13

The room was surprisingly well-lit. Kinda reminded him of the Bunker if he was being honest.

There were lots of bookshelves, all stuffed to the brim with various volumes. There were cabinets too, all labeled with various ranges of dates. Harry even spied one that stretched all the way back to before the Battle of Hastings.

The top drawer of said cabinet was more than a little stuck (and dusty), but he managed to pry it open nevertheless. What he found inside was parchment: stacks upon stacks of parchment. All with not a speck of mold or decay on them. 

"Those are the first contracts a Black was ever party to, my Lord."

After reinserting his heart back into his chest, he addressed the suddenly occupied picture frame above the cabinet. "What kind of contracts are we talking about, Walburga?"

Walburga sniffed. "Crude affairs; back when the Black family was still a relatively recent name, and the magic used was shoddy at best. Nevertheless, we preserved them as best we could. The Blacks did not prove themselves members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight by throwing away past partnerships."

"Sacred Twenty-Eight?" he asked. "What's that?"

"All in good time, my Lord. There is still much to see at the other end of this room."

And with that, Walburga vanished into the left side of her frame. 

Harry slid the drawer closed, and followed. Tonks and Draco had obviously already made it further than he did; Tonks was flipping through a book called Magister Mendium while Draco was rifling through a glass case of Potions ingredients. "C'mon you two; apparently the good stuff's still ahead of us."

With a sigh, Draco began returning the ingredients to their vials. "Such rarity...worth a fortune. And left down here for far too long…"

Harry smirked. "Always knew you were a sucker for the exotic, Malfoy. C'mon; we can argue the merits of powdered Peruvian viper-tooth later."

Draco scowled but began to move. Tonks, he noted, kept the book. 

What they found at the end of the room was something Harry recognized instantly. "A Key of Solomon."

Walburga made her reappearance in yet another frame. "Correct, my Lord. A necessary precaution for some of the Black's more...creature-like business partners. And the fact that you were able to recognize it impresses me quite greatly."

Tonks crossed her arms in irritation. "Alright, we're here. Now get to the explaining, Aunt."

"Such impertinence." Walburga rasped. "Yet I can appreciate the attitude. This information must be passed on immediately. But where to begin…? Ah. I have it. My Lord, do you perhaps see the pedestal on the far side of the Key?"

He squinted. "...Vaguely."

"Good. If you had no Black blood in your veins, you would never even know it was there. I believe your two companions should be able to see it much more clearly."

Draco nodded. "I can."

" Good. Now, what about this pedestal in particular strikes you as odd?"

Harry squinted even harder. "...It's actually a lectern?"

"You are on the right track, my Lord."

Tonks frowned, then smiled. "It's an empty lectern."

"Correct girl. Well-spotted. The lectern is empty. And it should not be." Walburga conjured a chair, and then sat. "The reason it is not is, ironically enough, I believe the same reason young Mr. Malfoy here lost his father to a Demiguise attack."

Beside him, Draco stiffened. 

"Tell me, young ones;" Walburga leaned in, "Have any of you ever heard of something known as the Necronomicon?"

...Oh he'd heard of it alright. "H. P. Lovecraft."

The old witch nodded. "An American Squib. But a Squib with a predilection for not only locating lost tombs and treasures, but keeping the Muggles well away from them. It was he that first discovered a copy of the book the Blacks were built on; I believe that specific volume is still in the library of Miskatonic University. It is a book that was never meant for mortal eyes; passed down to our family from the hands of Merlin himself. And if you are familiar with Lovecraft's works, you can obviously see why. Not even a Squib could handle the power contained within."

A sinking feeling settled in his gut. "And what exactly is the power contained within?"

"Control, my Lord. Control over every monster that ever existed in this world, or ever might. The power to create new monsters; the power to summon monsters to you; and the power to bind monsters to your will. Vampires, Werewolves, Shapeshifters...and Demiguise. And it is this power which my shiftless husband stupidly handed over to the Dark Lord before his father Arcturus was cold in his grave. Even had the Dark Lord won, and Orion survived, I have no doubt the Black family would never see that volume again. The Dark Lord understands power far better than Orion ever did."

Draco had gone completely white. "Then...if...he…"

"I am sorry young man." Walburga hung her head. "But it is the only logical explanation I could think of once your mother informed me of your father's fate. I have no doubt the Dark Lord believed himself to be the main inheritor in Lucius' will. It is extremely fortunate that this 'Dean Winchester' was the man chosen. And chosen in such a way that I find myself congratulating Lucius Malfoy on his foresight. The Blacks and the Men of Letters were allies once; during the War with Grindelwald. If the American branch has survived, I would recommend you ally with them again in order to see vengeance done."

Tonks was doing her best not to laugh; he just knew it. "...I believe something can be arranged."

"Very good. And now, it is time to explain not only why the Blacks saw fit to ally with a group of Squibs and Muggles, but how it is that the Sacred Twenty-Eight came to involve themselves in the war against Grindelwald. Mister Malfoy; if you would be kind enough to expound the history of the Twenty-Eight to those not properly educated…"

Draco took a deep breath, then began to speak. "The Sacred Twenty-Eight are so-named for being the only families in existence that can trace their ancestry back to a single man: Merlin Emrys. It was these families, with Merlin as the Chief Warlock, that formed the first magical Wizengamot to force King John to ratify the Magna Carta. This document is responsible for not only the beginning of separation between the Wizarding and Muggle worlds, but also for establishing the Ministry for Magic as the official steward for the English royalty's interests in the magical realm. The Wizengamot remain to this day, and meet upon every solstice. They have waned somewhat in power since a few bloodlines have died off since its inception, leading to the current stranglehold on politics occupied by the Ministry for Magic."

Walburga smiled approvingly. "Very well recited young man. Merlin was truly the most powerful wizard ever known; his legacy reaches far even to this day. The families of Bulstrode, Greengrass, Longbottom, Rowle, Nott, Carrow, Abbot, Parkinson, MacMillan, and Shacklebolt still remain, do they not?"

"Yep!" Tonks snapped. "And each and every one down to less than two heirs apiece."

"Ah." Walburga frowned. "While it is pleasing to know your mother has not left you totally uneducated on the subject, that is unfortunate news. If every House of the Twenty-Eight were to fail, the Albion magics behind the Statute of Secrecy would fail as well."

Harry coughed. "Then it's probably not a good idea to mention the fact that half of those families are looking to go to war with the other half?"

"...Indeed. Most unfortunate, considering each and every one of those Houses once stood strong against Grindelwald."

"Why?" Tonks asked. "I mean, we heard about him in school, but not a lot. What did he do that was so bad?"

"My dear, it was not what he did, it was what he intended to do. The man wished to do away with the Statute of Secrecy...and rule the Muggles as kings."

Draco frowned. "And that wouldn't be a good thing?"

"Of course not boy. Think; there are billions of Muggles, and very few of us. Insurrection and revolution would be the norm, and even with their pitiful 'guns' the Muggles would be more than capable of exterminating us. Even though we should kill a thousand of them for every one they took of ours. In fact, the Russians used just that tactic to drive back Grindelwald's forces during the war. Whereas the British and Americans took a more...efficient approach."

Harry filled in the blanks. "The Men of Letters."

"Correct. They had long been an unofficial operation operating out of Torchwood, but when the bombs started falling and Grindelwald's forces began attacking magical sites, the Queen was forced to recognize them officially and point them at the problem. Without them I doubt we ever would have survived; did none of you ever wonder why it was that Hogsmeade is the last remaining wizarding village in all of Britain?"

They hadn't.

"Grindelwald didn't care how Pure your blood was; only who you were pledging it to. In fact, he deliberately targeted the Sacred Twenty-Eight, hoping to bring down Merlin's greatest accomplishment and the Statute along with it."

Tonks snorted. "Fat lot of good Pure blood did for them in the end."

"Yes; yes it did." Walburga growled. "Tell me, oh Nymphadora, has your mother ever told you the true reason we hold Pure blood in such high esteem?"

Tonks smirked. "The Statute of Secrecy, like you just said."

"While that is part of the reason, it is not the main one. You see, before the time of Merlin, the only way known to possess magical ability was to be descended from a magical creature. The more creatures in your ancestry, the more powerful you were. Slytherin was a descendant of the snake deity Yir; Hufflepuff of the Norse god Frey. Of course, the results were usually less than satisfactory: two ancestors with contrasting abilities would quite often produce Squibs, or even worse, sometimes offspring that looked more monster than human. And unless said descendants kept on having their children coupling with creatures or other magic users, the powers of the family would fade with time. If you have read Lovecraft, my Lord, you will perhaps be familiar with his tale of the Whately family. I think you can draw your own connections."

"Potter?" Draco turned. "What's she talking about?"

"Something that I think the only way to get an explanation for is from Luna. I'm not saying that name out loud, Walburga."

"No more you should. It is not as far beyond our comprehension as it is for a Muggle; therefore the danger for us is even greater. Grindelwald, fortunately, never learned that particular lesson. But what can you expect from a man whose last name literally means 'Wood of Beowulf's Monster'?"

Tonks gave an exasperated sigh. "Can we get back to the main topic please?"

"Very well." Walburga brought her hands together under her chin. "Now, you will notice I said that before Merlin, there was only one known way. Originally, when the first men came to the Isles, they were met by an army of Fae...and of druids. The Fae were disgusted by those they viewed as 'Mud Men'; but the druids managed to create an uneasy peace in exchange for the secrets of wandlore, normally a weapon only able to be wielded by the likes of a demigod. The outcomes I have already described began to ensue; but there were outliers. The Muggleborn began to appear.

"At first, we assumed they were either a descendant of multiple Squibs, or perhaps the bastard offspring of a creature or a wizard. But then the witch hunts began...and we realized there could be a more sinister reason. If these new Muggles with their churches considered magic to be a curse, and their God certainly spoke no word against their opinions, then perhaps all one had to do to be granted the power we had hoarded for centuries was to, if you will pardon my language, piss off a foreign deity in just the right way.

"Naturally, the wizarding world did not care for the theory. You have perhaps heard Slytherin's wish to deny Muggleborns access to Hogwarts: he believed that we would be admitting an army of spies. An army that would betray us to their witch-burning parents. It was he that first resurrected the term 'Mudblood' to describe someone who had gotten their magic in a less than honest way; through lineage."

Tonks snorted. "That's ridiculous! I'm pretty sure Harry's mom didn't 'piss off God' when she was eleven bloody years old."

"And I would agree with you." Walburga affirmed. "The unnatural shade of green in Lord Black's eyes speaks to perhaps Incubus or Succubus lineage in his mother's line. Likely his grandfather was descended from a Squib, and the combination was enough to awaken his mother's magic. Even your own father, young Nympha…"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!"

"It is a good, proper name. If you wished me to refrain from using it, you should have included it in the troll-foot bargain. Now, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, is that even that scoundrel Theodore Tonks was more than likely a descendant of the Tong, a species of warrior elves wiped out some time ago by the Goblins. His last name certainly bears enough resemblance. And yet, barring certain easily investigated circumstances like these, there were still families moving into Britain who just simply did not have magical ability in their family. And yet their children did. The magical world went with the only reasonable explanation at the time, and you see the results today. It would be even worse, if not for the emergence of the greatest wizard of all time."

Realization dawned. "Merlin was a Muggleborn."

Walburga shook her head. "Strictly speaking, no one still quite knows just where the man came from. He was powerful enough to have been descended from multiple creatures, but since the man wielded ice and fire with equal ability, such a possibility was discounted. In fact, none of the usual weaknesses creatures possessed affected him in the least. He certainly was not cursed, having been found in the north; far from any possible Christian influence. A demigod? Perhaps. But Hufflepuff had been among the last of the Norse ones, the Greeks were long gone, and the Romans were all to the south as well. In the end, his origins didn't really matter. Because once the man got going, he did something extraordinary: he single-handedly created the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Each and every one among the most powerful magic users ever found. And unlike other wizards, they could use every type of magic in existence. Rituals, runes, wards, wands, enchantments and curses. Anything and everything. And because they were so greedy with their new power, and fearful of what would happen if an outsider were to dilute their power or cancel it out altogether...Muggleborn and creature-born began to be hated in equal amount. Oh, Merlin certainly tried to hold back the tide, but after his betrayal by Morgana le Fay (three guesses what she was), things were never the same. And to this day, many witches and wizards have never seen enough reason to abandon their position. But now...with three out of four of the most powerful magic-users of our generation being Half-bloods...to say nothing of young Nymphadora's gift...I must admit I can see one."

"It gets worse." Harry interrupted. "The Dark Lord's a Half-Blood too."

"...I assume you can prove this?"

"His title is an anagram of his actual name. Tom Marvolo Riddle. I am Lord Voldemort. His dad was actually full Muggle."

"...He certainly acted the part of Pureblood well enough, then."

"Tell me about it. I've seen what he looked like at sixteen. He already had the look down pat."

"Indeed? How interesting. Regardless, it appears that Merlin's power has finally begun to fade, if there stands not a Pureblood among the magical elite."

Harry shook his head. "I don't think it's fading, Walburga; I think it's just DNA getting in the way."

"DNA?" Walburga asked sharply. "What is this?"

"A recent discovery," he answered, "but the principle's been around forever. Basically, you keep adding the same gene pool back into itself over and over, eventually everyone keels over dead because they're born with no lungs or something stupid like that."

"...Do you think this could be the cause of modern Squibs?"

"It's a possibility. And if everyone keeps only having one or two heirs...my money's on Pure blood going extinct in half-a-century. I'm nowhere near Tom's level; and he's nowhere near Dumbledore's. If the power levels keep dropping...the Muggleborns will be running this world in no time at all. And as much as I hate to admit it, I'd rather that didn't happen. If the Statute of Secrecy fell...well, it would suck."

"Harry," hissed Tonks, "you better not be thinking of letting those Death Eaters off easy."

"Wasn't considering it. You heard Walburga; not only was my Mom a Muggleborn, she had creature blood as well. That makes three reasons why they want me dead."

"Four." Draco corrected. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say your grandmother's maiden name on your mother's side was Winchester. And that the man my father spared did not survive America?"

"...I can't say."

"Another contract?"

"Something like that."

"It's not good, but it's a reason." Draco shoved his hands in his pockets. "So what now, Potter? Now that you see why Pure blood is so much more necessary for our kind to survive?"

"I never said that." came the crack of Walburga's voice. "In fact, there have been many of our kind living among Muggles for centuries now; using the old methods. They are not as powerful, nor as strict in their dalliances. They are the Covens; and they train their children in magic in the home. Such an arrangement would allow our survival, but I fear it would end up falling prey to this 'DNA' my Lord has mentioned. To say nothing of how we would have to abandon Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, and the rest. The largest prime number twenty-eight is divisible by is seven; I would recommend trying to save that number of Houses at a minimum. Fortunately, I have a plan to do so. You, my Lord, can personally guarantee the survival of at least one, and possibly two."

"How?"

"You are not a Black by blood; unless Sirius...?"

"He blood-adopted me, yeah."

"The one smart decision of his life. Regardless, while you now possess Black blood, you also possess the blood of the Parkinson and Rowle families.

"I what?" Whatever he was expecting, it certainly wasn't that. 

"Your father's mother, my Lord. Euphemia Parkinson. Her mother was a Rowle as well. Now, while you may not wish to take on the name, you could subsume the Parkinson House or the Rowles into the Potters if you were their Head. The Weasleys did the same to the House of Prewett; and thus ensured the survival of the line."

Tonks started. "Gideon and Fabian...they were the last male Prewetts, weren't they?"

Walburga hung her head. "Yes, I am afraid so. Their demise was most regrettable."

Draco cleared his throat. "While this line of thinking is intriguing, I must confess we need not worry for the survival of the Parkinson line. Pansy, the Heir, is still alive; and her side of the family will most likely support the Dark Lord. With Potter here on the other, it will be the same arrangement your nieces had during the last war, Aunt Walburga; each looking out for the safety of the other. I will contact Pansy and inform her of Potter's connection to her House; she will agree to a non-aggression policy. But as for the Rowles…there is only one other blood relative alive. And on multiple occasions I heard my father refer to her as a drunken reprobate. If you want to subsume a House, Potter, I'd start with that one. Provided of course you leave Miss Rowle alive; we don't wish the line to perish if you fail to survive."

"Oh trust me, I want her alive as much as you do." He did; if Delphini Riddle ever came into being, Euphemia Rowle was the person she would more than likely end up with. Ergo, her's was the first door he planned on busting down after everything was all over.

"Then that matter is settled." Walburga said firmly. "Wait to make your move until after the Dark Lord is taken care of. I would still advise ensuring an heir before then; as an insurance policy. Normally, I would scoff at the idea of a Muggleborn marrying into a Pureblood House, but once the matter was explained to me, I now see why you would wish to diversify. The Weasley name is already strong as well; to add their line to yours would also be a wise decision. And finally, young Nymphadora here is obviously magically powerful, if a bit more passive than the average Black."

"Hey!" shouted Tonks. 

Walburga paid her no mind. "A Muggleborn, a Pureblood, and a Halfblood. Very balanced. Especially considering it may be required of you to continue three separate lines if my wastrel of a son fails to settle down anytime soon. Draco, did your father make arrangements to continue the Malfoy House?"

"He did; with the youngest Greengrass daughter."

"Good. That is five lines already; and once we add in the Weasleys and their connection to the Prewetts, that brings us up to seven. Draco, your mother is descended from a Rosier; if the others fall in opposition to us, the House may be eligible to be subsumed once you come of age. That makes eight." Walburga said, then harrumphed. "It will suffice. For now. Will the Longbottoms be standing with the Potters my Lord?"

"I...don't know. Neville's a pal, but I think his parents and gran are a little too big on Dumbledore."

"Oh? I did not know you were acquainted with his parents. The last I heard they were still in St. Mungos."

Harry shrugged. "I pulled a few strings and got 'em cured."

"Really." Walburga sighted down at him along her nose. "You continue to amaze, my Lord. Perhaps it is for the best if they remain neutral; especially if the Longbottoms realize they might wish to try for a spare heir. Now then; how do we stand with the Dark families?"

Draco pulled his hands from his pockets and clasped them together behind his back. "The Greengrasses never swore to the Dark Lord; they will remain neutral. The Carrows, Lestranges, Selwyns, Averys, and Notts will unfortunately not. The Yaxleys have been wiped out; the Flints survive, but with only one heir. And he is, to put it mildly, a brute. The Flints themselves may wish to declare neutrality, but I can assure you their son will not. And they are so used to indulging him they will go along with him to try and keep him safe."

Walburga shook her head sadly. "A shame. Very well; we shall have to make do. Perhaps I shall ask Andromeda to call upon the Longbottoms; they knew each other quite well in the Aurors. And with that, I believe our business is concluded. I believe you know the way out."

"Tonks?"

"Yeah Harry?"

"How on earth did you manage to hold your temper during all that?"

"Oh believe me, I came close to blowing my top. Fact is, if she hadn't started pitching some of that during the troll-foot bargain, I probably would've burned her portrait to ash. And mom would've warned me after her conversation with Aunt Walburga if there was anything to worry about. Tell you what, though; can you imagine if Hermione'd been down there?"

Harry shuddered. "I dread to think. Cage fight. Draco probably wouldn't have survived."

"Wouldn't have been that much of a loss if you ask me. Speaking of; don't tell Draco, but the  Sacred Twenty-Eight was originally meant to be the Twenty-Seven."

"You mean you already knew everything Walburga was talking about?"

"Rule one of the Blacks: never let on exactly how much you know. It was one of mum's favorite stories: how the Malfoys got in by cheating an heir out of Merlin. Morgana le Fay was the one who arranged for it. Merlin never should have put on that ring."

"One Ring to Rule Them All?"

"Exactly, Lord Aragorn."

"Always thought I was a bit more of a Gimli myself; I hate running, and love axes."

"Plus, you're, you know, short.

"Hey! I'll get taller!"

"I hope so; you know what they say about tall guys."

"Honestly, between you and me, you should look at a guy's shoes before you look at his height."

"Oh? And what shoe size are you, Mr. Potter?"

"I refuse to answer that, Miss Tonks, on the grounds I don't wish to incriminate myself."

A grandfatherly voice wafted their direction. "Incriminate yourself in what, my boy?"

Harry stiffened. "I fail to see how that's your business, Headmaster. Now, if you'll excuse us…"

"A moment of your time is all I require, my boy. I merely wished to inform you that I have located the cave you spoke to me about; and it does indeed appear to be what you described."

Tonks' eyes flashed. "What cave is this?"

Dumbledore gave a dismissive wave. "Nothing you need concern yourself with, young Nymphadora."

Tonks ground her teeth, but didn't take the bait.

"Now then, Harry, I did promise you some information in return. And so, if you wouldn't mind stepping away with me for a bit…"

Harry held up a hand. "The library. That's where I'll hear you out. After you, Headmaster."

The man sighed and acted very put upon. "Why must you continue to mistrust me, Harry? Why do you insist upon putting wards between yourself and I?"

"Four words Headmaster: For The Greater Good. After you."

Dumbledore gave Harry a stern look, but shuffled away. 

Tonks glared after the man's retreating back, and then at Harry. "I don't trust him. I'll be watching through the keyhole."

"Appreciate it. Blimey, this day never ends does it?"

By the time he made it to the library, Dumbledore was already skimming through Harry's reading materials. "Ancient Runes Harry? I did not think you had chosen that for one of your electives."

"I'm switching. Divination's crap."

"My boy, I cannot recommend strongly enough that you continue in Divination. There are things you must know…"

"Really? Cause from where I'm sitting, it seems more like there's things you think I never need to know. You have about five minutes before Kreacher says lunch is ready, and I'm starving. So if you've got something to say, say it."

He felt the old man's Legilimency probe before Dumbledore had even finished talking. He had no doubt Dumbledore could have shredded his Occlumency if he wished, but the cost would be his broken mind. And not even Dumbledore wanted that; at least yet.

"It seems that Sirius' arrangements will hold, Harry; and so, I shall now pass on this knowledge to you. You see my boy, back when you were first born...there was a Prophecy made. A Prophecy that stated that only the Dark Lord could kill you...or that you could kill the Dark Lord."

"...That's it?"

"I am afraid so, my boy."

"Bulllshit. From what I've seen of Divination it's dodgy at best and lies at worst. How can you believe anything that has to do with telling the future?"

"Because, my boy, the Prophecy was recorded as a true one by the Department of Mysteries."

Now came the part where he had to pretend to make logical deductions in front of Dumbledore. "The Department of Mysteries...this wouldn't be the door Tom was so interested in, would it?"

"It would."

"He knows there's a Prophecy?"

"He does."

"Then it doesn't matter if the thing's real or not; if both you and Tom think it is, one way or another I'm gonna have to deal with the fallout. Bloody hell; why can't my life ever be easy?"

"I know. And for what it is worth, I am sorry my boy."

"Yeah, well, sorry never paid the piper. So, did Tom want me to come to the D of M to try and recruit me again by showing me the Prophecy? Tell me he'd leave me alone if I left him alone?"

"I doubt it my boy; he never learned the entirety of its contents himself. It is much more likely that he wished to avoid revealing himself this early by having you steal the entire Prophecy on his behalf, even if unconsciously. There are many in the Ministry who support Tom; I have no doubt they would have delivered you to him once you had retrieved it."

"Why me?"

"Because only those directly involved with a Prophecy may freely handle its recording."

"Well then, it looks like this Department of Mysteries is the only one in the Ministry with at least some sense, so I vote we either leave well enough alone or set a trap for when Tom inevitably gets fed up with waiting and comes himself. And if that's all, Headmaster, I'm afraid I must be going."

"If you insist, my boy. However, it occurs to me that I can now begin to trust you with more important affairs. I wonder, would you be so kind as to come along at a future date and help me interview Severus' replacement? I would value your appraisal of the man."

More like my ability to weasel out what he knows about Horcruxes, he thought. Aloud he said, "I don't see why not, Headmaster. But Potions has always been one of my worst subjects, if you'll remember."

"I am aware, my boy. Which is why I wish to bring you; if this man can get you excited about something related to Potion-making, then I think that shall speak loudly enough for his abilities as a teacher."

"...I like it. Just let me know when. But for now, I think I can smell Kreacher's cooking."

"Then by all means, my boy. After you."

"He's bribing you."

"Yes, I know Tonks. Slughorn's the only person he could even possibly be thinking of, and he already knows the man's a great teacher. And the man left out a lot of information; and I mean a lot."

Hermione expertly sliced her roast. "It's a good thing you already told us the whole Prophecy, Harry, otherwise we'd be even more worried. There are so many interpretations it's not even funny; it even occurred to me that there's a possibility all you and Riddle are meant to do is annoy each other your entire lives."

He laughed. "If only. Though knowing me we might still have ended up trying to kill each other."

He took a bite from his sandwich. "Mmm. So good. Thanks Kreacher."

Pop! "Second-Best Master's beings very welcome." Pop!

Ginny chuckled at the look of exasperation on Harry's face, then frowned. "Where's the Malfoys? Thought they'd be down for lunch."

Hermione held up a finger, and then swallowed. "Upstairs. Narcissa thought it would be a good idea to tell Mad-Eye everything they knew before their information became worthless. And Luna's up saying hello to Buckbeak."

"Good idea." Harry grunted. "Still, I'd like to have 'em where I can see 'em. Kreacher, tell Mad-Eye I said to let up for now. It's bad form to interrogate on an empty stomach."

Tonks chuckled. "Now that sounds like something a Potter would say. Been awhile since we heard that side of you; nice to see it come out again."

"Thanks." He turned to face the final occupant of the table. "Gin? Feeling better?"

"A little. The food's helping."

He raised his glass. "Spoken like a true Weasley. Here's to good food and good company."

Tonks clinked her glass against his. "Here here!"

Hermione smiled and did the same. "'A health to the company, and one to my lass', Harry?"

"I'll have you know I'm far more yours than you will ever be mine. All of you. And I am perfectly okay with that."

Gin rolled her eyes but toasted nonetheless. "Of course you would."

Kreacher chose that moment to pop in with Narcissa and Draco. "The Malfoys, Second-Greatest Master. Mad One says not to dawdle; this be's a lunch break, not a convention. Kreacher wishes he could tell Mad One where to stick his wand…"

Narcissa giggled, and then smoothed the laugh away. "Your pardon for being late, my Lord."

He stood and bowed. "It's just Harry, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Then you must call me Narcissa. After all, we are going to be seeing quite a lot of each other."

Behind him, he heard a fork snap. He really didn't want to know whose it was. "If you insist, Narcissa. Won't all of you take a seat?"

The meal passed with a great deal of small talk, as well as a number of very big compliments for Kreacher's desert. Apparently, American-style pie was practically unheard of in England. And key lime was even rarer. Who knew?

"Alright," he said later, after he and the girls were gathered in the attic, "Much as I hate to ask, who's fork was it that broke at lunch?"

Hermione guiltily raised her hand. "Mine…"

"Uh-huh. Now, would you mind telling me why, Princess? Cause I know you can't be jealous of Narcissa Malfoy…"

Hermione shook her head. "No, it's...not that."

"Is it embarrassing?"

Hermione slowly nodded.

"Then I won't ask. Right; who wants to get…"

"I want to tell!" Hermione blurted out. "I mean...I need to. Yeah, need to. It's...important."

"...Alright. But only if you really want to, Princess."

Hermione took a deep breath, then forged ahead. "Narcissa's hoping to get close enough to you to...convince you to save Bellatrix Lestrange's life. And she's prepared to do anything you ask for it."

"And you know this how?"

"She asked permission from me to try; back at the Rookery. She...well, she believed what she read in the Prophet last year about the Tournament. She assumed I'd be Mrs. Potter pretty soon now. I thought it best not to correct her; make things easier for me. But I'm regretting it now; if I'd known she was going to practically throw herself at you…"

"Hey, hey; it's okay. I was kinda expecting her to start going for something sooner or later; at least this way I know what it is she's after. And since she apparently doesn't mind if I know, since she asked you to allow it, I think we'll muddle through. Just having one of you girls even tolerate me counts as a win in my book; and each and every one of you is worth far more to me than she is."

Luna perked up. "Even me, Harry?"

"Even you, Luna. We can decide later on what to do about Bellatrix; after we ask Andromeda of course. But for now...who wants tattoos