the present witches, Augusta included. She wore her chestnut hair precisely pinned in a complicated knot, she was straight as an arrow, and her dress was chick and in perfect black. Over fifty years after her husband's death, she never stopped mourning.
Violetta Black was Sirius' great-great-grandmother, and she should be dead.
"Lord Black," she said acrimoniously, "Have you become wiser during your prolonged... absence?"
Oh, how much Sirius wanted to say 'no' just for the sake of denying everything that came out of her mouth. But as much as it was out of the question, it was also impossible to say 'yes' and - Merlin forbid - agree with her.
"Not a Lord," Sirius shrugged and stuffed his mouth with a tartelette before continuing, his mouth full. "Mommy dearest cut me off. I'm a free man."
"I'm happy to see that years of suffering didn't break your spirit," she replied smoothly, seemingly not bothered by his display of ill manners. "I regret to shatter your illusions, but it takes more than a scorched tapestry to be disinherited. And your mother never had such power, Lord Black."
Sirius tried to pull off, when she took him by the arm and led him somewhere forward, but he got stuck in her clutches, and she kept talking.
"Amelia assured me you will receive a public apology and hefty compensation soon. I hear now you had no trial! That's quite a scandal. But where are my manners? We shall speak further on a different occasion. Today, I will simply enjoy your company. You won't deny this simple pleasure to your grandmother, won't you?"
Sirius wanted to say that yes, he most definitely would, but she wasn't done yet and hadn't given him a chance.
"Splendid! Let's join the celebrations together. I hope you haven't planned on hiding from your family. Do you see how many of your relatives are here? Quite distant, most of them, but let me remind you. You must know this, one way or another."
"I'm not a Lord," Sirius hissed at her, "And it's not my family."
"That's the spirit. Now, you just have to direct it in the right direction. I want you to meet your cousin and my protege, Millicent Bulstrode." She stopped him forcefully but subtly before a chubby girl with a hair of the same shade as Violetta's and a soft expression. "Millicent is a fourth year, just like your godson. A fierce spirit, like yourself. Millie, my darling, meet Lord Black."
The girl looked at him with a shade of fear, probably caused by the crimes he was infamous for, even if she was most definitely told that he was innocent. Nonetheless, she curtsied awkwardly, and Sirius couldn't just be rude to a scared, fourteen-year-old girl.
"Pleasure to meet you," he said, resigned.
"It's my pleasure, Lord Black," she replied quietly. There was a short silence, Sirius felt how the claws dig into his arm, urging him to ask a question that he knew he was expected to ask. What's more, thoughtful grandmother left him a very clear gap in knowledge that she wanted him to use. Sirius said nothing.
"Millie is a wonderful girl," Violetta spoke again before a break in the conversation grew too long. "She's excellent with her charms, and adores cats. She gets it from her mother, Jody Bulstrode, née Artley. She was a revelation during her time at Hogwarts, maybe you remember her? Unfortunately she couldn't join us today."
Jody Artley? Sirius had to blink a couple of times. Of course, he remembered Jody. She was a Gryffindor, a year younger than himself, and, yes, Millicent had her eyes. Remus was crazy for this girl and mentioned those eyes exactly quite often. Of course, he did nothing, certain that his lycanthropy was a reason enough not to ask a girl out. But that wasn't surprising. Surprising was that Jody was a muggle-born. That made Millicent a half-blood, now proudly presented by Violetta Bulstrode.
"That's a shame," Sirius said almost automatically, and asked the blasted question, "Which house are you in, Millicent?"
"Slytherin, Lord Black," she replied politely under the watchful eye of her Great (Greate Greate) Aunt.
"And how is it?" he was curious. Half-bloods usually had it quite hard in Slytherin (what vexed Slytherin himself). The girl shrugged not that elegantly.
"It's okay," she said. "I'd rather keep to myself anyway. And I have a cat. Black. He's called Bagheera."
"But you're not bullied, are you?" he asked and felt the claws again. But the girl only shrugged again and said lightly.
"Pansy tried, but I tore a fistful of her hair, and she stopped."
Sirius chuckled, feeling that he was starting to like this girl. He liked straightforward people.
"The best you could do, I reckon," he said merrily. "It usually works."
"It comes in handy," she agreed.
"As I said, you both have a fierce spirit," Violetta declared with unconcealed satisfaction. "Now, Millie. Ask Neville to show you the Memoriam Roses you gifted him last year. They should be blooming by now."
"Yes, grandmother," the girl replied, her voice polite again. And before Sirius managed to say or do anything, Violetta led him a couple of steps to the left.
"Not the most popular girl in Hogwarts, but she's very promising, I tell you," the woman said before stopping next to a group of guests. Sirius found himself before Audrey and Marienn, as well as two boys who looked like they had to be told where to go and how to move their legs.
"I hope you won't mind the interruption," Violetta began the conversation, "I'm sure you remember Audrey Crabbe and Marienn Goyle. If I recall correctly, you were in Hogwarts in more or less the same time. But you haven't yet had a chance to meet your cousin Vincent Crabbe nor his inseparable companion, Gregory Goyle. They are both starting their fourth year. I'm certain you need no introductions, ladies. Meet Lord Black, boys."
Sirius wanted to groan, but he politely shook hands and tried to avoid Audrey's eyes as she smiled in a way that seemed much too friendly for his liking. But trying doesn't necessarily go hand in hand with succeeding...
"I was terrified when I heard," Audrey said, standing much too close and placing a hand on Sirius' arm. "I never believed that you were guilty, but to hear that you had no trial? That's simply outrageous! But you haven't changed much, I must say. You just lost your boyish charm. He was still so boyish when he started as an auror, wouldn't you say, Marienn?"
"Most definitely!" Marienn chirped. "I imagine red is still your colour."
"Yeah, thanks," Sirius said, quickly looking towards the boys, and moving slightly away from the woman he had dated twenty years ago. Twenty years! Through if she was married to Crabbe of all people it was hard to be surprised that she looked around. "Vincent, right? Which house are you in?"
The boy looked at him. For a moment, he weighed his words, turned them over, and finally said, "Slytherin."
"I can see that you take much from your father," Sirius noted. He had a few more words on the tip of his tongue, but making fun of a fourteen-year-old boy who couldn't really tell that he was being laughed at was not really amusing.
"I don't talk much like my father," Vincent said slowly, again careful with his words.
"Yes, they are both so quiet. Sometimes, I think the house would be calmer than the grave if I didn't talk. You cannot imagine what it is like when everything you can hear is the echo of your voice..."
Sirius turned her off, suddenly remembering why they broke up. And he felt sorry for the boy and his father. It was even worse now, because when she took a break to breathe in, Marienn started talking.
"That's lovely, Audrey," Violetta said finally. "I'm sure both would like to know all the advantages of wearing short capes. You two tell them that, and we'll take your boys with us. I see Unspeakable Greengrass and his granddaughters."
Somehow, Vincent and Gregory didn't need to be told twice. They seemed rather eager to leave the company of their mothers. As eager as Sirius felt. So this time, he didn't even think about escaping Violetta, and she released his arm as they approached a wizard with three beautiful girls. Violetta came closer to kiss the air next to both of his cheeks, saying, "Gareth, I'm so delighted to see you."
"The pleasure is all mine, Viola, as always," the man responded warmly, and Sirius suddenly remembered at least two occasions (that he knew of) when Gareth Greengrass attempted to convince widowed Violetta to remarry. As far as Sirius knew, they had a lot in common, and similarly to his grandmother, Gareth also aged slowly. He looked exactly as he did when Sirius saw him over thirteen years ago. But wizards without significant power had rather slim chances of becoming Unspeakables. His three granddaughters were classically beautiful, similar to one another, like water droplets. They were lean but not thin. Their faces were very symmetrical and fair. Their foreheads were high, and eyebrows arched gently over sky-blue eyes. They had rather long noses and small lips of a perfectly pink shade, all smiling similarly, showing pearly white teeth. And that was where the similarities ended.
"I'm glad to see you free, Sirius," Gareth said when he finally managed to tear his eyes from Violetta. Partially because Sirius once again felt her hand tightly enveloped around his arm. "I must admit that your alleged crimes came as a surprise to the general public. You were a strong and vocal supporter of Dumbledore, after all. I heard nothing about you working for the other side."
"Tough luck," Sirius replied unconcernedly. He started to get tired of the mentions of his time in Azkaban.
"Indeed," the man nodded, "Please, meet my granddaughters and your cousins. Daphne and Astoria are the daughters of my eldest, Eric, and both are in Slytherin, fourth and second year. And Cereus is my youngest grandchild, Edgar's only child. She's starting Hogwarts this year."
"It's a pleasure, Lord Black," said Daphne, the oldest, in a decisive tone, extending her hand.
"I'm not..." started Sirius, but the girl winked at him and shook his extended hand with no concern whatsoever as if knowing what he'd like to say in advance, understanding it, and being convinced that it didn't really matter. So Sirius stopped half sentence and finished differently than intended, "convinced it's a pleasure for you three to stand here and talk with a bunch of old people. But it's certainly a pleasure to meet you."
"It depends on the conversation," Daphne replied confidently. "It's often more interesting to stay with more experienced conversationalists."
"I would rather read a book," muttered Cereus so quietly that Sirius barely heard her. Astoria nudged her with her elbow.
"That's her favourite pastime," Astoria explained, noticing that others heard her cousin's comment. "I prefer to spend my time alone as well. But we'll most definitely join the games that are planned for later. I hear they are quite... unique this year, and I'm quite intrigued."
"I can tell you they're gonna be much more different than what you're used to. Most of the ideas belonged to Godric, and some believe they aren't appropriate for girls. Or children in general."
"Exciting!" Astoria's smile grew wider. Daphne seemed personally offended and ready to prove that she could master everything, while Cereus was as uninterested in participation as she was before.
"What will it be?" asked, surprisingly, Gregory Goyle.
"Many different competitions. There's art, knowledge, and dexterity, but mostly athletic. You may like it."
"Maybe..." Gregory answered carefully, but Astoria looked even more excited, "Art? Oh my! I'm so gonna win!"
Astoria tried to get more out of Sirius, but Grandfather stopped her and quite quickly sent all the children away. Sirius noticed that cousins dragged Cereus to join the other children, but Gregory and Vincent remained behind to grab a couple of cupcakes and sit under the tree.
"What do you want?" Sirius asked sharply, pulling his hand from his grandmother, when for the second, they were apart from others, as Gareth Greengrass offered to bring Violetta a glass of wine, and she hadn't yet chosen a new direction. "I'm not Lord Black, I won't be Lord Black, so you can stop introducing me this way. This cursed name dies with me, grandmother. It's over. No more Blacks. You must have dealt with it during the thirteen years I've spent in Azkaban."
"Oh, Sirius," she waved her hand, "You see only the worst in the House of Black, don't you?"
"Of course I do!" Sirius said a little louder than he intended, but her patronising tone and mannerisms vexed him. "It's evil. This house represents everything that's wrong with wizards. Blacks are blood supremacists and dark wizards. They have no respect for others and can't see anything beyond their long noses! But the word does not revolve around mighty noble Lord Black and his male relatives. Because look at this realistically, you're the oldest of living Blacks, and yet you come to the convict to save this cursed family!"
"Excuse me, sir," he heard a voice behind himself and turned on a heel to see one of the children. A tall boy of a teddy bear type, looking a little scared but also offended and astir. "Why would you say something like that?"
"Because it's true," Sirius replied, holding back something sharper, to not scream at the child, even if it took an awful amount of self-discipline.
"But it's not. You're talking about my family, and we're not cursed blood-supremacists and dark wizards. Aunt Walburga was, but she's dead. And Aunt Bellatrix, but she's in Azkaban. And the rest of us are just normal. I am normal."
Sirius stood taken aback, looking at the boy before him, unable to speak.
"Thank you, Ernie," Violetta said warmly, "I believe that is something that Sirius has yet to understand. That's Ernest Macmillan, Sirius, your cousin—one of my favourites and a perfect example of a Hufflepuff virtue. I wasn't surprised by his sorting in the slightest. Ernie, my boy, meets Sirius, present Lord Black, who knows so little about his family. You may be the first to force him into silence."
The boy stood as quiet as Sirius, apparently simultaneously ashamed, proud, and confused. Violetta Black patiently waited for one of them to regain their capability of speech, not hiding her satisfaction.
"Why would you say those things?" Ernie was the first to speak.
Sirius searched for an answer, but there was none. And yet, some had to be given.
"Look..." he started, but no words came after.
"Do you believe every Black is evil?" the boy asked.
"Have you met my mother?" Sirius asked emotionally. "She was evil incarnate, the personification of everything wrong. She... I have my reasons to believe what I said."
"Your mother, Sirius, was the extreme example of the kind of fruit growing on our family tree," Violetta said, "Don't forget that you are one yourself. As is Millicent, the Greengrass girls, or Ernie here..." she looked at the boy, "Thank you, Ernie, run along and find yourself a treat. You deserve it."
She again slid her hand under Sirius's arm, leading him among the flowers of the Longbottom garden.
"Now listen, grandson, your mother is not the scion I'm the most proud of. And your father wasn't what might be called a fine example of Black. We are proud of our heritage. We are open to all branches of magic. But you must learn that pride and openness are not traits you should be ashamed of. That is why you will continue on this little round of ours. We will join Druella, Narcissa, and young Draco in a moment. Then we'll talk with the Weasleys, Neville and your godson. And you will think very carefully and point me at least one of your cousins who fits the description of Black that you are presenting. Find one living Black that is not Bellatix, and I will disinherit you so you can live as you please. But you won't be able to. And so you will meet me in my manor to listen to what I say. And for Merlin's sake, you will see a mind healer and fix your manners!"
Sirius remained silent, but he looked at her with determined eyes, saying he accepted the challenge.
Draco Malfoy was bored. It was another party he was forced to attend this summer. Not that he had anything special to do otherwise, but attending a birthday party for Potter and Longbottom was far less interesting than sitting on a chair and staring at a wall. He knew Longbottom's birthdays were always dull. It could be amusing, of course, but Draco was informed that he is not only to be on his best behaviour but also that he's going in the company of his mother and grandmother. So he had to be on his best behaviour.
The perspective got quite exciting when, during breakfast, his father passed him a morning paper with a command that he should 'read it at once.' So Draco did. And he barely believed what he saw. It looked like an actual joke. The founders of Hogwarts are back, and somehow, not only Potter and Longbottom but the mudblood Granger, three Gryffindors, were announced to be their heirs. How could the mudblood be the heir? Draco started to joke, but his father was deadly serious and looked at Draco with such irritation that the amusement died in a matter of seconds. Just after breakfast, both Draco's parents closed themselves in the study, and when his mother emerged around lunch, she only said that his father was now under great amount of stress, and - surprise, surprise - Draco was to be on his best behaviour, especially during the party. She also added that it would be beneficial if Draco could make a good impression on Salazar Slytherin, who will undoubtedly be present.
That's why Draco got ready to not only be bored but also had to adjust himself into his father's shoes and play the perfect Malfoy: an aristocrat and politician with ideal manners and wide influence, which he knows how to expand and use in all circumstances. In front of Salazar Slytherin. No, no pressure.
He gave his best wishes to Longbottom and Potter, keeping all comments to himself, but he knew as well as they did that he cared nothing for their stupid birthday. But his mother and grandmother stood just next to him. It was somehow weird. Potter seemed to look too often at Draco's grandmother since he was introduced to her, and she seemed to be equally curious about him. But what business could Potter have with Druella Black?
Maybe it was because of his godfather, apparently innocent Sirius Black. Father always told Draco that he had never seen Sirius Black in this circle and had never even heard about him in any way that would indicate his involvement. However, Lucius had no evidence of his innocence and never agreed to investigate the issue according to his wife's wishes. And he was right. Why should he do anything for the blood traitor?
Thoughts about Potter's freakish behaviour (along with suspicion he's attracted to older witches) and Sirius Black's presence flew out of Draco's head as soon as he saw the founders. It was hard not to recognise them from the photo in the Daily Prophet, so Draco was ready, but he also wasn't. At all. And yet he stood before them, next to his mother, being introduced, and he barely caught the moment to say, "I'm honoured to meet you." But he did, of course, and he managed not to gawk and keep his expression neutral.
"Slytherin? Yes, it's so interesting to meet the members of my house," Slytherin said, and Draco nodded, smiling.
"I hope we meet your expectations, professor," he replied. "We're certainly proud to belong."
"Ah, but I'm not a professor," Slytherin chuckled, "None of us are. And I dare say that a few of your teachers are... Do you enjoy your lessons?"
"Very much, sir," Draco corrected the title to the next most likely accurate without a blink of an eye, judging that apologies are unnecessary in this case. "I especially enjoy potions and transmutation."
Slytherin nodded slowly, asking, "Why those two? Are you talented in this area?"
"I can't say I'm not, but it's also a hard effort. I also got infected with a passion for potions as a child. My godfather is a Potions Master, and I had an opportunity to learn from him even before Hogwarts."
A smile wandering on Slytherin's lips told Draco that his answer was expected but not satisfactory. Why? He couldn't tell.
"Even before Hogwarts? Is your godfather a professional teacher?" Slytherin asked.
"Yes," Draco nodded, "I'm lucky in this regard."
"And, if I'm correct, he's currently the Head of Slytherin. You certainly have an advantage."
Draco confirmed with enthusiasm.
"He cares about us all, even if other teachers are often reluctant."
"So I have heard," the man replied slowly, "I also heard he's quite reluctant to care about all other students. Would you agree?"
Would Draco agree? Damn yes! But he smiled and shook his head.
"He might favour us a little, that's true. But he's quite a demanding teacher, intolerant of negligence. After all, potions are a demanding subject, and it's not hard for an accident. He mustn't allow for unpreparedness and carelessness. I would assume that the opinion you heard came from a student who's not the best in potions."
"I will consider your opinion," Salazar replied, his eyes for a moment drifted somewhere behind Draco, and he added. "Your loyalty to the house and your godfather are admirable. As is your passion for learning. I won't keep you any longer. I'm sure you'd like to join your friends."
Recognising dismissal for what it was, Draco bowed his head slightly.
"Thank you. I hope I will have a chance to talk later," he said before leaving to join his mother and grandmother. They waited for him next to the doors with Pansy and her grandmother, Primrose Parkinson. The ladies were busy with their conversation but paused when Draco came closer.
"Good afternoon, Draco," Lady Parkinson said kindly. Draco barely managed to answer when Pansy grabbed his arm and asked in a loud, excited whisper.
"What did he ask you?" she wanted to know.
"My house, subjects, talents... We talked about Professor Snape a little. And you?"
"Me too! He was impressed by what I wanted to achieve. He said that finding an area in which we want to excel at such a young age and being so passionate about it is impressive, and he's sure that his house will help me achieve it. We talked about current fashion a little. What has he told you?"
Draco grimaced, suddenly connecting the weird smile with what Pansy said. He didn't come out as especially ambitious in this conversation.
"How you brag, Pansy. Only you can do it so thoroughly," Draco mocked to cover the grimace caused by his thoughts. He would brag as well, but in comparison, he didn't feel like he had anything to brag about. The whole pride Draco felt during the conversation, caused by how smoothly he managed and what he heard at the end, evaporated because he didn't come out as Slytherin enough since Slytherin praised his loyalty (loyalty!) and passion for knowledge! He wasn't a Hufflepuff to be praised for loyalty! But knowledge was a key to success, so maybe it wasn't that bad...
"Draco, don't pull faces," his grandmother said quietly, "Nothing smells bad around here."
"Sorry, Grandma," he said, quickly pulling up a slight smile and getting an appreciative nod back. "So, you met Salazar Slytherin and talked about fashion?" Draco asked Pansy.
"Of course I did," she raised her chin, "And he isn't ignorant. He's well aware of how muggle fashion influences magical style. He even read the recent article in Witch Weekly praising jeans. Can you imagine? They actually praised those vulgar pants! Doesn't anybody know they are popular because the fabric is cheap but resistant, so it is perfect for the lower classes to work? I would never introduce this to my designs."
Draco stopped listening after he heard that Slytherin reads Witch Weekly.
"What?" He asked as soon as he had an occasion. "He reads Witch Weekly? You can't be serious!"
"He does," Pansy said proudly, "Apparently, it has its merits. And he said that the interview with them will appear in this week's issue."
Draco couldn't see those merits, and he was about to argue, but they were ushered to the garden by Lady Parkinson. Pansy kept talking about denim and the working-class until Theo joined them. Then Pansy wanted to know everything about his conversation with Slytherin.
"About how are they here. I wanted to know how they got to the twentieth century since the time-turners were invented in the nineteenth century and are limited to going back by only a couple of hours. He told me that it has nothing to do with time travel, but when I asked about details, he said that it would take too long to explain at the moment and I may ask some other time. I most certainly will. That must be some magic!"
"And what did he tell you besides that?" Pansy insisted.
"He asked about my other interests, so we talked a little about potions and runes. Especially since Rowena Ravenclaw heard it and asked about our familial runes," he indicated the embroidery on his robe. "My grandfather still talks about all that, and Slytherin told me to 'join my friends', so I had to leave."
Draco rolled his eyes.
"You know the history of your own runes," he noted.
"But I don't know her opinion. She may know much more than we do since she actually lived approximately at this time. It's a completely different perspective. Plenty of meaning was lost with time. I found a book from the fourteenth century that changed the precise meaning of..."
"Oh, shut up already," Pansy sighed heavily, and Draco cleared his throat. He was actually interested in what Theo had to say, but after Pansy's remark, the boy just muttered, "Sorry to bother you," added something about punch and left.
"I swear he can't shut up about books if he talks at all," Pansy said as he left, "He's as Slytherin as I'm Gryffindor. And he never joins us in the common room. That's rude, don't you think? I don't like him very much, to be honest..."
"Will you shut up?" Draco asked aggressively. "You told me that a million times. You don't like him, he's weird, and you don't trust him and think he's a secret muggle lover and a blood traitor. I know."
"You're being rude," Pansy declared in response. "Find me when you'll find your attitude."
And - thank Merlin - she turned her back on Draco and left in the direction of the Carrow twins. Draco smiled contemptuously, seeing that when they saw her, they had immediately joined the company of Millicent Bulstrode. Everybody knew that Pansy hated her.
Suddenly, Draco's attention was dragged to the other part of the garden, where some man was screaming at Grandma Violetta. Draco didn't recognise him but declared the man a suicidal lunatic. Only someone like that could scream at Violetta Black. With amusement, he observed how Macmillan joined the interaction, apparently scolding the madman. Draco regretted not being close enough to hear what was said.
The attraction was finished shortly, however. And Draco started to be bored. He saw the Golden Trio and Longbottom, quite quiet, if he was to be honest. Somewhere in the other part of the garden, the Weasley twins were scolded quite loudly by their mother. Funny sight. This woman had no tact whatsoever. And there there was Cedric Diggory, surrounded by the old ladies. Draco came closer, on the pretext of snacks, to listen. It was always funny.
"You're such a sweet boy," cooed Dowager Higgs, receiving her punch.
"Oh, that he is," agreed Belinda Brown, the grandmother of Lavender Brown. "Such a gentleman and such a good student! My granddaughter always talks about you with the highest admiration, Cedric."
"I'm sure she's exaggerating," Diggory replied, and Draco chuckled discreetly.
"Are you preparing for your NEWTS?" Wanted to know Augusta Longbottom.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm anxious about my history of magic results."
"So diligent," Augusta said with the highest praise. "Would you be a dear and bring me one of those peach cobblers?"
Draco snickered, seeing how Cedric hurried to fulfil the old lady's whim. But he turned on a heel and straightened instantly, hearing a very familiar voice behind his back.
"I see we won't disturb you," Violetta Black said gladly.
"Not at all, Grandma," he replied, looking at her companion. The suicidal lunatic.
"Very well. This is your cousin, Draco Malfoy. An excellent student. I hear that he's second in his class, and despite his involvement in Quidditch, he's playing for the Slytherin team. Draco, my darling, meet Sirius Black."
Draco's eyes grew a little. Almost imperceptibly. So he wasn't wrong. It was a madman. And apparently, despite his history in Azkaban, where he clearly lost his mind, he still was the Lord of the House of Black. Otherwise, Grandmother would introduce Sirius to him, Heir of the House of Malfoy, not the other way around. Draco gathered himself in seconds.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Black," he said politely, seeing the spark of annoyance in the eyes of the man. Still a liberal blood traitor, it seemed.
"You as well," the man replied, shaking Draco's hand. So he still had manners. And despite his disdain for the lordship, he stood in a similar way to Draco's mother: straight and proud, lofty even. Draco held back a sneer, thinking that Black would be Black forever, despite everything.
"What position do you play?" Lord Black asked, according to the custom, using a gap left by the presenting to start a small talk. 'Rebel my ass,' Draco wanted to say, but he allowed a smile on his face.
"I've been a seeker since my second year."
"And how does your team fare?"
"Splendidly," Draco replied truthfully and with pride, "We lost the cup, but we usually win two out of three games."
"I hear Harry beats you every game," Black pointed out.
"If he manages to stay on the broom, he's a decent seeker," Draco said, although it barely squeezed through his throat. "But neither Diggory nor Chang beat me to the snitch."
"Quite impressive," the man admitted. "And you're second in your year? Narcissa must be proud."
Draco forced a smile and a response, "I believe she is, yes." She was proud and often boasted about it, but she was never satisfied with him being second after Granger of all people. Evidently, he wasn't convincing enough.
"I see," Black said, dragging out the word a little. "Don't bother trying to be first if you don't feel like it. Seriously. It's impossible to make the woman of the House of Black happy. They're always unhappy. If you meet one expectation, she'll pop with ten more. Seriously, just let it go. I know, I've been there."
Draco smiled unintentionally. It was true, after all.
"Enough of this fraternisation," Violetta said with a wry note. "A moment longer, and you'll make a rebel of a good boy, Sirius."
"He would only gain from it," Black countered. A moment later, Draco was alone again, and he looked around to find maybe someone else to talk with. But honestly, there weren't very many people he wanted to talk with. Gregory and Vincent were there, but it was hard to talk with them. If only Blaise were around... But as far as Draco knew, Blaise was roasting on some exotic beach.
Despite the lack of preferable company, Draco didn't get to be bored again. His attention was dragged to the garden's centre, where something started to happen. Using the full force of his booming voice, Gryffindor was inviting everybody to join him. Draco came a little closer. Close enough to watch and hear but not close enough to get dragged into something. He stopped behind Vincent and Gregory, and both nodded to him, but - as usual - none said anything. Such wonderful conversationalists.
"We know that Hogwarts students are not used to things other than studying and running up and down the stairs," Godric said, causing some to laugh. "Lucky few play Quidditch—exactly twenty-eight out of three hundred. I'm not really impressed. And judging by how Neville and Hermione looked at me when I told them what I had in mind, you won't be impressed by what I'll offer. But I will do it anyway. And to melt your resistance, I have three little treats. First, is a very special secret of Hogwarts. Second, is a vial of phoenix tears. And third, a favour that you can ask for me or any other Founder. Three of you who win the most competitions, will get one of the prizes."
Draco unwillingly moved a step closer. Phoenix tears? That was something that was hardly ever available to buy and always for a small fortune. Considering their potency as the potions ingredient and magical power, even the tiniest vial could allow him to brew a couple of potions, and the one that Gryffindor presented wasn't tiny.
"There will be various competitions, so I guess that you will have quite equal chances. We'll start easy. I've grown to be quite excited about Quidditch. We won't play a true match, only seekers competition. I know that a couple of you play on the team, but I bet that more of you are fond of flying. To make the chances equal, you'll play on the brooms that you've never used before. One's that were common a thousand years ago. You will need a true skill to manage... Anybody want to try?"
Of course Draco wanted to try, and he wasn't the only one. Eight other people stepped forward, including Potter and Diggory, but also other Quidditch players Bell, Weasley twins, and Higgs, and people that didn't play on any team, among which were two other Weasleys, Ronald and Ginevra, Pansy and - surprisingly - Theo. Granger looked torn, but she was looking at the broom like it would bite her.
They got a moment to familiarise themselves with a broom. All except for Potter, who apparently had the chance previously. The brooms were visibly of a very old type, although all were freshly made. To say they were raw was an understatement, and Draco quickly understood why skill was necessary. Modern brooms did over half of the work!
Snitch was released three times, and each catch gave one point. Draco was not surprised, when Potter caught it for the first two times, but on the third time, Potter was too far to catch up when Draco saw it. And the rest? Draco just outmanoeuvred them with ease. Even Diggory.
Gryffindor didn't give them a lot of time to rest. He transfigured a patch of perfect grass into a hollow hole full of mud, conjured a long rope and with a wide smile announced.
"You will play in groups of three. Think smart about who you want in your group, because your task will be to tug a rope stronger than the other team in order to gain points. You gain a point for each team you will drag to the mud..."
"We're in our smart robes!" exclaimed Pansy with indignation.
"You can skip that one," Godric replied lightly. "Or remind yourself about the existence of the cleaning charms."
Draco clenched his teeth. If his father knew... He found his mother in the crowd. She was frowning, and her eyes said, 'you're wearing silk!' But just behind her with arms crossed on his chest, stood undignified Lord Black. And Draco wasn't sure whether it was a challenge or encouragement he saw, or maybe he was just a reminder of the previous conversation. Whatever it was, Draco announced to Vincent and Gregory that they were a team and led them forward. He had a strong chance of staying out of the mud with their help. He wanted those tears, whatever his mother would say about it.
Only one other team formed equally quickly: the Weasley twins with their younger brother. Among others, there were a couple of interested people, but plenty had doubts and trouble forming teams. Most of the girls looked reluctant.
"C'mon, it's just a little mud. I pay people to put it on my face," laughed Lavender Brown, trying to convince someone to join her. "I'll ask my grandma to put a preservation spell on your hair."
That convinced some of them, although Pansy seemed to drag herself forward only by the vision of the reward. And not only her. It took some time, but finally, they formed six groups. It was delightful to watch how some people landed in the mud. First, the Weasleys won with a group of Pansy. She gained only a little of an advantage by quickly inviting Terence Higgs but was too picky about the third person, so she finally managed to convince Theo. Dirty and humiliated, they dragged themselves out of the pit. Draco wished for the camera.
Then it was his turn. He stood in front of the mud with Gregory and Vincent behind his back while Ron Weasley moaned that they should wait to pull him, Draco, into the mud. Draco snapped back, which provoked Granger, Bell, and Weasleyette to push forward with stubborn faces, apparently convinced that their will was stronger than the muscles of Crabbe and Goyle. It was an idiotic assumption, and just a moment later, Draco could enjoy the view of Granger with her face in the mud. He couldn't hold laughter.
After that, Potter and Longbottom, with a good addition of Diggory, got the group of Lavender, one of Patil's twins, and Milicent. It looked like Milicent alone did quite a good job at the start, as Lavender and Patil were useless. Draco was disappointed that Potter was not in the pit. But it was quickly rectified, as first Weasleys dragged them to the mud, and then Draco had the pleasure of doing it himself. His joy was spoiled when the only two teams left were his and Weasleys, and he landed face first in the puddle of mud, with Greg and Vince on his back.
Gryffindor and the three Weasley brothers beamed. The rest seemed to be amused for this or that reason, and it was easier to bear humiliation when most of them were covered in mud. They weren't cleaned immediately. Truth be told, Draco saw that many of his friends were tempted to use their wands, just like he was, but with Amelia Bones in the crowd, no one dared.
It wasn't the end of mud, however. Gryffindor now conjured two wooden logs levitating over the mud, and one after the other, they climbed on top with a task to not fall for thirty seconds. Draco went as one of the first, equally determined to win and have it done. He didn't make it. The log was quite broad and covered in bark, which made standing on it easier, but the smallest movement made it move, and after a few seconds, Draco again landed in the pit, barely avoiding falling on Ginny Weasley. Only a few people managed the whole thirty seconds.
After that, Gryffindor cleaned them all with one spell and restored the lawn to its previous condition.
At this point, they were informed that considering the large group of adults, they had permission to use magic during the next competitions. First was awfully difficult for Draco, because it concentrated on creativity. Sure, he was good in transfiguration and able to conjure plenty of beautiful things, but he wasn't especially imaginative. At least not so much as Astoria Greengrass or Luna Lovegood. Both of them created absolutely magnificent displays. Astoria created a crystal figurine of a dancing couple, including music and clothes that moved rather like silk than stone. While Lovegood conjured a cloud of colourful soap bubbles in the shape of the most likely non-existent creatures. Every time the bubble burst, it generated ten more smaller bubbles. Both got four points out of four. Draco got only two, but Granger got three, which vexed him immensely. And he got lost with the rest, noting only with satisfaction that Potter didn't even try.
Next, each of them got a wooden puzzle consisting of five entangled pieces that they had to untangle using only their wands. They got one point for completing and another for doing it in under three minutes. For a moment, the garden got completely silent because even adults watched in concentration. It was difficult, but Draco managed to get both points. A few others, including Granger, did too.
Following the contest was not difficult, but challenging. Each got a bowl with water and raisins floating on top. They were tasked to eat raisins. The problem was that the surface of the water was on fire. Draco was reluctant to put his hand in the flame, did it too slowly and ended up with a burning and irritated skin. It didn't really hurt, but it was unpleasant. The consolation was that he wasn't the only one. And he needed the consolation, because Potter managed to eat all before most even started.
What came after was ridiculously easy for Draco. Each of them got three pieces of some magical plant that they had to name. They were rather common, at least in Draco's opinion. He found in his set the bark of oak, the leaf of mandrake, and pattles of swamp marrow. What was satisfying was that it wasn't so easy for others.
The last task was the worst. They were asked to write on the piece of paper their own name and the names of two other people: those they liked the most and the least among the gathered. Gryffindor paired them with those who they hated the most. And so Draco stood in front of Potter with a piece of paper between them with the first out of three clues to finding a hidden token. It took them a long time to stop staring at each other with open hostility.
Finally, Potter looked at the piece of paper and read, "I look at you but don't see you from behind my face. If one face falls, another shows underneath. If you take them all, I'll be only in my green dress..." and almost immediately he added, "Oh, I know. Easy. That's those flowers Neville grows. I saw them today."
"He has Masqueroses?" Draco asked in surprise, trying to make an impression that he guessed as fast as Potter did.
"C'mon," Potter said, leading the way. Apparently, answering was beneath him. They haven't said a word more on their way to the greenhouse, where they found the appropriate bush with another clue. Three other bushes had a piece of paper levitating over them. Draco caught a piece of paper over the beautiful bush of Masqueroses that he had seen for the first time in his life and read, "This thing all things devours. Birds, beasts, trees, and flowers. Gnaws iron bites steel. Grinds hard stones to meal. Slays king, ruins town. And beats high mountain down."
"Read again," Potter said. Draco rolled his eyes and read the riddle again.
"Time," he said at the end. "It's time, Potter. I just have no idea how we should find time. It's stupid. How time could hide the last riddle? Should we just stay here for, I don't know, five minutes or something, and it'll appear or what?"
Potter looked at him like he would be mentally retarded, and Draco wanted to hit or curse him, but Potter just said.
"It must be under the clock or something," he said.
"And how many clocks do you think Longbottoms have? Dozen? Three dozens? There might be one in every room!"
"I would just walk straight home and check first of them," Potter shrugged like it would be the most obvious thing to do.
"Or we could find the time and stay here? It may just appear."
"That would be wasting time, Malfoy. We'll lose points if we don't finish fast enough, and I want that secret."
"You want the secret?" Draco looked at him with confusion, "The tears are way better, they cost a fortune!"
"Of course, it's about money for you..."
"Not money, you idiot! It's a potion ingredient which costs a fuckload of money, and even my father won't buy it for me, so I can brew a potion I don't need!"
Potter looked at him with honest surprise, and Draco crossed his arms on his chest, raising his chin up, provoking a mockery or a snide remark. He didn't get any. Potter stood and watched the bleeding stem of Sanguis Rose. After a moment, he got closer, took some of it from his finger, and licked it off.
"Eww..." Draco wrinkled his nose. "You know it might be poisonous, right?"
"It's not," Potter shrugged again. "I'm not that stupid. And if you wonder, it tastes like a normal green leaf. Just more metallic."
"I'm not," Draco lied.
After a second longer, Potter looked too bored to stand there without trying another plant, and he asked, "Have we waited long enough? Can we go and find the clock?"
"You could try the blue ones," Draco suggested innocently.
"Yeah, no. These are poisonous. You realise I'm not here for the first time, right? I spend hours here listening to Neville and Hermione talking about every one of those bushes."
"And you haven't tasted them then?" Draco mocked, moving towards the doors.
"With Neville around? Are you kidding me? He treats his plants like they would be his best friends. I'm not going to eat his best friends..."
Draco couldn't hold back the short laugh. But didn't respond after that. They just went to the manor, passing two other pairs rushing towards the greenhouse. Apparently, he and Potter were ahead of at least a few others. Despite that, Draco sped up a little, willing to find the clock and either find a clue or prove Potter wrong.
Potter wasn't wrong. As soon as they entered the hall, they saw a grandfather clock and a piece of paper hanging before it. Potter looked smug but didn't comment, so Draco also kept the comments to himself.
The card said, "What word in the English language does the following: the first two letters signify a male, the first three letters signify a female, the first four letters signify a great, while the entire world signifies a great woman. What is the word?"
They stood over the piece of paper and stared at it. Draco started to put the letter together when someone ran behind their back. He looked up to see the bushy hair disappearing behind the corner. Stupid Granger. He had to hurry. He couldn't let her win again. Two letters that signify a male, three male. He. Her. Okay. Four signify great, so...
"Heroine," said Potter, "Great woman is a heroine, it fits, right?"
"Yes, yes, it fits. He. Her. Hero. Heroine. Fits." Draco snapped, angry that Granger had distracted him, and Potter solved it first—and backward. Guessing. Fucking Potter.
Irritated, Draco moved towards the doors, not looking at whether Potter followed him or not. But he did, and they made it back to Gryffindor just after Theo and Pansy.
"Well, what's your last answer?" he asked enthusiastically.
"Heroine," said Draco immediately, to not get Potter a chance.
"Very well! You can go to the dining room or wait with us for the rest."
They split momentarily. Potter sat on the grass, and Draco joined Theo and Pansy. Pansy was fuming. Draco didn't have to wander to guess that Theo solved every riddle on their way. And he could understand. Potter didn't think about the riddles. He was just lucky. He watched as further pairs joined them. He was not at all surprised to see Granger and Daphne among the first to arrive, but he found it hard to believe that one of the Weasley twins paired with Terence Higgs came that quickly. He knew perfectly well that Higgs wouldn't solve it that fast, so it must have been Weasley.
"Now, for the winners," Godric said when all of them sat around the long table. "Two people share third place with the same number of thirteen points. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. I had some time to think it through. There's no reason to choose between those two. They both earned the points fairly. Therefore, I will double one of the prizes. Each of you fought with something in mind, and I will double the one that is chosen twice. Second place, with fourteen points, belongs to Theodore Nott. And first, to the most versatile of you, Fred Weasley. Congratulations. Think about your prizes and let me know after the dinner. Others, you may try again during the school year. I'll most definitely do that again."
Draco spent the whole meal internally happy that he decided that falling into the pit of mud is worth getting phoenix tears. He got more points than Granger. AND his mother wasn't mad about the mud. He was sure that if he'd finish without a prize, she would be. But with the prize, it didn't matter.