Wizard's Duel
Morning's pale sun shone through the tall windows of the library. Harry sat between Ron and Tracey at a heavy oak table that was half-hidden behind stacks of cracked old leather bound books about Gringotts and magical banking in general (Almost entirely controlled by Goblins). Tracey had dark circles under her eyes. "There's something about dragons here. Apparently they've been specially bred to guard the high-security vaults at Gringotts."
"Dragons? In London?" Harry asked.
"Underground," Ron explained. "Charlie says they use a special breed that's adapted to the dark. They're smaller than regular dragons. More vicious."
The three of them were bent over their books when Malfoy's voice cut through.
"Consorting with blood traitors and Mudbloods, Potter?" He stood at the end of the table, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.
Ron's face flushed red. "Shut your mouth, Malfoy."
"Or what, Weasley? You know, I thought that even a blood traitor like you might have more sense than to associate with that," he gestured with his head toward Tracey who looked down at the book in front of her.
Ron half-rose from his chair but Harry stopped him. "Don't. He's not worth it."
"You should listen to him, Weasley. Better not to get into a fight you can't win."
"What do you want, Malfoy," Harry asked wearily.
"Greengrass - I mean the girl - is looking for you. Says it's very important. Though why she even talks to you is beyond me. You know, considering the company you keep. Then again, there's always been something wrong with the Greengrass family; even if they aren't Muggle lovers like Weasley's family." Malfoy lingered expectantly, clearly waiting for one of them to take up the bait.
Harry looked at Ron and Tracey apologetically. "I should probably go see what she wants. Meet up later?"
They nodded, Ron still glaring at Malfoy.
In the Slytherin Common Room, Daphne sat there on an armchair surrounded by a stack of more cracked old leather books. She looked up when he arrived, blue eyes focused on him attentively, intensely. "I told you I could make you understand and I am," she said, and gestured for for Harry to sit down beside her. "Well I won't get ahead of myself. Understanding will come with time. Now look at this." She opened one of the books to a carefully marked page. The parchment yellow with age but the ink still shining black and clear. Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. She pointed to an elaborate family tree that spread across two pages in intricate lines. "The Potter family tree. Your blood."
Harry eagerly leaned forward, having never seen anything about his father's family before.
"You see Harry? The Potters are one of the oldest pure-blood families in Britain. Your grandfather was Fleamont Potter - he made his fortune - quadrupled your family's gold - by the invention of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion." She considered him for a moment, blue eyes resting on his messy black hair. "Which you might could use some of." She giggled and Harry smiled, feeling an odd sort of feeling in his chest. Then her finger traced up through the branches of the tree. "His father was Henry Potter who served on the Wizengamot from 1913 to 1921. Well, he caused quite the scandal by publicly condemning Minister Evermonde for forbidding witches or wizards to help Muggles during the First World War."
"Really?" Harry asked, fascinated. He'd never imagined he'd had any ancestors who'd done anything important or who had stood up for what they believed in.
She pulled another book closer. "Really. Look - here's Ralston Potter, who served on the Wizengamot from 1612 to 1652. He strongly supported the International Statute of Secrecy. Many of the Wizengamot at the time simply wanted to make war on the Muggles, so Ralston was an out and out liberal. The Potters have always been an important family in our world, even if they weren't as, um... traditional as others." They spent the next hour looking through Daphne's collection of books. Harry, for the first time beginning to truly understand his magical heritage; inventors, politicians, duelists...
"Thank you for showing me all this," Harry said quietly.
Daphne twirled her gold hair through her finger. "It's just- wizarding families usually pass these things down and well..."
"Since mother and daddy aren't here I guess you'll have to mind me since I'm the oldest."
"You're only older than me by 9 minutes!"
"Yes, exactly. Eldest."
"Daphne, when are they coming back." She was beginning to cry.
Daphne bent down and put her hand on her shoulder. Don't worry a bit, Astoria. They'll be back the night after tomorrow. Didn't they say so? Daddy just needs to work something out with Mr. Crouch and they'll be right back before you know it."
"Do you really mean it?"
"Promise," Daphne and Henry said in unison the way twins sometimes do without meaning to.
"Come on. You can sleep here with us tonight."
"Daph, will you tell me a story?"
Daphne stroked her sister's pale hair fondly. "Of course. Babbitty Rabbitty again?
"No, Daph. Please, something you've never read to me before."
Daphne smiled.
"-It doesn't do for a wizard with magical blood not to know his own heritage."
"Right but... I've been meaning to ask; what about people like my mother? Or Tracey? They're proper witches too."
Daphne's serene expression didn't change. "They can learn to do magic."
Daphne and Harry gathered up the books in silence and made their way to the Great Hall for lunch.
The next few days passed in a blur of classes. On Thursday morning, a notice appeared in the Slytherin common room that announced that flying lessons would begin that afternoon. Harry was glad to see the lessons would be with the Gryffindors, since the only other class he had with Ron was Potions. The common room was filled with a buzz of excitement.
Draco Malfoy had spent an inordinate amount of time - in the common room, the Great Hall, and in classes - bragging about his supposed flying prowess. He complained loudly and bitterly about first-years not being allowed to try out for their house Quidditch teams and told long boastful stories that seemed to always end with his narrow escapes from Muggles in helicopters.
"Of course, I've been flying since before I could walk," Malfoy drawled again as he lounged in one of the leather couches, Pansy next to him and looking at him adoringly. "It's all in the blood of course. Honestly, I probably could have played for England already without the ridiculous age restrictions..."
Theo, on the other hand, didn't seem to care about flying at all.
"Aren't you excited about flying?" Harry asked.
"No, not particularly. Though I guess you'll be a natural, Potter. You father was quite the Quidditch player for Gryffindor in his day."
Harry had never heard that.
Tracey appeared. "Have you ever flown before?"
"No."
She bit her lip. "I've read about it, but..."
"Of course you wouldn't know anything about it you little idiot. You're a Mudblood," Malfoy cut in from his couch.
Tracey's face flushed red, but she kept her eyes fixed on the notice board.
At breakfast, a barn owl brought Neville Longbottom a package. Opening it, he showed his housemates a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke. "It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things - this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red - oh . . ." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, ". . . you've forgotten something . . ."
And then Malfoy, passing by the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of Neville's hand. Ron jumped to his feet and Harry was almost ready to go over and join his friend, except that Professor McGonagall was there like lightning. "What's going on," she asked.
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."
Malfoy scowled and dropped it back on the table. "Just looking," he muttered and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle following.
It was clear with a light breeze as the first years made their way down to the grounds where twenty old broomsticks lay in neat lines on the grass, wood worn smooth and twigs sticking out at strange angles. Madam Hooch arrived shortly after them and her yellow hawk eyes surveyed the group.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up. Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch, "and say 'Up!'"
"UP!" everyone shouted.
Harry's broom jumped into his hand immediately. He looked around and saw that Daphne's and Henry's had too. Theo's rose smoothly but slowly. Tracey's hadn't moved at all.
Malfoy sneered while Tracey tried again unsuccessfully. "Never even seen a proper broom before."
Tracey's face flushed but she kept her eyes focused on her broom, refusing to look at Malfoy. "Up!" she commanded again, and this time the broom twitched slightly.
Madam Hooch showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Malfoy, apparently, had been doing it wrong for years, though he tried to argue the point.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -"
But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and -
WHAM - a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.
Madam Hooch bent over Neville, her face as white as his.
"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get."
She turned to the rest of the class.
"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."
When they had gone, Malfoy burst into laughter.
"Did you see his face, the great lump?"
"Shut up, Malfoy," Parvati Patil, a Gryffindor girl, snapped.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."
"Look!" Said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."
"That's enough, Malfoy." Henry said quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch. Daphne watched her twin intently, her face betraying nothing.
Malfoy smiled widely. "I think... I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find. How about up a tree?"
Malfoy mounted his broom and kicked off hard, and rose smooth into the air, the wind in his hair. He really could fly well. He hovered level with the topmost branches of an oak, holding the Remembrall mockingly. Without a word, Henry grabbed his broom, kicked off the ground and rose swiftly to Malfoy's level, back straight and grip perfect. The class watched transfixed from below. "Give it to me, Malfoy," Henry's blond hair ruffled in the wind.
"Take it from me Greengrass." Malfoy tossed the Remembrall back and forth between his hands, then he took off closer to the forest. Henry followed fast. Then without warning Malfoy turned rapidly. "If you're so concerned about a near-squib blood traitor's little toy then take it!" And Malfoy threw back his arms and hurled it towards the castle wall, Henry reacting instantly, broom shooting forward in pursuit, he stretched out his hand and touched it but did not grasp it and the glass sphere crashed against the castle wall and shattered into pieces on the grass below. Henry pulled up sharply to avoid hitting the stones and descended back to the ground.
Malfoy landed nearby, looking very pleased with himself. "Oops. Guess Longbottom will need his gran to send him a new one."
Before anyone could respond, they heard footsteps approaching and the class returned quickly to their original positions by their brooms, the picture of perfect innocence.
"Right then," Madam Hooch said. "Let's try this again shall we? And this time everyone will wait for my whistle."
After class, Daphne fell into step beside Henry. "You flew very well," she said softly, and he nodded without replying.
That night, Malfoy was holding court by the fireplace, dramatically reenacting Neville's fall as Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle devolved into fits of laughter. "But I suppose that's what happen when you let someone who's basically a Squib into Hogwarts. His grandmother really should have known better than to even try to send him."
Henry rose from his seat. "You've dishonoured our house today, you know."
Malfoy's grin slightly faltered. "What was that, Greengrass?"
"Acting like a common thief and vandal."
"Oh shut up. As if I care what you think about -"
"I challenge you to a wizard's duel. Tonight."
More people were starting to pay attention.
"What."
"I'll be his second," Daphne said.
"You want to duel over Longbottom's stupid toy."
"Midnight," Henry agreed.
Malfoy looked around, back and forth between Henry and the watching, expectant faces.
"Fine then. Crabbe's my second. He nodded slightly to the boy. The trophy room is always unlocked. We'll meet there at midnight."
Henry and Malfoy glared at each other for a moment. Then Malfoy turned away and tried to look casual but his movements were stiff.
"Well," Theo said to Harry, "This should be interesting."
By eleven thirty, Malfoy was staring into the fire with an unreadable expression. Crabbe had fallen asleep nearby and was snoring loudly. Malfoy nudged him wordlessly when it was time to go.
Third floor. Crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates and statues in gleaming gold and silver. Henry and Malfoy faced each other. Wands raised. Their Seconds stood back against opposite walls. Daphne watched Henry with the ghost of a smile and Crabbe shifted uncertainly.
"Last chance to back down, Greengrass." Malfoy tried to sneer and didn't quite succeed.
Henry bowed slightly and kept his eyes fixed on his opponent. Malfoy gave a jerky nod.
"Begin," Daphne said softly.
Malfoy's wand slashed quickly through the air. "Flipendo!"
Henry sidestepped the jinx with fluid grace, moving his wand at the same time. "Locomotor Mortis."
Malfoy barely managed to throw up a shield charm in time, and both the charm and the weak shield dissipated in a shower of sparks.
They circled each other slowly. Malfoy was sloppier than Henry but his spells came fast and angry and then-
"Tarantallegra!" Henry deflected it into a display of Quidditch cups, knocking them off their stand with a resounding crash.
They froze.
"What's that? Students out of bed? Mrs. Norris my sweet girl, do you smell them?"
Daphne was already moving quickly towards the door, and gestured for the others to follow. They ran blindly through the dark corridors and a soft meow sent them ducking into a side passage. "This way," Daphne said, and she was laughing. She tugged at a tapestry to reveal a hidden door and the four of them piled through it just as the light from Filch's lantern spilled over from around the corner.
"Lumos," Henry muttered, and then a narrow stone corridor stretched out in front of them and curved slightly to the right.
"Where does this go?" Malfoy asked in a harsh whisper.
"Somewhere better than Filch," Daphne replied. She started running with Henry beside her, and then Malfoy and Crabbe followed after a moment's hesitation. The passage eventually ended at another door and Daphne pressed her ear against it before opening it. They continued forward and ended at a heavy wooden door. "Alohomora." They slipped inside and pulled the door shut beside them, and for a moment they stood to catch their breath in the darkness. Then Henry lifted his wand and they all went still as they looked into the eyes of a monstrous dog that filled the entire space from floor to ceiling, and it had three heads, three pairs of angry rolling eyes and three drooling mouths with yellow fangs.
Henry realized they had taken the thing by surprise but it was getting over that quickly enough and low growls rumbled from its throats. Malfoy made a strangled sound.
"The door," Henry said quietly. "Very slowly."
They began to inch backwards as massive paws shifted on the stone floor. Henry touched the door handle just as the beast's right head lunged forward and they tumbled backward into the corridor and slammed the door shut as a huge impact shook it from the other side. Barking echoed through the wood.
They ran, none of them stopping until they reached the dungeon stairs, where they finally paused to catch their breaths.
"What in Merlin's name was that thing doing in a school," Malfoy demanded. His face was even more pale than usual.
"Didn't you notice," Daphne said and the others turned to her. "It was standing on a trapdoor."
Harry was still awake in his bed. "The old families mostly all intermarried over the centuries, That's why pure-blood genealogy gets so complicated. Everyone's related to everyone else if you go back far enough. For the most part." Harry thought of James Potter, connected by a line on the tree to Lily Evans, a name out of place among an unbroken pure-blood line, but without which (she was a witch just as much as Daphne) he wouldn't exist. But while he drifted off to sleep, Harry couldn't help but wonder if blood really mattered as much as some of his housemates seemed to think it did. Hagrid said his mother had been brilliant, even not having a drop of magical blood.
The Greengrass Family: From Before the Establishment of their Estate until -
And having been definitely conquered, Rædwulf transferred his services to the Norman King and was given land to the north. It was to there that he retreated after quarreling with Armand Malfoy.