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Chapter Text

Draco had seen maps. His family’s large library housed many books and maps that showed different eras of the wizarding world. They had a large one — occupying one wall — that changed as continents and other wizarding communities emerged. 

Yet, Draco never saw a place called the Black Isles. 

The smell of salt filled his nostrils. Strong sea winds blew his tied hair. He peeked right, seeing the sea stretch in front of him. The motorboat moved with a loud hum. His mother, Narcissa Malfoy, sat next to him on the small wooden bench while clutching a green parasol. 

His Maman had urged him and his mother to visit her friend, saying that she would give them information about their greatest desires. Draco didn’t think he had any, his mother as well, but later on, it changed when Maman said this visit could bring some closure. 

After the first paper crane arrived at the manor, a second one was sent a week after, landing on Draco’s nightstand. It had specific instructions on how to reach the Black Isles. First, they had to apparate to Pink Lotus Town, a small Chinese town hidden behind a temple, then they had to take a carriage ride and proceed to Copper Bridge, a tall bridge that stood in the sky before reaching another small town called Mini Manila. There, they had to ride a small carriage called kalesa before reaching the entrance of a dark forest. They would find an old lady standing at the entrance of the forest who would provide them a portkey that would take them to the Tu Empire (another area that did not appear on the map). From there, they would board another carriage that would take them from Immigrant City through the magic forest and into three other kingdoms before reaching the edge of the empire, where Lawa City was located. They could take a palm boat or, if they caught the returning group, a ferry boat that would take them to the island.

It took them three weeks to reach the edge of the empire. Finding a boat to take them was harder. It seemed that no one had ever heard of the Black Isles. It was a miracle that a fisherman overheard them and offered a ride. Apparently, the Black Isles were an elusive territory that only revealed itself to people it believed deserved to know its existence or those who were born or brought into the isle. 

“Look, dear.” Narcissa pointed at the large clouds in front of them. Draco squinted his silver eyes. Behind the clouds was a black silhouette of a mountain. At the very top, he could faintly make out the silhouette of a castle.

“We’re close to shore.” The fisherman grunted, increasing the speed of the boat.

Draco got up, stepping out of the shade and onto the deck. His silver eyes widened as the clouds parted at the center, slowly revealing the isle. Palm boats lined the shore, and there were several docks where ferries were anchored. People dressed in loose clothing moved across the shore. Some carried fishing gear while others had large baskets balanced on top of their heads. 

“Don’t forget to offer an offering to the Queen before you leave.” The fisherman grunted, helping Narssica off the boat as they docked. “If you don’t want to be cursed, that is.”

Draco watched as the fisherman moved to the back of the boat, taking their luggage before dropping it at their feet. He then took a basket full of fresh fruit. 

“Excuse me, sir, do you know where the Black Isle Castle is?” Narcissa asked, picking up their shared luggage. 

The man’s face twisted in displeasure before turning into a grimace. “It’s in the inner city. You’re at the shore right now. Just walk straight, no turns. You’d pass two territories separated by the dirt road. That’s the outer city. Continue straight until you reach a tall brick wall. Enter from there, and you’ve reached the inner city. Better be careful there. Heard there’s plenty of snakes and foxes in that place. You better ask people there where the Black Isle Castle is. ”

“Are there no carriages?” Draco asked, taking the luggage, but Narcissa stopped him and took out her wand. With a flick, the luggage started floating. 

The man’s face twisted. “Better not use that magic of yours,” he muttered as he carried the basket of fruits. “People are still wary of Curse Breakers.”

Draco’s brows met, “Curse Breakers?”

The man opened his mouth to reply, but someone called for him. Turning around, they found a woman waving at a distance. The man turned back to them. “Just remember to do an offering before you leave.”

The man then bowed before turning and walking away. That left Draco and his mother wondering if they should follow his words. The man was weird, so were the rest of the people on the shore. The sun was still high in the sky, yet people were packing up, some were carrying baskets full of fish, expensive cloth, or fruits and vegetables and were heading to a cave opening that could be seen from where they stood.

That struck Draco odd because it was like they were offering something to a god.

“We'd better go, Draco,” his mother urged, taking the luggage and keeping her wand. A guarded expression was on her face. “Maman said it was best we don’t spend the night here.”

As it turned out, the walk from the shore to the outer city took less than an hour. They had passed the two territories, separated by a dirt road, as the man said. Draco found it odd that only a single color was seen on each side. The left was filled with the color red, and the right was filled with the color blue. The two territories seemed to be feuding. 

The inner city was different. It was bustling with street activity. Red, brown, golden yellow, and black colors the streets. Red lanterns hung from the windows and houses. Large carved signs hung on the roof of establishments. People were dressed in colorful ankle-length robes, but it was different from wizarding robes. Instead, theirs had cross jackets that were tied in thin or thick ribbons. Their robes had multiple layers, and they kept their hair long or in tight buns. 

Lively music filled the inner city. Draco thinks they had walked into a busy market as people in carts lined the side of the road selling pastries, meat buns, and candies. Some sold jewelry made of gold, silver, and rare gems. Even makeup, that were sold in round copper containers, was proudly displayed on the street. 

“Look, mother,” Draco pointed at a cart. Inside brown clay pots were radish-like plants with beady black eyes and a large single leaf sprouting from their heads. “I wonder what those are.”

“I don’t know, dear,” Narcissa muttered, looking around. The straight road they had followed had branched out into smaller, twisting roads that led to countless alleyways. At some point earlier, they had reached a fighting arena. 

“What’s that shop?” Draco asked, looking at a large establishment with a glowing white flower signage. Serene music and laughter came from inside. Red curtains covered the pentagon-shaped windows that were carved on the wall. 

“Better not go there,” a woman, hunched with old age, said. Her eyes didn’t look open, but Draco could tell she was staring at her. “It’s for the ghost brides. Unless you want to be cursed by your partner, better stay away.”

Draco suddenly felt someone grab his shoulder, and before he knew it, he was shoved back, stumbling on his feet as his mother stood between him and the old woman. His mother narrowed her eyes. 

“We were just looking around,” his mother said, voice stern, “We’re looking for a castle.”

“There’s only one castle on this island.” The woman replied, “Head North. No turns. You’ll reach the foot of a mountain. If what you’re searching for is true, someone should be waiting for you.”

Draco peeked from behind his mother. “What do you — ”

But the woman turned away, walking surprisingly fast before she disappeared behind a moving cart. Something unsettled grew in his gut at her disappearance.

Finding the foot of the mountain took some time, but friendlier-looking citizens were happy to point in the direction of the mountain. As it turned out, after reaching the center of the island, which was marked by a large statue of a woman dressed in robes with snakes on the train presenting a sword, a large black brick road would lead them to the foot of the mountain. 

“Snake and Dragon Peak.” Draco read the worn-out signage. He took a step back. There weren’t any stairs that led to the top and it didn’t look like anyone was inhabiting the top. “Maybe we should — ”

“Draco look,” his mother pointed at a small fox that slowly approached them. “It has seven tails.”

Indeed, it had. The fox had red fur with a white stomach. Each of its seven tails was covered with red fur that lightened as it reached the tips, the tips being white. On its forehead was a lotus silhouette in white, but on other angles it looked like a snake's head. It had bright green eyes that were defined by black strokes outlined by back. Its snout was long and its nose black. It walked down the mountain gracefully before stopping. It bore its green eyes into his before turning around and starting to walk up the mountain.

“I think it wants us to follow it,” Draco muttered, walking after the fox. His mother hesitated but soon followed. They walked up the mountain in silence. 

As they ascended, the air on the mountain had grown cold and suffocating. Fog soon started to appear. The mountain was bare of any other lifeforms. No animals or plants. Only green grass that was perfectly maintained. 

“Welcome, visitors.” At the top of the mountain, in front of a tall bamboo gate with a curved arc, was a girl, probably not older than 15. She was dressed in the same robes as those in the inner city, but hers looked more refined. Dragon scales were embroidered in the sleeves of her coat. Her black hair was held up by a large hair stick that had a dragon’s head. “I am a student of The Lady. She has been expecting you.”

A small elevated bamboo house stood behind the gate, which was surrounded by tall bamboo that swayed with the wind.

The fox stepped toward the girl, rubbing its head against her body before heading inside the house.

“Please follow the fox to meet The Lady,” the girl said, gesturing to the fox that waited on the ladder step of the house. “Please follow me, miss. I might have the answers to what you seek.” She gestured to Narcissa.

“Whatever you do, Draco, be careful,” his mother whispered before following the girl to the side of the house. The girl smiled widely as she led the way. 

Draco followed the fox inside the small house. But it wasn’t a small house. The inside extended to a large, dark hallway. Green wallpaper lined the walls, and several bamboo plants in large pots were placed on either side of the doors. At the end of the hallway was a room covered by a red tassel. A bell chimed as he pushed away the tassels and stepped inside.

Heavy smoke filled the room. Earthy scents filled the room. The room was full of trinkets, mostly ink pots, scrolls, books held together by twine, and discarded brushes littered the floor. The room was lit by candles and the large octagon-shaped window on the right wall. Outside, Draco could see the inner city. 

“Welcome, Draco Malfoy.” A low and cold voice greeted.

Draco flinched, turning to the center of the room where a small circular platform was placed. The platform was cut in half by a red curtain held up by two poles. On the exposed side of the platform was a table with a black teapot and a pillow. 

“Have a seat.”

Draco quickly followed, approaching the platform before stepping on it and sitting cross-legged on the pillow. From there, he could faintly make out the silhouette of a woman. He guessed she wore similar robes to the girl, but she had her hair down and wore a small crown instead of a hair stick. 

“Why did you call me here? Maman says you’re her friend.” Draco immediately asked, hands clenched between his legs, eyes downcast.

“Serve us tea, Draco.”

Draco looked up and saw two teacups next to the teacup. These teacups had no handles and were black. He quickly poured the pot, watching green liquid pour out. He took one cup, placing it in front of the curtain. 

“Why do you cover yourself?”

“Only those who are worthy are able to know my identity.”

A foreboding feeling settled in Draco’s gut. His insides were clawing in him, telling him to get away from her, but something was making him stay. A heavy force weighed him down on the platform. 

“What do you see in your cup, Draco?”

Draco looked down. It was hard to see in a black cup, but soon, light green foam started to appear and dance in the liquid. 

“What does it mean? The foam?” He peeked into her cup, seeing none. “Your cup has none.”

“Blood is thicker than water, Draco. It seems the truth is dancing between fate and reality.” The woman hummed. A hand emerged from underneath the curtain. Long, slender fingers gripped the cup before it was slowly pulled behind the curtain. “Your grandmother and I are acquaintances. I do her fortune telling. She defied my odds, until she didn’t.”

Draco frowns, “What do you mean?”

“I told her she would die in a stroke of light. ”

Draco couldn’t believe that. His maman died in a fire. She was burned alive. “She was burned alive.”

“Are you sure?” Draco could feel her lift a brow. “No truth ever comes in death. Even those who have peacefully died in their sleep. If you want, I can read to you. Your grandmother, after all, as me to do so. She begged, to be exact.”

Draco couldn’t believe it. His maman is begging someone. “Why?”

“Do you feel anything weird in your body, Draco? Any abnormalities?”

Draco shook his head. 

“I see. For good measure, avoid going near anything or anyone suing time artifacts.” A suspenseful silence fell until the loud clank of the cup hitting the table broke it. “Time is your own enemy.”

“How can I stay safe?” Draco knew time turners existed. Interacting with it was possible despite it being a heavily monitored artifact by the ministry. 

“Nothing can be done.”

“I don’t believe you.” Draco muttered, frowning. “Tell me.”

“You have the same stubbornness as your grandmother.” The woman sighed from behind the curtain. “Don’t make the same mistake, that’s all I’m asking you. Never seek immortality.”

Draco was slumped. He didn’t think he’d need to seek immortality. He already had Voldemort as a bad example. He didn’t need any more. 

“Take a cookie, Draco.” The woman’s arm extended to the side. Following, he soon found a bowl of boat-shaped cookies. Picking one up, he found it surprisingly light and hollow. “Break it and read it.”

Draco pressed both thumbs against the cookie and found a small piece of paper inside. Taking it, it read: 

Beware of the smile around you — death follows those who flee

“What does it mean?”

“Look at the crumbs.”

Draco looked down at the table. The crumble had fallen and taken the odd shape of a — 

“A rat?”

“Be careful of rats for this year, Draco. You are dismissed.”

“Wait — ” Draco crumpled the paper before pocketing it. He hastily stood up and reached over the curtain. With a strong tug, he pulled the curtain to the side and found no one at the opposite end. 

“Wear this at all times. It drives away the cloaked shadows.”

A loud thud made him look down, and he found a jade pendant. It was carved into the paw of an animal. A big heart-shaped pad with three small pads. It hung from a red string. 

Draco picked up the pendant, slipping it on. The room had gone cold, as if someone had turned down the heating. Slowly, the candles started to dim. Draco got off the platform, walking to the door backwards. The room grew dimmer and dimmer as he neared the door. Then suddenly, as quickly as it appeared, glowing green eyes started back at him from a dark corner of the room before it disappeared. He quickly exited the room and the house. 

He found his mother standing in front of the house, visibly distressed. She met him halfway. 

“Draco,” she grabbed him by his wrist, “Let’s go.”

Going down the hill and out of the inner city and to the shore was faster. His mother was quick to find a ferry that would take them to the mainland, a wizarding community far from the empire. They were quick to board, sitting at the front. Before the sun could set, the ferry soon roared to life before it departed the mysterious island. Draco looked behind him. The clouds slowly covered the island before it disappeared.

He looked back and started fiddling with his pendant. What did she mean by all of it?

“How rude.”

Gazing out of the large circular window, a girl dressed in yellow robes glared at the departing ferry. Her arms were tucked in the sleeves of her cloak. Her black hair flowed freely behind her. A discarded dragon hair stick was tipped on the edge of the windowsill. 

“Don’t mind them.” A woman sharing the same look as the girl replied. She sat on a small platform with a low table in front of her. Her brush dipped in black ink danced on the scroll slowly, dragging each careful stroke. 

The woman had her eyes close as she wrote.

“They didn’t even bother leaving an offering. An incense would be fine.” The girl grumbled, turning away from the window to lean against the windowsill. “What do you even see in him?”

“We will see, Lilia.” The woman opened her eyes, revealing forest green orbs. On her red lips was a pleased smile. 

Soft chiming filled the room as a large fox appeared, jumping in. The large white for with red on its nose, snout, and the ends of its nine tails made its way to the woman. It nuzzled its head against her open palm.

“Watch over him, my dear.” The woman kissed the top of her head a red lotus mark appeared. She gently pushed it with her hand. The fox huffed but complied, glowing faint red before its body slowly turned transparent. It walked up to the window. 

The girl, Lilia, scowled, “What now?”

The fox huffed before it leaped out, walking into the sky. As it walked further and further away from the window, its body started to fade until only red and white dots were left.

Lilia turned to the woman. “You do realize that fate already has something planned for him.”

“Those sisters are never wrong,” The woman hummed. Suddenly, she placed her brush down, splattering ink onto her scroll. “But if the three brothers evaded death, maybe our protagonist could change as well.”

Chapter Text

A week had passed since Draco and Narcissa visited the Black Isle. Nothing had changed in Malfoy Manor despite their three-week absence. Lucius had avoided any possible spats with some ministry officials and Cornelius Fudge; Abraxas was still in a portrait, although he now resided in a portrait in the master’s office, which Lucius was occupying; Maman was running the household eith the help of the elves, and according to Pont, has kept close correspondence with Dumbledore.

“Morning mail, sirs and madams,” Pint and Pont entered the dining room, rolling a cart full of letters. They went around the table, handing out different stacks held together by twine. “The Daily Prophet for Master Lucius and Master Abraxas,” Pont handed the newspaper to Lucius.

“Hurry up with letters and read the news to me,” Abraxas said from the portrait in their dining room. He sat with Maman. 

“Fashion catalog for Miss Narssica,” Pint placed a stack next to Narcissa’s plate. “Oh, and Madam Malkin queries if you would like to have a fitting on the 6th.”

Narcissa hummed from behind her teacup. “Tell her I will. What is her collection again?”

“Flora and Fonna, miss.” Pint answered before leaving. He walked over to Wimpy, who stood next to the dining room portrait. “Gringotts bank statements.”

Abraxas raised a brow, “Did you spend a million galleons again?”

Maman ignored him, “Nonsense. I’m a magical portrait like you, dear.”

“And a letter and oof!” Pont choked, raising a large box with shaky arms. “I suggest you open this outside, young master.”

“What’s that, Draco?” Narcissa asked, noticing the box shaking. She could swear that growling came from inside it. 

“A letter from Rolf.” Draco took the letter opener from Pont. He smiled. 

Rolf was helping his grandfather with his magical beasts. The man had a fascinating suitcase that had an undetectable extension charm inside. It was like a zoo inside the suitcase. There are a lot of creatures, such as Frank the Thunderbird, a Demiguise, and a Billywig. The baby nifflers his grandfather wrote him about during his time at Hogwarts were finally there. Three in one litter, and they loved to cause trouble. Apparently, one of them only likes gold rather than the usual shiny things that it would be attracted to. His father wasn’t happy that he was spending more time with magical beasts than learning how to do a desk job, but his grandfather was quick to defend him. He doesn’t think —

“I’m starting to worry about that smile,” Lucius muttered from behind his cup of tea. He eyed Draco, who was immersed in reading the letter, to notice his wide and bright smile.

Narcissa furrowed her brows, turning to him. “Don’t tell me you have a problem with him liking a boy.”

“I don’t care if he likes a giant. I just don’t like that Scamander boy.”

“You met him once, Lucius.”

“It was enough for me to judge.” Lucius huffed. 

Draco had introduced Rolf Scamander to them when he got off the Express. The older boy had introduced him, and Lucius swore he wasn’t the boy’s biggest fan. How could he when his grandfather was Newt Scamander, his mother's greatest enemy! And he hated his book, too. He wasn’t going to use magical beasts if he worked in the ministry. 

He picked up the Daily Prophet. Better distract himself before he breaks another wine bottle and scares the peacocks. He read the front page, eyes bulging, “Sirius Black has escaped — ”

Clank!

Everyone turned to Narcissa, who had dropped her knife on the table. Her complexion had gone pale. Her fists clench tightly on the table. 

“Narcissa, isn’t Sirius your cousin?” Abraxas asked.

Maman hummed, “I remembered Walburga wanting a son for a firstborn.”

“Isn’t she that nasty friend of yours? The blood purist.”

“We’re all blood purists, dear.”

“She took it to the extreme. Married her cousin.”

“You make it sound like Orion wasn’t your friend.”

“I only have one cousin.” Narcissa broke their barter, eyes dull. “And that’s — ”

“Sir, please, no!”

Several elves jittered into the dining room, surrounding Cornelius Fudge, who had abruptly burst open the double doors. The elves pleaded with him to return to the waiting room. Maman gestured for her and Abraxas to leave. In quick motions, the dining table portrait was empty.

“Lucius,” Fudge greeted, taking the empty seat next to Draco. Still, the elves pleaded for him to leave. “Narcissa, Draco. Have you read of the dreadful news?”

“Unfortunately, we had,” Lucius muttered, folding the Daily Prophet before handing it to Pont. “What brings you here, Minister?”

Fudge motioned for his teacup to be filled. “I’m here to check if Sirius Black is here.”

“What?!” Narcissa slammed her fists against the table, shaking it. She glared at Fudge, blue eyes growing cold. She seethed, “What makes you think Sirius is here?”

Fudge cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable under the heavy gaze. “The ministry checked the records, and it showed you and Sirius Black are cousins. You’re family — uck!” Fudge ducks, narrowly missing the butter knife sent his way. He watched as it pierced the wall. 

“Out,” Narcissa growled, body shaking. She suddenly stood up, “Out! Throw him out! How dare he say ridiculous claims! I WOULD NEVER WELCOME SIRIUS BLACK INTO MY HOUSE!”

“It’s all formalities, Narcissa,” Fudge tried to placate, “We’re making sure we’ve searched any possible place and people Black could run to. Nothing against you. Any of you.”

Narcissa scoffed, “I only have one cousin, Minister, like how I have only one sister. She’s still locked up, isn’t she?” She let out a pained laugh, “You really think you can find Sirius Black? You couldn’t even find Regulus.”

“Now, that’s — ”

“Shut up! The ministry has disappointed me again!” Narcissa pushed back her chair before storming out of the room. The elves had opened the door and flinched when it was slammed shut. 

Lucius sighed in his seat, rubbing his right temple. “Have you really not found the body? Not even a limb? A head?”

Fudge shook his head. “Not even a finger. Lucius,” he pursed his lips, “I think it’s time that your wife accepts that… Regulus Black is dead… with or without a body.”

This made Lucius sigh more. Then remembered, “Draco, go to your room. The adults have to discuss a few things.”

Draco obediently stood up and left the room. He had collected the elves that surrounded Fudge and dismissed them to return to their original tasks. He wandered the walls.

He had never seen his mother that distressed. Even if she was in a pinch, she always held her composure. He had heard whispers that if his mother had been born male, she could have successfully run the Black family. The Black Family.

“Oh, young master!” Wimpy greeted as they crossed paths. “Lady Effimia has called the young master to her office. ”

Effimia Grindelwald Malfoy neé Rosier’s office was different from the usual Malfoy offices that were scattered in their manor. Instead of dark hues of green and black that decorated the walls and furniture, Maman’s office was covered in soft shades of pink, red, and gold. The room always smelled like freshly bloomed roses. White curtains with roses that were made with crochet thread were always pulled back by gold curtain tassels. Gold furniture with pink cushions accented the room, and various trinkets, usually snake-shaped, lined the bookshelves. Floor-length windows spanned the wall behind the desk. The room was filled with gold-framed portraits of scenery. 

Draco entered, taking in the strong scent of roses. Wimpy had lit the rose-shaped chandelier overhead, casting a warm glow in the room. 

He took a seat on a cushioned armchair in front of his Maman’s portrait.

“Maman,” Draco greeted his grandmother, who was in a portrait that mirrored her desk in front of the window. “I have a question.”

“What is it, dear?” Maman had her silver eyes glued on the stack of papers in her hands. 

“Why does my mother hate Sirius Black?”

He watched as the papers in his Maman’s hands slipped and fell onto the desk. She looked up, silver eyes meeting his own. 

“Well…” She pursed her lips, leaning into her seat, arms crossed, “I’ve heard he was never one to follow family tradition.”

“The Blacks have family traditions?”

“They marry within themselves like the Gaunts.” Maman quickly supplied, “That’s one thing. Sirius was a lively child, as I’ve been told.”

“By who?”

“Dumbledore.”

“Maman!”

“I know,” Maman sighed, “But it’s not just that. Narcissa is the youngest in her family. It took some time before Walburga and Orion had their own kids. By the time your mother was 6 or 7, Sirius was born, and I’m guessing she was one to coddle him.”

“How do you know this?”

“Abraxas,” She said bluntly, “Your grandfather knows more of them than me. I died first.”

“Then Regulus Black?”

“I know nothing of him, dear.” Maman’s silver eyes had grown soft. “You should ask your mother.”

“You know something.” Draco felt the same way when The Lady refused to tell him how to survive. He never told his Maman about it. She never asked. “Why won’t you tell me?”

Maman frowned, “Draco — ”

A knock interrupted them, and Wimpy peeked her head inside. “Letter for the young master. From Professor McGonagall.”

“Bring it in, Wimpy,” Draco ordered softly.

Wimpy shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s with your mother, young master.”

Draco sighed, getting up. He slowly turned around, walking to the door. He had many questions, but he knew everyone would avoid it. His mother, probably too deep in grief, would ignore him, his Maman would keep it to herself out of respect for his mother, and his father would do the same. He wasn’t going to ask his grandfather. The old man usually followed his Maman like a fool.

“And Draco,” his Maman’s voice stopped him, “Trust your family. After all, blood can be thicker than water.”

As it turned out, the letter McGonagall sent was a permission slip. It needed to be signed if he wanted to go to Hogsmeade. He almost forgot about that. 

Draco sighed, entering his room. It was weird to be back. Not in a sense that he was homesick or something. It was weird to see his room void of any trace of Voldemort. No books about magical repair or cursed jewelry. It was just his childhood room: a four-poster bed with a silver frame and emerald green silk bed sheets and pillows; his childhood desk arranged by the elves; his closet, which he once thought had monsters; and his balcony that overlooked the rose maze garden and sometimes his father’s pet peacocks.

Draco lay awake on his bed. His family had turned in earlier that night. His mother had skipped dinner, and his grandparents were absent, something about settling bank statements. His father had no appetite and left seconds after the food was served, wishing a brief good night before leaving. That left Draco alone in a cold dining room.

He thought he’d never experience that ever again.

Draco gripped his pillow, biting his lower lip to stop his tears. He was no longer a child, for Merlin’s sake! He was 18 in a 12-year-old body. He was old. Older kids didn’t cry. 

But his heart throbbed. 

Would things return to the way it was in the past? Would he still be controlled by Voldemort in come sixth year? Would Potter still strike him? Would he be condemned for the same crimes in the past?

Draco didn’t realize it until he felt something wet on his pillow. Shifting slightly, Draco saw a wet patch. “Am I crying?” He touched his cheeks, feeling them wet. “Hah…why?” Tears continued to fall, growing heavier, “Why?” He sobbed, covering his eyes with the palm of his hand. “Why?”

He was scared.

He didn’t want to go back to the past. He thought he could run away from it, but why was fate pulling the same tricks as it did in the past? Was he tied to those mistakes forever?

Draco looked up, silver eyes shining in tears. “Why — ” then he saw it, a small paper crane on his balcony’s railing. Timidly, he got out of bed and threw open the balcony doors. The cold night wind slapped his face. The crane fluttered into life before fluttering towards him and landing on his open palm.

Carefully, Draco unfolded it, “Three brothers escaped death; a child can escape fate.” A tear drop fell on the paper, but it wasn’t because he was sad. No, it was because it gave him something.

If someone believed that he could change his fate, then that was enough for him.

Chapter Text

Another week had passed, and before Draco knew it, it was his birthday. His parents had halted their search for his Maman’s ring. Maman had also paused whatever she was busy with. His grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy, was helping around by ordering the elves and keeping him distracted.

“Happy birthday, Draco,” his mother greeted then kissed his cheek. His father was behind him, surprising him by ruffling his hair. “Thirteen, can you believe it?”

Abraxas hummed from the sitting room portrait (another painted copy of their actual sitting room). “I remembered when Lucius turned 13. A scrawny kid, if you ask me.”

Lucius glared at his father. “I believe our attention should be on the birthday boy.”

“Which is why,” Narcissa bent down to match his height, although she didn’t have to bend deep, given how he had grown a couple of inches. “We’re holding a small ball. Close family, friends, and your father’s workmates … for formalities.”

Draco nodded his head. He understood that each milestone wasn’t something they could keep to themselves. His family came from generations of power, and they needed to flaunt it. The rich and powerful stayed powerful if they showed they still were. His father may have been slightly disgraced for siding with Voldemort, but it wasn’t enough to erase the Malfoy influence. His mother, being a Black, had her own power and prestige. 

“Happy birthday, my little constellation.” Maman materialized next to his grandfather, smiling tiredly. Draco grew slightly worried. “I’m excited for your gift.”

His grandfather huffed, fixing his robes. “I can assure you I did better.” And that prompted his Maman to argue back. The couple started bickering, which his father had to mediate, but was quick to be silenced. 

Draco fought back a laugh when his father started to get sermoned by the senior Malfoys. Lucius stood in front of their portrait, mouth tightly shut, with his arms at his side. He stood straight after being nagged by his Maman.

“Leave the preparations to us, Draco.” Narcissa placed a hand on his back before gently escorting him out of the sitting room. “I believe some guests would be arriving early.”

Draco walked into the rose garden. It was a new addition to their property. It had replaced the tulip field that his Maman had planted during her time as the Malfoy matriarch. His mother wasn’t the biggest fan of tulips, but didn’t want to remove the one thing his father could associate with Maman. But surprisingly, the summer of his first year, Maman had asked his mother if she wanted to change the flowers in the garden. Apparently, Maman followed the orders of her mother-in-law when it came to the garden. Now that her mother-in-law was dead and she was alive, she thought it would be better to change things in the manor. 

His mother was quick to agree, and the two matriarchs spent the summer doing various renovations on the property. That included the rose garden and the new hedge maze. His mother had built a gazebo at the center for a quick rest stop. The peacock had a new enclosure that the elves were maintaining. Even the elves’ sleeping quarters were improved after the insistence of his Maman.

“Draco darling!”

Draco flinched, hearing the familiar high-pitched voice of — 

“Pansy?”

“Darling!” Pansy cheered, hugging him. Draco stared at her appearance. Her black hair, which she had grown to her shoulders in the second year, was now a short bob. Its ends touched her earlobes. She wore an emerald green dress with black lace. Dangling from her ears were silver earrings. 

“Merlin, Pansy, are you an athlete or something?” Theo huffed, coming to a stop. Beads of sweat were on his temples. He was dressed in cream colored robes. “You aren’t training for Quidditch, right?”

Draco pulled away from Pansy. The girl looked flawless despite having obviously run to the garden. No sweat in sight. In fact, Pansy looked too well-kept to be an athlete.

“I’m sure she’s just fast,” Draco said, slipping his arm between Pansy’s like they were kids.

“Oh, don’t tell me we’re playing wedding again.” Blaise took his time walking to them. He was dressed in dark blue robes. He rolled his eyes. “I’m not playing the officiant.”

Draco laughed. He had known his friends even before Hogwarts, but Pansy, Blaise, and Theo came first. He had met Pansy when he was 5 in a playdate his mother had joined with other pureblooded witches. Pansy was quick to latch onto him and prevented other kids, particularly the boys, from approaching. She’d swat them away with a toy broom. Theo was the son of his father’s friend. They had met at an important gala. Mr. Nott had introduced Theo to his father, boasting about his maturity, but Draco just saw a sandy blond-haired boy in robes that didn’t fit him right. Needless to say, once their fathers had left them, Draco was quick to point it out. Theo was not pleased and declared Draco to be his enemy. But their father’s many meetings, which they were dragged into, helped mellow the (one-sided) rivalry and turn it into friendship. And Blaise … Draco forgot.

“How did we meet again, Blaise?” Draco asked. They were now seated in the gazebo that faced a marble fountain. Elves were serving them tea.

Blaise raised a brow. He sat next to Theo, opposite Draco and Pansy. “I believe you saw a handsome boy and said, ‘Mother, I want to be his friend. ’”

“How shallow,” Pansy muttered, hand resting on her own palm. “Who’d call you handsome anyway?”

“Hey! I’ll let you know, I got Valentine's letters,” Blaise argued. “What did you get again?” He turned his head to show his ear. He placed his hand behind it. “Hear that? Nothing.”

Draco laughed. Blaise and Pansy were the first to meet. It was at another playdate. This time, Mrs. Zabini was the hostess. Blaise and Pansy did not hit it off from the start. In fact, Blaise had “accidentally” spilled mulberry juice on her dress. In retaliation, Pansy had “accidentally” shoved him into the eight-tier cake. It’s a miracle they haven’t killed each other.

“What are you three doing here anyway? The party is tonight.” Draco said, taking the madeleine from Pansy’s fingers.

“To distract you, darling.” Pansy said, “Can’t ruin the surprise.”

“It’s a ball. People greet you, you greet them. There are drinks and food. We dance a little and then give gifts. What’s there to surprise?” Blaise questioned, leaning into his seat. He snapped his fingers, summoning two elves with large fans. They started fanning him. 

“Well, I think we’re doing a good job at it,” Theo muttered, taking out a book from his robes. “Have you read the book about Ancient runes, Draco? If not, I have to tell you, it’s quite difficult.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Can you stop studying for once, Theodore? I’m confused if you want to be a scholar or the next Merlin.”

Draco chuckled. Theo did work himself to the bone in his studies, but always came short. He was third in the academic rankings. Draco was first, and next was Granger. Mr. Nott probably pressures him to do his best. 

Then he remembered something.

“Wait, how about Daphne, Crabbe, and Goyle?”

“Daphne is on her way, although she’d probably reach an hour before the party.” Blaise answered, then he scrunched his nose, “The two boulders, from what I heard, they’ve gotten summer tutors.”

“Will Rolf be coming too?” Pansy asked, scooting away from Draco. She had that look in her eyes that annoyed him. “Oh, Draco, you don’t know how happy I am that you’re over Potter.”

“Weren't you the one who pushed him to Potter?” Blaise pointed out. 

Draco blushed. It wasn’t that he was obsessed with Potter. He meant, every other kid wanted to be friends with Harry Potter. He just happened to be one of those kids, but ever since he returned to the past, he’s been doing his best to avoid Potter. Which, if he was honest, was a fail, but he had placed a boundary to where he would allow himself to interact with Potter. Plus, with him no longer focusing on Potter, he had met other interesting people like Rolf, Luna, Astoria, and, surprisingly, Ginny Weasley. A Weasley! 

“And we lost him.” Blaise deadpanned, staring at Draco’s dazed yet red face. He picked up a madeleine. “You know, I think he’s doing his best in making Potter jealous.”

“In what, Blaise? In the hero role?” Pansy muttered, rolling her eyes. “Well, I’m just happy he’s moved on from Potter.”

“Is no one going to answer if Rolf is going to attend?” Theo wanted to ask Rolf about the beasts they would encounter in Care of Magical Creatures. 

“He’s with his grandfather. It’s kind of far away, so he wouldn’t be coming.” Draco snapped out of his daze. “I kind of wish … ”

“Why don’t we look around?” Theo offered. He was staring at the peacocks that stopped in front of the gazebo. Their red eyes blazing in fury. “I think the peacocks want us to leave.”

Draco took them around Malfoy Manor, occasionally stopping to point out statues or portraits. Malfoy Manor was like any other wizard-owned manor. It was well-kept with magic and elves, expansive, and old. The furniture was fashionable centuries ago, but was kept for the sake of appearances. 

He had taken them to their own trophy room, which was filled with various treasures rather than medals. Despite that, the inside of the room was shining in gold. Next was the room that was an indoor greenhouse on the second floor. It belonged to one of his great-aunts. The only reason it was never cleaned out was because of the wizard-eating plant living there. Then, he took them to their library, which had an expandable charm that allowed it to house plenty of books, maps, and world globes. Last was the astronomy tower. It was his mother who added it.

“And this is the wall of weddings.” Draco introduced a long hallway that had gold-framed portraits lining it. Each one of them featured a bride dressed in a white gown, veil removed to show their face. They held a species of flowers as their wedding bouquet. The most popular choice was white roses. 

“Hey,” Pansy stopped in front of one of the portraits, “Isn’t that your grandmother?”

“You look just like her.” Blaise hummed.

Draco turned to the portrait. His Maman, like the rest of the brides, was dressed in white robes. She wore a small diamond tiara. He couldn’t see her hands, but he guessed she wore gloves as well. Her blonde, almost white hair was let loose, curled at the tips. Her lips, red with rouge, were in a thin line. She and her grandfather were locked in their arms. No one in the portrait was smiling.

“That’s Maman’s twin brother. I’ve seen some of his portraits. That should be her parents.” He pointed at a couple dressed in cream and gold robes with dark blonde hair. “Then that would be my mother’s mother.” Another blonde woman stood behind his Maman. 

“The Blacks,” Theo breathed out, taking a step back. His eyes were open wide. He made the three of them turn to him. “You never told us your grandmother knew them.”

“What’s with them?” Pansy asked, holding onto Draco’s arm.

“The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,” Theo started, voice grave, “was one of the largest, oldest, and wealthiest pureblood families in the Wizarding World. They were the //purest// of purebloods, second to the Gaunts.”

Pansy furrowed her brows. “Why do you even know this, Theo?”

“Don’t you pay attention to preparatory school? The Blacks are used as an example of pureblood. This is basic knowledge.” Theo said.

Draco furrowed his own brows. He had attended the same preparatory school as Theo, but somehow, that information had slipped his mind. His mother said little of her own lineage, choosing to boast about the Malfoys instead. 

“Well, it’s not that basic to me,” Pansy muttered. “Come, Draco, it’s almost the seventh hour. Your party awaits!” 

Draco allowed Pansy to drag him. His mind swirled before it took him to his conversation with The Lady. Blood is thicker than water. Did that mean he would be searching for a family member this year? It couldn’t be Sirius Black. It was probably — 

“Draco, darling, look at the sky!” Pansy pulled him to the window. Not a cloud in the sky, and the moon and stars shone brightly above them. “What’s that constellation?”

“That would be Leo, Pansy.” Theo supplied.

“And that bright star?” Blaise asked.

“That’s Regulus.”

After a handful of greetings and well wishes, Draco’s birthday party was in full swing. Most of the attendees were his father’s coworkers and their children, pureblood children who would be starting their education in Durmstrang or Beauxbaton. 

A ballroom was decorated with silver banners and tables. The elves, dressed in clean pillowcases from Wimpy, were busy serving hors d'oeuvres and drinks on silver trays. Classical music, performed by a commissioned orchestra, filled the room.

Draco spotted some of his playdates and Neville Longbottom. He had attended with his grandmother, who was a close acquaintance of his grandparents. Neville was jittery as he stood on the sidelines. His baby blue robes looked out of place in a room full of dark robes. 

Draco smiled at a witch he didn’t know. Maybe it was a distant aunt or cousin. Who knew? The older wizards and witches had given him their greetings, pinching his cheeks like he was a child and not a fresh teen. The old witches had complimented his long blonde hair, wishing he were a girl so that they could pair him off to their grandsons.

He shivered. 

“Aren’t you bored yet?” Pansy asked, approaching him with two glasses of mulberry juice. 

“I am,” Draco took the glass, taking a sip. “You looked annoyed.”

Pansy was well kept, having changed into a dark maroon dress with matching pumps. Red roses decorated her bob. But Draco could see the small twitch in her right eye.

Pansy huffed, moving to stand next to him. “My father tried to offer my hand to Theo. Hand in marriage, Draco. Can you believe it? You’d think he’d cherish his only girl.”

Draco hummed. Pansy and Daphne (who had arrived an hour before the start of the party with Astoria) had it rough. Pureblood families still believed in arranged marriages in the small circle composed of 28 families. If he remembered it right, Astoria was betrothed to him since they were kids, but only came to light a year after the Battle of Hogwarts. 

Looking at Astoria now, who had grown out of her shyness because of Luna and Ginny, he couldn’t bring himself to be engaged with her again. She was far from a terrible fiancée. She was the best. It was just weird to think about it with the awareness he now had. 

Draco took a sip. “What did Theo say?”

“Theo said no.” Pansy quickly answered, “Which thankfully, shook my father off, but he’s still going to try. Look at Mrs. Longbottom.” She gestured at the only lady talking to his mother. “She’s been going around marketing her grandson.”

Draco looked over at Neville, who had finally moved to the buffet table instead of the wall, and scrunched his nose. “I don’t see the appeal.”

“There are rumors,” Pansy whispered, “You know, of his skills as a wizard. Not favorable.”

“Just hope your father sees that, Pansy.”

The party ended by the 12th hour. Wizards and witches left through their floo in a flurry of green smoke. Pansy wanted to sleep over, but Theo reminded her of wizard teen etiquette before shoving her into the fireplace and screaming her address and throwing the floo powder. He went next, not before wishing Draco happy birthday again. 

Draco sat crisscrossed in the middle of his room. The candles were blown out, and only the moonlight lit his room. He had pulled back the curtain covering his balcony doors. 

Scattered in front of him were the gifts his parents and friends had given to him. From his father was a property (a vacation home) in Wales; his mother had gifted him a brooch in the Malfoy colors and style; his grandfather had gifted him an owl — a Blakiston’s fish owl — but was kept with the other owls in their enclosure; Maman gave him a key to one of the Rosier vaults; Pansy had gifted him a set of hair sticks she got from China; Daphne and Astoria gave him robes made of pure spider silk with a birthday card; Goyle gave exotic sweets from Peru; Crabbe gifted him the Firebolt (the newest Quidditch broom in the market); Blaise gifted a perfume set; and Theo gifted him limited edition bookset on advanced potions.

Draco hummed, falling to lie down on the carpeted floor. Luna had sent a letter and a bracelet made of colorful rocks. She was sorry she couldn’t attend but also mentioned the adventure her father had taken her on for the Quibbler. Ginny had sent him a letter as well and a gift. A hand-sized sarcophagus from Egypt, which the Weasleys had won. She included a news clipping from the Prophet. 

Draco turned his neck to face his balcony. In a few weeks, he would return to Hogwarts for his third year. If he remembered it right, Dumbledore allowed Dementors to patrol Hogwarts. He cringed, remembering him and the Slytherin team dressing up as Dementors. He also remembered being scratched by an animal in class. He’ll have to avoid that. 

He was stuck in his musings until he spotted a large shadow growing bigger and bigger outside. He slowly got up, long blonde hair falling off his shoulder, before he stumbled up and to the balcony. He pulled the double doors open and rushed to the railings. Leaning forward, he squinted his eyes. 

“Is that … ” The shadow let out a loud chirp before dropping the large box onto the railing. Draco quickly wrapped his arms around the box that threatened to tip over. He turned to the owl that landed next to him on the railing, who hooted, flapping its small wings once. “How did you even carry this?”

Draco moved the box, carrying it in his arms before sitting down on the floor, back against the balusters. 

“It’s from … Rolf,” Draco muttered, taking the tag attached to the ribbon. He pressed the box against his ear, hearing something shift. 

He untied the ribbon, turning to the owl that had fluttered down, waiting in anticipation. “What did he pack for me?” 

The owl hooted back, jumping once.

Draco closed his eyes, snorting. He was talking to an owl. He had gone crazy.

Opening his eyes, he picked up the cover before placing it next to him. He stared.

“Hay?” He turned to the owl, “You brought me hay?” The owl hooted, sounding offended, “Then what were you supposed to bring?”

Suddenly, the hay moved and let out a soft squeal before a long beak popped out, startling Draco. Then, slowly, four webbed feet popped out and finally the head.

“A niffler,” Draco muttered. he turned to the owl, “Rolf gave me a niffler.” The owl rolled its big yellow eyes. Draco looked back at the creature.

The niffler had black fur and the typical long snout similar to the Muggle’s beaver. Although this one had a white patch on its belly, which Draco poked. The niffler let out a loud squeal as Draco rubbed his finger against its soft belly. 

He spotted an envelope in the hay.

My Dearest Draco,

I apologize for not being able to attend your birthday party despite my promise. Grandfather needed extra help with the beasts. Did you know that Basilisk venom can be crystallized to create jewelry? Apparently, it's a difficult and dangerous process. Grandfather has a journal about Basilisks if you want. I’ve talked his ear off about you. Grandmother says you should visit so that I can shut up. They don’t know what they’re talking about! Father has been nagging me about my internship in the ministry. Apparently, I have the same guts as my grandfather’s brother to be an Auror. 

Anyway, do you like my gift? It took some time to decide which one to give you. Grandfather did little to help. He’s always adding something that makes one beast better than the other. I was supposed to send you an Ashwinder, but grandmother said I was stereotyping you as a Slytherin. Did you know my grand-uncle’s fiancée was a Slytherin like? She’s a Lestrange! But back to your gift, I thought you’d like a Demiguise, but grandfather said it was a chore to take care of it, and I thought it looked too much like Professor Dumbledore. So I thought, why not Bowtruckle? They’re gentle creatures if not provoked, but grandfather said they were too shy that they’d hide. I didn’t want to trouble you. I thought I couldn’t find you the perfect beast when —

“Hey, hey!” Draco hissed, moving the letter away from the Niffler’s web fingers, “I wasn’t finished.”

I realized something. You have golden hair! And nothing attracts Nifflers like shiny things. We had newborn nifflers, so it was the matter of choosing which one. I planned of giving you the one with the white fur, but the nifflers made a mess after seeing the silver tip of my pen. Needless to say, the first draft of this letter was filled with webbed prints. 

The one in this box is a special one. It wasn’t attracted to just shiny things. It’s attracted to gold. Who knew my grandfather kept a pouch of galleons under my bed? Anyway, this letter is getting long and the nifflers are getting impatient.

I hope you like this gift, Draco. Like it enough you’d forgive me for missing your special day — 

“Idiot. Even if you didn’t give me anything, I would understand.”

I can’t wait to see you at the express. Let’s catch up over tea, okay!

With Love, Rolf and the Nifflers.

Chapter Text

“So what am I going to name you?” Draco gave the letter to the owl, who had flown into his room and placed it on his desk. He picked up the niffler by its armpits, stretching his arms to get a good look. He tilted his head, which the niffler followed. The niffler’s feet wiggled as he was dangled in the air. 

Then Draco saw it. Underneath the hay, cushioning the niffler were newspaper clippings of the Prophet. Facing him, moving, was a picture of the Weasley. He spotted the patriarch. 

He smiled, lowering the niffler onto his lap. “Well, I do now,” the niffler craned its neck to look at him. “Hello, Arthur.”

Draco woke up late the very next day. He had gone to sleep at the third hour after spending time indulging the baby niffler that ran around his room in search of gold. Feeling sorry, he gave the cute thing five galleons, which he watched the niffler stuff into his pouch. He had also called Pont, surprising the sleeping elf, to get him a book about nifflers. 

His parents and grandparents were kind enough to let him sleep in. He woke up at the 10th hour in the morning in a warm room, and the baby niffler was out of sight. Rolf’s small owl was perched on top of his bed frame, snoozing quietly.

Draco descended the grand staircase and made his way to the dining room. The elves were alert and busy as they carried boxes and crates in and out of the manor. His party was a huge spectacle for the pureblood social circle. 

He found the dining room door open. He was about to enter when — 

CRASH! BANG! 

“Get that niffler!”

Draco flinched, hearing his father’s scream. It was followed by other things falling and shuffling. He put one foot forward when he felt something move under him. Looking down, he found his niffler scampering away. Its pouch was bulging, and he swore he saw his father’s favorite gold cufflinks peaking out. 

“Father, are you alright?” Draco asked, eyeing his father, who had fallen to the marble floor with a dining chair on top of him. His hair was in disarray, long blonde locks spread on the floor, and half of his body was underneath the table.

“It was the niffler, my little constellation.” Maman answered, eyes focused on her tea, which was newly painted on. 

“That rodent managed to sneak into my house,” his father huffed, standing upright. He fixed his robes, pulling on the garment around his collar. “Get that thing out before I reach home!”

Draco grew alarmed. “Wait! That’s Rolf’s gift to me. His name is Arthur.”

His father looked flabbergasted, brows pinched, mouth open in disbelief. “Why…” He huffed, “Would that boy do that? Doesn’t he know greeting cards exist?!” 

Despite his anger, Lucius pushed Draco gently to the side with his walking stick. He stomped out of his room, screaming for the elves to make way and ready his carriage. Draco followed, worried that his father would fall over again at the sight of the niffler. 

Secretly, however, Draco was happy to see his father show another emotion other than impassiveness. He spotted his niffler waiting at the front door. It rose to its hind legs and waved, raising one webbed hand. He scurried to it, grabbing it by its armpits before holding it against his chest. He faced his father, who had taken his time to school his expression scowling.

“Unfortunately, I cannot take away a source of your happiness,” his father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Your and grandmother scheduled a trip to Diagon Alley. Do get ready.”

His father looked at him before ruffling his hair. “Don’t cause too much trouble.” He muttered before retrieving his hand and leaving the manor. 

Draco followed, stopping to stand in front of the open door. It reminded him of when he would watch his father leave every morning after breakfast when he was a kid. He had stopped when he was nine, choosing to sleep in or attend to his studies. Still, he would see his father board his carriage from the library window.

The niffler cooed, making Draco look down. “Come on, we’ve got to get ready.”

Draco loved his mother and grandmother. They were the only two women in his life who protected him and were not crazy and/or extreme supporters of the Dark Lord. His mother, although she approved of Voldemort’s goals and beliefs, never truly dipped into the whole Death Eater thing. His Maman had obviously harbored enough hate, given his past interactions (battles) with Voldemort. 

Which made him understand that too should also put enough effort to accompany and indulge them in their little trip.

But he couldn’t find it in himself to stand still on a small podium in front of a body-length mirror as pins and needles poked him.

“He would look good in light shades of blue.” Came Madam Malkin’s boisterous voice. A spring notepad was hovering nearby with a quilt pen that was furiously scribbling her words. 

He toyed with his jade necklace.

His mother was busy flipping through a magazine. On the rectangular coffee table in front of her, hairpins, brooches, and bracelets were lined up. Wimpy, who stood at the edge of the couch carrying his Maman’s small portrait, nodded. 

“And — oh!” Madam Malkin took out her wand, flicking it, and Arthur came flying from one of the boxes. “Sneaky little thing, yes? Hm, you'd better get one of those collars on the little one.”

Draco hummed, taking Arthur. The niffler was small enough to fit in his breast pocket. He took the golden ribbon it managed to snatch. “I apologize for that.”

“Nonsense,” Madam Malkin waved off, taking the ribbon. “I was looking for this anyway. Hm…” She held up the ribbon next to his head, “I think something gold would look good on you, yeah? Maybe with white… What do you think, Mrs. Malfoy?”

Narcissa looked up, “Hmm, yes, I think. Maybe silver. Slytherin colors.”

Madam Malkins nodded her head, “Yes, of course. See, the latest trends are these feathers,” another flick of her wand and an array of colorful feathers flew out of a box and lined up in front of his mother. “Dragon scales are too, but it’s hard to get. Dangerous things, of course.”

Draco hummed. Madam Malkin’s shop hasn’t changed. It still houses various wizarding robes. Most of them were covered in colorful feathers. Hats on mannequin heads faced the front window, and a wall of fabric was placed behind the front counter. Her fitting rooms were on the right, tall body length mirrors and podiums filled the room. 

“Have you heard?” Madam Malkin’s bubbly voice suddenly turned serious. “Sirius Black escaped Azkaban.”

Draco glanced at his mother, seeing her fists clench the magazine. Despite her blank look, Draco could tell she was ticking. “It’s a hot topic.”

“As it should. They say he’s after Harry Potter,” Madam Malkin said. Her feather pen stopped scribbling. “They say he’s made his way back to the mainland. Waiting for the chance to strike — oh!”

Madam Malkin jumped back, screeching when a black shadow rushed into the room. She hopped on one of the tall stools. Draco jumped as well, getting off the podium. Wimpy had jumped on the couch, jostling Maman in her painting. His mother hastily stood up, rolling the magazine.

“Dog! Dog!” An elf entered the room. “A dog has entered the shop!”

Draco squinted his eyes. It was a black dog. Its long and lean body was covered in black fur. It ran around the dressing room, having spotted the floating notepad and chased after it. 

“What in Merlin’s name — ” Maman huffed, looking somewhat green with all of Wimpy’s jumping. 

The elf ran after it, trying to shoo it away. But the dog relented, bouncing around the room, knocking over one of the mirrors that came crashing down on the podium, breaking into sharp shards. Madam Malkin let out a terrified scream. 

“Arthur — ” Drsco grunted, trying to keep his niffler in his pocket, “You’re going to get eaten if you — Arthur!” 

The niffler leaped out, scrambling to collect the fallen gold button that had tumbled out when the dog knocked over a cabinet. Seeing a trail, it quickly followed it. 

“Arthur!” Draco hissed, running after the niffler and ignoring the calls of his mother and Maman. 

The elf had managed to chase out the dog, but it had left a trail of gold buttons, which his niffler was chasing. It zigzagged through the foot traffic, and Draco prayed it would get squished. He choked, seeing the dog bump into a cart with barrels that rolled down. 

“Merlin, please don’t kill Arthur.” Draco muttered, weaving through the busy street. He passed Bats! Bats! Bats!, a store that sold only bats, then the Cauldron Workshop that advertised a new imported cauldron. Beside it was an empty building for lease. 

Draco picked up his speed. He had reached the area of Diagon that was filled with hostels and inns. Something had attracted Arthus because the niffler changed course, turning a sharp left.

“Arthur!” Draco screamed in frustration, nearly colliding with a man carrying armor when he took a sharp left. “Come back here!” He watched as the niffler dared to look back at him. It let out a pleased sound before picking up speed. Draco huffed, “If only I had my wand.”

He was an underage wizard and would get into trouble with the ministry if he tried using magic. That was the reason he left it in the manor. But looking at his situation now, he wished he had it. He was wishing he could Accio his runaway niffler.

“Ar — oof!” Draco felt himself fall backwards. He braced for impact, raising his arms over his head. But the impact never came. Instead, he felt a hand hold him by the waist, fingers digging into his side. He blinked, finding himself staring into green eyes. Emerald green eyes. “Potter?”

“Draco?” Harry Potter asked. He was bent slightly forward. “What are you doing here?”

Draco blinked, then remembered something. “You!”

Both of Potter’s brows raised, “Me?”

Draco hissed, standing upright and shaking off Potter’s fingers from his waist and marched to Arthur, who had climbed onto a table and was about to stuff a gold teaspoon into his pouch. The niffler looked up, smiling at him.

Seeing the smile, Draco’s anger deflated. “You’re lucky you’re cute, or I would have mailed you back to Rolf. There’s a post office nearby.”

He picked up Arthur, taking the spoon that peeked out before slamming it onto the table. “Come on, mother and Maman might be worried.”

He turned around, Arthur in the palm of his hand, but stopped when he faced Potter. Right, Harry Potter was still in front of him and the reason he hasn’t bled out. “Thank you.”

“You got a niffler,” Potter pointed at Arthur. “Wow. Didn’t think you were the niffler type.”

“Rolf gave it to me,” Draco replied, blushing slightly as he remembered Rolf’s thought process. He hadn’t seen Potter glower at the mention of the older Hufflepuff. “What are you doing here, Potter?”

Potter opened his mouth to answer, but shut it, thought for a moment, before opening again, “Do you … want to eat ice cream with me?”

“That’s interesting,” Draco muttered, taking the teaspoon Arthur tried to smuggle into his pouch before placing it next to his bowl of ice cream. Potter took him to Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor and paid for his ice cream. Potter then found them a seat outside. “You blew up your aunt.”

Potter blushed, dusting his cheeks, “Not really. She just got large and started floating.”

“Accidental magic. Children get that.” Draco muttered before taking a bite of his ice cream. “I didn’t think they served good ice cream.” he doesn’t even know what flavor he got. Potter ordered for him, promising it was the best flavor for him. It was green with chocolate. 

“But I’m not a child,” Potter mumbles, the end of his spoon peeking out of his mouth. “You probably get some too.”

Draco’s face twisted. In the past, yes, ever since ge returned to the past, accidental magic never happened. “No. I happen to have good control of my magic.”

Not to brag, but his Maman taught him best.

“How about your grandmother? Her portrait was, you know, broken.” Potter hesitated to ask. 

Draco understood. Potter was, in a way, a stranger to their family. Other than him and his family, his friends, Dumbledore, and possibly Madam Pomfrey, Potter was the only non-Slytherin who knew about his Maman’s existence in Hogwarts. 

“She’s good. It wasn’t her original frame, fortunately,” Draco muttered. His Maman couldn’t give a definite explanation, but she said it must have something to do with her original portrait. Since it wasn’t the one destroyed, her soul managed to travel back. Still, it was weird to see her ghostly figure. 

“She looks like you,” Potter muttered, red dusting his cheeks again, “I mean … your hair got longer.”

Draco toyed with a few strands of his hair. It now reached his waist, something he was proud of. His long hair gave him a softer look, and since he usually paired his updos with pins and ribbons, he looked less intimidating. 

“Hm… I like it.”

“I like it too!” Potter quickly added, “I mean, you look good with long hair.”

Arthur stopped nibbling on his treats to look up at Potter. Something in his gut told him he shouldn't like the human. Maybe it was the look the human gave to his owner that irked him.

Chucking his treat to the side, he stood up on his hind legs before walking over to Potter’s side of the table, stubby legs wobbling.

Draco eyed his niffler. He was sure nifflers weren’t supposed to walk upright.

Potter eyed Arthur warily, “Hey, are nifflers supposed to walk like this?” He pointed his finger at Arthur’s determined figure.

“I don’t think — Arthur let go!”

Potter let out a pained scream as Arthur bit his finger. He tried wiggling the niffler off, but the beast relented, biting harder. Draco reached over the table, grabbing its body and tried to tug. He gritted his teeth. Since when did nifflers attack the golden boy?!

Both pushed and pulled, trying to get the niffler off. Gold buttons started tumbling out of its pocket. Draco thought Arthur would notice and let go, but the niffler was set on biting Potter’s finger off. Their actions had gotten some wizard’s attention, and a small crowd started to form. They had spotted Harry Potter being bitten by a niffler and Lucius Malfoy’s son trying to pry it off. 

“Arthur!” Draco scolded, trying not to squeeze the beast. “Let go! I’ll give you a small vault of galleons!”

The niffler let out a please sound but chose to hold on. Potter was now shaking his arm up and down. “Are these things supposed to be carnivores!?”

“They don’t eat humans, that’s for sure,” Draco grunted. 

Suddenly, loud barks came from the crowd. Several wizards parted to reveal the same black dog from Madam Malkin’s. The dog let out three loud barks, which had gotten Arthur’s attention. It let out a growl. 

Arthur, sensing the call, suddenly let go at the same time Draco pulled back hard, sending both of them flying. Draco fell with his seat, head hitting the cobblestone floor, while Arthur landed next to him on his four paws. The niffler scrambled, letting out a squeal before following the black dog.

“Draco!” Potter called worriedly, helping him up. On his right finger were small bite marks. “Are you — ”

“After that niffler!” Draco hissed, pushing Potter to the side. He ignored his throbbing head and aching backside. His silver eyes were set on the two animals with black fur. They passed the Quality Quidditch Supplies, spotting the Firebolt on display. The two animals took a sharp turn into, slipping into an alleyway. Draco followed, nearly not slipping through with how narrow it was. He emerged on another side of Diagon Alley, the one near Flourish and Blotts. The dog barked, leaping over a crouched wizard. Arthur followed, hopping onto his long hat before crawling over his hunched figure.

Draco huffed. What did Rolf feed this thing? Why is it a good runner?!

Arthur and the dog took another sharp turn, leading to Ollivanders. Draco saw the old man behind the counter in front of a wall of box wands. 

“Draco, wait!” Harry huffed, managing to catch up. He thanked Oliver Wood for his Quidditch training. It was finally paying off. “That dog could be dangerous.”

“I’m going after my niffler, Potter.” Draco hissed, silver eyes glaring.

Harry looked away. Even if Draco glared at him, he was drawn. Draco looked too beautiful to be taken seriously. Not to mention how the air was blowing his blond-white locks like a glorious mane. Draco could work as a hair care model if he were a muggle. Possibly a celebrity, and Harry was going to be his biggest fan.

“Over there!” Harry pointed, spotting Draco’s niffler and the dog run into another alleyway. He looked around. The usual whimsical buildings featuring varying goods slowly grew scarce. Old, broken, or abandoned buildings soon started to appear. 

Knockturn Alley, Harry realized. He was about to grab Draco when he suddenly skidded to a stop. Both of her chests heaved heavily. The dog stopped, as did Draco’s niffler. The dog’s tail wagged. 

Draco’s silver eyes widened. He and Potter stood in front of a small circus tent with purple and white stripes. Instead of vertical lines, the lines were horizontal. A weather vane with a fox with nine tails surrounded by four lotus flowers was on top of the roof, slowly turning with the wind.

Arthur sat on the cobblestone street in front of it. Draco quickly grabbed him, stuffing him into his front pocket. 

Hanging in front of the dark entrance was a signboard with the same symbol as his jade necklace — a paw print.

“Hey, I never saw this before,” Potter muttered, green eyes on the tent. “Why don’t — ”

Draco grabbed his wrist. “Don't, ” he tugged and pulled him away. “Better not miggle with wizards from here.” He forced Potter to look forward. Peeking behind his shoulder, he watched as the black dog entered the tent, morphing into the darkness. 

His gut twisted. 

“What’s that all about?” Potter asked. They had walked until they reached Ollivanders. The old man was helping a young girl pick out a wand with her parents. They stopped in front of the shop. “Draco?”

Draco wasn’t sure. Maybe he was scared of The Lady. Maybe it was because he thought he saw the same green eyes from the corner of the room. Maybe because he remembered his fortune. Rats and smiles.

Potter frowned, “Dra — ”

“Young master!”

Draco snapped out of his sorrows, turning his head. His mother, Maman, and Wimpy were slowly making their way to him. Behind them, Pint, Pont and five other elves were carrying boxes, of what he could guess, were new robes. His mother was first to approach, her delicate expression falling into a look of confusion. She politely coughed, hiding it behind her hand. 

“Teen wizard etiquette, dear.”

Draco’s brows furrowed before he flexed his fingers, realizing his right hand was holding something. Looking down, he realized he was still holding Potter’s wrist. Scrambling and blushing, he let it go and clasped his hands behind him.

Maman giggled, “Don’t mind them, Narcissa. It’s not every day. Anyway, what are you doing here, Mister Potter?”

“Oh,” Potter blushed at being acknowledged, “I’m spending the summer here. At the Leaky Cauldron.”

Narcissa shook her head. “Tsk, tsk, that’s no place for a child to live. Every kind of wizard sleeps there.”

“It’s not that bad, Mrs. Malfoy,” Potter replied, “The minister has — ”

“The minister isn’t one to believe in,” Maman interrupted, which his mother agreed, “Plus,” she eyed his mother, “Sir — ”

“With Sirius Black on the loose, it’s not safe for you either way. He’s said to be out to kill you, although I don’t believe that bit myself.” His mother muttered the last part to herself, but Draco heard. He was surprised. “Why don’t you stay with us for the summer, Mister Potter? The manor is hard to locate, and I know Sirius Black doesn’t know where the manor is.”

Potter fidgeted from where he stood next to Draco, “I wouldn’t want to intrude, Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Nonsense!” Maman waved off, “Everyone except Voldemort is welcome in my manor.”

Lucius stared, watching the elves help Harry Potter with his trunk. He watched from the second-floor railings. He blinked, watching his son show Potter the dining room where the elves would be preparing their dinner with an extra seat. He huffed.

“Give the poor boy a chance,” Narcissa muttered, placating his anger, “It seems he and Draco are close. Isn’t that what he wanted as a child?”

I'm already giving chances to the likes of Rolf Scamander, Lucius thought, rolling his eyes.

“He’s still a child,” Lucius muttered. He watched as his Maman’s portrait was carried by Wimpy, probably to take to her office. He sighed, “Why did it have to be Potter? I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with an onslaught of letters mentioning Potter. Instead, I get Potter in my own home.”

“Think about it, Lucius, dear, with Potter in our home, the likelihood of people thinking we still support the Dark Lord would lessen. Plus … if the time comes… ” She eyed him knowingly.

Lucius sighed, “Draco’s lucky I can’t take away his happiness. I — ouch!” raising his right hand for him to see, his own silver eyes stare at the dangling niffler. His face grew red. “ARTHUR!”

Chapter Text

Dinner was a usual affair in the Malfoy Manor. The three family members — now joined with two magical portraits — would gather in the ornate room and dine with light chatter. Lucius would narrate his day with Narcissa nodding her head along. Draco, during the summer, would ask his father questions, which the patriarch would answer with flair. Maman and Abraxas would tell them stories of their days, which, surprisingly, they did together. They were great friends. 

But now that Harry Potter had joined them for dinner and the remaining days of summer, dinner was a silent affair. Only the sound of cutlery hitting ceramic bowls and plates filled the room. Even Maman and Abraxas kept their mouth shut, acting like they were sipping from the painted bowl. Lucius, who sported a wrapped bandage on his right pointer finger, kept his expression blank, although his eyes glared at Potter. 

Draco hadn’t felt this constricted other than the time Voldemort lived with them. It was like every move had to be calculated, lest you want to earn Voldemort’s ire. He glanced at Potter, who was pushing around the clams in his soup.

“So, Mister Potter,” Narcissa finally asked, breaking the silence. Everyone stopped what they were doing. Lucius’s glass stopped halfway from his lips. “How did you and Draco meet?”

“They’re in the same grade, Cissa,” Lucius muttered, lowering his glass.

“Shut it, Lucius,” Maman hissed, “Let the boy answer.” Lucius brustled, but remained silent.

“Actually, Mrs. Malfoy,” Potter fidgeted in his seat, “I met Draco in Madam Malkin’s.”

“You did?” Narcissa raised a brow. She didn’t recall seeing him when she and Draco went shopping. Although she does remember Draco boasting of having met a child raised by Muggles. He mentioned something about telling him about Hogwarts.

Potter nodded, “Yes, although it wasn’t the best introduction. I thought Draco was arrogant and well, rude. I was with Hagrid at that time.”

Draco fought back an embarrassed groan. He remembered it quite well. He was quite proud to “guide” a new wizard in the ways of someone born into it. He wanted the ground to swallow him. He should have agreed to feed Arthur rather than leave it to the elves. 

“Hm, considering Draco as a child, you shouldn’t be sorry about that.” Narcissa giggled, surprising Potter and Draco, “He was never one to think about others until he realized he should.”

Draco grew red. He could think of the time he kept on dragging Crabbe and Goyle around as his minions. They didn’t complain as long as they had food and someone to bully in return. It just got bad when Crabbe died. Draco remembered feeling numb after that. 

Crabbe …

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose. He’ll stop that. He won’t allow any of his friends or family to get hurt in this timeline. He opened his eyes. He’ll make sure of it. 

“Is — what was the name of that elf again? Dobby? How’s that thing serving you?” His father asked.

“Dobby isn’t serving me, sir. He’s a free elf.”

“Free elf?” His father’s eyes widened, finding the idea preposterous. Even Draco thought it was. A free elf … how would they survive the Wizarding World? In a way, serving a master allowed elves to have a home. Sure, the abuse is there, but it was somewhat better than wandering the streets in search of a job. “There’s no such thing.”

At that moment, Pint and Pont entered the room, rolling a cart of the main course. Their appearance surprised Potter. Draco understood why. It was rare to see house elves properly dressed. But, these elves don’t belong to the Mafloys; rather, they belong to his Mamam, who views elves with respect. Not her equal, but wanted to see them in nice clothes. 

“Lamb, sirs, madams,” Pont announced, serving each other a plate. Pont had hoped on a stool close to his grandparents’ painting and painted on the main course. Once they were done, they left the room.

Potter blinked, “They’re well dressed.”

“Those are my mother’s elves,” His father answered, slicing the lamb with enough fervor to think he was slicing Potter’s neck. “She likes them.”

“I have more in my family’s manor.”, Maman added.

Draco sliced through his lamb. From what Wimpy told him, Maman had a total of 12 loyal elves, each having a specific role. Wimpy was Maman’s lady-in-waiting while Pint was her coachman, and Pont was her butler. The others were a painter, a gardener, and a chef. 

The dinner returned to its silence. 

Harry thought the Malfoys were weird. They didn’t talk about the news. He’d expected them to mutter about Sirius Black. He knew Lucius Malfoy had connections with the Ministry and expected him to badmouth them at the dinner table. Lucius reminded him of his uncle Vernon, although a thinner version, the way his eyes seemed to glare at Harry and the way dislike seeped in his voice. 

If the Dursleys met the Malfoys, Harry thinks they would be ridiculing each other. The Dursleys would think the Malfoys were freaks in their Slytherin green robes and pointed hats, while the Malfoys would think the Dursleys were weird for their beige floral patterns and stripes on their shirts.

So alike, yet so different. 

Draco would absolutely hate Dudley. Dudley was spoiled like Draco (pre-Hogwarts), but his round figure was something Draco would be proud not to have. Not to mention, his blonde hair was a shade better than Dudley’s.

“Fudge says the ministry is a mess with Vlack on the loose,” Lucius muttered, cutting into a tender part of the lamb. “Aurors have been deployed. This hasn’t happened since — ”

“The first war,” Narcissa finished, voice grim. “Considering Sirius as one of Voldemort’s followers, the ministry must be … working hard.”

Harry noticed the way Narcissa spoke Sirius’ name with familiarity. “Do you … know Sirius Black?”

“I was in Hogwarts with him briefly,” Lucius muttered from behind a napkin, “Always causing trouble. Pranks, lots of them. He liked picking on Severus.”

Narcissa cleared her throat. “He was a troublemaker. Didn’t like following tradition and had a weird fascination with things Muggle. His mother never liked it. Shame that he was the heir.”

“A reject in the family, if you ask me,” Abraxas, a man with short blonde hair only a shade darker than Draco’s and a slim face with light blue-silver eyes, said, “They scorned him. Walburga especially.”

“He had a knack for adventure and getting into places he shouldn’t,” Maman added.

“Sirius had a wild spirit,” Narcissa said, surprisingly fond. Harry thought he saw her smile.

“Like a wet dog,” Lucius grumbled. 

“Draco,” Maman called, making him turn to her, “Why don’t you give Potter a tour of the manor? I think he should be familiar with the place he’d be staying for the summer.”

Draco wondered what he had done in the past to be punished like this. After being forcefully removed from the dining room, he had to take Potter around the manor. He took him to the same spots as he did with Pansy, Blaise, and Theo. Potter would walk around enthusiastically, something she found endearing. It was like seeing a kid visit a palace for the first time. 

“Your house is really different from the Weasely’s,” Potter said when they stood at the entrance of the rose garden. “You don’t have an gnomes in the area.” Proving his point, he scanned the area.

“I’m pretty sure the elves handle that,” Draco muttered before dragging him to the wedding corridor.

Like before, it was lined with golden-framed wedding portraits. It was newly polished, the gold glinting in the moonlight. 

“This wall lines all the Malfoy weddings since the construction of the manor.” Draco gestured to the first portrait. “That’s my ancestors. Since wizards have a longer lifespan, the number of portraits is few. Not to mention, only heirs get theirs painted and hung here.”

“That means when you get married, I’d be displayed here?” Potter asked, walking ahead. His green eyes scanned the portraits. All the Malfoys had blonde hair that varied in shade. Somehow, the shade got lighter and lighter, starting from a Malfoy marrying a Potter. 

“Hey, isn’t that your grandmother?” Potter pointed at his grandparents’ portrait. They stopped in front of it. “You and your father look like her.”

“Rosier genes are strong,” Draco shrugged. His silver eyes scan the portrait. The ornate background was in one of the ballrooms. The hanging chandelier. The elves who stood on the side. He thinks he spotted Wimpy in a lavender dress with Pint and Pont. Scanning the guests, he spotted familiar faces until — 

“Do you see that?” Draco muttered, grabbing Potter by his shoulder. He pointed at the woman beside his grandmother.

“A woman with blonde hair?” Potter asked, raising a brow.

“No … ” Draco swore he saw a woman dressed in red robes — the same as those from the Black Isle — with a red veil covering their face. 

He blinked. The woman disappeared, and his grandmother’s mother replaced her. He felt cold, shivers running up his spine. He was growing paranoid. 

“Hey,” Potter grabbed the hand holding him and squeezed it, “You okay? Maybe you want water? Is there a way I can call one of the elves?”

Draco shook his head. He was just hallucinating things. He was tired. He had hit his head and chased after his niffler earlier that day. It was just fatigue. There was a woman dressed in red. 

He shook Potter’s hands off him and moved to the next portrait. “That’s my parents’ portrait.”

The same background was used. The same chandeliers. No elves in sight. The guests were doubled, but it was mostly ministry officials and future Death Eaters. Draco spotted his Aunt Bellatrix, her husband, her husband’s brother, Professor Snape, and Cornelius Fudge. His grandfather stood next to his father. He looked older. Next to his mother were her parents. Then after them was — 

“Who’s this?” Draco pointed at a man who looked like Sirius Black but was better-kept. 

At that moment, Wimpy rounded the corner, carrying a large oval frame with a plain dark green background. Draco stopped the elf. 

“Wimpy, who’s this?” 

Wimpy peeked from behind the portrait, looking at where Draco was pointing. “No clue, young master. Wimpy believes she was with the other elves in Rosier mansion.”

Draco frowned. The man was probably Black. He knows those high cheekbones and pale skin, even if it was a still painting. 

“Why are you carrying that, Wimpy?” Potter asked, moving to her the elf, but Wimpy stepped back, holding the portrait tighter.

She shook her head. “The lady and the lord fought again. They refuse to share the same portrait.”

Draco frowned. In an act of professionalism and pettiness, his grandparents decided to sleep in one portrait in their bedroom. There hadn’t been any issues, no matter how much they argued. 

That made him curious.

“What is it about now, Wimpy?”

“Well, it’s — ”

“Hey,” Potter’s voice cut in. He moved to the side of the painting. Closing one eye, he confirmed that something was behind the portrait. He wondered why one corner of the portrait was bulging. Raising it slightly with one hand, he used the other to take the object behind it. “Got… got it!”

He presented a yellowed envelope to Draco. On the face of the envelope, written in neat, cursive letters, was a name: “To Cissa, the Black's only flower.”

He flipped the envelope, breaking the wax seal and took out a folded letter written on parchment paper.

To my dear, Cissa,

How are you? Are the Malfoys treating you well? It has been a month since you moved to the Malfoy Manor for your engagement. Nothing has changed in 12 Grimmauld. Kreacher is still running the house, and Mother’s temperament has grown more erratic now that Sirius has run away.

I hope you are doing well. At least one of us cousins is fairing better in life. 

Are you enjoying it there? Any mysteries or challenges other than your father-in-law? I worry your month-long confinement would change you. And so, in the spirit of Black mischief, I have hidden my wedding gift for you. I have left a series of clues in Malfoy Manor. I hope you find the first one, this letter, and the rest.

The first clue is under the garden across the lake.

Write to me if you have found it all and the gift.

Written with love and longing,

R.A.B 

“Who’s R.A.B.?” Potter asked, folding the letter and returning it to its envelope.

Draco opened his mouth when his mother suddenly appeared carrying a candelabra. 

“You two better head to bed,” His mother said softly, “It might be a long day tomorrow.”

Draco nodded his head, grabbing Potter and dragging him in the direction of their rooms (their rooms were across from each other). He can worry about the letter later or never. R.A.B. and the gift were a mystery he could ignore. He wasn’t the protagonist of a mystery novel. 

He chooses to live, even if that means ignorance.

“Hey, Draco,” Potter called, making him turn, “What?” Potter smiled, “You’re holding my hand.”

Narcissa stared at her wedding portrait. It’s been years since she saw it. She was there when it was hung, but never returned. Why would she when it brought painful memories?

She closed her eyes, one palm against the portrait.

Black Isle, 2 weeks earlier

Narcissa watched as tea was poured into a small handleless teacup. The tea was first poured into ceramic figures at the side. Its colors bloomed as the hot liquid drowned it. 

The room where the girl, who introduced herself as Lilia, was located at the side of the bamboo house. It was small and covered with heavy incense smoke. Two medium-sized platforms were in the room. One was tucked at one wall of the room, where a low rectangular table was placed above flat cushions. The second platform was octagonal and had a small circular table on it. Small, soft pillows were placed at opposite ends. 

“You seek answers,” Lilia said, lowering herself to sit on the pillows cross-legged. Her arms were tucked inside her long, wide sleeves. Her green eyes stared at Narcissa. “Death, yes?”

Narcissa grew alarmed. She hasn’t said anything about Regulus. The girl managed to figure it out.

She already had her doubts about the place. It was alarming that no one had heard of the isle. The fisherman was a coincidence. 

“He’s no longer here. In spirit and in body.” Lilia said calmly, taking a small bamboo container and shaking it. Something tumbled inside. “No one can call spirits … yet.”

Narcissa slammed her hand on the table, agitated. Maman said that the two women could answer her question: Is Regulus alive?, but it was bogus. They gave her the same answer as the ministry. No.

“That can’t be. There’s no body. You’re wrong.” Narcissa huffed, feeling her heart constrict. “Regulus… he’s alive. He’s — ” She suddenly stood up, causing the table to topple. The tea poured onto Lilia’s robes, staining them. “I’ve had enough of this.”

She got off the platform, ready to storm out. She turned around, grabbed her robes and was about to take a step forward when Lilia called her, 

“He left something for you. Find it.”

Lilia sighed, looking away from the dark scenery outside the window. She had found herself once again sharing an office space with The Lady. Her low table was in front of The Lady’s on the ground. The office was dark, save for the single candle on The Lady’s table.

“I wonder if she found it.”

The Lady hummed, pausing her strokes. “What is it you wish for her to seek?”

“A locket,” Lilia leaned against the windowsill. With one hand, she rummaged through the inside of her right sleeve, “Something like this.”

She dangled out a gold locket with a serpentine S made out of glittering green stones. It didn’t glitter in the moonlight. 

“What a poor imitation,” The Lady sighed, putting down her brush on a brush holder made of jade. “Yet, it would fool many.”

Chapter Text

The weak wind made the tall, green bamboo sway. Leaves covered the lake, casting a dark shadow. The water was still, and lily pads and water lilies were scattered on the lake’s surface.

“You shouldn’t be near that lake,” Lilia muttered, carrying a tray of green tea. The wind made her robes sway. 

The Lady hummed, dipping her finger into the water and creating a ripple that spread on the surface. Small waves formed, sloshing the lily pads and water lilies. She was crouched in front of the lake, sleeves bunched close to her elbows.

“You worry too much,” The Lady muttered, now submerging her entire right hand. “There are no monsters in the water.”

“I’m just worried about the Kappas,” Lilia replied, slowly making her way to the lake. Her footsteps were light, no sound leaving her soles. “They like taking your innards.”

“I won’t die,” The Lady said, withdrawing her hand. She inspected it, watching the water droplets race down her arm. She turned to Lilia, “It’s a little hot, don’t you think?”

Draco blinked, turning his body to face right and pulling his blanket to cover his feet. He didn’t know what hour of the night it already was. He didn’t want to call one of the elves, fearing they would report to his Maman or his parents. 

The contents of the letter echoed in his mind. Before separating hands with Potter, the savior had the decency to give him the letter and to tell him not to think too deeply about it. 

Like he would! It just happened to plague his mind.

“I’m going crazy,” Draco muttered, pressing his nose against his pillow and forcefully shutting his eyes. Arthur snored next to him, taking up a large area of his bed. He opened his eyes. “Why am I thinking about it?”

R.A.B.

It was an initial he had never seen. Not in the past nor the present. Whoever it was, they were close with his mother, enough so to create a treasure hunt and use a nickname. He could only think of his Aunt Bellatrix, but he knew the crazy woman had no patience with mind games. Maybe in the past, but if he considered the date it was written, his Aunt Bellatrix must have delved too deep into dark magic. 

He shifted again, now lying on his back. The stars, which were painted to imitate the sky, were removed and replaced with dark green paint. He had grown out of that childishness. Although he remembered having it until his 5th year, before everything went to bloody hell. 

“What if … ” Draco folded his hands over his stomach. He blinked twice. “I find that necklace.” He sat up, making the blanket pool onto his lap. He clenched the fabric. “It should just be in the manor, right?”

He got out of bed, slipping on house slippers before his candelabra. With a snap of his fingers, it lit up, illuminating the dark room. He hovered it in front of Arthur. Arthur wiggled, blinking his small eyes open before yawning. 

“Don’t be like that now,” Draco whispered when the niffler moved to face the other side. He picked it up, slipping him into his front pocket. The niffler let out another yawn. 

Draco carefully twisted the door handle, slowly pulling it open before peeking his head outside. Potter’s door was still closed and the hallway was dark and deserted. Slipping out, he carefully shut his room and went right.

He was unlikely to bump into any of the elves. Even Wimpy, who was usually awake at any time of the day, was likely to be asleep with the rest of the elves. 

Draco quickly made his way to the second floor and to a corridor where floor-to-ceiling windows perfectly spaced covered on wall and overlooked the garden. He had thought of visiting the trophy room. It might be there. If it were jewelry, then it would perfectly blend in. 

Only the soft patter of his slippers filled the corridor. Draco could feel his skin crawl with the eerie feeling. As a child, he had once or twice sneaked around in the middle of the night. He didn’t feel scared, but that was because he had the childhood innocence and naivety. 

Arthur was forced awake by all the moving. The niffler peeked out of his pocket, contentedly watching the view of the garden when his beady eyes spotted something. Tugging on the fabric, it let out distressed sounds.

“What’s wrong, Arthur?” Draco hovered the candelabra in front of it before following the niffler’s panicked pointing. Raising the candelabra, Draco slowly turned to face the window and froze, silver eyes growing wide. The eerie feeling intensified.

Standing at a distance, close to the entrance of the hedge maze, was a black figure. Draco felt like it was staring back at him.

Draco, gulping, lowered his candelabra and turned away. He could feel his heart pumping wildly in his chest. Arthur continued to tug at his pocket, letting out distressed whines.

He tried to convince himself that he was hallucinating. That Voldemort wasn’t outside their manor. That wasn’t Voldemort on the prowl looking for a unicorn to sip on. Professor Quirrell was gone. Potter had gotten rid of him for good. 

“We have to check it,” Draco muttered, hastening his steps and rerouting to the garden entrance. Arthur let out a disbelief sound before diving deep into his pocket. Draco chuckled, “You’ll be facing scarier things at Hogwarts.”

Draco quickly made his way to the garden, taking a secret shortcut through one of the portraits before stumbling in front of the elves' quarters. Once he faced the giant double doors, he took a deep breath before pushing it open. The wind made his long hair sway. He blinked, standing at the top of the stoop. He lowered the candelabra onto his feet.

No black figure.

Draco sighed in relief, closing his eyes briefly. “No Voldemort — ” He opened his eyes and his breath hitched. The figure returned. Arthur, who had popped out when they reached the door, returned scurrying into his pocket.

He shook his head, his body freezing. Flashes of Voldemort appeared in his head. The hideous face. The pale skin. The long nails. The dark eyes full of evil intent. 

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t — 

“Draco?”

Draco bit his tongue, feeling a metallic taste in his mouth. He opened his eyes, seeing Potter dressed in what he guessed were muggle sleepwear. Just when he thought his heart couldn’t beat any faster, it was fighting to stay inside his rib cage. He could hear it in his ear, thumping wildly. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked breathlessly, a little slurred. He winced, processing the pain on his tongue. 

“What are you doing here?” Potter returned the question. “I was going to get a glass of water.”

“You could have ordered one of the elves,” Instead of scaring me. Draco huffed, silver eyes glaring into Potter’s jade green. Remembering, his hand quickly grabbed the pendant hanging from his neck. He thumbed the pendant, feeling its grooves. 

“Hey, you’re pale. Like really pale and you’re sweating,” to prove his point, Potter rubbed the back of his hand against his temple. “Cold sweat. What’s going on Draco?”

“I … ” Draco was debating whether he should confess that he saw a mysterious figure in his garden. Considering he was talking to Potter, he wouldn’t overreact. Potter should be used to people trying to kill. “I think — ”

Then he saw movement. A shadow swiftly disappeared into the rose garden. His brows furrowed. There were anti-apparition wards around the property. It was unlikely to be an elf. 

“Wait, Draco!”

Draco ran down the stoop, rushing to the rose garden. Passing through the arch entryway made of rose bushes, he scanned the area. Rose bushes placed in systematic arrangements that made a small maze were void of any other person, saved for himself. Slowly, he took a few steps forward, mindful of the cobblestone trail. Potter was behind him, steps louder than he liked.

“Stay close,” He told Potter, arms slightly stretched away from his sides, “You don’t — ah!”

“Draco!”

Draco looked up at the small hole. He had landed on his knees, ripping the fabric of his pajama pants. He squinted his eyes. Potter looked down, face full of worry.

“Stay there!” Draco’s voice echoed in the darkness. Slowly, he stood up, wincing at the stings in his knees, and he realized the pinched feeling in his arms as well. “Meet me at the gazebo!”

“Where’s that?!” Potter screamed back. 

“The gazebo at the center of the maze!”

Potter looked conflicted, lips pursed and brows furrowed. His messy raven hair grew messier. “Can’t I follow you?!”

Draco wondered how Potter survived in the past. “Just stay there! If I don’t arrive by sunrise, call the elves and Maman. They should know a way to get me!”

Arthur popped his head out of his pocket, looking up at the hole. It made a confused sound. Draco petted the niffler with his finger. “Go, Potter. I’ll be fine.”

Probably. He didn’t have a wand, and his companion was a baby niffler who only knew how to fight. 

Still, Potter insisted on accompanying him, but Draco was quick to threaten him by new speaking to him ever again. Potter, although clearly against his will, admitted defeat. Moving away from the hole, Potter made him promise to come out alive and to have breakfast together.

Making sure Potter wouldn’t go back on his word, Draco waited until Potter’s footsteps waned. He sighed, realizing how unfortunate he was. He was either going to live or die in the black abyss under their garden.

Arthur called, looking up at him. Draco smiled, taking him out of his pocket and placing him on his right shoulder. “Come on. We have to get out of this place.”

Draco walked and walked, moving in an aimless straight line. Moving away from the hole, his surroundings were pure darkness. No air was blowing underground. To keep himself safe, he extended his right arm in front of him and his left to his side. Both were in no contact with any wall or rock.

This made him wonder how the garden, let alone the entire manor, managed to be built on hollow ground. The weight would cause it to sink. Not to mention how the elves missed the hole in the middle of the trail. But he remembered walking in the same trail the day before and found no hole. It was impossible for it to suddenly appear. Unless — 

Draco quickly turned around, sensing movement. His eyes narrowed as he moved his head around. He was silently cursing the law preventing underage wizards from using magic, let alone a wand. He couldn’t use unsupported flight, lest he wanted a letter from the ministry the next day. 

Forcing himself to stay alert, he continued his way. The space was endless, and Draco feared he had gone in circles. Suddenly, Arthur grew restless, pulling on his hair.

“What’s wrong?” He asked the niffler. The niffler clipped its beak, letting out sounds of happiness. Furrowing his brows, Draco asked, “Do you — ”

Then he heard it. Splashes. Like splashes from a lake. Hastening his steps, Draco ventured forward and then he saw it. A white curved door-shaped silhouette from a distance. He silently cheered, ignoring how Arthur had crawled to the top of his head and held on to his roots for dear life. He hadn’t realized it, but he was already running.

His lungs burned. Maybe it was the limited air circulation underground or deadly toxins mixed in the air. He didn’t care. He needed the light.

Running into the light, Draco closed his eyes as intense light filled his view. He hissed, feeling a tingling sensation wash over him before the sound of waves crashing filled his eardrums. Opening his eyes, a silent gasp left his lips.

A large, underground lake was in front of him. Its crystal blue waters were calm and shimmered under the sunlight. Looking up, another gasp left his lips. A perfectly clear sky with sunlight shining above. Clouds in various shapes cruised lazily. He sniffed, taking in the wet, dewy scent of the green grass. 

Suddenly, Arthur started pulling on his hair, veering him to move and look in front of him. 

Draco blinked in disbelief. In the middle of the lake was an islet with a large tree. The tree had giant roots, some of it peeping out of the ground. It leaves were a healthy leafy green that swayed with the gentle winds. 

Arthur grew restless. Draco winced, feeling a few strands being uprooted. “Hey,” He called, “What’s going on with you?”

Arthur made a chirping sound, one he used when he spotted something gold. It was his ‘aha!’ sound. He started pointing in the direction of the islet.

“Over there?” Draco asked, earning an affirmative yip. He sighed. He walked to the edge of the lake, peering into the water. There wasn’t any sign of living or dangerous inhabitants. “I swear if this kills me …” He muttered, dipping one toe into the water. A shiver ran up his spine. 

The water was cold. Closing his eyes, Draco pushed his feet forward, feeling it sink. He leaned forward, allowing himself to enter the body of water. He expected to be submerged but was pleasantly surprised to learn that the water was only chest deep. He huffed, one hand coming to hold Arthur on his head.

“Hold on tight.”

Harry moved the candelabra left to right, shining light into the dark trail. He had been walking through the maze garden for what he thinks has been 5 minutes already. There was no sign of its exit, which was weird since Draco mentioned crossing the garden only taking five minutes.

Maybe it was the freezing wind and the fear that Sirius Black could pop out, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being followed. He’d suddenly turn around, swishing the candelabra, and look behind him, half expecting Voldemort or Sirius Black behind him. 

His wand was placed securely in his pocket, but he had little plan to take it out. He didn’t want the Malfoys getting into trouble with the ministry. 

His slippers created a loud pitter-patter against the cobblestone trail. He expected to hear the peacocks Lucius Malfoy raised, but only heard silence. It was too silent, and knowing his near-death streak, silence meant trouble.

“Who’s there?” Harry shined the candelabra to his left, green eyes narrowed at the dim distance. He stopped walking. “Hello?” Silence replied to him. 

Taking another look behind him, Harry decided it was best if he left the garden. Draco said to head to the center of the maze, which was just beyond the garden.

Then, he heard whispering.

Harry did a full circle, shining light. The whispering was low, almost inaudible, but Harry knew there was someone. It wasn’t Parseltongue. Instead, it was a foreign language.

He looked around.

The wind was starting to pick up, nearly blowing out the candelabra. Harry panicked, quickly covering the flames with his palm. He hastily looked around.

“alis… alis…”

Harry started running. Lighting flashed in the distance, and strange rumbling came from the skies. Looking up, Harry saw pure darkness — no moon or stars in sight. He forced himself to look straight and froze, the candelabra slipping from his fingers and falling to the trail, fire quickly going out. 

Standing a few feet away from him was a black figure. It didn’t have any features — no glowing eyes, skin, or any disturbing physical straight. But there was a sinister air around it. Harry felt like it was staring at him.

Harry forced himself to look away, running into the bushes. Rose bushes be damn. The trail was leading him to it. He continued running, stepping on roses, leaves, and bushes. 

He should have gone with Draco.

Thunder clapped above him, and lightning flashed bloody red in the sky. In fact, the sky had turned dark red, and the winds picked up. Several rose petals, formerly pink in color, were now bloody red and were flying in the wind.

Harry looked behind him. The figure, he wasn’t sure if it was after him, looked like it was catching up. He jumped over the low picket, finally leaving the rose garden and running into the maze. He took random turns, nearly running into a dead end before making his own trail by forcing himself through the trimmed bushes. 

A loud, pained screech came from behind him the exact moment loud thunder rumbled in the sky. 

Harry forced himself to look back, screaming as the figure was gaining on him. He looked away, picking up speed. He wished he had his broom. 

His breath hitched, sweat running heavily down his temples and cheeks. His fists were clenched, swinging back and forth. He had taken his fifth turn, still no sign of the gazebo. Red lightning flashed above him, and the red sky grew brighter. Everything was red in Harry’s eyes. 

“What is — oof!” Harry landed on his face. He groaned, feeling slightly disoriented. He pulled his lower half before kneeling. He pressed a hand against his temple. “What — ”

A loud yip made him look to his right. He blinked. 

A small fox with red fur and a white stomach was in front of him, sitting on the grass with poised grace. What caught him off guard was its seven red tails with white tips. There was a symbol on its forehead. 

“You — ” Harry gulped, “Are you with that?”

The fox returned his question with a bored look before rising on its four legs. It curled its tail, concealing its tips. It shook its body, suddenly glowing a soft, bright white light. It moved past Harry then paused. It yipped. 

“You want me to follow you?” Harry slowly stood up. 

The fox looked over its seven tails, fox eyes — red eyes — looked at him boredly before it started walking. 

Defeated and scared, Harry followed.

Draco rose from the waters, stepping onto the islet with his pajamas soaking wet. He shook off the water that he could. His pajamas felt heavy and he felt cold. He wrapped his arms around him. 

Arthur jumped off his head, landing with a roll before running to the tree. Draco clicked his tongue, following. Like he saw near the entrance, some of the large tree’s roots had grown out of the ground. He glided his palm against the rough roots. 

The islet was nothing special. It had an overgrown tree. 

Arthur let out a call. 

“Found something, Arthur?” Draco rounded the other side of the tree, spotting Arthur digging at the base of the tree. His niffler’s webbed feet wiggled. He rolled his eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you to dig bigger holes?”

He grabbed Arthur by its round belly and tugged. It let out a whine. “Shut it. I told you not to eat the sweets. Just because it's wrapped in gold foil, doesn’t mean its good to eat.”

He pushed his right foot against a nearby root, anchoring it before pulling again. Arthur let out another wail. He huffed, letting go. 

Arthur was stuck.

“Hold on,” he muttered, kneeling next to his niffler, “Let me dig you out.” He grimaced, feeling dirt in his hand and between his fingers. He continued to dig around Arthur, throwing the dirt behind him until finally, he could feel Arthur’s front. “Okay, hold on.” Cupping Arthur’s face, Draco gently pushed him backward. His other hand grabbed his lower half and pulled. Arthur got out of the hole with a pop and a gold necklace in his small hands. 

“What’s this?” Draco looked at the wallet before gently lowering Arthur onto his lap.

 He examined the necklace, quickly realizing that it was a locket. It was crafted to mimic a pocket watch. The numbers from 1 to 12 were carved into the metal while the watch hands were made of black stone. 

He fiddled with the locket, trying to figure out how to open it when he pressed the button, flinching when it suddenly popped open. A folded piece of paper fell out. Arthur caught it and gave it to Draco. It read:

Dear Cissa,

You must have figured out my first clue. Well done! It was not a hard find, yes? Your next clue can be found in the room that expands, in a book bearing your name.

I do hope my gift reaches you. Best wishes, dear cousin.

R.A.B.

Draco frowned, folding the piece of paper and inserting it back into the locket. He closed it shut and slung it around his neck, colliding with his jade pendant.

R.A.B. was his mother’s cousin, meaning he was his uncle. A Black, he realized. 

“Come on, Arthur, we got to figure a way out — ”

Draco held Arthur tight, the ground underneath them suddenly shaking. Wild waves formed in the lake. The large tree shook, but no leaves fell. Just as the ground started to shake, it suddenly stopped, and the lake returned to its serene state. He slowly stood up. 

“What — ” Arthur pulled on his finger, pointing across the lake. His gaze followed. “An exit. Come on!” He placed Arthur on his head and ran to the edge of the islet. With no hesitation, he entered the water, ignoring how the water now reached his neck.

Harry looked around, still seeing the same trimmed hedge wall. The fox had served as his light source and was leading him to who knows where. He hoped it was to the center of the maze and not the black figure. The fox took another turn to the left.

Harry found the fox odd yet comforting. It was obviously not from the Malfoy estate. Something about it told him it was never meant to be in the manor. That it was there by chance. Not to mention the weird mark on its forehead. It looked to be a plant.

That made him touch his lightning-shaped scar. It wasn’t hurting, so he could guess the fox wasn’t an ally of Voldemort.

“We’re at the center,” Harry muttered, seeing the gazebo come into view. “Wow. You led me here.”

Walking faster, Harry quickly approached the gazebo. He stood underneath it, finally letting his heart relax when the wind suddenly picked up again. Loud wooshing sounds surrounded him. 

He gulped, seeing the sky suddenly grow red and loud thunder clapping in the distance. Then, the rose bushes started dancing, swaying side to side with terrifying speed.

“Alis… alis…”

Harry turned to the entrance of the center of the maze, seeing the black figure. Harry could now confirm that it had moved. Chills ran down his spine. It kept whispering — loudly but still! Lightning — red sparks — danced above him. 

“Alis… alis…”

Harry closed his eyes, preparing for the worst. He could feel unexplained heat near him when suddenly loud hissing came from it. Opening his eyes, he gasped, covering his eyes with an arm as the fox from before started glowing intensely. It had jumped in front of him and approached the black figure, its fur glowing brighter and brighter. 

It growled, tail unfurling and showing its white tips. The hissing grew louder. The figure stumbled back.

“Alis! Alis!”

The fox returned it with a snarl before leaping, crashing into the figure. The figure let out a poud, gruesome screech as its body started to crumble and fade, from the center where the fox collided to its edges. 

“Alis… alis… a...”

Harry fell to his knees, feeling suddenly weak. The fox’s glow started to dim. He blinked. The thundering and lightning stopped, and the sky returned to black. The stars were finally appearing. The fox returned to his side and he debated on patting it, but chose otherwise. It yipped and started walking.

“Wait,” Harry said, standing up, “Draco told me to wait here!”

The fox didn’t listen, slipping into the maze. Harry huffed, getting up and running after it. He just hoped he and Draco would reunite.

The swim to the exit took longer than the swim to the islet. Draco huffed, kicking his legs. The lake was deeper in that area. The locket and his pendant floated close to his chest. Arthur kept watching from above his head. 

“Don’t worry, Arthur. We’ll — what was that?” He stopped moving, feeling something brush against his feet. He tried looking down, but only found darkness. He couldn’t make out the lake floor. That unnerved him. He looked around.

The waters were calm and there were no signs of any living creature in the water.

He felt it again. 

Something cold and slimy brushed against his feet. 

He scanned the lake again before cautiously resuming to swim. He pushed against the water. His feet started to float off the ground. He kicked. They finally reached halfway.

“Just a few more — woah!”

Draco coughed out the lake water. He flailed in the water. Something was trying to pull him down. He kicked his legs frantically. He could feel webbed hands wrap around his ankles, pulling hard. Arthur let out a distressed scream, holding onto his hair. 

He started getting pulled into the water, but he would fight back, pulling himself to the surface. This continued. The lake had grown treacherous. Medium-sized waves started to form, crashing into him. 

Draco took a deep breath, feeling himself be pulled down. He grabbed Arthur, tucking him into his front pocket. He looked down, gasping into the water as he watched several green webbed hands wrap around his ankles. He could barely see his feet!

He tried to swim away, but the pulling grew insistent. He coughed. Having gasped, he had limited oxygen. He grabbed his pendant and the locket, holding them close to his front pocket.

His vision started to blur. The sky shone brightly above him. Bubbles surrounded him. He blinked, white spots forming in his eyes.

Was this how he would end? Drowning in a lake because he took a locket. What a pitiful way to die. 

He raised his free hand, reaching out. He felt his body slowly grow limp. 

Goodbye, cruel world…

Just when he was about to grow unconscious, he faintly made out a silhouette of a person. And something glowed in front of him. The person swam towards him, arms outstretched. Their features were blurred in his eyes, but he could make out a red mark on their forehead 

Finally, his world went black.

Draco woke up with a start, gasping for air. His hands flew to his throat, squeezing it as he rolled left to right repeatedly. His chest heaved painfully. He coughed, sitting up. His eyes, stinging with pain, blinked. He looked at his chest, seeing the locket and pendant hanging heavily around his neck.

“Arthur? Arthur, where are you?!”

A weak cry came from a few meters away from him.

“Arthur!” Draco crawled to his niffler before scooping him between his fingers. He breathed a sigh of relief before pressing the niffler against his chest, close to his beating heart. “There, there. We’re safe now.”

He breathed out. He looked around. He was at the edge of the maze. The exit at the other side. He noticed his clothes were dry. Too dry that he couldn’t tell if him swimming in the lake was real.

But he had the locket to prove it.

He frowned. He was fortunately saved. 

He sighed, closing his eyes. “Potter’s trouble-seeking tendencies must be rubbing off on me.”

“Draco!”

Draco opened his eyes, seeing Potter exiting the maze. The savior ran before tackling him into a hug. He lay on the grass, silver eyes blinking at the stars. Potter wrapped his arms tightly around his neck. He awkwardly patted the savior’s back.

“Want to tell me what happened?” He asked Potter.

“I almost died.”

Draco scoffed. So did he. “What happened?”

“Do you employ creatures that have no form and are only black figures?” Potter pulled back as he asked the question, expression serious.

Draco thought back on the figure he saw. “No. It would scare the peacocks. Why?”

Potter shook his head before pulling him into another. “Nothing… I — never mind.”

Draco hummed. Seemed like death visited them that night — or morning. He doesn’t know what time it was. 

“I found this,” He pushed Potter away and presented the locket. “The next clue is in the library.”

“Can we do it tomorrow?” Potter let out a yawn and blinked his tired green eyes. “We could use some sleep.”

“You reckless fool!” Lilia seethed, helping The Lady out of the lake and throwing a towel over her shoulders. Her green robes were soaking wet, dripping onto the grass. “I thought you were dragged by the Kappas!”

“Figure out how the lake reached the manor,” The Lady huffed, pushing past Lilia and tugging the towel closer to her frame. “I need answers.”

Lilia huffed, “You jumped into the water, disappeared for an hour — no bubbles, mind you — and expect me to figure out how it’s connected to Malfoy Manor? Why?”

“Because I want to know how a locket that’s supposed to be hidden underneath a rosemary tree reach the depths of Nirvana!” The Lady hissed, turning around. 

Lilia flinched, green eyes widening. “You mean …”

“The fates want to kill him.”