Narcissa's Wake-up Call(Malfoid)

[NonsensicalRants]

Narcissa's Wake-Up Call

Chapter 1:

A Peace Offering
​

---

Lyra Malfoy had been home for Christmas for less than three hours when her mother summoned her to the drawing room.

She knew at once that she was in trouble, but for the life of her she couldn't guess why.

There were different ways in which Narcissa Malfoy could ask to see her daughter. There was the distracted send Lyra down when she's finished, which generally meant somebody was visiting. There was the much more promising where has Lyra got to?, which usually meant presents, outings, or something else that Lyra was likely to enjoy.

And then there was:

"Your mother is waiting for you in the drawing room, Miss Malfoy," which used to sound much less intimidated coming from Dobby than from their new house elf, Griselda.

Lyra looked up from the book she had been unpacking.

"What did she say?"

The house-elf scowled at her, actually scowled! The nerve!

"Mrs Malfoy said that Miss Malfoy was to come to the drawing room," she repeated with a more pointed tone.

That was bad.

"Did she look angry?"

The elf's eye twitched.

"Never mind."

Lyra put the book down.

Her mother was sitting beside the fire when she arrived, perfectly straight-backed, with a bundle of parchment on the little table beside her.

"Close the door, Lyra."

Lyra did so.

"Sit."

She sat, somehow even more ramrod than her mother.

Narcissa regarded her for several seconds, and she could feel the judgement directed at every invisible wrinkle or speck of dust on her clothes.

Lyra had always thought her mother was good at silence. Her father could shout until the windows rattled when he was angry, but Mother could make Lyra wish somebody would shout simply by looking at her.

She must have decided Lyra was sufficiently uncomfortable to begin, and picked up the bundle.

"Do you know what these are?"

"No ma'am."

"Letters from your professors."

Lyra's stomach dropped.

"They've been writing to you?"

"For some time now."

"Well, if this is about Hagrid—"

"It is not."

"He's completely unqualified. You should have seen what he brought to our first lesson. It was a hippogriff, and he didn't even—"

"Lyra."

She stopped.

Narcissa placed the letters neatly back on the table.

"Professor Snape has been remarkably charitable regarding your conduct, though that is more just his style of writing and his true meaning is obvious to those of us who have known him for so long. Professor McGonagall has been less so, to say nothing of Filch."

Lyra folded her arms.

"Professor McGonagall doesn't like me," she countered, completely ignoring Filch as a nonentity.

"No. At present, I don't imagine she does."

Lyra blinked. She had expected her mother to object.

She continued.

"Professor Flitwick describes you as exceptionally capable when you choose to apply yourself. Professor Vector says much the same. Professor Sprout tells me that your work and attitude towards class material is excellent but your conduct to other students tiresome."

"I don't even do anything in Herbology."

"You apparently talk."

"Everyone talks."

"Everyone's mother is not receiving letters about it."

Lyra sank slightly into her chair as her mother lifted another parchment.

"Professor McGonagall has been particularly thorough. She tells me that you are argumentative, vindictive, disruptive, prone to gloating, incapable of losing gracefully and possessed of what she describes as an extraordinary fixation upon Harry Potter."

Lyra shot upright.

"I am not fixated on Potter!"

Narcissa raised one eyebrow.

"He's fixated on me!"

"Is he?"

"Yes!"

"How many letters do you suppose Lily Potter would have received about you, had she lived?"

Lyra opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She knew better than to bad-mouth Lily Potter ever since she made the mistake of doing so in front of her godfather. That 100-point loss for Slytherin was her personal record. She'd never had a worse detention than what Snape gave her, and she knew her mother held the woman in equally high regard.

Narcissa set the parchment down.

"Exactly."

"Potter starts half of it."

"Which leaves who as the responsible party for the other half?"

That stopped her again.

Narcissa leaned back.

"You seem to be under the impression that I have called you here to determine whether Harry Potter is a well-mannered, high-bred, and sociable boy."

"No."

"Then stop telling me about Harry Potter."

Lyra's cheeks burned.

"He gets away with everything."

"And?"

"And everyone loves him because he's Harry Potter, and he's good at Quidditch, and he thinks he's so—"

Narcissa struck her without warning. One moment Lyra was speaking and the next her mother's hand cracked across her cheek hard enough that she could feel it turning red.

Narcissa's voice remained perfectly level.

"You are thirteen years old."

"I know."

"Look at me."

Lyra hadn't realized she had turned to stare at the floor in mortification.

"You are thirteen years old," Narcissa repeated. "You became a young woman this summer, my diminished toiletries are constant reminders of it. I allowed you a great deal of foolishness as a child because children are foolish. That indulgence is ending."

Lyra felt herself flush much hotter than the slap had made her.

"Mother—"

"No. You will hear this once, and I expect not to have to repeat it."

Narcissa folded her hands in her lap.

"A lady does not shriek insults across corridors. She does not manufacture public scenes because somebody has irritated her. She does not make herself ridiculous merely to make somebody else uncomfortable. She does not permit another person to control her behavior simply by being present."

"I don't—"

Narcissa's eyes narrowed and Lyra closed her mouth.

"Your father and I have provided you every advantage we could. You have intelligence, education, a respected name, considerable means, and access to people whom most witches will never meet. Yet after two years at Hogwarts, what have you done with those advantages?"

Lyra didn't answer the rhetorical question.

"You have spent two years creating enemies and not one day creating allies."

Those words hurt more than the slap.

"I have friends."

"You have Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode. Two girls whom you like and who like you. I am pleased that you have them. They are not a sufficient network to serve you when you graduate from Hogwarts."

Lyra frowned.

"I'm thirteen."

"Precisely. Which means you have only a few years in which to make the connections that will serve you for the rest of your life."

Narcissa picked up one of the letters again, although she did not look at it.

"You appear to think Hogwarts is a world unto itself. It is not. We pure-bloods treat it as a waiting room for the adult world, a perspective your father and I seem to have failed to impart on you."

Lyra's frown deepened.

"The children around you will grow up. In five years they will begin entering the Ministry, Gringotts, St Mungo's, businesses, newspapers, schools, Wizengamot offices and respectable families. Some will become important. Some already are."

Her mother paused for dramatic effect.

"Harry Potter certainly is."

Lyra's expression soured before she could stop it.

Narcissa noticed.

"You needn't like him."

That surprised her.

"I don't?"

"Of course not. I am your mother, not a priest. You may dislike whomever you please."

"Oh."

"But you will stop antagonizing him."

Lyra's face fell.

"Mother!"

"Completely."

"But—"

"Your rivalry with Harry Potter is over! It ends now! Your father agrees and is absent because he knew I would be doing enough yelling for both of us."

"You can't just decide that!"

"I believe I just did."

"But what if he starts something?"

"Then you will conduct yourself with dignity."

"So I'm supposed to let him do whatever he wants?"

"No. You are supposed to discover that there are responses available to you besides behaving like a spoiled eight-year-old."

Lyra glared and her mother accepted the foul gaze. She noticed her mother was waiting patiently for Lyra's manners to kick in, and they did. She made use of the breathing and facial control exercises her godfather had taught her and her glare turned back into the usual serene countenance expected of a lady.

"Better."

"This isn't fair."

"Life seldom is."

"He hates me."

"Perhaps."

"And I hate him."

"So you've repeatedly informed me."

"He'd laugh if I suddenly started being nice to him."

"Then don't suddenly start being nice to him."

Lyra stared.

Narcissa gave the smallest sigh.

"I am not instructing you to chase Potter around the castle asking to be his friend. I am instructing you to end a feud that is detrimental to both you and this family. Make amends on your part and expect none on his."

She leaned forward.

"You will return to Hogwarts. You will speak to him privately, or as privately as circumstances reasonably allow. You will acknowledge that your behavior toward him has been unacceptable. You will inform him that you intend to leave him alone from this point onward, and you will request the same courtesy from him."

Lyra looked horrified.

"You want me to apologize?"

"Yes."

"To Potter?"

"Do you know another surviving Potter?"

"He'll never let me forget it."

"Then perhaps you should make the apology memorable for some reason other than your humiliation."

Lyra slumped back.

For a while the only sound in the room was the fire.

"What am I supposed to say?"

"That is for you to decide."

Lyra stared into the fire.

Potter.

Stupid, smug Potter. Potter and his stupid glasses and stupid scar and stupid broom and stupid talent for somehow coming out ahead every single time she—

They sat there in silence for a few moments as Lyra let hate fill her mind. Eventually she cleared her brain of such poison and stood.

"May I go?"

"One more thing."

Lyra sank back down.

Narcissa's expression softened. It wasn't by much, but enough.

"You are not being punished for growing up."

Lyra's eyes flicked toward her.

"This summer changed nothing about what you are permitted to enjoy. You may fly. You may get dirty. You may take Care of Magical Creatures, despite your father's inexplicable campaign against it. You may argue. You may compete. You may be loud when loudness is appropriate."

Lyra hadn't expected that.

"When I tell you to behave like a young lady, I do not mean that you must become Pansy Parkinson."

Lyra snorted and Narcissa almost smiled.

"I mean that you must learn self-command. There is nothing ladylike about allowing Harry Potter to determine your mood every time he walks into a room. And I cannot emphasize this enough, he is somebody who will be very important for a very long time. And a poor enemy to have. He is deadly, Lyra."

"Deadly?"

"Surely you've heard the rumors?"

"What? That he murdered Quirrell and slew a basilisk?"

"Your aunt personally examined the remains of the former, and your father the latter. Let me assure you, there is truth in the rumors and you are playing with fire when you antagonize him. If self-interest isn't enough to cease your self-appointed rivalry, perchance self-preservation will?"

Lyra allowed her disbelief to show on her face, but she realized her mother wasn't joking. A basilisk? With a sword?

"All right," she said, her voice coming out weaker than she intended.

She stood up to leave.

"And Lyra?"

"Yes?"

"If I receive another letter from Minerva McGonagall describing an extraordinary fixation upon that boy, I shall frame it in the greeting room for all visitors to see."

She knew she would too. She nodded and opened the door to leave.

"One final piece of advice. An apology is more convincing when accompanied by a gesture of good faith. Consider making one." Lyra frowned. "What sort of gesture?" "If I choose it for you, it isn't yours."

---

Harry's classmates had been back at Hogwarts for less than a day when Professor McGonagall brought Lyra Malfoy into the Gryffindor common room.

There were few things that could have silenced the room faster.

Malfoy, for her part, looked as if strolling into their domain was as natural as a morning walk through Sprouts – non-magical – flower beds. She stood just inside the portrait hole with her back straight and her hands clasped before her, wearing an expression of studied calm that Harry usually associated with her being particularly pleased with herself.

McGonagall stood behind her. His head of house said nothing as she motioned Malfoy forward.

To nobody's surprise the blonde girl made a beeline for Harry, who looked to either side of him to find Ron giving him an encouraging nod and Hermione absent. Right, they were still giving her the silent treatment and her them.

"What?" he said, the word coming out ruder than he imagined.

Malfoy's nostrils flared.

He cleared his throat.

"Right, sorry. How may I help you Malfoy?"

"That's better. Good evening to you too, Potter."

Ron lowered the chess piece he'd been about to move.

That sounded more like Malfoy. Harry relaxed slightly. Whatever strange thing was happening, at least she hadn't been replaced by a Polyjuiced impostor.

Malfoy looked around the common room. Every single person from first through fourth year was staring now. Fifth through seventh were all currently occupied in quieter places of the castle for study. Even Fred and George had abandoned whatever they had been doing in the corner.

For just a moment Malfoy looked toward McGonagall who nodded encouragingly. She even smiled at the Slytherin! It did the trick, because Malfoy drew herself a little straighter.

"My mother has imparted on me the importance of making nice with you, Potter, and she is right."

Harry blinked and Ron made a choking noise. That earned him a kick under the table. Harry felt obliged to deliver it in Hermione's absence.

Malfoy's cheeks went faintly pink, but she continued.

"My behavior toward you has been unacceptable, regardless of whatever slights I perceive you to have made against me."

Harry waited for the punchline. As if this was all some kind of sick joke. But none came. Malfoy was staring directly at him with an expectant, almost hopeful – dare he say frightened – expression.

"Are you apologizing?"

"Yes, Potter."

"To me?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"There is only one of you standing in front of me."

Someone behind Harry sniggered. Malfoy's eyes darted toward the sound, but she caught herself before saying anything.

Harry glanced at McGonagall again but the professor's face revealed absolutely nothing.

Malfoy continued.

"For the last two years I have treated our mutual dislike as though it were some sort of competition. Upon reflection, this has been childish, embarrassing, and a poor use of both of our time."

Harry didn't know what to say to that.

He looked at Ron as if he suddenly wasn't worse at social interactions than he was. But nothing had changed since their blow up at Hermione over the Firebolt and the redhead simply shrugged.

"I also accept that you will always be better than I am at Quidditch and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Was that… was that a compliment? Malfoy saying Harry was better than her at something was strange enough. Malfoy saying Harry was better than her at two things might have been a sign of the apocalypse.

Malfoy lifted her chin.

"But I am still the best student in our year in everything else, so I will settle for that as a source of pride."

"Hermione's got better marks than you," Ron said defensively, which seemed a little hypocritical with the current state of their friendship.

Malfoy's expression became distinctly more comfortable.

"No, she doesn't."

Ron frowned.

"Yes, she does."

"Not anymore. Granger's marks have slipped this year. Mine haven't."

That took some of the wind out of Ron. Harry wished Hermione had been there to contradict her.

"So that's it?" Harry asked. "You're just giving up?"

"I am ending our rivalry. I am not asking you to be my friend, I just want us to not be enemies."

"Same thing."

"No, it isn't."

"What about Hagrid's class?"

Malfoy's eyebrows drew together.

"What about it?"

"You took Care of Magical Creatures."

"Yes. Astounding powers of observation, Potter. Sorry! Let me try that again," she said, catching herself. "What does Care of Magical Creatures have to do with this? Please, I am confused."

"If you're not trying to cause trouble for me anymore, are you dropping it?"

For the first time since entering the room, Malfoy's careful composure vanished completely.

"I take that for my pleasure, Potter, and if my father couldn't yell me into giving it up, my distaste for you won't cut it either. Or did you think I took it as my elective to antagonize you? Get over yourself. Not everything everyone does is about you."

Harry opened his mouth. Then closed it. They had chosen their electives near the end of second year.

He hadn't known what Malfoy was taking. Which meant Malfoy couldn't possibly have known what he was taking either. Which meant Malfoy had chosen Care on her own.

"Oh."

"Quite."

Harry hadn't ever wondered why Malfoy had chosen Care of Magical Creatures. He supposed he'd simply assumed it had something to do with him. That seemed rather stupid now that he thought about it.

Malfoy took a breath.

"The point is that I will not deliberately cause problems for you again. I ask that you extend me the same courtesy. We need never speak again, save class projects in which I hope we can both be cordial."

Harry studied her and found her to appear sincere.

"All right," he said quietly, then with more conviction. "Yeah! All right. I won't start anything either. Peace."

Malfoy deflated before his very eyes.

"Good."

Ron looked between them.

"So we're all just done, then?"

"There is one other matter," Malfoy said.

Of course there was.

Harry's suspicion returned with a vengeance.

Malfoy turned toward the portrait hole.

"Millicent?"

The girl in question entered the common room. Now all eyes were on Millicent Bulstrode, and she looked as though she wanted the floor to swallow her. She hunched her shoulders in a vain attempt to make herself look smaller and her eyes were fixed on the carpet.

She was carrying something long and thin wrapped in green cloth.

Lavender whispered something into Parvati's ear.

Bulstrode saw them and her face reddened. He thought he saw her shake a little and averted his eyes.

Parvati seemed to notice and elbowed Lavender.

Malfoy walked over to Bulstrode and took her package.

"Thank you."

Bulstrode practically thrust the package into her hands before fleeing.

Malfoy carried it back to Harry.

Ron leaned toward him.

"Why's her peace offering broom-shaped?"

Malfoy stopped.

"How did you know it was a peace offering?"

Ron looked at the package.

Then at her.

"It's broom-shaped."

Malfoy stared at him for several seconds. Harry had the peculiar impression that she was fighting a war with her inner glib responses. And somehow won.

Then she pulled away the green cloth and Harry's heart jumped.

He knew what it was before the last fold fell away.

A Nimbus 2001.

The polished black handle gleamed in the firelight. The gold lettering seemed almost to glow. Harry had ridden against seven of them the previous year. He knew exactly how fast they were.

The entire Slytherin team had received them from Lucius Malfoy. And Lyra was holding hers.

Ron made a strangled noise beside him.

"Bloody hell."

To his surprise, McGonagall didn't chastise him for that. Perhaps the surprise of that was why Harry didn't give him the second kick he deserved.

They were the first words she had spoken since entering the room.

Malfoy stepped forward. Then, to Harry's astonishment, she went down on one knee. There were several gasps as Malfoy held the Nimbus horizontally across both hands like a knight presenting a sword.

"Your Nimbus was destroyed."

Harry's amusement disappeared.

For a moment he saw it again: the Whomping Willow, branches whipping through the storm, the remains of his broom scattered across the grass.

He had loved that broom.

Malfoy continued despite his internal pain.

"I am no longer playing Quidditch. I have no use for this one. I offer it in restitution for the trouble I have caused you, and as a gesture of good faith."

Harry stared between her and the broom as if a Boggart was playing tricks on him.

"You're giving me this?"

Malfoy's face was turning pink again.

"That is generally what offering something means."

Harry reached for it.

His fingers touched the handle. For one extraordinary moment, all he could think about was flying. He could be back in the air tomorrow! He could practice with the team again. Gryffindor wouldn't have to find him some ancient school broom. He wouldn't have to sit around wondering whether McGonagall was ever going to return the Firebolt.

The Firebolt!

Harry's hand stopped and his stomach sank.

He looked at the Nimbus. Then at Malfoy. Then at Professor McGonagall.

Hermione's voice appeared in his head with irritating clarity.

It could be jinxed.

Harry once again wished Hermione were there. She would know what to do.

It was an uncomfortable thought, considering he'd spent most of Christmas being angry with her for doing exactly what he was now thinking needed to be done.

Malfoy was still kneeling in front of him.

Harry cleared his throat.

"Professor?"

McGonagall looked at him.

"You confiscated my Firebolt because it might've been jinxed."

The room became very quiet and Malfoy's expression went blank.

Harry knew that something had gone wrong. Unfortunately, he'd already started.

"But you're not going to check this one?"

Malfoy's face changed color. It went from pale to pink and then rapidly toward scarlet. Harry suddenly became aware that everyone in Gryffindor Tower was looking at him with either barely contained mirth or offense on Malfoy's behalf.

"You think I—"

"I didn't say you did anything!"

"You think I cursed my own broom?!"

"No! I just meant—"

"You ungrateful little—" she began.

Instead of finishing, she flung the broom at him – sideways, not like a spear – and he caught it by reflex. In one motion she stood up and turned heel.

She was red all the way to her ears now. Harry had seen her angry plenty of times. He had seen her furious. He had seen her screaming insults at him across corridors. He had never seen her look quite like this.

She barely turned her head towards him as she spoke.

"I came into your common room," she said through clenched teeth. "I apologized to you in front of your entire House. I promised to leave you alone. I gave you my broom, and you think I'm trying to curse you?"

"I didn't say—"

"Oh, stuff it, Potter!"

Lyra marched straight toward the portrait hole and McGonagall stepped aside to let her pass.

Malfoy stopped beside her, pointing an angry finger at her.

"You tell my mother I tried!"

Then she climbed out.

His head of house sighed, rubbed her eyes, and gave Harry a sad look.

"She did try, Mr Potter."

Then McGonagall left.

The portrait swung shut behind her.

Harry looked around and all of his present housemates were looking everywhere except him. Save Fred and George who looked like Christmas had just swung back around.

"Wow, Harry. How does your foot taste?" Fred asked.

"Any hints of athlete's foot or lint giving it that aftertaste you seem to like?" George added.

---

The next morning, Harry discovered that Hagrid had somehow managed to arrange a Care of Magical Creatures lesson which required him, and all of the boys present, to do absolutely nothing.

Ordinarily, this would have been impossible. Hagrid considered standing within biting distance of something enormous and ill-tempered to be an essential part of education. Today, however, Professor Grubbly-Plank was helping him with the lesson, and waiting for them in the paddock were four unicorns.

Three were fully grown, their coats so brilliantly white that the snow around them looked grey by comparison. The fourth was a calf, smaller and gold rather than silver-white, with long spindly legs and a little nub where its horn would eventually grow.

Harry had barely finished admiring them before Grubbly-Plank divided the class.

"Girls forward. Boys stay where you are."

Ron raised his hand.

"Why?"

"Unicorns prefer maidens, Mr Weasley."

Ron lowered his hand.

"What are we supposed to do?"

"Observe and take notes."

Ron looked deeply offended. Harry couldn't blame him. The girls were already approaching the unicorns while the boys had been relegated to standing along the fence. This felt particularly unfair to Harry, and presumably Ron, after what they went through in a memorable detention involving unicorns.

"Seems a bit unfair," Ron muttered.

"They can't help it," Hagrid said. "Just how unicorns are. Particularly the older ones. Young 'uns can be a bit friendlier."

"That one's friendly," Harry said.

The calf had wandered directly into the group of girls.

Lavender and Parvati were delighted with one of the mares at the edge of the paddock. Pansy Parkinson was trying very hard to look dignified while scratching the stallion behind one ear. Even Millicent Bulstrode had joined them after Lavender called her over, although she seemed uncertain about why Lavender Brown had suddenly decided they were allowed to speak to one another.

When the calf reached Malfoy, Harry couldn't help but stare.

Malfoy dropped any pretense of dignity. She crouched down and threw both arms around its neck. The calf responded by pushing its muzzle against her face and Malfoy laughed.

Harry had heard Malfoy laugh hundreds of times. Usually somebody else was involved. Most often Harry.

This wasn't that laugh. The lack of a sneer is what made it different.

She buried one hand in the calf's golden mane and scratched vigorously with the other, grinning as it pushed harder against her until she nearly toppled backward into the snow.

Harry remembered what she'd said the night before.

I take that for my pleasure, Potter.

She really did. Harry felt slightly stupid. She hadn't seemed to be enjoying it up until then, but to be honest, none of them had. Between the Hippogriff that came within inches of maiming her and the flobberworms the classes had been a bit of a disaster.

Malfoy rubbed her nose against the calf's muzzle and the calf started chewing her hair.

She squealed. Actually squealed.

Harry's eyebrows shot up.

He hoped Ron hadn't heard that. He wasn't sure Malfoy would survive Ron knowing she was capable of making that noise. Perhaps sensing that she was being watched, Malfoy looked up.

Her grey eyes found Harry's.

For a moment neither of them moved.

Then Malfoy grinned and stuck her tongue out at him.

Harry understood the message as "Haha! Boys drool, girls rule."

Malfoy's eyes widened as she caught herself in the act. Her hand flew over her mouth and the grin vanished behind her fingers.

Harry understood she'd forgotten the truce. It was less than a day later and she'd already broken it.

Harry waved a hand in front of his face dismissively, unable to stop the amusement from showing on his face.

Malfoy lowered hers slightly.

Harry waved again.

It's fine.

She still looked uncertain.

Harry glanced to his left to find Ron was watching Hagrid. He glanced to his right to see nobody seemed to be paying attention.

Harry put his palms together beneath his chin and made an apologetic grimace.

Please.

Malfoy rolled her eyes. Then she shrugged.

Fine.

Peace restored.

She turned back to the unicorn calf.

Harry should have turned away too but he didn't. The calf had discovered Malfoy's tie and was attempting to eat that too. Malfoy laughed again and pulled the fabric out of its mouth.

Harry found himself smiling and stopped himself.

Why was he smiling?

---

Notes:

Lyra is a constellation, for those of you who don't know. And the women in the Black family love naming their girls after constellations. Draco himself kind of did name his son Scorpius/Scorpio.

This story was commissioned by Xahn and Borks in light of the Malfoid trend. Special thanks to them and my patrons.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Correction: The black family loves naming ALL of their children after constellations

 

[Siu Venus]

"How many letters do you suppose Lily Potter would have received about you, had she lived?"

Click to shrink...

A fuck ton. Harry would have been as spoiled as Malfoid.

Narcissa struck her without warning. One moment Lyra was speaking and the next her mother's hand cracked across her cheek hard enough that she could feel it turning red.

Click to shrink...

Oh yeah, she's Bellatrix's sister.

Dobby get her ass like you did her husband.

Your father agrees and is absent because he knew I would be doing enough yelling for both of us."

Click to shrink...

Bullshit, he would have folded that's why she didn't want him there.

"Your aunt personally examined the remains of the former, and your father the latter. Let me assure you, there is truth in the rumors and you are playing with fire when you antagonize him. If self-interest isn't enough to cease your self-appointed rivalry, perchance self-preservation will?"

Click to shrink...

Oh yeah, Andromeda, she's still kicking around.

Surprised that Narcissa still calls her sister.

Harry looked around and all of his present housemates were looking everywhere except him. Save Fred and George who looked like Christmas had just swung back around.

Click to shrink...

God damnit Harry. Also I forgot how much I disliked the twins.

Why was he smiling?

Click to shrink...

And so it begins.

 

[Sir Borks-a-Lot]

Chef's kiss. Literally what I needed to get a smile on my face. You really have no idea how thankful I am!

 

[NonsensicalRants]

A fuck ton. Harry would have been as spoiled as Malfoid.

Oh yeah, she's Bellatrix's sister.

Dobby get her ass like you did her husband.


Bullshit, he would have folded that's why she didn't want him there.


Oh yeah, Andromeda, she's still kicking around.

Surprised that Narcissa still calls her sister.



God damnit Harry. Also I forgot how much I disliked the twins.


And so it begins.

Click to shrink...

You are correct on why Lucius isn't there.

Also No mention of Snape docking points and handing out detention for insulting Lily? Saw that once before(with draco) but I can't recall the fic

 

[Siu Venus]

You are correct on why Lucius isn't there.

Also No mention of Snape docking points and handing out detention for insulting Lily? Saw that once before(with draco) but I can't recall the fic

Click to shrink...

Yeah, but that does run into the issue of Lily not only being a muggleborn but also the mother of their Lord's greatest enemy.

Snape having any kind of fondness for her would not help in his role as the spy.

 

[Balorak146]

Why the hell is Harry the bad guy here? He's right to be worried, not to mention right to call out McGonagall for her blatant hypocrisy.

They say to beware Greeks bearing gifts, but that goes equally true for Miss 'You'll be next, Mudbloods'.

 

[Xahn]

I was wheezing reading this. thank you.

Why the hell is Harry the bad guy here? He's right to be worried, not to mention right to call out McGonagall for her blatant hypocrisy.

They say to beware Greeks bearing gifts, but that goes equally true for Miss 'You'll be next, Mudbloods'.

Click to shrink...

From my read of it, she probably did, but harry stuck his foot in it before she could confirm if she had.