Malfoy Manor
Malfoy Manor was far more extraordinary than Harry had ever predicted. He was still a bit nauseous after the apparition, but it wasn’t enough to take away the glory that was Malfoy Manor. The estate itself was impressive enough, with beautiful gardens filled with flowers and fountains, and a menagerie out back. The flock of albino peacocks milling about the property added a sense of whimsy about the place.
Inside, the home was ostentatious and a little intimidating. The cream white walls were filled with moving portraits of Malfoys of old. Some were snoozing. Others watched him with a careful eye as he followed Narcissa up the stairs. Intermittently, he would pass an expensive looking vase or a strange artifact displayed on a pedestal. There were so many rooms, Harry wasn’t even sure if he could count them all.
The stairs were lined with plush carpeting, and on the way up, Harry passed a crystal chandelier that was charmed to float in the air, with nothing to hold it in place. He couldn’t help but to stop and gape at it for a moment.
When they reached the 3rd floor, Narcissa said it was Draco’s floor. Harry couldn’t believe that Draco had an entire floor to himself. The walls on Draco’s floor were lined with images of landscapes and dragons. She pointed at the second door on the left, telling him that the room it led to was for Hermione. The first one to the left, was the playroom. Draco and Hermione ought to have been in there just now. The second door on the right was Draco’s room. Then they stopped at the first on the right and opened it. That one was for him.
“I hope you like it,” she smiled at Harry as he stepped inside. “It’s just a guest room, so it’s a little on the plain side, but there ought to be everything you need.”
The room was the size of the entire bottom floor at Privet Drive, possibly a bit larger. The carpet was the same sandy color as the one on the stairs. Matched with the ocean blue walls, white accessories, and large windows letting in lots of bright sunlight—the room had the perfect beachy feel.
“Feel free to set your things down, then you can head to the playroom with the others.”
Harry was speechless, so all he could do was nod as he continued drinking the room in.
The king sized bed was high enough off the ground that it had a step stool beside it, and the frame was made of painted white wood. The bed spread on it was very nearly the same color as the walls, with a pattern on it that resembled the ocean swell. They flowed forward and back, creating waves and white froth as the water silently crashed together. Around the bed, was a translucent white canopy drifting open and closed in the gentle breeze of the windows.
The whole thing was, for lack of a better word… magical.
Just as Narcissa was about to turn away and head back down stairs, Harry remembered his manners enough to force out a sincere “Thank you!”
He’d never seen anything like it and was absolutely astonished.
“Of course,” Narcissa dismissed it. “We just want you to feel right at home.”
“This is nothing like home,” Harry mumbled, eyes still round and shaking his head in disbelief.
“Which is a shame,” Narcissa sighed. “You deserve to have grown up like this.”
Harry thought she had no idea how much he wished he could have. Instead of saying that he tried to make light of it. “I think I did alright, though.” No thanks to his relatives at all.
“If you say so,” Narcissa agreed, though sounding a little reluctant. “See you at dinner.” She waved to him quickly, then made her leave, leaving Harry standing in the room, still marveling.
Wanting to talk to Draco and Hermione in person again, Harry quickly shook himself out of it before setting his bag on the bed and heading to the playroom.
When he went inside, he received hugs from both Draco and Hermione, but was surprised to see that they weren’t the only ones in there. Draco quickly went around, and introduced Harry to the others in the room.
There was a pair of heavyset boys named Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle. A girl with long dark hair going all the way down her back named Pansy Parkinson. Another girl who was easily the tallest in the room named Millicent Bulstrode. A boy with milk coffee colored skin and light eyes named Blaise Zabini. A girl with thick blonde curls called Daphne Greengrass, and her younger sister with the same hair named Astoria. Then there was another boy who seemed to be sitting off to the side, away from the rest of them named Theodore Nott.
After introductions, they all immediately started bombarding Harry with questions about Voldemort and what it was like being famous, or what muggles were like and any other thing they could think of. Harry tried to answer them all as honestly, yet diplomatically as he could.
After about 20 minutes of this, Hermione was kind enough to save him, by steering the conversation toward Hogwarts and their excitement to start classes. This was a conversation Harry was more comfortable with and that he could join without feeling interrogated.
The majority of the others were set on Slytherin. Harry wasn’t surprised considering he knew them all to be proud purebloods. However, Daphne was certain she’d be in Ravenclaw. After a bit of complaining from Astoria, she insisted the younger girl would likely be Ravenclaw as well when her time finally came. Pansy was insistent that Crabbe and Goyle would be Hufflepuffs, which had the majority of them laughing until Crabbe flicked a strangely colored jelly bean at her head.
Hermione had the most diplomatic answer. She claimed she didn’t care which house she was in. They all had their own positive and negative qualities. Millicent chuckled at this, promising that she was headed straight to Hufflepuff with that attitude. Harry agreed with Hermione, though.
In the letters he’d exchanged with her, she told him all about the different houses. He supposed he could see why everyone was so against Hufflepuff. It didn’t seem anything particularly worthwhile, but he didn’t think it would be so terrible either.
“You’ll be Gryffindor for sure,” Theodore spoke up for the first time that night. “I mean, come on. You’re the Boy Who Lived. You couldn’t possibly be anything else.”
Pansy squinted her nose at Theodore pensively for a moment before nodding her head and looking back at Harry. “Yeah,” she started. “He’s probably right. You are the savior of the wizarding world and all. If that doesn’t scream brave Gryffindor, then nothing else does.”
“That’s too bad, Potter,” Blaise sighed dramatically. “I was just starting to like you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Draco asked, indignant in Harry's stead.
“Come on, Draco.” Millicent rolled her eyes. “You know there’s no way the Gryffindors will let Harry bleeding Potter hang around with the likes of us Slytherins once school starts.”
“Forget Gryffindors,” Daphne waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Dumbledore himself would probably forbid it. The old berk.”
“I dare him to try!” Draco argued. “Don’t worry about the old man. I’ll still hang out with you.” He nudged Harry in the shoulder playfully. “I mean, someone’s got to teach you how to be a proper wizard, after all.”
“True…” Harry fake mused, putting a finger on his chin. “Hey Hermione,” he turned to the girl suddenly. “You know anyone who could do that?”
Draco scoffed while the others laughed at him. He reached for the abandoned deck of exploding snap cards on the table beside him and tossed a handful of them on Harry’s head. The others in the room giggled as he jumped and shrieked in surprise when they exploded on him. In retaliation, Harry grabbed the rest of the deck and riffled the cards one handedly so they would shoot back at Draco and explode as they hit him.
Draco’s shocked screech as he ducked out of his seat away from the cards had Crabbe and Goyle in hysterics. Draco batted a few of the cards off his shirt and they landed on Pansy’s leg, causing more startled shouts as they exploded on her. She pulled a second deck off a shelf and threw a couple handfuls back at Draco.
A good number of them missed and went flying around the room, hitting the other unsuspecting occupants and dissolving the room into uproarious laughter and screams. In no time at all the playroom had turned into a battle field as everyone scrambled around for spare cards to fling at the others.
People were ducking for cover, hiding behind chairs, lamps, boxes of games, anything to avoid being caught in open fire.
They divided into 3 clear teams: Millicent, Blaise, Pansy, and Astoria vs Crabbe, Theodore, Daphne, Nott, and Goyle vs Hermione, Draco and Harry. When the others noticed how much they outnumbered Harry, Draco, and Hermione, they decided to team up against them and smash them into the dirt.
Exploding cards came cascading down on them in a hail fire from their spot behind the couch. Then Hermione suddenly had an idea. Draco and Harry were tossing back every single card they could get their hands on when Hermione whisper shouted at them.
“Wait! Stop!” She grabbed each of their arms, to halt their counter attacks. “Don’t throw the cards back! Just keep them!” she instructed.
“Why in Merlin’s name would we do that? They’re killing us!” Draco argued.
“Think about it!” Hermione explained, already gathering cards off the floor. “There’s only two decks of cards. Right now, they have most of them. And they’re throwing them at us!”
“Yeah! I know!” Harry shouted back, dodging a card that would have gone off on his forehead otherwise.
“If we don’t throw them back, eventually they’ll run out!” Hermione told them. “And then, where will all the cards be?”
Draco cracked a mischievous grin when he realized where she was going with this. “You’re a bloody genius, Hermione!” he complimented. She scoffed at him, then started working double time grabbing the fallen cards.
After a while, the barrage came to a stop and the room fell in silence. Between the 3 of them, it appeared as if they’d captured both decks, save only a few cards, if any.
“You guys ready to surrender?” Pansy called tauntingly as she led the group toward their couch.
“You’re way outnumbered,” Blaise warned, gesturing for the others to surround them. “Three against nine. There’s no way you’ll make it out alive.”
“Want to bet?” Hermione shouted back, barely concealing a laugh. She gestured to the boys that they’d jump out from behind the couch on 3.
“Come on, now,” Millicent teased. “Even Crabbe can count well enough to know that you lot are buggered.”
1…
“Go on,” Daphne joined the fray. “Just give it up. You’re done for, now.” Astoria could be heard giggling from somewhere behind her as they approached none too stealthily.
2…
“There’s no way out of it,” Theodore told them. The heavy clunking of footsteps came to a stop very near to their couch, and Hermione knew this was their shot.
3!
All at once, Draco, Harry, and Hermione stood from where they’d been crouching and—one at a time—they threw their cards rapid fire at the surrounding group. The once again quiet room exploded into screams and laughter and booms as Hermione and the boys made it rain like a hurricane upon the others.
They finally ran out of cards just in time for the playroom door to swing open with Narcissa and a pair of house elves standing amusedly in the doorway.
“Alright. That’s enough,” she called. Her voice hadn’t been particularly loud, but it rang out with such calm authority that it cut through the room and commanded instant silence. When all eyes were on her, Narcissa continued speaking. “I’m glad you’ve all been having fun, but Aunt Walburga is here and it is time to get cleaned up for dinner.” She gestured to the house elf to her left. “Tizzy here shall help you with anything that you might need to look presentable. Harry, if you’ll please come with me and Tidal.”
Harry nodded and dutifully followed her out into the hallway, then over to his room.
“Since I know you were raised by muggles,” she started explaining to him, “I’m certain that you won’t have any proper dress robes. So, I hope you won’t mind borrowing a pair of Draco’s. You’re a bit smaller than him, so these are a few years old, but I promise they’re in good condition. If you need any adjustments, Tidal will be happy to do so for you.” She gestured to the elf who was holding a few garments over his shoulder.
“Now,” she continued. “My Aunt Walburga is here. She’s a very traditional witch, and not particularly kind or patient. Most of the other children know her very well and, I’m sure, will have no problem letting you know that. I have warned her that you will be here and that she should be sensitive of that, but… She doesn’t take kindly to advice on the best of days and- well let’s just say she’s in a bit of a mood right now. The best way to avoid any of her wrath or disagreeable temperament is to maintain your best, most polite behavior. If anything should confuse you, or you’re not sure how you should best respond, look to Draco or Millicent. They’re very good examples, and are both Aunt Wally’s favorites.”
Harry nodded as he took in the information, already growing nervous just hearing about the woman.
Dinner itself was a rather awkward affair. Fortunately for Harry, he didn't have to interact with Aunt Walburga much. He gave her the required pleasantries, then was sat far away from her and was saved further interaction.
She hadn't seemed particularly mean during dinner, but Harry had spent enough time around the Dursleys to know how easy it is to pretend like you aren't unpleasant when in the proper company.
The adults at the table all seemed to be overcome with a layer of discomfort. If Harry had to guess, they'd all been having a none too pleasant conversation beforehand, and the uncomfortable atmosphere was lingering around.
While he ate in near silence between Hermione and Astoria, he couldn't help but notice that the adults seemed to all be wearing matching bracelets on their left wrists. Between the main course and dessert, the silence lifted for a moment while everyone commented on how delicious the new course looked. Harry took the opportunity to nudge Hermione and ask about the bracelets.
"I noticed them too," she whispered back. "But I've never seen them before. I wonder what the different colors mean."
"Colors?" Harry had seen the bracelets and they were silver chains with a thin hexagon plate. The borders of the plates were silver with an intricate design and the space in the middle was filled with a deep red color. "Aren't they all the same?" he asked.
Hermione shook her head. "No, look." She nodded with her head towards the head of the table. "Narcissa's and Aunt Walburga's are blue and Lucius' is purple."
Now that she mentioned it, Harry did see that theirs were the only ones that were different. He hadn’t the slightest idea of what they could have meant. Perhaps they were just some new fashion statement? Before he had the chance to ask Hermione, the room returned to silence as everyone tucked into their desserts and his opportunity passed.
After dinner, the children were ushered into the retiring room with the adults. Based on the look on Draco and Millicent’s faces, this was unusual.
Harry tried to stick by Draco and Hermione, so the three of them wound up sat together in a settee near the window. Before the window was a long table that was covered in identical velvet boxes. A good number of them were open and empty, while the rest remained sealed shut. It didn’t take much thought for Harry to realize that the bracelets the adults were wearing must have come from them.
After a few minutes of small talk while everyone settled in around the room, Lucius and Narcissa stood in front of the long table. Lucius cleared his throat as he prepared to address the crowd. In an instant, all eyes were on him.
“Alright, everyone,” he began. “Earlier, we discussed whether or not to endow our… Trinkets upon our children.” The way he hesitated then put emphasis on the word trinkets implied that there was clearly something more special about them than just being ordinary pieces of jewelry. “I know that there was a bit of dissent in regards to who shall and shall not receive them. I trust that we’ve had enough time to make up our minds about that.”
A rather pug-faced man coughed politely into his fist before speaking up. “I think,” he began, “that, perhaps, it should be up to the children themselves whether or not they would like a… Trinket.”
“I think that’s a great idea, Mr. Parkinson,” said a woman with a slight Italian accent. Harry hadn’t noticed before, but the bracelet around her wrist was a light green. The woman was absolutely gorgeous, with dark skin contrasted against vivid emerald eyes. Her light brown hair coiled around her head like a cloud of ringlet curls, pouring down her back and over her shoulders. She looked exotic and enticing. Harry didn’t think there could be a single other person on the planet as beautiful as she.
“I think they are old enough to decide if they’d rather not know,” she continued. Even her voice was captivating. She glanced over to Blaise who was standing beside where she was seated. So close together that way, the resemblance was striking.
“Understandable,” Narcissa spoke up, drawing Harry’s attention back to the front of the room. “In that case, Draco?” She gestured for her son to join her and kneeled beside him so they could be nearly eye to eye. She lifted a velvet box from the table and handed it to him. “Inside this box,” she explained to him, loud enough that everyone in the room could hear. “There is a bracelet, like mine.” She twisted her wrist a bit to draw attention to it, then continued. “If you agree to wear this Trinket, it can never be removed.
“It’s charmed so that a drop of your blood will change its color. The color it turns will correspond to how much magic you have in your blood. It will determine whether you are a pureblood or not.”
Draco frowned, looking a bit frightened. “I thought I was a pureblood,” he disputed. “I should be a pureblood because you are, and father is. That’s how it works, isn’t it?”
“Actually, it is not,” Mr. Malfoy cut in. “It was your friend Ms. Granger who alerted me of this. Do you recall the day we met her in Diagon Alley?”
At this, Hermione went stiff, trying not to fidget under the stare of all the eyes in the room now. Harry remembered their conversation very well. She had been telling Draco the very same thing that day.
“She told me of the books that alerted her of this, so I took it upon myself to study them and came to the very same conclusion. All people have magical blood. What determines your status as muggle, wizard, or otherwise is how much you have exactly. Everyone here today has agreed to don the Trinkets, and I must admit. We were all very shocked to learn the results.”
“Everyone in this room has considered themselves a pureblood,” Narcissa joined in. “They have based their entire lives around the premise of having only magical blood. However, these bracelets indicate otherwise.”
“In fact,” Mr. Malfoy continued. “My research has led us to the conclusion that there are no humans at all with purely magical blood. We’ve discussed all of this with our guests here today, and we all know where we truly stand. Now, it is merely a matter of where our children stand.”
“But…” Draco looked more frightened than ever, but he was putting on a brave face for the audience. “What does that mean if we’re not actually purebloods? Everything is going to have to be different now, isn’t it?”
From her perch across the room, Aunt Walburga spoke up. Her voice was deep and slow, slightly hoarse from her old age. She started off with an annoyed sigh that cracked in the middle. “Of course it is, child,” she answered dismissively. “Everything we ever knew to be, has just been proven wrong. Of course everything is going to change. But only the people in this room know about it. So we get to decide how it’s going to change. We get to decide what it’s going to mean, not just to us, but to society as a whole. Everything may be different, but ultimately, we are still the ones in control.”
Draco swallowed very hard, then turned back to his mother.
“Will you take the trinket we wish to bestow upon you?” Narcissa asked with a surprising sense of formality. Draco glanced up at his father, but the elder Malfoy’s face was reserved and impassive. Finally, he nodded and opened the velvet case.
Narcissa smiled at him as she removed the bracelet and set the empty box near the others on the table. She fastened it around his left wrist, then pulled a needle out of the piece of chain that connected to the wide hexagonal plate at the top. She pricked his finger with the needle, moving quickly so that the first drop of blood to fall, landed on the center of the plate. Then she replaced the needle from where she got it. When she did, the bracelet made a low hissing sound as it spelled into place.
The place on the plate where the blood landed began to glow a bright white color. The white drop shifted in shape until it resembled a small 70. Then the light faded out, leaving the number lightly engraved into the metal, nearly imperceptible even from how close Harry was sitting. After another second, the silver of the plate filled in with a vibrant purple that matched the Trinket Mr. Malfoy wore.
Both of the parents smiled in satisfaction, but Draco looked at his new Trinket curiously, though less frightened now. “What do the different colors mean?” he asked.
“Yellow is for muggles, who only have up to thirty five percent magic in their blood. Orange is for a squib who has up to forty five percent. Ordinary wizards—we’ve decided to call them redbloods—have up to sixty five percent magical blood. Their trinkets are red. Purebloods are purple. A pureblood has as much as eighty percent magical blood.”
“Why are they called purebloods if their blood isn’t pure?” Draco cut in.
“It’s like your father said,” Narcissa replied. “No human can have one hundred percent magical blood. Anyone that does, can no longer claim to be human.” That made sense enough.
“Then, what does blue mean?” Draco asked, eyeing his mother’s Trinket. “Or green?” He must have seen Mrs. Zabini’s as well.
“That’s a bit complicated,” Narcissa looked over her shoulder, then gestured to the austere looking man in all black that was sitting on the other side of Mr. Malfoy. “Perhaps Severus could explain better. He helped make the potion that determined where the number lines lay.”
Earlier, Draco had pointed out that Severus Snape was his godfather. The one who was meant to be their potions master at Hogwarts. He seemed as severe as his name would suggest, and Harry couldn’t help but notice that the man had been glaring at him earlier, until he caught his eye. The he proceeded to spend the rest of the night pointedly ignoring Harry’s existence.
“As I perfected the potion we infused into the trinkets,” Severus revealed in a deep, but monotonous voice. “I came across a clear distinction between eighty percent magical blood and eighty one. With a bit more research, Lucius was able to determine that the distinction came from a difference in the strength of one’s magic.
“For purebloods and redbloods, the strength of one’s magic is determined by a number of things, and varies greatly from person to person regardless of blood status or parentage. However, for anyone who’s magical blood exceeds eighty percent, their magic appears to be innately stronger than those of lesser magical blood. We have decided to call these rare people truebloods.
“It is an advantage that they are born with. It can be cultivated into great power. Or, if left alone, it can diminish and leave the trueblood with equal strength to their peers. However, it is only these people who can ever have such strong magic. By any natural means, anyways. If one’s magical strength is gained in any other way, it will have no effect on the colors displayed.”
“There is another distinction,” Mr. Malfoy added on. “There are wizards with this natural strength. Their Trinkets are blue for truebloods with eighty-one to ninety-five percent magical blood. However, there are also those whose power comes from an extra boost of magical blood. Those with ninety six to ninety nine percent magical blood are considered creature-bloods. Their extra magic comes inherited from any non-human species that has been bred into their bloodline. Their Trinkets are green.”
Draco examined the purple trinket on his wrist and gave it a shy smile before looking up at his mother. “So, that means I’m a pureblood then?” Narcissa nodded at him, smiling proudly. “Like Father?” Mr. Malfoy smiled at his son as well, eyes just barely sparkling with pride. “And mother, you’re a trueblood?” Narcissa nodded again.
“Of course,” Aunt Walburga butt in, haughtily. “Only the best from the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.” She crossed her arms in boredom, doing it the opposite of the way that came naturally to her, so that she could none too subtly show off her own blue trinket.
Narcissa stood again, kissing Draco on the cheek before ushering him back to his seat beside Harry. “Now,” she began again. “Any older siblings not in attendance today shall return another time if they would like to be bestowed a trinket. But for today, if anyone else wants one, please come and form a line here.”
She gestured to the empty space beside Severus’ seat, and the children scrambled forward. Pansy threw all caution to the wind and took off at nearly a run to be sure she made it to the front first. One by one, all the children who’d been in the room with Harry and Draco got their trinkets.
Unsurprisingly, they were nearly all red. Astoria was shocked to discover that hers was purple, despite neither of her parents nor her elder sister having been pureblood. Blaise was a creature-blood, but seeing his mother’s green trinket, that was no surprise. Millicent was also a pureblood and when she returned to her parents’ side to show them, they showered her in proud kisses and hugs.
Hermione was nearly the last to get her trinket and when the plate turned purple, she froze for a moment, staring at it utterly gob smacked. Even when Theodore pushed her aside to get his trinket next, she couldn’t keep the stunned expression off her face.
Harry was the absolute last to get is trinket. He had been internally arguing with himself. He couldn’t set aside his irrational fear that his trinket would turn out yellow or orange. Of course that made no sense. He got his Hogwarts letter. He’d seen his wand shoot a rainbow of colors that day in Diagon Alley. There was no way he was a squib or a poor lost muggle. His trinket was going to be red and he knew it.
Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that it wouldn’t be. He couldn’t really be magic. The Dursleys had made it plain and clear to him that he wasn’t special. He didn’t belong here with all the purebloods—well, and redbloods—who’d been raised in magical society. He didn’t fit.
He was the last person in the room without a trinket on his arm, and now all eyes were on him. Narcissa lifted a velvet box and offered it to him with a kind smile. With a deep breath and a thick swallow, Harry approached her and opened the box. It only took her a second to remove the trinket and affix it around his wrist. The prick to his finger hurt more than he thought it would, but in no time at all, the needle had been returned to its home and the blood spatter glowed white, forming into the number 80. When the white faded away, the thin silver plate turned a rich purple and Harry gasped in surprise.
He was a pureblood.