Chapter 34 - Chapter 34: Pronglet's World Cup:4

Draco was only mildly surprised when he walked into the dining room and saw Nott eating breakfast with Draco's mother.

Bugger, he thought, irritated. He was sick to death of being forced into the company of the other boy. All he'd wanted to do was have a nice normal breakfast but no; he had to put up with Nott. He walked over to the table, nodded at his mother and sat down in his usual seat.

"Nott."

"Malfoy."

Draco turned cool grey eyes on his mother. "Are we expecting Zabini to join us as well?"

She raised her eyebrows at his biting tone. "Your father and Lord Nott are hosting a business breakfast with some of our allies. Our guests will be gone by lunchtime but you will host Theo until then."

"Of course, Mother." Draco replied automatically, noting the words held a steely command. Since the Black family meeting in July his mother had been asserting more and more authority within the house. His father had hardly spent any time with him and instead had deferred to his mother. It was she who had decided Crabbe and Goyle couldn't visit and that Draco should spend time with the spawn of those toadying to Black.

It wasn't fair, Draco thought moodily. And it was all Potter's fault.

His mother placed her napkin on the table and rose from the table gracefully, sweeping out of the dining room without another word.

Draco decided ignoring Nott was the best move and so helped himself to bacon, eggs and sausage. He left the baked beans, tomatoes and mushrooms. Fried bread was added to the plate.

Nott snorted. "You won't stay skinny if you continue to eat like that!"

"I have a fast metabolism like my father." Draco snapped back.

"Your father had a poached egg on a slice of wholemeal toast and a grapefruit." Nott said mildly. "He certainly didn't eat like you!"

Draco glared at him. "You don't understand!"

"I understand that you don't want me here," Nott replied swiftly, "and I understand that I don't want to be here either. Our fathers may be allies but we're not. However, our fathers are allies and they want us to get along so perhaps you could stop being an arse and at least be civil."

"I was being civil," Draco sneered, "you were the one who insulted me!"

"Merlin, Malfoy," Nott said exasperated, "I commented on the amount of fried food on your plate! I didn't call you a prat."

Even if you are one.

Draco heard the unspoken words and glowered at the boy. He threw down his napkin his food almost untouched. "I seem to have lost my appetite."

Nott raised one eyebrow mockingly. "Now you're being a drama queen." He paused. "For the record that was an insult."

Anger surged through Draco. "You should show some respect, Nott, otherwise…"

"Otherwise what?" Nott commented without raising his voice. "You'll run to Daddy?"

Draco scraped his chair back and raised his wand. "You take that back or…"

"How you got into Slytherin I don't know." Nott said calmly, picking up his pumpkin juice and sitting back as though Draco wasn't threatening him at all. "You don't seem to have realised that things have changed, Draco. Your father has just spent every waking hour of the last month convincing the old Black alliance that he still has the power to lead them despite the fact that the basis of his power – that you were the Black heir – has been completely smashed to pieces. He's held on only by virtue of the fact that Lord Black himself has no interest in the old Black alliances except inasmuch as he doesn't want us supporting the Dark Lord, and your father is handy in arranging deals of neutrality with Black."

Draco was speechless at Nott's words but he couldn't deny them.

"And yet," Nott continued, "you want to risk all that by attacking the heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Nott – a House that outranks the House of Malfoy – and with whom you have an alliance of mutual aid and support. And let's not forget, the Ancient and Noble House of Black which retains primacy over your Minor House has a détente alliance with us meaning no raising of wands." He looked insouciantly at Draco. "You want to hex me? Go ahead. I'll be sure to ask Lord Black to use Judgement on you for breaking oath."

Each point Nott scathingly made hit Draco like a bludger. The last though had him paling before flushing with frustrated anger. He had no wish to end up without his magic.

He yanked his wand down and stormed out.

He headed automatically for the music room on the third floor of the Manor. His mother had forced him into piano lessons when he was little but his father had dismissed them when he'd taken more of an interest in Draco's education. Draco had at the time adored his father even more for stopping the torture of practising scales and finger movements. But the music room had the best view in the house; a small balcony looked out onto the beautiful manicured gardens of Malfoy Manor and Draco loved it there. When he was a child he had pretended he was a King, gazing out over his kingdom. He'd stopped pretending, of course, but it was a favourite thinking spot.

Once he reached the balcony, he collapsed into the wrought iron chair and stared out into the thin morning sunlight. He breathed in deeply, the sight and perfume of the gardens settling him as the initial rush of adrenaline that had made him storm out of the dining room subsided. His stomach rumbled.

"Kobly!" Draco called quietly.

The house elf popped in, his large ears twitching. "Yes, Little Master Draco?"

"Bring me a bacon sandwich and a pot of tea." Draco ordered imperiously. He suddenly remembered what Nott had said about his diet and waved a hand. "Oh, and a grapefruit."

Kobly popped away and almost immediately the food appeared on the small wrought iron table beside Draco.

He picked up the sandwich and began eating, methodically and precisely. The act of eating, the scenery and the stillness of the morning finally drained away the last of Draco's anger. Instead he was left with a lingering sense of frustration, irritation and a sense of unfairness.

He drank his tea and stared at the untouched grapefruit.

The problem was Nott was right, Draco mused with resentment. Everything had changed and Draco hated it.

He started to worry over Nott's comments in his head. Well, not the comment about Slytherin because Draco had been born and raised to be in Slytherin although he knew his father would have preferred to have sent him to Durmstrang and avoided Hogwarts altogether; it had been at his mother's insistence that he had gone to Hogwarts. Still, Slytherin was for the ambitious and cunning; Draco had been raised to be both. So a pox on Nott for his stupidity in suggesting Draco should have gone somewhere other than Slytherin. And Draco knew he ruled in Slytherin…at least he had until that Summer. He shifted position uncomfortable with the thought, a frown on his pointed face.

Truthfully, he had always known that he held his place in Slytherin because of his father; the Malfoy name, status and wealth kept most of his contemporaries in line, and the upper years would ignore him rather than risk upsetting him and provoking consequences for their families' businesses or political dealings. What was beginning to sink in was that it hadn't been the Malfoy name, status and wealth so much as the Black.

Draco had been told, of course, that he was the Black Heir and would complete the inheritance rituals when he was seventeen and of age. His father had talked about a family fortune from his mother's side that would add to the prestige of the House of Malfoy. What he hadn't told Draco was that other candidates for the position were still alive nor that his Great-Uncle Arcturus hadn't actually named him as Heir despite being alive until just before Draco entered Hogwarts. In hindsight, he'd simply naively accepted his father's word.

He'd accepted a lot of what his father had told him as truth and he was beginning to understand that some of it wasn't truth at all.

It wasn't truth that he'd been the Black Heir and once Sirius Black had claimed his rightful position by law, blood and magic, any claim Draco had to inherit the House of Black was gone especially as Black had made Potter his Heir. Perhaps Draco could have been Black's Heir in another life where Black had done the right thing and sorted to Slytherin and hated the Potters but the likelihood of him ever ditching Potter and naming Draco instead was very remote and most likely would involve a compulsion spell of some kind.

Potter.

It was all his fault, Draco thought furiously. How dare he swoop in and take what was rightfully his?! He should show Potter that nobody messed with a Malfoy and…

His magic tingled and Draco recognised the warning signs of the magical Vow he had taken. Negative and angry thoughts about Potter apparently set off the alarms in his magic that he was coming close to breaking his vow.

Balls, Draco thought morosely. He couldn't even have a good mental rant about Potter! On the other hand, he was quite grateful for the internal warning system that magic had come up with whenever he strayed into thinking of Potter with murder or harm in mind. He liked his magic too much to want it stripped from him.

And if he was being completely honest, it wasn't Potter's fault. He wasn't responsible for Draco being led to believe he would be the Black Heir when all was said and done. No, that had been his father – and his mother to a lesser extent; leading Draco into believing one thing when the truth was far different.

Like the Dark Mark his father had branded into his forearm. From everything Black had said at the meeting and his mother had said in their lessons that Summer, the Mark was the equivalent of a brand of slavery; a subjugation of will and freedom to the Dark Lord's whims. His father had once proudly displayed the faint outline and told Draco that he wore it as a badge of pride.

His father, who had been stupid enough to brand himself a slave and follow a Dark Lord who wasn't even a pureblood; his father who had actually killed someone; had tortured people.

Draco shuddered. He poured himself another cup of tea to distract himself from the thought. He had known in the abstract that the followers of the Dark Lord had been intent on killing muggles and muggleborn; on eliminating the blood traitors who had stood in opposition to the pureblood agenda that the Dark Lord espoused. But for all that he had known those facts he had never put it together that his father had been one of those followers and therefore had killed and tortured and eliminated…

Personally, Draco didn't want to kill anyone.

Well, maybe Potter…and there was that tingle again.

He sighed.

He wasn't stupid; he knew himself well. He knew he had a cruel streak a mile wide; he wasn't a kind person. His father had taught him that kindness was a weakness. If someone got hurt, he didn't necessarily care and he might even revel a little in their pain. Draco had happily used to kick their old house elf when he was in rage for no other reason than the house elf being there.

But the occasional violent temper tantrum aside, he'd always believed he, as a Malfoy, was the brains and others were the brawn. Others might be the ones to get blood on their hands and he might direct it but he wouldn't actually do it himself. He'd be in the Wizengamot leading others. He wouldn't be actually killing people. And in truth, he had never seen the need to kill people. Why kill when muggleborns could be shopkeepers and farmers? Why interact with muggles at all? Why not legally restrict muggleborns and halfbloods and ensure the ruling elite would always be pureblood?

No, Draco had never envisaged killing in his future. Immersing himself in politics, being Minister of Magic, walking the corridors of power, and using others to threaten violence and cajole; yes. Premeditated murder, torturing for just to create pain, and killing someone in cold blood – even Potter; no.

He didn't want that in his future.

And he certainly had no wish to bow down to or brand himself with the Mark of a son of a muggle even if that son of a muggle was a descendent of Slytherin.

Draco sipped his tea.

It was all his father's fault that Draco's world had turned out to be nothing but a lie (as his mother had been subtly telling him all Summer). For years Lucius Malfoy had been feeding Draco dragon dung, spoonful after spoonful that Draco had swallowed down because he believed his father hung the moon. Well, no more.

Serving the Dark Lord wasn't an honour, it was slavery.

The Dark Lord might be the Heir of Slytherin but he was sired by a muggle. He wasn't a pureblood.

The House of Malfoy might be superior in many ways and be a leader of sorts in the wizarding world but it was outranked by the House of Black; always had been and always would be.

These were the truths of the matter. His father had lied to him and Draco was thoroughly disillusioned. There was a pained ache in his chest that Draco rubbed absently.

Still there was no doubt that his father was a powerful wizard; respected and influential, that the Malfoys had money (even if it was controlled right at that moment by Black and the stupid werewolf who'd had the temerity to restrict Draco's allowance) and status. But there was also no doubt that none of that mattered when Lord Black was more powerful, respected and influential; when Black had more money and status. There was no doubt that others, like Nott, saw the difference and would take advantage of the gap.

Nott was unfortunately right; Draco had to accept the new reality somehow.

Resentment stampeded through him again.

He shouldn't have to accept the new reality, damn it! He wanted everything back the way it was. He wanted, wanted…something he couldn't have.

Draco sighed heavily. He tapped his fingers restlessly against the fine china mug he held. Truthfully, he had allowed his childhood lessons on negotiation and political analysis to slide from his memory, secure in the knowledge that his Malfoy name was enough to get what he wanted. But it wasn't anymore and he found himself dredging his head for the skills that his father had made him learn.

So, first question: who had power? Answer: Black was the House that everyone feared above and beyond the Malfoys. Then, there was the Dark Lord. And finally, perhaps, Dumbledore – not that the old fool ever used it.

To gain power then…since Draco couldn't hope to fight either Dumbledore or the Dark Lord and win, the obvious answer was to remove the House of Black and have the House of Malfoy take its place. Yet Draco had sworn oaths to support and be loyal to the House, the Head of the House and deal neutrally with its Heir so he couldn't conspire to harm the House of Black in any way, although believing his actions (including those that may damage the House) were for the good of the House of Black might give him some small wriggle room. Was it worth the risk of losing his magic though? Not to mention the House of Black seemed to be the only one capable of standing against either the Dark Lord or Dumbledore.

Draco frowned.

If removal of the House of Black was not possible then the other option was to work with the House of Black and become a key figure in its power dynamic – gain power that way.

Clearly that was the decision his father had made.

Lucius Malfoy was supporting the House of Black in the Wizengamot, arranging deals between the House of Black and the old pureblood alliance, and maintaining a public impression of family solidarity with the House of Black regardless of how much his father hated Sirius Black and Potter. His father in a rare moment with Draco had admitted that since he now knew the truth about the Dark Lord, following the madman wasn't an option and supporting the House of Black to get rid of the threat as they had vowed really was the new plan. He was using the Malfoy connection to the House of Black to maintain his authority with their allies but to also consolidate a new political position. He was turning what had appeared to be a negative into a positive for the House of Malfoy.

His mother had been telling Draco all Summer that he was going to have to adjust his attitude, that he should follow his father's example of making the best of their situation and she was right; Draco needed to do the same as his father.

Part of him didn't want to because he had learned his father had lied to him most of his life and he didn't want to be like his father anymore (and there was that ache again).

He snorted and drank his tea wincing at how cold the drink had gone in his musing. He set it aside.

Maybe it wasn't going to be a problem appearingto throw his lot in with the House of Black. His father had made it clear that while he knew they had to bow to the expectation of acknowledging primacy, in private they could keep their own opinion that the Malfoys were better than the Blacks; the Malfoys continued to uphold the purity of blood whereas the current Lord was intent on damaging the House with muggleborns, halfbloods and half-breeds. Draco could at least agree with his father on that.

So, alright, Draco decided, he would need to pretend to maintain a façade of acceptance to the primacy in front of Black and others. That wasn't too much of a problem as his father would understand the need as would his mother as she had been quite fervent about ensuring his compliance all Summer. And Draco mused, actually being part of the House of Black wasn't a bad thing.

His mother had informed him of the Black family history, their power and ancestry. They were a formidable House, distinguished and, until Potter's acceptance as Heir, pureblooded, but it seemed Potter was a strong wizard (he still couldn't quite get his head around the blessing ritual he'd witnessed where Potter had called forth the spirit of Morgana Le Fey but it indicated that Potter was very powerful regardless of what Draco had observed at Hogwarts) and undoubtedly that was why the family magic had accepted him. It would help make the House of Black a formidable magical opponent.

And while he still believed purebloods were superior to all other wizards, he had to admit that he quite liked his muggleborn Uncle Ted. He'd been forced into various interactions thanks to his mother's thrice damned etiquette lessons. But…there was something solid and reassuring about Theodore Tonks; a warmth that was missing from Draco's own father and Draco had often found himself tempted to confide in Ted although he was horrified at the impulse. He could see why his Aunt Andromeda had married him. She was witty, intelligent and very much a lady for all she had eschewed the politics of her upbringing; he could secretly admit if only to himself that he admired her. She also made his mother smile more. Their daughter on the other hand…Nymphadora was too spiky and barbed; too clumsy and graceless for Draco to approve of her.

He couldn't approve of Granger either; she was too brash and shrewish. Although, Draco mused, if they had to sponsor a muggleborn, sponsoring the most intelligent in their year was probably acceptable. And it seemed from his last interactions with her that Granger had learned some manners from Andromeda. Simeon's wife Anna though was, like his Uncle Ted, decent enough for a muggleborn; a little too Hufflepuffish but she was attractive and also well-mannered. Simeon's manners were perfect. Evidently Marius Black had taught his son well even if Marius had himself been a squib. Simeon moved with a contained power not unlike Sirius.

A shiver ran down Draco's spine at the thought of the Head of the House of Black. Sirius Black was every bit as menacing as the Daily Prophet had made him out to be. His power was only just contained; it shimmered on his skin. Draco remembered what his mother had said when he had questioned her about him…

"Sirius was the best and the worst of us." His mother picked up the tea-cup and blew on it gently before taking a sip. Her blue eyes took on a far-away gaze, directed at the past and her memory. "I remember the Summer before Sirius started Hogwarts, we had a Summer Ball at the country estate and Bella ruined my dress robes to get me into trouble with my mother – they never believed Bella was anything but innocent because she was their favourite. Sirius found me in tears and…and he took the blame for it. My father hit him and would have beaten him further, but Lord Arcturus stepped in and said that he would punish Sirius. Sirius protected us all that way."

She took another sip of tea.

"That protection though when you crossed someone he loved especially Regulus…" his mother sighed, "Bella was often bored. One day, she pushed Regulus down a few steps. He was eight years old and mostly he was bruised with a grazed elbow at the end of it. Andy patched him up but he clung to Sirius afterwards. The next day, Sirius taunted Bella at the top of the main stairs and when she sprang for him…he waited until the last moment and suddenly moved. She fell down the stairs badly. We all rushed down after her. She was lying there, blood around her head and both her arms were all twisted, her leg broken, and I remember instead of helping her like he'd immediately done with Regulus, Sirius stooped and whispered in her ear that the next time she hurt Regulus he would kill her. Our parents came and Sirius as a cool as a cucumber said Bella had slipped. She was in St Mungo's for a week." 

Draco swallowed hard.

"It's hard to imagine that Regulus ended up betraying Sirius but he did. He attacked Sirius once at Hogwarts just before Sirius graduated trying to impress the Dark Lord, maybe trying to prove that his mother was right and he was the new Black Heir since Sirius had left home. Sirius put down four of Regulus's little friends before James Potter arrived to help him. Only Sirius and James were standing at the end of it with Regulus out cold on the ground. Regulus told me Sirius visited him in the infirmary in the middle of the night and told him that he'd gone easy on him because he was his brother, but the next time Regulus tried to kill him, Sirius wouldn't be so merciful."

His mother finally looked at him. "So you see, it would be best not to anger Lord Black. If you hurt one hair on Potter's head…well, I doubt you'll have hair left when he's finished with you. Do you understand?"

Draco nodded.

A loud peacock cry from the grounds snapped Draco's attention back to the present. Yes, he didn't want to anger Lord Black or have his attention. It had been bad enough during the family meeting. He flushed remembering the biting tone and derisive eyes that had dismissed Draco as unimportant and lacking. No, he feared and respected Sirius Black. He was a powerful wizard; a true Lord Black – worthy of the title. Draco didn't wish to cross him.

There were material benefits in being in the House of the Black, Draco considered thoughtfully: Sirius had promised him rewards for good behaviour and he'd already had the awful arrangement with Pansy dismissed. He and Pansy had been friendly since they were children but he wasn't attracted to her and couldn't see himself marrying her. She was smarter than she was pretty; opinionated rather than biddable; fawning instead of truly affectionate…no, Pansy wasn't the wife he had in mind. He wanted someone who really liked him for himself not because he was Draco Malfoy and they wanted to use him as a step up the social ladder. Pansy would be a good practice girlfriend but something more? Well, he didn't have to worry about that anymore because the House of Black would let him choose his own wife.

The key was his relationship with Potter. His father had made himself indispensable to Black by being the liaison between the House of Black and the rest of the pureblood Houses. He could provide the same service to Potter.

The problem was building a relationship with someone he hated. He frowned heavily. Hate was a strong word but it worked. He had hated Potter since he'd refused Draco's hand on the Hogwarts Express because of a Weasley. Just the memory of it had the power to make his blood boil. He had never been so humiliated or rejected; he was a Malfoy – nobody refused him.

Except Potter.

Draco took a deep breath and forced himself to view his enmity with Potter logically, objectively, dispassionately.

There was the initial rejection; Potter had been defending his friend. Draco rolled his eyes. He could understand why even if he didn't see that Weasley was worth defending. If he and Weasley had swapped roles in the train, Draco would have been horrified if Potter had taken Weasley's hand. So…so maybe he understood why Potter had rejected him.

Then there had just been an endless stream of confrontations, although in hindsight Draco could acknowledge that he had provoked most of them, Weasley the rest, and Potter was mostly just there. He glared out into the gardens. Why had he confronted Potter so much?

He'd wanted to prove he was better than Potter. He'd wanted to get the other boy in trouble as revenge for not accepting him as a friend, for being a Gryffindor, for being the Golden Boy. He'd wanted Potter's attention.

Draco stared moodily out into the gardens.

Just before going to Hogwarts, his father had pulled him into his study…

"I am reliably informed that the Boy Who Lived will be on the train to Hogwarts." His father eyed him speculatively across the desk. "I trust that you will not fall into the adoring masses like so many of your school friends."

"Of course not, Father." Draco replied promptly. The thought of being a sycophantic fan horrified him.

"There is, however, some benefit in cultivating a relationship." His father mused, leaning back in his chair. "This boy will wield a lot of power in our society in years to come not only the Boy Who Lived nonsense but he is the last Potter. He has been away from the wizarding world for many years hidden away by Dumbledore. He will have need of guidance; you may wish to provide it."

"I understand." Draco said eagerly.

His father smiled coldly. "It is likely that he will be sorted to Gryffindor, Draco, but try not to let that alter your course." He paused, his expression turning contemplative. "He may also be warned against us due to my past association with the Dark Lord. If that is the case, I will not be disappointed should you fail to gain his regard."

And obviously Draco had failed spectacularly and on his own account. But he'd used the excuse his father had given him when he had written and told him Potter had refused his hand. He hadn't wanted to admit his failure; hadn't wanted to disappoint his father.

But perhaps there was an opportunity now to correct the mistakes of his past…Potter had declared a truce on the basis of upholding family honour. Granger had even told Draco that Potter took it seriously enough he'd warned the Weasel off provoking Draco. With his own vow of neutrality, Draco was prevented from the type of confrontations he'd made in the past anyway. Potter and Granger had even been surprisingly good company at the country estate especially since they didn't have the Weasel hanging around them.

So, a clean slate.

Draco could take advantage of that. He could talk with Potter at Simeon's farewell meal on Friday and discuss how Draco could help him with the Slytherin students. He nodded slowly, acceptance finally creeping in and stealing over him. In a way it was a good thing he was part of the House of Black. Maybe he wasn't the Heir but he had Black blood and that counted even if his name was Malfoy. It would certainly help him see off any pretenders like Nott trying to usurp his place…

But he was going to have to work with Nott that was clear. The House of Black was allied and Nott clearly had intentions on making himself useful to Potter. Draco bit his lip and thought hard about how he could sway Nott, how he could keep him under control…

"Well, that was a bloody waste of time!" The sound of Lord Wilkes's voice booming out from the open window below the balcony had Draco almost jumping out of his seat as his heartbeat accelerated alarmingly.

He'd forgotten his father's study was directly below the music room.

He sat still and silent, keenly listening.

"I hate to agree with Norman, but he's right, Lucius," Nott Senior's voice said quietly, "that was a waste of time."

"Not a complete waste of time," Lucius argued calmly, "we did discover from Yaxley that whoever it is making these death threats owns a house elf."

"We already knew that!" Wilkes barked. "We knew that from the first death threat!"

Death threats? Draco's eyes widened realising what they were discussing.

"No, we knew they had used one to send a letter the first time," Lucius said, "which meant it could have been any guest staying with someone who had a house elf. This tells us that whoever it was had the ability to call a house elf themselves although I'm surprised Augusta doesn't have wards preventing any but her own elves from entry."

"Everyone who owns a house elf in our group has denied doing the deed!" Wilkes snapped back.

"And nobody in our group would stoop to lying?" questioned Lucius mildly.

Draco almost snorted but he stopped himself, knowing if he gave away his position his father would be furious – more so that he'd been caught than that he was eavesdropping.

"I don't think anyone is lying," Nott said with quiet authority, "everyone knows not to draw unwanted attention to us especially now."

"Travers is fuming because someone is stealing his limelight." Lucius commented dryly. "You should read the letter I received."

"Do you think that this idiot, whoever it is, will disrupt the plan for the World Cup?" Wilkes asked brusquely.

There was a pause before his father responded.

"I am uncertain." Lucius admitted, and Draco could hear the chagrin, "but whoever it is seems to be working against us rather than with us."

"Bloody idiot!" Wilkes snarled. "I'd like to get my hands on them and hex them into next week! Do you know how close I am to securing a détente with Black? Selwyn too?"

"I shouldn't worry about that, Norman." Lucius soothed him. "I have already hinted to Black that it wasn't any of us and I will assure him again when we go to the match tomorrow."

"He's still intending to go to the World Cup?" Nott asked, surprise colouring his tone.

Lucius laughed, low and dark. "Of course. You didn't think a Gryffindor would be deterred by a death threat?"

"He sent the boy home last night." Nott pointed out.

"He could hardly keep him there knowing whoever had sent the death threat had gained entry and was likely in the same room as Potter." Wilkes growled. "But he has balls of brass going to the match in the face of two threats."

"I'm sure he will arrange for some additional security." Lucius said.

A silence fell and Draco's heart raced as he assimilated the information.

"Do you think it's Him?" Wilkes asked suddenly. "Or Pettigrew?"

"The Dark Lord had no serving house elves and neither did Pettigrew." Lucius replied immediately. "I'm not certain these threats originate with the Dark Lord."

"Then who?"

"Another party, obviously." Nott surmised. "Either another follower of the Dark Lord's we did not know or someone else who has a grudge against Potter."

"The latter is more likely surely?" Wilkes asked.

Lucius cleared his throat. "Pettigrew. Need we say more?"

"So, the Dark Lord had Pettigrew as a secret spy! That doesn't mean he had a dozen of them!" Wilkes retorted.

"There were also many associates of his followers that were kept secret but known to the Dark Lord," Nott countered, "the Carrows had that vampire they kept secret until they went off to live with him after the war. The LeStranges had Crouch Junior living with Rab apparently…and those are the ones I know about now. I suspect Selwyn has someone who was his contact in the werewolf community during those years and Mulciber probably had someone tucked away; he was rarely at home in the final days of the last War."

"You have a point." Lucius said. "Perhaps we should turn our attention to those in Azkaban. There may be connections we have missed. Many of those incarcerated had house elves which may have remained loyal to a secret lover or retainer."

"It's an avenue of investigation." Nott agreed. "You'll take it to Black?"

"Indeed." Lucius said.

Wilkes snorted. "Well, if we're done talking about that, we should discuss the bloody Muggle Affairs Committee, Lucius…"

Draco slumped back in his chair, thinking hard. Someone other than his father's old crowd was sending the death threats? The old followers of the Dark Lord weren't involved? And whoever it was owned a house elf? His head felt stuffed with information.

Silently, he made his way from the balcony and hurried back into the Manor. He wandered down the main stairs and froze at the sight of his mother in the hallway, evidently waiting on him.

"Mother." Draco said cautiously. His mother had always been kind to him, loving in his childhood before he had turned away from her hugs and comfort, but he knew she didn't like to be crossed.

"Tell me, Draco," his mother said softly, "where is your guest?" She was already sketching a privacy bubble around them and Draco blanched as he realised his error.

He had left Nott alone in the dining room – alone and free to roam around the Manor by himself without a Malfoy watching what he saw and what he heard. Not only that but he had disregarded his mother's orders and quite a few more etiquette rules in abandoning a guest in their home.

"My apologies, Mother," Draco said hurriedly, bowing his blond head, "Nott and I argued and I made the mistake of leaving the room to calm myself. I was just on my way to find him and make my apologies."

Her expression didn't soften. "We will speak more of this later, Draco." She promised him. "For now, your guest is in the library."

Draco acknowledged the information with a nod and escaped his mother's presence before she could reprimand him further. The Manor's library had been another of Draco's favourite places as a child. He could remember curling up with his mother in one of the large leather chairs while she taught him how to read; of evenings spent with his father in lessons at the polished oak table in the centre of the room. He rarely entered it any more.

Nott had taken up residence at the very same table. Draco grimaced at how at home the other boy looked, but hurried over and sat down opposite him.

Nott shot him a wary look from guarded dark eyes. "You found me then."

"You're always in some kind of library." Draco said, not admitting that his mother had directed him. He smiled sharply. "How you didn't sort into Ravenclaw I don't know."

Nott actually laughed. "Actually I asked for Ravenclaw and the Hat said it wouldn't suit me at all. Apparently wanting knowledge to achieve your ambitions is ambition not a desire for knowledge."

Draco frowned. Sometimes he regretted that his own sorting had taken seconds not minutes. He hadn't even attempted a conversation with the Hat or any kind of interaction. He had been chanting 'Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin' from the moment his name had been called to the instant that the grotty Hat had made the merest contact with his head.

He cleared his throat and swallowed down the snide retort he wanted to make. "I wish to offer you a proposal."

"I'm not interested in you that way, Malfoy." Nott said in a bored tone.

"What?! No! I was…" Draco finally caught sight of the amusement in Nott's eyes and sighed, "very funny, Nott!"

"Oh, a Nott pun!" Nott smirked at him. "Like I haven't heard that one before!"

"Do you want to hear my proposal?" demanded Draco, trying to wrestle his annoyance back.

Nott shrugged and closed the book he was reading. He raised an eyebrow in expectation.

Draco cleared his throat again, unaccountably nervous. He knew his usual 'I'm a Malfoy, you will do as I say' approach would not work and he would have to attempt the politicking his father had once taught him. "I believe that you are going to attempt a coup in Slytherin. Your House is allied to Black albeit in a détente. You intend to make yourself useful to Potter by providing him with a liaison to the other pureblood Heirs at Hogwarts assuming that I will not be that liaison. In this way, you will achieve a position of power and authority."

He leaned back and regarded Nott with what he hoped would appear to be cool equanimity. "I have no intention of allowing you to usurp my place. Perhaps I have been slow to adjust to the new dynamics now the House of Black has been revived but…" he pinned Nott with a frank look of superiority, "you fail to understand that as much as I am a Malfoy, I am also a Black. Potter and I share blood and a family. He takes that seriously. We've already declared a truce. In a wrangling match, who do you honestly think he would choose; a family liaison who has taken an oath of loyalty or a Slytherin liaison who has simply taken an oath not to raise a wand against him?"

Nott's dark eyes simmered with heat before his expression smoothed. "Well, well, well. Finally unearthed your Slytherin, Malfoy." He motioned at him. "My turn. You may have Black blood and you may have agreed a truce but your relationship with Potter has a bad history. He won't trust you very far. My political agenda isn't very far off Potter's but I'd be surprised if you even know what his is. I have allies in the Potter alliance; you don't. And a liaison needs the trust of both sides; some of your peers may follow along after you like a puppy, Malfoy, but not all of them. I think I stand a good chance of gaining Potter's trust no matter your family connection."

Draco let his head incline a touch in acknowledgement even if his blood heated in irritation at Nott's perfectly valid points. "So, we have a choice; we can fight each other for the top position – in contradiction of the oaths of alliances between our two Houses, or we can come up with a compromise."

"What are you offering?" asked Nott, not disagreeing with Draco's statement.

"I suggest we work together." Draco said. "It is what our parents wish and will have the benefit of underlining our Houses' positions politically. You assist me in retaining my position within Slytherin and I will assist you in gaining power and authority of your own; we work as a team with Potter. My Black blood and position will give us credibility with the Slytherins, and your lack of history with Potter will help create a greater level of trust with him."

"Your idea has some merit." Nott said slowly, thinking it over. "I'll think about it."

Draco nodded. It was as far as he had expected to get in one day. Nott was not impulsive. In the meantime, Draco intended to use the rest of the week and time he had with Potter to his own advantage; to consolidate his new start with the Gryffindor and begin laying down the groundwork for his new liaison position.

"Theodore!" Lord Nott's voice snapped their attention to the doorway of the library. The elder Nott stepped into the room as his son hastened to his father's side.

Draco scrambled to stand and bowed slightly. "Lord Nott."

"Draco. Thank you for hosting my son this morning." Lord Nott said.

A dignified silence was the better part of valour, Draco decided. He inclined his head a touch in acknowledgement of the thanks.

"Yes, thank you." Nott said dryly, but he didn't give away that Draco had all but abandoned him. "I'll see you soon, Malfoy."

Father and son departed and Draco let out a small sigh of relief. He wandered out of the library and decided he'd head out for some practice on his broom. He went up to his suite of rooms to retrieve the Nimbus and change into Quidditch gear.

He was just about to leave when his parents entered his sitting room. He froze in the adjoining doorway of his bedroom surprised to see them together. They rarely acted in partnership for discussions with him and he was unnerved.

"Mother. Father." Draco hovered uncertainly.

His mother chose an armchair and his father stood beside her.

"Come and sit down, Draco." His father ordered.

Draco chose the sofa across from his mother. "If this is about what happened this morning with Nott…"

"No, although I was disappointed to hear from your mother that you allowed an argument to occur, and that you ignored a guest giving them unwarranted freedom in our home." His father said tersely. "However, that is not what this is about." He looked to his wife.

She adjusted her skirts and met Draco's eyes coolly. "Since July your father and I have been discussing the possibility of having another child. We're agreed that a daughter would be a nice addition to our family. We wish to know your thoughts before we make a final determination."

A baby?!

His nose wrinkled automatically. Weren't babies noisy and smelly and…and babies! Why would they want another child? Suddenly doubt assailed him. Why wasn't he enough?

"I always wanted a son and a daughter, Draco." His mother seemed to read his mind. "However, a son was of a greater priority for our first child and after the Dark Lord's defeat in 'eighty-one, it was more important to re-establish our position and status than to have another child."

"I had not realised your mother wished for a daughter quite so much," his father added quietly, "otherwise we would have discussed the matter some years ago."

"I see." Draco worried his lip before he stilled the movement.

This was clearly his mother's desire. His father was apparently going along with it. He cocked his head and glanced at his father's expressionless face. His father was doing this to placate his mother – his mother who was the Black and who had the primacy in their marriage.

Understanding stampeded through Draco and he reined in the urge to smirk at his father. Clearly he had missed a lot in his sulking period, Draco mused. He had failed to consider how the changed circumstance would affect his parents' marriage. So, his mother held the balance of power. His father was aware his mother wanted more children and now she had the power he was giving into her demand – possibly to neutralise her and keep her in his corner with Lord Black.

It also meant that it was more important to please his mother than his father going forward, Draco thought absently. A baby sister perhaps wouldn't be so bad. The age gap was such that there was no possible way that he would be expected to interact with her in a meaningful way or share anything with her – except for his parents and their home. That would be irritating but, on the other hand, she would probably get her own suite of rooms and the Manor was otherwise large enough for them to avoid each other the majority of the time. A sister would be a useful asset in negotiating alliances…arrangements would be out but introductions would be allowed…

"If it pleases you, Mother, then I would be happy to have a sister." Draco said formally.

His mother smiled; a genuine smile that lit up her eyes and made her look infinitely younger. She got up from her chair and moved to hug him briefly. "Thank you, Draco."

"Yes, thank you, Draco." His father drawled. "We shall let you know if your mother falls pregnant while you are away at school but you should be aware it may be some months."

Draco blushed a little at the allusion to his parents' sex life. He didn't really want to think about that. "Thank you, Father."

"Well, we'll leave you to your flying practice." His mother said, squeezing his arm gently. "Be careful."

They swept out in much the same way as they swept in and Draco decided to push the whole thing to the back of his mind. He wanted to fly – fly and think about how he could get Potter to trust him. He had planning to do.

o-O-o

Harry smiled at the baby he was feeding with a strange kind of contentment. Jason's small hands waved at him as he greedily took another spoonful of mashed vegetables.

"He likes you." Anna commented, swooping in to wipe Jason's face with a damp cloth before subsiding into a dining chair beside Harry.

"I like him." Harry said simply. "He's a great kid."

"And you're going to make a great Dad someday." Anna said, smiling warmly at him.

Harry felt himself blush, his cheeks heating under her regard. He thanked Merlin she'd forgiven him for the whole blessing thing on the day she and Simeon had arrived.

"Hopefully not for a long time," Remus cut in, surprising them both with his presence – he was leaning against the doorjamb with crossed legs and arms, a smirk on his face, "I think Sirius would have kittens if Harry made him a Grandfather any time soon."

Anna laughed. "Don't you mean puppies?" She loved Sirius's animagus form to the point where she had joked she'd freeze him as Padfoot and take him back to Aussie as a pet.

"Well, as I don't intend to become a Dad just yet we can all stop worrying about Sirius having any kind of infant animal." Harry retorted, his cheeks still bright red. Merlin. He didn't want to think about the Talk again no matter how amazing it had been to see his Dad in the memory Sirius had provided.

Remus pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "Sirius is currently laying the law down to the reporters in his study. You're going to be needed soon."

Harry nodded reluctantly, pulling a disgusted face as he got up from the table and handed Anna the spoon. He didn't want to do an interview but he and Sirius had discussed it and arranged it following the press coverage of the Wizengamot session. The theory was that by giving the press a full interview before Hogwarts started, it would reduce the focus on him when the press were there with the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

That was the theory.

They'd discussed cancelling in the wake of the latest death threat but Harry didn't want to give whoever it was that was threatening him the satisfaction of knowing they'd upset any plans. Sirius had also agreed that they'd continue with their plans for the World Cup too on the same basis but he had informed Harry and extracted a promise from him that Harry would stay with Sirius or Remus or another approved adult (and Harry was guessing it would be Bill) the entire time.

Remus gave him a once over and nodded at his open smart forest green robes adorned with the crests of Black and Potter over smart black trousers and a silk shirt in a contrasting shade of green to his robes. Harry's hair had been subjected to Sirius's Potter hair-calming charm and his gold-framed glasses sparkled. The Potter Lord ring and the Black Heir ring were prominently on display on his right hand.

"I take it Sirius picked out the outfit." Remus said, amused.

"He wanted me to wear dragon-hide trousers." Harry complained as he followed him down the corridor to the library. The silk shirt had been the compromise piece because he hadn't really had a problem with the robes.

They both entered and stopped at the sight of a wisp of a girl stood in front one of the bookshelves apparently talking to nothing. Her long blonde hair gleamed under the lights and Harry could see she wore a plain pale blue robe but her wand was tucked behind one ear and she appeared to be wearing a necklace made out of butterbeer caps.

Remus cleared his throat. "Luna, isn't it?"

The young girl turned around, her large silver eyes widening with surprise. "Professor Lupin!" She smiled happily. "It's wonderful to see you again!"

"And you, Luna." Remus said kindly. "This is Harry. Harry, this is Luna Lovegood. I take it you're here with your father, Luna?"

"You're very right, Professor." Luna replied.

"I'm not a Professor anymore, Luna." Remus corrected her gently. "You may call me Remus."

"You will always be a Professor, Professor." Luna answered in the same gentle tone. "Nothing changes what you are and you will always be a Professor no matter what job you may perform." She smiled brightly.

Remus looked gobsmacked and Harry swallowed down a chuckle.

As if she'd heard his thought, Luna's silvery gaze shifted to him. "I see the Lumpy Glumpies have left you, Harry. You look much better."

"Thank you." Harry said politely, wondering what she meant – it was a good description of Vernon and Dudley if that was who she was referring to but how would she know? He recalled the rumour of Luna being a true Seer and shook himself slightly. "You're a Ravenclaw, right?"

"Sometimes," answered Luna vaguely, "and sometimes I'm not. Don't you find being one thing all the time can get a little boring?"

Harry smiled at her. "I guess. I've never really thought about it."

Luna leaned into his space as though to confide something of great importance. "I think being a raven suits you."

"A raven?" Harry asked taken aback. Did she mean he was being more of a Ravenclaw? Well, he was studying more…

"Of course, a raven is both a trickster and a warrior, the one that defends fiercely and brings death, without whom the world would fall…"

Harry shivered as her eyes met his with strange intensity.

"They fly free but they'll play tag with wolves and dogs…"

His eyes widened.

Luna suddenly smiled and broke the tension, "…and are also easily distracted by something shiny…" she head cocked to one side, "like a snitch."

Harry couldn't help the small smile that escaped him. "I like snitches."

"Me too." Luna replied breezily. "But they're not as much fun as Blithering Humdingers."

"I haven't heard of those before." Harry said. He was beginning to realise why her housemates thought her odd and disconcerting. But he liked her – and who wasn't odd at the end of the day?

Luna hummed. "I could tell you about them?" She sounded hesitant.

"I'd like that." Harry replied immediately.

"But right now he has an interview to do." Sirius's voice broke in, rich with amusement.

Harry almost jumped and he shot a glare at Sirius who stood just outside the study with a grin on his face and his eyes sparkling with mirth. Harry blushed knowing that Sirius intended to tease him later about his talking with Luna.

"Don't worry, Harry," Luna advised in a loud whisper, "the fleas will distract him."

Sirius's eyebrow rose up at her words. She smiled serenely back at him. Sirius shook his head and gestured towards the study. "Ready, Harry?"

Harry grimaced. "I guess."

Remus reached over and patted his shoulder. "Rather you than me, Harry."

Harry scowled. "Aren't you supposed to say something cheering like 'good luck' or 'break a leg'?"

"That's Padfoot's job." Remus declared cheerfully.

"Why would he want you to break a leg?" asked Luna.

Sirius snorted and motioned for Harry to get inside the study. Harry straightened his shoulders and made his way over with a muttered goodbye to Luna. He was ushered into the inner sanctum of Sirius's study and briefly registered the occupants. In the cosy seating area, three reporters sat with eager anticipation along with a photographer.

Sirius began the introductions and Harry went through the motions of greeting them while taking in their appearances.

Xeno Lovegood wore a bright yellow set of robes and a manic grin. With his long white hair he reminded Harry of a mad scientist. Rita Skeeter sat next to him on the same stuffed sofa. Her hair was obviously dyed blonde unlike Luna's natural colour and her lipstick was blood red. Her eyes behind her oversize glasses were very calculating. Harry moved on quickly to the final reporter – the representative from the International Press; Kurt Von Toot. The gruff looking wizard with his dark hair and beard reminded Harry of a grizzly bear but he grinned at him warmly and Harry thought smiled back. The photographer was a quiet young woman Sirius had hired for the occasion; Opal Giddy. She had a collection on display at a café near to the Burrow and Sirius had been taken by her work. She'd be taking candid shots while he was questioned rather than a posed picture.

Sirius led Harry to an empty chair opposite the reporters. "Now, to remind you all once again; you will all get to ask Harry three questions – that's nine in total. Harry can refuse to answer any question or I can decide to step in and disallow it, but you can ask an alternative. A clarifying question to Harry's reply is allowed and won't count as one of your three. Is everyone happy to begin?"

Harry noted that Sirius didn't move from his place by Harry's side as the reporters nodded.

"Alright then, as Ms Skeeter won coin toss…she will go first then Kurt then Xeno." Sirius waved a hand at Rita.

Rita smiled and Harry tried not to blanch at the lipstick smeared teeth. "Harry, you were raised in the muggle world for many years before your godfather was cleared of murdering your parents and allowed to have custody of you…"

Her sweet tone contrasted sharply with the nasty phrasing of her words.

"…how do you like the wizarding world?"

"I love it." Harry said truthfully, trying to regroup from the cutting edge of the preamble to the question. "I mean, I always have loved it ever since I found out that I was a wizard and had my first trip to Diagon Alley to buy my school things for first year. But I love living in the wizarding world properly. Sirius and the rest of my family now have shown me a lot of things about my heritage and wizarding culture this Summer and that's been great."

Xeno cleared his throat. "A follow-up question from me then; what do you like best from everything you've seen, Harry?"

"Hmmm, that's a difficult question," Harry said, unsure how to answer, "I'd probably say Quidditch and I'm really looking forward to the World Cup. But I saw Broom Racing and that looked like a lot of fun and the Duelling finals were fantastic."

"You didn't enjoy your time at the Wizengamot?" asked Xeno before Kurt could speak.

"The Wizengamot was very special for a lot of reasons," Harry replied, more certain of his answer as it was something he and Sirius had discussed in preparation for the interview, "it was an honour to sit in my family seat and to take the vows of the Potter alliance. But I'm not ready to take my place there yet and both Sirius and I think it would be good if I did something else before I step fully into the political arena so I get a well-rounded view. At the moment, I'm thinking I might like to do something with Quidditch but I haven't truly decided."

Kurt leaped in before Xeno could ask another 'clarifying' question. "You state you love the wizarding world; what is your view on the muggle world and muggles?"

Harry wet his lips. "I think the muggle world is a different culture but different isn't necessarily bad. Muggles are clever and inventive and have come up with some brilliant things. Their technology does pose a problem for the wizarding world and the Statute of Secrecy but I think if we work with the muggle government more closely as the Muggle Affairs Committee is investigating, we can find a solution that protects both our worlds."

"But you would choose to live in the wizarding world despite being muggle-raised?" Kurt asked quickly, throwing a look at Rita as she went to ask her next question.

"I think it's difficult for muggles to understand children with magic." Harry said honestly. "When my Aunt said goodbye, she said it would best if I was raised by wizards and I think what she meant by that was it was good to be raised by someone who understands magic and what's dangerous and what isn't, and how to fix things when something accidentally goes wrong."

He noticed all three reporters seemed glued to what he was saying as he took a breath.

"Plus, with me, there's a lot of extra knowledge about my family and the politics of our world that I have to learn about so I can do the best I can when I assume the Potter seat which I just didn't get living with my muggle Aunt. But that doesn't mean living in the muggle world is bad; it's just not right for me."

Rita cleared her throat. "Moving on, Harry, tell me about your adoption by Lord Black."

Harry looked at her warily. "Well, what do you want to know?"

"Everything!" declared Rita brightly.

Harry exchanged a wry look with Sirius. "I'm very happy." He said simply. "It was the best moment of my life when Sirius said he wanted to adopt me and he's a great Dad."

Sirius beamed at him.

Xeno also beamed at him. "Why don't you describe a typical day in your life, Harry?"

"Wow, a typical day…" Harry considered his answer carefully. He obviously couldn't say a typical day included searching for objects that kept Voldemort alive and hoping he didn't have to confront him any time soon. "Well, we all have breakfast together – Sirius, Remus, Dobby and me that is – "

Xeno frowned. "I know Remus Lupin is your steward but Dobby?"

"Our house elf." Harry said.

"You have breakfast with your house elf?" asked Rita wide-eyed.

Harry nodded briskly. "He's part of our family – why wouldn't he eat with us? Anyway, we eat breakfast and then we exercise before we get ready. Usually I have lessons during the day such as estate management and etiquette – or an outing somewhere with friends. We generally have dinner with friends but on the nights we stay home, we'll play games or do something else that's fun."

There was a pause while they all scribbled notes.

Kurt looked up at Harry seriously. "Your Ministry failed your godfather quite badly which has damaged its reputation abroad. What are your thoughts?"

"I think your statement isn't quite right," Harry replied honestly, "the current administration did a great deal to correct the miscarriage of justice Sirius suffered. It was due to the investigation of Amelia Bones which was ordered by Minister Fudge that Sirius was cleared. I understand that the war-time administration under Minister Bagnold was under pressure and believing the circumstantial evidence thought they had done the right thing. But I think the situation shows that we can't be complacent about justice. Everyone should receive a fair trial and punishment regardless of whether it's supposedly obvious or not that the person is guilty."

Kurt smiled. "What about Albus Dumbledore? He was Chief Warlock charged with ensuring due process. He continues to hold that position and currently holds a significant position internationally."

"Is that your third question, Kurt?" interjected Sirius before Harry could say anything. "Because that seems like a follow-up rather than a clarifying?"

"Guilty!" Kurt said. "But internationally you must understand the interest?"

"Albus has apologised for his part in what occurred," Sirius replied evenly, "I have accepted it since we're all human and make mistakes – even Albus Dumbledore. Move on."

"My turn then!" Rita said, although her eyes were shining with glee at the previous exchange between Sirius and Kurt. She took a moment to change her expression to one of grave concern. "I'm afraid I can't sit here without asking you about the recent death threats."

Harry looked at her expectantly as she fell silent. Was there a question in there that he had missed? He glanced at Sirius.

"Rita," Sirius said lightly, "if you want to ask about Harry about the recent death threats you may want to frame a question so Harry can answer it or decide he doesn't want to?"

Rita shot him a look but nodded curtly. "My readers will want to know what you think about the recent death threats and being a target, how you feel about them, what is being done to protect you, Harry?"

Harry and Sirius exchanged another wry look at how Rita had packed three different questions into her reframing.

"To be honest, I think the death threats are more upsetting for my friends and family than for me. I'm kind of used to the fact that I'm a target for unwanted attention …"

Harry shifted in his seat, trying to reorganise his thoughts into something understandable without saying that with Voldemort attacking him every year he'd gotten used to having his life under threat.

"Whoever it is I think they're a coward." He said abruptly and didn't have to look at Sirius to know he'd winced at Harry's bluntness. "They're essentially threatening a fourteen year old – how brave is that? In all honesty, it just makes me angry that they're causing distress to other people. I understand Mrs Vane suffered a huge shock with the last one and they disrupted a party that Madame Longbottom had worked really hard to put together."

"So you're not worried for yourself?" Rita pressed.

"A little worried," Harry admitted, "I mean, it's not nice to think someone wants you dead but…Voldemort tried to kill me when I was one year old so it's not like it's the first time someone has come after me, and I get that some of his supporters may want revenge or want me out of the way. I just…I'm frustrated, I guess. I'd like to have a normal life as much as possible and death threats aren't normal."

"And what is being done to protect you?" Rita asked again.

"I'm sure your readers will understand that we can't say explicitly what additional protections we're putting in place," Sirius intervened before Harry could speak, "what I will say is this: that we're not going to let it dictate what we do but we will take sensible measures to ensure Harry's safety."

"Thank you, Lord Black." Rita said sweetly and sat back, pleased that she'd essentially gotten what she wanted – a statement on record about the death threats.

"Me again," Xeno said cheerfully, "so, Harry, if you could say one thing to or ask one thing of the wizarding world, what would it be?"

Harry pressed his lips together as his mind raced. There were so many things he wanted to say but he knew most weren't politically astute and would cause problems for Sirius so…

"There are lots of things that I would like to say and ask," Harry began, meeting Xeno's gaze, "but if I could only say one thing of the wizarding world right now, I think it would be that my parents are the ones that should be honoured as heroes. Whatever happened, they were the ones that saved me and the wizarding world from Voldemort. So, if I can only ask one thing, it would be that those who see me as…as a hero, as the Boy Who Lived, instead honour my parents. They're the real heroes."

Sirius took hold of his shoulder, a comforting squeeze that let Harry know he was proud of him.

"How do you know though?" asked Xeno softly.

"I…" Harry took a deep breath, "last year when the Dementors were around Hogwarts, they made me remember."

Rita had a quick intake of breath.

"I hear my Dad tell my Mum to take me and run; he gave his life fighting to save us, to try and stop Voldemort from getting to us…" Harry continued, aware that emotion was choking his voice and Sirius's hand tightened on his shoulder, "and I hear my Mum begging Voldemort to leave me alone. She stood in front of me willing to give her own life to save mine. They're my heroes."

There was a poignant silence for a long moment.

Kurt cleared his throat. "Well, I'm afraid I have my final question to ask and it is one of grave international importance," he paused dramatically as they all turned to look at him; his dark eyes met Harry's and Harry saw the hint of a twinkle in them, "who do you believe will win the Quidditch World Cup?"

It broke the tension very successfully; all of them bursting into laughter.

Harry surreptitiously dabbed the corner of his eye where a tear had leaked out and regarded the international reporter with a grateful smile. "My friend Ron Weasley is the Quidditch expert and he believes Ireland will win but Viktor Krum will catch the Snitch and end the game on his own terms." His smile widened. "I've learnt not to argue with Ron in matters of Quidditch or chess so…that's my answer."

Sirius clapped his hands. "And that's the end of the interview, folks!" He ushered the reporters and the photographers out with thanks and reminders that all pieces had to be approved by him before publishing, leaving Harry alone in the study.

Remus poked his head in and grinned. "All OK?"

Harry shrugged. "Who knows?" He would wait and see the finished articles. He got up and stretched. "I don't think I said anything too stupid."

"Excellent! That's the spirit." Remus said brightly. "Come on. Kreacher has dinner ready and then it's an early night."

Dinner was a friendly and warm affair. It was one of the few nights that it was only Simeon, Anna, Sirius, Remus and Harry – Jason had been bathed and put to bed after his meal while Harry did his interview. It was nice to have the chance to speak with Simeon one on one and get to know him better.

Harry could see that Simeon was a lot like Sirius and he wondered briefly whether Sirius might have become more laid back if Sirius had avoided Azkaban. Every so often the effects of the prison showed in Sirius's eyes – less so than the months they had spent in the time bubble but occasionally when something would remind Sirius. It made Harry's heart ache and anger clench in his gut every time he spotted Sirius remembering. He wished he could take away Sirius's hurt but he knew he couldn't any more than Sirius could take away the hurt Harry carried from the Dursleys' treatment of him.

But they were both healing and recovering, Harry thought positively as he wished Simeon and Anna goodnight before he followed Sirius to the floo.

It was weird to think that there was just over a week before he would return to Hogwarts. It seemed like forever since he had left for the Summer – over four months including his healing time – and for the first time he didn't want to go back. He liked the routine of living with Sirius and Remus. He loved Sundays when he and Sirius would spend the day together; the quiet talks with Remus; breakfasts with Dobby; the movie nights when they all gathered around the telly with buttered popcorn and hot chocolate; the lessons where he was allowed and encouraged to show how smart he was…

He loved the quiet affection Remus showed him, ruffling his hair and patting his shoulder. He loved the paternal caring of Padfoot; the way he checked on Harry before he went to bed, how he was always there if Harry had a bad dream, the hugs that made him feel safe and wanted and…and loved.

He didn't want to leave.

He absently said goodnight to Sirius and made his way up to his bedroom, heading into the bathroom to strip and shower. Standing under the water, his thoughts returned to his previous musing.

Harry knew if he said something to Sirius, it was likely that Sirius would quite happily keep him at home. Sirius had only agreed to send Harry back to Hogwarts because Harry said he wanted to go back. Of course that had been at the start of the Summer when Harry had never considered the possibility of not wanting to go back to Hogwarts.

And in some ways he did want to go back. He loved Hogwarts for the most part even if the last three years had disillusioned him as to the safety of the school. It had still been a retreat and escape from the Dursleys. It was still the first place he had considered home.

His friends were going back.

That probably more than anything was the reason why he hadn't said anything to Sirius. He would miss his friends if he stayed since he wouldn't have their presence in his lessons, although he half-suspected that if he pulled out of Hogwarts to be home-schooled, Augusta would pull Neville at the same time but that wouldn't be fair to Neville who was looking forward to going back to Hogwarts.

Neville's confidence had grown leaps and bounds over the Summer and Harry believed he deserved to have a chance to show off his new skill and new attitude at Hogwarts where he had been made to feel like a squib and an outcast. He'd also noted that since the Talk They Never Mentioned, Neville had actually spent a bit more time paying attention to Susan and Hannah – Hannah who seemed to really like Neville.

Harry had to admit that between the Talk, he kind of thought that he might want to go out with someone. Maybe. Possibly. But he was rather hampered by all the things he and Hermione had discussed at the beginning of the Summer. He wanted to go out with someone who liked him not the Boy Who Lived or whatever fantasy Harry Potter they'd made up in their heads.

Ginny still fell under that category as far as Harry was concerned although she had started talking to him fairly normally during the dinners at the Weasleys since they'd commiserated over Skele-gro and discussed the possibility of her trying out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Lydia Inglebee also had Fantasy Harry Syndrome. The rest of the girls in the Potter alliance were all too much like acquaintances with perhaps the exception of Susan Bones.

Susan was great. She was kind and compassionate. She hated Potions as much as Harry did and she had a keen mind and sharp tongue that reminded Harry of her Aunt. They had gotten along fine in the lessons, outings and events they'd attended together. But the truth was that although he liked her as a person and thought she might like him as Harry, he wasn't attracted to Susan. She was nice enough just…he couldn't see himself wanting to kiss her anytime soon. And since she generally talked about Cedric Diggory in dreamy tones, Harry rather thought she didn't want to kiss Harry anytime soon either.

Which brought him to the one other girl he knew well: Hermione.

He blushed and ducked his head, snapping the water off and getting out of the shower. He concentrated on drying off but his mind wandered back to his female best friend with alacrity.

It wasn't that he hadn't considered Hermione as a potential girlfriend when the topic had arisen at the start of the Summer but she was his friend and it was important to Harry that she stay his friend. He'd never had friends before Ron and Hermione, and he'd almost lost Hermione over the Firebolt thing and that had convinced him that he didn't want to lose her friendship ever. It was one of the reasons why he'd worked so hard to strengthen their friendship that Summer; to take more of an interest in stuff Hermione was interested in, to pay equal attention to her as he did to Ron. And it had worked thanks in part to Hermione's inclusion in his lessons and her sponsorship under the House of Black.

But all the extra time with her and driven home to him that she was a girl. A girl he might even likelike; one that he could imagine kissing. And the bonus was that she knew him, the real him.

Harry threw his towel in the laundry fitfully and hurried into his bedroom to pull on his pyjamas and get into bed. He switched the lamp off and snuggled under the duvet.

The problem was while he realised he might like Hermione enough for him to consider her as a potential girlfriend, he really had no idea how she felt about him. He didn't think she thought about Harry as a potential boyfriend. And why would she, Harry thought morosely. Maybe knowing the real him meant knowing he wasn't anything special. Intellectually, he definitely wasn't Hermione's equal although he thought she approved of his new studying habits. Physically, he was small – one of the smallest boys in his year – and although his exercise regime meant that he was muscled, he had a runner's build rather than a boxer's. His appearance had improved with new clothes and glasses, but he still wore glasses and had the disfiguring scar. His hair was always a mess…

He sighed and turned over, pressing his face into the pillow.

Even if Hermione did like him or would consider going out with him, could he afford to have a girlfriend? Merlin, he was getting death threats. And there was the Treasure Hunt…and overshadowing everything was the prophecy and an eventual showdown with Voldemort. If he and Hermione dated, he would be putting her at risk and…

His whole body tensed at the thought of her being in danger because of him.

Well, any more danger since it was dangerous enough being Harry Potter's friend.

He turned over again, restless and sat up abruptly, reaching for the light.

For a long moment, he stared at the wall opposite before he shook himself and decided to practise his animagus meditation. He had read everything about how to achieve the meditative state required to see his potential forms but he hadn't tried it before and his Aunt Minerva had said that it could take weeks or months before it happened. He rearranged his position, shifting into a cross-legged but comfortable pose, using the breathing techniques he'd learned in his Occlumency training to relax and sink into a meditative state…

Slowly his awareness of the room around him disappeared and he found himself floating in a white cloud of endless space; his body weightless as his mind drifted…

There was something flying up ahead.

A dark speck on the horizon and Harry willed himself to follow it, flying freely, the wind blowing through his hair and across his skin. The speck turned into a bird – a raven, Harry realised. They played for a while dipping and diving before the raven flew downwards towards a clearing. It landed on a rock and Harry suddenly found himself on the ground.

"Hello, Raven." Harry said nervously. Was he supposed to talk to his animagus form? Was this his only one? Was it actually one of his forms or just something stuck in his head because of Luna? 

The raven cocked its head to one side and peered at him.

A movement beside the rock surprised him and a green mottled snake uncurled, rising, its hood flaring.

"Hi." Harry said to the snake, not wanting to appear rude since he'd already said hello to the raven.

"Hello, Speaker." The snake hissed. "The Seer guided you to Raven and so you found your way. The others will appear soon."

Others?

A lion stalked out of the high grass behind the rock and lay down at Harry's feet; a black puppy similar to Sirius's form padded in from the forest side by side with a black wolf cub. And finally, a black stallion walked out of the trees, a white lightning bolt upon its forehead.

"We all represent who you are, Harry James Potter." The snake informed him. 

Harry nodded. He was surprised by the number of pack animals, he realised. Lions usually had prides; the stallion would have a herd; the wolf and dog, a pack. The lion and the stallion probably also indicated his leadership potential. He wasn't sure whether the wolf or dog would be an Alpha – and was the dog a Grim like Sirius? Did Grims have packs and Alphas?

He took a deep breath and moved towards the puppy.

It immediately perked up and ambled up to him, rubbing its head against Harry's hand as he tickled it. It seemed openly affectionate, eager, playful and lovable. Harry laughed at the puppy's antics as it left him to chase after a butterfly. He remembered how his Aunt Minerva had talked about him turning into a puppy when he was a baby. That's who the puppy represented, Harry realised; his baby self.

Well, he wasn't a puppy anymore and he moved on despite the aching disappointment of knowing that he wouldn't change into something close to Sirius's form. 

The wolf cub slunk closer, suspicious as it sniffed Harry's hand and gradually it relaxed as Harry petted it. He once again recalled his discussions on the forms that might be available to him and how his Aunt Minerva had indicated a wolf was a possibility because of Harry's relationship with Remus; he was part of Remus's pack. But it wasn't just that, Harry thought, as he registered the thin wiry body of the wolf beneath its short black fur; the wolf represented the part of him that wanted family and pack, to belong. It represented the wounded animal he had been at the Dursleys, half-starved for food and affection. Harry hugged the wolf closer but knew he would never change into it. He was part of a pack now; part of a family; he wasn't the lone wolf any longer. 

The stallion was the next to approach. Harry rubbed its nose and gazed into its dark eyes. The stallion would protect and defend his herd, yet it retained a wild spirit that embraced freedom and whose spirit wouldn't be broken. The stallion was the representation of the leader Harry hoped to be, Harry realised. Some echo of the stag his father had been yet different enough to make his own mark. But he wasn't there yet; the stallion represented his potential, the man he wanted to become.

The horse delicately snorted and bumped its nose against Harry before it backed away, returning to the trees.

The lion padded over next. It obviously represented his courage and bravery, both the leader of the pride or the nomad outcast, nobility – the latent Gryffindor inside of him. 

But he wasn't just a Gryffindor. 

His eyes flickered to the snake which no doubt represented his inner Slytherin; the desire to prove himself, the ambition that burned within him to excel and win; the cunning that had enabled him to survive the Dursleys…

But he was neither one nor the other. He was both. He had once chosen to be a Gryffindor but stood in front of both animals he couldn't deny either of them.

The snake hissed lowly and sank back into its coils, its hood lowered.

The raven cawed and drew his attention. Harry held out his hand and the raven flew to him.

"I hoped for a flying form." He told the bird as it looked at him with surprisingly intelligent eyes. What had Luna said to him the raven represented?

A trickster…like the snake.

A warrior…like the lion.

A defender; a bird that flew free, spirit unbroken…like the horse.

A bird that played with…wolves and dogs.

"You represent all of me." Harry realised out loud. "You're my true self. That's what Luna Saw…she Saw you…me…"

The raven spread its wings and everything went black…

"Harry!" Sirius's panicked voice yanked Harry back to consciousness. He blinked hard and was surprised to see Sirius looming over him – he looked huge. And why was Hedwig, who was perched on Sirius's shoulder, so big?

What was going on?

Harry opened his mouth to ask and squawked.

He squawked! Harry moved and immediately lost his balance; he flailed his arms and caught sight of black wings.

Oh Merlin!

He'd turned into his animagus form! Hedwig landed beside him and propped him up.

"Don't panic!" Sirius said hurriedly as Remus entered, his mouth dropping open in shock. "I can fix you!" He drew his wand and shouted a spell.

Harry fought with his animal instinct not to follow Hedwig into flight and flee from the light zooming towards him. He felt the spell hit and cried out as his body began to transform back painfully.

He lay on his bed, panting in the aftermath.

"I'll get some pain relief potion." Remus said, leaving again swiftly.

Sirius ran a hand over Harry's hair. "Sorry, Harry. I know that spell hurts but it was the only way to change you back quickly."

Harry nodded. "I didn't mean to change! I was just meditating and then…"

"And then you found your form." Sirius smiled at him. "You always were a natural. We should have suspected the meditation might lead to this."

Harry nodded. "I saw the puppy."

"You did?" Sirius brightened. "You should have seen your Dad's face! He was more annoyed that you weren't a stag than the fact that you'd managed to transfigure yourself."

"I had the option of a horse – a wild stallion." Harry said quietly. "And a wolf."

"No cat?" asked Sirius teasingly although his grey eyes were wide with shock. "Minnie will be disappointed."

"A lion." Harry said. "There was also a snake."

"So many…" murmured Sirius, his brow lowering in concern.

Harry explained what he thought each animal represented – Remus turned up half-way through and Harry downed the pain relief potion gratefully before he concluded with why he'd gone with the raven form.

"It suits you, Harry." Remus agreed. "I think you probably owe Miss Lovegood a thank you for showing you the way. My only concern really is how you're going to learn to fly as you master your form."

As though she'd heard them, Hedwig barked from her perch across the room.

"Well, there's an offer I don't think you can refuse." Sirius said brightly.

Harry laughed. "Thanks, Hedwig."

Hedwig barked again and stuck her head under her wing.

"And that I think is her hinting we should all get some sleep. Busy day tomorrow with the Quidditch match." Sirius leaned over and kissed Harry's forehead. "No more animagus meditating unless we're in the room with you. Goodnight, Harry."

Remus ruffled his hair. "Goodnight, Harry. "

Harry nodded. He watched as they both left, turning the lights out as they went. He'd found his animagus form! He fell asleep with a wide smile on his face and dreamed of flying, free and happy.