A/N: I'm just curious, after you read this chapter, who do you think the Heir of LeFey is?
One minor goof-up from the last chapter. I said that Draco's mother lived in a suburb of Manchester. I meant to write that she lived in Stratford. Sorry for the mix-up.
Chapter 6: Longshanks
Draco and his mother stood in the doorway of the Stratford home for what seemed like a long eternity, simply hugging one another. For Miranda, it was a matter of surprise and an exorcism of demons and fears from long ago. For Draco, it was a plethora of emotions that were running through his head at that particular moment. Joy, sadness, anger…all of them combined in a strange sense of calm and peace that radiated throughout his consciousness.
Finally the moment broke, and Miranda broke away from her son. "I've always dreamt of this day," she confessed, wiping away her eyes sadly. "I never gave up hope that you would…" she stopped herself and coughed a couple of times, moving aside from the entryway. "Please, come in." Draco backed away a moment, unsure of himself, before nodding his head and walking through the door.
It wasn't a large house by any means, at least to someone who had grown up inside the vast expanses of Malfoy Manor. It had a cozy feel to it, Draco quickly decided, with simple cream colored walls on the hallway that led to a small family room at the end. Two flights of stairs went down towards a basement on the right side and up towards bedrooms on the left. Draco merely followed his mother into the family room, not certain what he would find.
"Ian," Miranda called out in advance of her arrival. "There's someone here who you need to meet." Draco rounded the corner and stopped short when he saw a tall man in a plaid shirt putting down his paper and glancing up at the entryway. He had an army style buzz haircut that added to the aura of intimidation that surrounded him. Draco did not let him exercise this aura, merely standing there, emotionless. "Ian," Miranda continued as he slowly made his way towards them, "This is Draco…my son. From…before." Ian stared at his wife for a few moments, before realization seemed to dawn on him. Almost immediately his face went from kind but hesitant to a welcoming countenance, causing Draco to relax a bit more. Ian glanced down at him and offered his hand, which Draco welcomingly took.
"I hoped you'd find your way here son," he said smiling, his wife standing next to him. Draco offered what smile he could. "Please, sit down."
Draco made his way into the room and looked at all of the pictures that had been placed on the wall. It was slightly unsettling to him when he saw the figures in the portraits as still as statues, and he had to remind himself of the limits of muggle photography. His eyes stopped on a single large family portrait in the center of several other small pictures. In it he saw the two people in the room with him now, his mother and, he guessed, stepfather. Surrounding the two of them were three young children of varying ages. Draco assumed that they were the children of the two people in front of him; in effect they were his brothers and sisters. Suddenly the prospect of actually having a real family out there…something that wasn't based on blood or based on loyalty seemed to be a real possibility. He had very little to base this feeling on, little more than hope, anyway. He felt his eyes start to mist over slightly, and he quickly tried to hide behind his actor's mask as he sat down.
"There are so many questions I want to ask," Miranda said softly as they sat down across from Draco. "How did you find us? What was your childhood like? God, I don't even know how old you are off the top of my head." She choked on a sob, and Ian draped a hand over her shoulder, offering her some comfort.
"I'm 16," Draco said quietly. "And I have been looking for you for some time." His eyes darted to the side, trying to figure out the best way of putting things. Finally, he glanced back at his mother. He had to be upfront and honest with her, he decided. He had enough lies to suit his lifetime.
"How much do you know about the man who was my father," Draco asked directly, "Aside from the fact that his name was Malfoy?" Miranda thought for a moment, shaking her head slightly.
"Not much I'm afraid," she replied meekly, trying to force down traumatic memories. "I was just a young, stupid girl trying to support a habit that would have wound up killing me. I was taken by this large man to a warehouse, where he and the other man…Malfoy…performed there…"
"What has that got to do with anything?" Ian interjected, obviously angry at Draco for making his wife upset at the memories.
"There's something you should know about him," Draco replied flatly. "He was a wizard…I am a wizard. Before you say anything…magic is indeed real. I can prove it." Miranda and Ian each stared at him with dumbfounded looks on their faces as he pulled a jagged stick out of his pocket and pointed it over to the side. "Accio Picture Frame." Sure enough, the picture frame he gestured towards shot through the air and landed straight in his hands. Miranda gasped, while Ian merely pointed in disbelief.
"H-How did you do that?" he managed to stammer out.
"Like I said," Draco explained nonchalantly, putting his wand away and setting the picture frame down in front of him. "Magic." He saw the two of them still staring at him in disbelief. "Perhaps I'd better start from the beginning."
/ - / - / - /
Dolohov cast down the broken husk of Nigelius Ebenezer Ollivander in disgust, having drained the last bit of information he could have gotten old of the aged wandmaker. "He's useless," Dolohov announced in frustration, "There's no more about the Resurrection Stone or how it could be used to reconstitute a soul." Dolohov turned towards Voldemort, who watched the proceedings with an inquisitive look on his face, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
"I thought as much. Caliban's hunch turned out to be wrong." Voldemort stood up and walked away, staring out the window at the starry sky above. "We'll have to hope that the transference leaves enough of the host's soul in tact to recreate a Horcrux."
"My lord," Dolohov suggested, moving forward slightly, "That will complicate matters greatly. I had always assumed we would use a dementor to suck the soul out of the host first." Voldemort glared over his shoulder.
"I am aware of the risks Antonin," Voldemort sad calmly. He then spun around and fired a small bolt of energy at Dolohov, causing him to launch backwards and slam against the stone wall. "Do not assume my friend," Voldemort said angrily, "That just because Caliban is dead you can take his place as my advisor." Dolohov groaned as he stood up and bowed before Voldemort.
"Forgive my impudence my lord," he said regally, and Voldemort lowered his hand. Dolohov paused for several moments before he continued. "I am curious how you are able to perform wandless magic like that. I assumed that…" Voldemort cackled and walked away from Dolohov.
"You once again assume too much Antonin," he said off handedly. "In my…current condition, I am merely using the magic that is seeping from my body as opposed to tapping into my own magical reserves. Doing so will slow the progression of my disease and allow me to maintain control over some of the more…independent minded of my minions." Dolohov nodded, and at Voldemort's silence, departed the room.
Voldemort stood in silence for a long time before he turned and walked to the side of his bedroom. He pulled at a torch handle and watched as the wall in front of him swung around, revealing a large cauldron filled with a silvery, mercurial liquid. He pulled out his wand and swirled it around the pensieve, waiting until the proper memory revealed itself. A moment later a large projection appeared over the pensieve, until Voldemort saw the ghostly memory of his old friend, Caliban.
"Hello, my master," Caliban's reflection said in a cordial voice, "I trust you have come to seek my counsel."
Voldemort chuckled. "Even in death old friend," he said, "You are the only one I can trust. I come to ask you of how far you came on the search for the heirs."
"Yes, of course." Caliban's memory paused for a moment, as if accessing the information. Finally he spoke. "It is as we feared my lord," he began. "Potter is indeed the Heir of the Founders by both blood and magic." Voldemort grimaced, before motioning for Caliban to continue.
"It would appear that Potter underwent his inheritance ritual early. Why remains to be unsolved, but I believe that Lazarus may have been involved. The coming of the Heir of the Founders is one of the signs to the Prophecy of Merlin of which he was always trying to fulfill. The second sign is the revelation of the Heir of LeFey. Unfortunately, not as much is known about Morgan's heir, save one: The Heir is not descended by blood from Morgan LeFey."
"Then how do we know who it is," Voldemort asked.
"The Heir will reveal themselves all in good time, I'm afraid. That's all the ancient texts would say, and even that was treated with conjecture. If I had to guess," Caliban paused, trying to add some figures in his head, "If the books are indeed wrong and the Heir is descended from a bloodline…one of the Weasley clan may be the Heir of LeFey."
"Those blood traitors!" Voldemort exclaimed…
"It gets worse," Caliban admitted coldly, "From that perspective at least. The Heir of Merlin is certainly not descended from a bloodline. This opens the great possibility that the Heir of Merlin may be muggle-born."
Voldemort stopped for a moment, thinking. "You do not think it is…"
"It might be," Caliban said quietly, "But it could just as easily be Potter as my father seems to think. In any event, I recommend caution in dealing with them. You need to know who the Heirs are, before confronting them."
/ - / - / - /
The quiet ticking of a clock greeted Remus Lupin as he silently apparated outside a cottage long since considered to be abandoned. It had taken a good deal of searching by Tonks at the Ministry to find this residence, and Remus was surprised when he found it completely unremarkable as far as wards or protections were concerned. The door was even open in front of him as he walked forward, hence the ticking clock sound. He was certain this was the right place, but couldn't understand why it seemed so…ordinary. It was as if time and space had simply forgotten the once great man who now resided there.
Indeed time had forgotten Professor Demetrius Longshanks, Remus reminded himself. No one had seen the Professor in nearly fifteen years. At least not since James and Lily were…Remus stopped himself. He kept his wand at close reach and slowly walked into the cottage, unsure of what he might find.
The house itself was much smaller than the manor house that Remus knew that the Professor possessed. The Longshanks were a moderately noble pureblood family. Though they lacked the wealth of the Blacks or the Malfoys, they were not as bad off as the Weasleys had become. Remus had once been to the manor as part of a training exercise his seventh year at Hogwarts, and remembered it as being the single largest home he had ever seen, aside from Potter Manor that is.
This cottage was one story…and didn't appear to be magically enlarged on the inside. He walked straight into a main living area that was covered with dust and grime. Remus' eyes shot around the area, noticing a tea kettle on the stove perpetually chugging away. There were very few photos hanging on the wall, save for one that Remus recognized as a photo of the first Order of the Phoenix. He slowly made his way over there, and was surprised when he saw many of the figures darkened out, as if they had been expunged from the photo.
"Who's there," came a sharp voice from across the room, and Remus turned to see a rather sorry sight. Professor Longshanks was little like the man who cut a gallant figure just fifteen years ago. His short auburn hair was now interspersed with flecks of gray. His bright brown eyes had dulled with age and no longer shone with either wisdom or joy, but rather were darkened by the specter of a troubled and confused mind. Remus slowly walked towards the professor, holding up his hands to show that he was harmless.
"Professor Longshanks," he replied softly. "It's your old student, Remus Lupin." Longshanks looked at him confusedly, as if he were growing a second head or something. Longshanks kept his wand trailed on Remus.
"That's impossible," Demetrius said quickly, "Remus is dead. He was killed by Voldemort fifteen years ago." Remus arched an eyebrow.
"No," he said quickly, "That was James…and Lily. The Potters," he said quietly. "Don't you remember?" Demetrius squinted, as if to try and think of something.
"It's…hard," he confessed, lowering his wand. "I don't…remember things like I used to. I don't…I…" he growled and through a nearby vase against the wall. "I just don't know!" he screamed, before slouching back in his chair. Remus just stared at the once mighty man, reduced to a near invalid.
"Why don't you tell me what you do remember?" Remus asked, sitting down across from him. Longshanks seemed to relax a bit, no longer considering him a threat.
"I thought that….no wait…James did die…" he trailed off for a moment, trying to remember something, before his eyes went wide. "Harry…what about Harry?" Remus held up his hands.
"Relax professor, Harry is alright. In fact he sent me to ask you some questions about…" Remus dived behind the couch after Demetrius fired a stunner over his head. "Professor please!" Remus shouted.
"Liar!" Demetrius shouted back. "Harry couldn't have sent you to deliver anything! He's only a baby!" Remus quickly tried to placate him, but Demetrius wouldn't hear any of it. "Don't feed me any of your lies! You won't trick me again Caliban! I know it's you!" Remus finally had enough and grabbed his own wand. He muttered under his breath a body bind curse and launched it towards Demetrius, catching the old auror off guard and causing him to topple over. Demetrius struggled against the curse while Remus emerged from behind the couch, standing over him.
"Will you please listen to me," Remus asked politely, causing Demetrius to calm down slightly. Remus sighed, wondering to himself what in the world could have happened to his old mentor. "It's been fifteen years since James and Lily were killed," he somberly explained, "Harry's a grown man now, at least physically." Remus had to remind himself of Harry's trips through the time warp having physically aged him, if not legally anyway. Remus saw the calm and realization in Demetrius' eyes and let the body bind curse off, though making sure first that Longshanks' wand was out of his reach. Demetrius sat up and shook his head, trying to clear out the cobwebs. "What do you remember?" Remus asked. "Do you remember Hogwarts? Do you remember Professor McGonagall?" Demetrius' eyes lit up at the name.
"Of course I remember Minerva," he said warmly. "At least…I think I do." He groaned as he tried to keep the images in his minds eye. "Everything is just a jumble. It has been for a long time…"
"What do you remember about Dumbledore," Remus asked, trying to get to the reason he had come here in the first place.
"I…Dumbledore?" Demetrius looked at him questioningly. "No…not Dumbledore…Lazarus!" Demetrius snapped his fingers. "Yes it was…Lazarus who I remember. And…Regulus…Regulus Black!" Remus arched an eyebrow.
"Sirius' brother?" he replied in a questioning matter. "What does he have to do with anything?"
"I…he was…searching for something and…The Heir…the Heir of LeFey!" Remus almost immediately perked up. Luna had mentioned the Heir of LeFey on a couple of occasions, though only in passing when compared to the Heir of Merlin. "I think he…no…was it Voldemort?" Demetrius slammed his fist against the wall, frustrated that he couldn't remember it all.
"It's alright Professor," Remus said with a small smile on his face. "I'll leave the address of where I can be reached on the table. If you think of anything else, please contact me." Remus left the piece of parchment on the side table and walked away.
"Remus," Demetrius called back, causing the werewolf to stop. "Harry is…well? He grew up…well…Dumbledore…I…" Remus sighed.
"He's fine now old friend," Remus said quietly as he walked away. "He's fine now."
/ - / - / - /
Harry let out a long sigh as he stared at the punching bag he had installed in the basement of Grimmauld Place as it swung back and forth after the drubbing it had just taken. He had received correspondence from the goblins that said that the objects they had seized from Hogwarts had no dark magic in them. He also made a request for one of the objects to be sent to his home once he learned it was there…namely the Sword of Gryffindor.
He also thought back to what had happened the night before in the Wizengamot. Fudge was no longer an issue, but Arthur's election to the post was not assured. Rufus Scrimgoeur had also declared himself a candidate. Meanwhile, Dumbledore had moved for the motion to be postponed while the merits of the two candidates were reviewed, something that on the surface didn't present much cause for concern, but Harry knew better.
Hermione slowly walked into the room and Harry allowed himself to be comforted by her presence. "Ron floo called," she explained quietly, "They've finished helping the twins fix the superficial damage to the shop and should be back for dinner. He was going to get something for Luna…something about a token he said." Harry smirked, knowing exactly what Ron was planning. "Okay, what is he up to," Hermione asked, seeing the Cheshire grin on his face.
"Nothing important," Harry dismissed, waving his hand as he grabbed a towel and wiped down his sweat drenched face. Hermione scoffed and walked over, grasping his sides and tickling him unmercifully, causing him to bark out with laughter. Hermione had discovered the fact that Harry Potter was ticklish during their first trip in the time warp, and it was a discovery that had caused a mixture of emotions in her mind. She was delighted to be able to bring a smile to Harry's face so readily. She was saddened when Harry's realization of this physical ailment was as awe-inspiring to him as it had been to her. Her anger towards the Headmaster had doubled when she realized that it was his meddling that had made it so. Harry finally forced her hands away and pinned her against the wall, kissing her senseless. They broke away after several moments, breathing heavily and looking into each other's eyes.
"If you must know," Harry said playfully, "He was going to get an engagement ring for Luna." Hermione nearly squealed at the news. "I'd keep it quiet though." Hermione nodded her head and the two made their way over to the couch in the basement, enjoying the company.
"If Dumbledore had had his way," Hermione remarked as she leaned into Harry's chest and he softly stroked her hair, "I would have probably ended up with Ron and you would have been with Ginny. At least that seemed to be what Ron thinks that he was planning." Harry kept a straight face, before he glanced down at his wife.
"I like to think that our love could have broken through any potions they used," Harry said softly. "But it doesn't change the fact that Ron never would have found Luna had they done that. Nor does it change that Ginny would have never found…" he stopped himself, unsure of how do finish that sentence.
"She'll come around," Hermione said quietly, "She'll come around."
/ - / - / - /
Draco's finished his tale with no small amount of effort in doing so. He was emotionally spent after finishing, and merely leaned forward, letting out shuddered breaths. For their part, Miranda and Ian stared dumbfounded at the young man who had just bared his soul to them. Miranda looked at her husband, who nodded his head at the unspoken question. Standing up, she walked across the room and embraced Draco deeply. Draco did not fight the embrace, eager to forget the world if but for one moment…despite the sudden nagging presence in the back of his mind of something more sinister around the horizon.
A/N: More with Draco and his parents in the next chapter, as well as a scene with Luna and her father. Meanwhile, Dumbledore gives the first Horcrux clue, and we'll go on the hunt for it from there.
Once again, I ask, realizing I haven't given too many clues, but who do you think is the Heir of LeFey?