Chapter 261
Between Neville's knowledge of Herbology and Harry's knowledge of Magical
Creatures they managed to get a workable plan drafted and it was with somesurprise when Sirius arrived, that Neville realised they'd been immersedintheplan for hours.
"Padfoot!" Harry leaped to his feet and surged across the roomto be gatheredup in a hug by his father. A wave of longing ran through Neville. He wished…he wished…but it was never
going to happen for him. His father was never going to hug himlike that andwith his godfather deceased he couldn't expect someone else to do the
honours either. He sighed and felt a hand land on his shoulder. Remus smiled at himsympathetically.
"Sirius?" queried Remus.
"Sorry it took us so long." Sirius said. "Simeon and Anna said goodnight –they've gone straight up to bed."
"What happened after we left?" Harry asked impatiently.
"Not much in all honesty." Sirius explained, urging them all into seats. "The
Aurors arrived and took some shots of the mirror where the threat was written, performed some forensic stuff which effectively told themthat yes, it is ahouse elf, which we already knew. Hilary said she'd walked into the bathroom, saw the writing and passed out in fear. She was pretty much hysterical;
Douglas had to take her to St Mungo's for a calming draught and a sleepingpotion." He gestured tiredly. "Other than that, the Aurors questioned everybodybut nobody admitted to seeing anyone in the bathroom before Hilary; nobodysaw anything suspicious; nobody confessed so…"
"We're still none the wiser." Remus finished. Sirius nodded. "Lucius made the point of telling me the whole thing was veryGryffindorish which I think was his way of saying it wasn't the former DeathEater crowd since you know most of them were Slytherins." Remus gaped at him. "You don't think he was suggesting it was Peter?"
"No, just someone else." Sirius said. "Although thinking about it, the risk that
whoever it was took tonight is a characteristic more suited for a lion thanasnake." He raised a hand to stop the questions. "It's late. Neville, Amelia isstaying over at the Manor and your Grandmother said you can stay with ustonight if that's OK with you." Neville nodded, pleased that his Gran wasn't on her own so he didn't feel
obligated to go back.
"In that case we have to give you this." Remus smiled wickedly and pulleda
piece of parchment from a drawer. He handed it over to Neville.
"Messrs Padfoot, Moony and Pronglet all invite Neville Longbottomto GriffinHouse, Potter Lane." Harry grinned at him. "Brilliant! Come on! Let's go home!" Neville followed an excited Harry out to the floo. He kept the address in hishead as he flooed through after Harry and Sirius. Harry welcomed himintothehouse and Sirius ushered them off to bed. Harry pulled Neville up the stairs quickly giving him a snappy tour of the upper
floors and Harry's own room before taking him to a room on the floor below. Harry snapped on the light switch and the room was flooded with yellowlight. Neville looked around the cosy bedroom with a smile. There were Gryffindor
red and gold accents in the linen and chair upholstery but the rest was a warmchocolate brown. There was a dresser, a wardrobe and a desk; a picture of alion on the wall above the bed and a warm red woollen rug covering the
hardwood floor. An open door led to an en-suite. A bookcase under the
window was stacked with books – some muggle fiction but a lot of booksonHerbology. Neville looked at Harry questioningly. Harry gave him a tentative smile. "I thought this could be your roomwhenyoucome over?"
He couldn't help it; Neville beamed at Harry. "Really?" His heart warmed withthe gesture. "Thanks, Harry." Harry grinned back at him. "'Night, Neville. Just call Dobby if you need
anything." Neville wandered into the bathroom and found toiletries and fresh towels all
laid out ready for his use. He went through his nightly rituals and by the timehe'd made it back to the bedroom, a pair of pyjamas was on the bed waitingfor him and a glass of water sat on the nightstand. He quickly stripped andredressed in the night-wear before dousing the lights and clambering intobed. For a moment he stared up at the ceiling, the words of the prophecy whirlingin his head. It could have been him. And Merlin, poor Harry that it was him! But
it was good that it was Harry too in a way, Neville mused. Harry was a hero; apowerful wizard, a leader (a reluctant one maybe but a leader nevertheless), and, for all that, a nice guy. He might not have been the Boy Who Lived thewizarding world had expected when he'd turned up at Hogwarts but he wasavery acceptable version; someone who saved people, risked himself for others, and stood up against the bullies. Yet, he knew for all that Harry would have preferred to have slipped intotheshadows and resided in obscurity. He hated the attention and the stares. Harry had his insecurities and his foibles; he was naturally a little shy andalot
reserved. A lot like Neville.
So many similarities and differences, Neville thought with wonder. Howeasyit
would have been for Voldemort to have chosen the Longbottoms and not thePotters to attack…and then what? Would Neville have been the Boy WhoLived?Would Harry have still had his parents or perhaps it would have been the
Potters who would have ended up at St Mungo's?
Neville bit his lip. The Boy Who Lived thing was already hell of a burden for Harry to carry; that
he had defeated Voldemort once meant that people would automatically lookfor him to do it again. Worse still if people knew the full truth and the prophecywas revealed… Well, Sirius had the right of it, Neville determined firmly. Prophecy be damned;
Harry did not have to do it alone. Neville might not be the Boy Who Livedbut
his magic was improving thanks to the new wand and the patient coachingof
the tutors he'd had over the Summer. He had sworn his wand to Harry's
service and by Merlin Harry would have it. He was Harry's friend and his
godbrother. Harry would not stand alone. With the matter settled as far as Neville was concerned, he closed his eyesand went to sleep.
..... Draco was only mildly surprised when he walked into the dining roomandsaw
Nott eating breakfast with Draco's mother. Bugger, he thought, irritated. He was sick to death of being forced into thecompany of the other boy. All he'd wanted to do was have a nice normal
breakfast but no; he had to put up with Nott. He walked over to the table, nodded at his mother and sat down in his usual seat.
"Nott."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 262
"Malfoy." Draco turned cool grey eyes on his mother. "Are we expecting Zabini tojoinusas well?" She raised her eyebrows at his biting tone. "Your father and Lord Nott arehosting a business breakfast with some of our allies. Our guests will be goneby lunchtime but you will host Theo until then."
"Of course, Mother." Draco replied automatically, noting the words held asteely command. Since the Black family meeting in July his mother hadbeenasserting more and more authority within the house. His father had hardly
spent any time with him and instead had deferred to his mother. It was shewho had decided Crabbe and Goyle couldn't visit and that Draco shouldspendtime with the spawn of those toadying to Black.
It wasn't fair, Draco thought moodily. And it was all Potter's fault. His mother placed her napkin on the table and rose from the table gracefully, sweeping out of the dining room without another word. Draco decided ignoring Nott was the best move and so helped himself tobacon, eggs and sausage. He left the baked beans, tomatoes and mushrooms. Fried bread was added to the plate. Nott snorted. "You won't stay skinny if you continue to eat like that!"
"I have a fast metabolism like my father." Draco snapped back.
"Your father had a poached egg on a slice of wholemeal toast and a
grapefruit." Nott said mildly. "He certainly didn't eat like you!" Draco glared at him. "You don't understand!"
"I understand that you don't want me here," Nott replied swiftly, "and I
understand that I don't want to be here either. Our fathers may be allies but
we're not. However, our fathers are allies and they want us to get along soperhaps you could stop being an arse and at least be civil."
"I was being civil," Draco sneered, "you were the one who insulted me!"
"Merlin, Malfoy," Nott said exasperated, "I commented on the amount of friedfood on your plate! I didn't call you a prat." Even if you are one. Draco heard the unspoken words and glowered at the boy. He threwdownhisnapkin his food almost untouched. "I seem to have lost my appetite." Nott raised one eyebrow mockingly. "Now you're being a drama queen." Hepaused. "For the record that was an insult." Anger surged through Draco. "You should show some respect, Nott, otherwise…"
"Otherwise what?" Nott commented without raising his voice. "You'll runtoDaddy?" Draco scraped his chair back and raised his wand. "You take that back or…"
"How you got into Slytherin I don't know." Nott said calmly, picking up his
pumpkin juice and sitting back as though Draco wasn't threatening himat all. "You don't seem to have realised that things have changed, Draco. Your father
has just spent every waking hour of the last month convincing the old Black
alliance that he still has the power to lead them despite the fact that the basisof his power – that you were the Black heir – has been completely smashedto pieces. He's held on only by virtue of the fact that Lord Black himself hasno interest in the old Black alliances except inasmuch as he doesn't want ussupporting the Dark Lord, and your father is handy in arranging deals of
neutrality with Black." Draco was speechless at Nott's words but he couldn't deny them.
"And yet," Nott continued, "you want to risk all that by attacking the heir totheAncient and Noble House of Nott – a House that outranks the House of
Malfoy – and with whom you have an alliance of mutual aid and support. Andlet's not forget, the Ancient and Noble House of Black which retains primacyover your Minor House has a détente alliance with us meaning no raisingof
wands." He looked insouciantly at Draco. "You want to hex me? Go ahead. I'll
be sure to ask Lord Black to use Judgement on you for breaking oath." Each point Nott scathingly made hit Draco like a bludger. The last thoughhadhim paling before flushing with frustrated anger. He had no wish to endupwithout his magic. He yanked his wand down and stormed out. He headed automatically for the music room on the third floor of the Manor. His mother had forced him into piano lessons when he was little but his father
had dismissed them when he'd taken more of an interest in Draco's education. Draco had at the time adored his father even more for stopping the tortureof
practising scales and finger movements. But the music roomhad the best
view in the house; a small balcony looked out onto the beautiful manicured
gardens of Malfoy Manor and Draco loved it there. When he was a childhehad pretended he was a King, gazing out over his kingdom. He'd stoppedpretending, of course, but it was a favourite thinking spot. Once he reached the balcony, he collapsed into the wrought iron chair andstared out into the thin morning sunlight. He breathed in deeply, the sight andperfume of the gardens settling him as the initial rush of adrenaline that hadmade him storm out of the dining room subsided. His stomach rumbled. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 263
"Kobly!" Draco called quietly. The house elf popped in, his large ears twitching. "Yes, Little Master Draco?"
"Bring me a bacon sandwich and a pot of tea." Draco ordered imperiously. Hesuddenly remembered what Nott had said about his diet and waved a hand. "Oh, and a grapefruit." Kobly popped away and almost immediately the food appeared on the small
wrought iron table beside Draco. He picked up the sandwich and began eating, methodically and precisely. Theact of eating, the scenery and the stillness of the morning finally drainedawaythe last of Draco's anger. Instead he was left with a lingering sense of
frustration, irritation and a sense of unfairness.
He drank his tea and stared at the untouched grapefruit. The problem was Nott was right, Draco mused with resentment. Everythinghad changed and Draco hated it. He started to worry over Nott's comments in his head. Well, not the comment
about Slytherin because Draco had been born and raised to be in Slytherinalthough he knew his father would have preferred to have sent himto
Durmstrang and avoided Hogwarts altogether; it had been at his mother'sinsistence that he had gone to Hogwarts. Still, Slytherin was for the ambitiousand cunning; Draco had been raised to be both. So a pox on Nott for his
stupidity in suggesting Draco should have gone somewhere other than
Slytherin. And Draco knew he ruled in Slytherin…at least he had until that
Summer. He shifted position uncomfortable with the thought, a frown onhispointed face. Truthfully, he had always known that he held his place in Slytherin becauseof
his father; the Malfoy name, status and wealth kept most of his
contemporaries in line, and the upper years would ignore himrather thanriskupsetting him and provoking consequences for their families' businessesor
political dealings. What was beginning to sink in was that it hadn't been theMalfoy name, status and wealth so much as the Black. Draco had been told, of course, that he was the Black Heir and would
complete the inheritance rituals when he was seventeen and of age. His
father had talked about a family fortune from his mother's side that wouldaddto the prestige of the House of Malfoy. What he hadn't told Draco was that
other candidates for the position were still alive nor that his Great-Uncle
Arcturus hadn't actually named him as Heir despite being alive until just
before Draco entered Hogwarts. In hindsight, he'd simply naively acceptedhisfather's word.
He'd accepted a lot of what his father had told him as truth and he was
beginning to understand that some of it wasn't truth at all.
It wasn't truth that he'd been the Black Heir and once Sirius Black had claimedhis rightful position by law, blood and magic, any claim Draco had to inherit
the House of Black was gone especially as Black had made Potter his Heir. Perhaps Draco could have been Black's Heir in another life where Black haddone the right thing and sorted to Slytherin and hated the Potters but thelikelihood of him ever ditching Potter and naming Draco instead was very
remote and most likely would involve a compulsion spell of some kind. Potter.
It was all his fault, Draco thought furiously. How dare he swoop in and takewhat was rightfully his?! He should show Potter that nobody messed withaMalfoy and… His magic tingled and Draco recognised the warning signs of the magical Vowhe had taken. Negative and angry thoughts about Potter apparently set off thealarms in his magic that he was coming close to breaking his vow. Balls, Draco thought morosely. He couldn't even have a good mental rant
about Potter! On the other hand, he was quite grateful for the internal warningsystem that magic had come up with whenever he strayed into thinkingof
Potter with murder or harm in mind. He liked his magic too much to want it
stripped from him.
And if he was being completely honest, it wasn't Potter's fault. He wasn't
responsible for Draco being led to believe he would be the Black Heir whenall
was said and done. No, that had been his father – and his mother to a lesser
extent; leading Draco into believing one thing when the truth was far different. Like the Dark Mark his father had branded into his forearm. FromeverythingBlack had said at the meeting and his mother had said in their lessons that
Summer, the Mark was the equivalent of a brand of slavery; a subjugationof
will and freedom to the Dark Lord's whims. His father had once proudly
displayed the faint outline and told Draco that he wore it as a badge of pride. His father, who had been stupid enough to brand himself a slave and followaDark Lord who wasn't even a pureblood; his father who had actually killedsomeone; had tortured people. Draco shuddered. He poured himself another cup of tea to distract himself
from the thought. He had known in the abstract that the followers of the DarkLord had been intent on killing muggles and muggleborn; on eliminatingtheblood traitors who had stood in opposition to the pureblood agenda that theDark Lord espoused. But for all that he had known those facts he had never
put it together that his father had been one of those followers and thereforehad killed and tortured and eliminated…
Personally, Draco didn't want to kill anyone. Well, maybe Potter…and there was that tingle again.
He sighed. He wasn't stupid; he knew himself well. He knew he had a cruel streak a milewide; he wasn't a kind person. His father had taught him that kindness wasaweakness. If someone got hurt, he didn't necessarily care and he might evenrevel a little in their pain. Draco had happily used to kick their old house elf
when he was in rage for no other reason than the house elf being there. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 264
But the occasional violent temper tantrum aside, he'd always believed he, asaMalfoy, was the brains and others were the brawn. Others might be the onesto get blood on their hands and he might direct it but he wouldn't actually doit
himself. He'd be in the Wizengamot leading others. He wouldn't be actually
killing people. And in truth, he had never seen the need to kill people. Why kill
when muggleborns could be shopkeepers and farmers? Why interact withmuggles at all? Why not legally restrict muggleborns and halfbloods andensure the ruling elite would always be pureblood?
No, Draco had never envisaged killing in his future. Immersing himself inpolitics, being Minister of Magic, walking the corridors of power, and usingothers to threaten violence and cajole; yes. Premeditated murder, torturingfor
just to create pain, and killing someone in cold blood – even Potter; no. He didn't want that in his future. And he certainly had no wish to bow down to or brand himself with the Markof a son of a muggle even if that son of a muggle was a descendent of
Slytherin. Draco sipped his tea.
It was all his father's fault that Draco's world had turned out to be nothingbut
a lie (as his mother had been subtly telling him all Summer). For years LuciusMalfoy had been feeding Draco dragon dung, spoonful after spoonful that
Draco had swallowed down because he believed his father hung the moon. Well, no more. Serving the Dark Lord wasn't an honour, it was slavery. The Dark Lord might be the Heir of Slytherin but he was sired by a muggle. Hewasn't a pureblood. The House of Malfoy might be superior in many ways and be a leader of sortsin the wizarding world but it was outranked by the House of Black; alwayshadbeen and always would be. These were the truths of the matter. His father had lied to himand Dracowasthoroughly disillusioned. There was a pained ache in his chest that Dracorubbed absently. Still there was no doubt that his father was a powerful wizard; respectedandinfluential, that the Malfoys had money (even if it was controlled right at that
moment by Black and the stupid werewolf who'd had the temerity to restrict
Draco's allowance) and status. But there was also no doubt that none of that
mattered when Lord Black was more powerful, respected and influential; whenBlack had more money and status. There was no doubt that others, like Nott, saw the difference and would take advantage of the gap. Nott was unfortunately right; Draco had to accept the new reality somehow. Resentment stampeded through him again. He shouldn't have to accept the new reality, damn it! He wanted everythingback the way it was. He wanted, wanted…something he couldn't have. Draco sighed heavily. He tapped his fingers restlessly against the fine chinamug he held. Truthfully, he had allowed his childhood lessons on negotiationand political analysis to slide from his memory, secure in the knowledge that
his Malfoy name was enough to get what he wanted. But it wasn't anymoreand he found himself dredging his head for the skills that his father hadmadehim learn. So, first question: who had power? Answer: Black was the House that
everyone feared above and beyond the Malfoys. Then, there was the Dark
Lord. And finally, perhaps, Dumbledore – not that the old fool ever usedit. To gain power then…since Draco couldn't hope to fight either Dumbledoreor
the Dark Lord and win, the obvious answer was to remove the House of Blackand have the House of Malfoy take its place. Yet Draco had sworn oaths tosupport and be loyal to the House, the Head of the House and deal neutrally
with its Heir so he couldn't conspire to harm the House of Black in any way, although believing his actions (including those that may damage the House)
were for the good of the House of Black might give him some small wriggleroom. Was it worth the risk of losing his magic though? Not to mention theHouse of Black seemed to be the only one capable of standing against either
the Dark Lord or Dumbledore. Draco frowned.
If removal of the House of Black was not possible then the other option wasto work with the House of Black and become a key figure in its power dynamic– gain power that way. Clearly that was the decision his father had made. Lucius Malfoy was supporting the House of Black in the Wizengamot, arranging deals between the House of Black and the old pureblood alliance, and maintaining a public impression of family solidarity with the House of
Black regardless of how much his father hated Sirius Black and Potter. Hisfather in a rare moment with Draco had admitted that since he nowknewthetruth about the Dark Lord, following the madman wasn't an option and
supporting the House of Black to get rid of the threat as they had vowedreallywas the new plan. He was using the Malfoy connection to the House of Blackto maintain his authority with their allies but to also consolidate a newpolitical position. He was turning what had appeared to be a negative intoapositive for the House of Malfoy. His mother had been telling Draco all Summer that he was going to have toadjust his attitude, that he should follow his father's example of makingthe
best of their situation and she was right; Draco needed to do the same ashisfather. Part of him didn't want to because he had learned his father had lied to himmost of his life and he didn't want to be like his father anymore (and therewas that ache again). ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 265
He snorted and drank his tea wincing at how cold the drink had gone in hismusing. He set it aside. Maybe it wasn't going to be a problem appearing to throw his lot in with theHouse of Black. His father had made it clear that while he knewthey hadtobow to the expectation of acknowledging primacy, in private they could keeptheir own opinion that the Malfoys were better than the Blacks; the Malfoyscontinued to uphold the purity of blood whereas the current Lord was intent
on damaging the House with muggleborns, halfbloods and half-breeds. Dracocould at least agree with his father on that. So, alright, Draco decided, he would need to pretend to maintain a façadeof
acceptance to the primacy in front of Black and others. That wasn't toomuchof a problem as his father would understand the need as would his mother asshe had been quite fervent about ensuring his compliance all Summer. AndDraco mused, actually being part of the House of Black wasn't a bad thing. His mother had informed him of the Black family history, their power andancestry. They were a formidable House, distinguished and, until Potter's
acceptance as Heir, pureblooded, but it seemed Potter was a strong wizard(he still couldn't quite get his head around the blessing ritual he'd witnessed
where Potter had called forth the spirit of Morgana Le Fey but it indicatedthat
Potter was very powerful regardless of what Draco had observed at Hogwarts)
and undoubtedly that was why the family magic had accepted him. It wouldhelp make the House of Black a formidable magical opponent. And while he still believed purebloods were superior to all other wizards, hehad to admit that he quite liked his muggleborn Uncle Ted. He'd been forcedinto various interactions thanks to his mother's thrice damned etiquette
lessons. But…there was something solid and reassuring about Theodore
Tonks; a warmth that was missing from Draco's own father and Draco hadoften found himself tempted to confide in Ted although he was horrifiedat
the impulse. He could see why his Aunt Andromeda had married him. Shewaswitty, intelligent and very much a lady for all she had eschewed the politicsof
her upbringing; he could secretly admit if only to himself that he admiredher. She also made his mother smile more. Their daughter on the other
hand…Nymphadora was too spiky and barbed; too clumsy and graceless for
Draco to approve of her. He couldn't approve of Granger either; she was too brash and shrewish. Although, Draco mused, if they had to sponsor a muggleborn, sponsoringthemost intelligent in their year was probably acceptable. And it seemed fromhislast interactions with her that Granger had learned some manners fromAndromeda. Simeon's wife Anna though was, like his Uncle Ted, decent
enough for a muggleborn; a little too Hufflepuffish but she was attractiveandalso well-mannered. Simeon's manners were perfect. Evidently Marius Blackhad taught his son well even if Marius had himself been a squib. Simeonmoved with a contained power not unlike Sirius. A shiver ran down Draco's spine at the thought of the Head of the House of
Black. Sirius Black was every bit as menacing as the Daily Prophet had madehim out to be. His power was only just contained; it shimmered on his skin. Draco remembered what his mother had said when he had questioned her
about him…
"Sirius was the best and the worst of us." His mother picked up the tea-cupand blew on it gently before taking a sip. Her blue eyes took on a far-away
gaze, directed at the past and her memory. "I remember the Summer beforeSirius started Hogwarts, we had a Summer Ball at the country estate andBellaruined my dress robes to get me into trouble with my mother – they never
believed Bella was anything but innocent because she was their favourite. Sirius found me in tears and…and he took the blame for it. My father hit himand would have beaten him further, but Lord Arcturus stepped in and saidthat
he would punish Sirius. Sirius protected us all that way." She took another sip of tea.
"That protection though when you crossed someone he loved especially
Regulus…" his mother sighed, "Bella was often bored. One day, she pushedRegulus down a few steps. He was eight years old and mostly he was bruisedwith a grazed elbow at the end of it. Andy patched him up but he clung toSirius afterwards. The next day, Sirius taunted Bella at the top of the mainstairs and when she sprang for him…he waited until the last moment andsuddenly moved. She fell down the stairs badly. We all rushed down after her. She was lying there, blood around her head and both her arms were all twisted, her leg broken, and I remember instead of helping her like he'd immediatelydone with Regulus, Sirius stooped and whispered in her ear that the next timeshe hurt Regulus he would kill her. Our parents came and Sirius as a cool asacucumber said Bella had slipped. She was in St Mungo's for a week." Draco swallowed hard.
"It's hard to imagine that Regulus ended up betraying Sirius but he did. Heattacked Sirius once at Hogwarts just before Sirius graduated trying to
impress the Dark Lord, maybe trying to prove that his mother was right andhewas the new Black Heir since Sirius had left home. Sirius put down four of
Regulus's little friends before James Potter arrived to help him. Only Siriusand James were standing at the end of it with Regulus out cold on the ground. Regulus told me Sirius visited him in the infirmary in the middle of the night
and told him that he'd gone easy on him because he was his brother, but thenext time Regulus tried to kill him, Sirius wouldn't be so merciful." His mother finally looked at him. "So you see, it would be best not to anger
Lord Black. If you hurt one hair on Potter's head…well, I doubt you'll have hair
left when he's finished with you. Do you understand?" Draco nodded. A loud peacock cry from the grounds snapped Draco's attention back tothepresent. Yes, he didn't want to anger Lord Black or have his attention. It hadbeen bad enough during the family meeting. He flushed remembering thebiting tone and derisive eyes that had dismissed Draco as unimportant andlacking. No, he feared and respected Sirius Black. He was a powerful wizard; atrue Lord Black – worthy of the title. Draco didn't wish to cross him. There were material benefits in being in the House of the Black, Draco
considered thoughtfully: Sirius had promised him rewards for good behaviour
and he'd already had the awful arrangement with Pansy dismissed. He andPansy had been friendly since they were children but he wasn't attractedtoher and couldn't see himself marrying her. She was smarter than she waspretty; opinionated rather than biddable; fawning instead of truly
affectionate…no, Pansy wasn't the wife he had in mind. He wanted someonewho really liked him for himself not because he was Draco Malfoy and they
wanted to use him as a step up the social ladder. Pansy would be a goodpractice girlfriend but something more? Well, he didn't have to worry about
that anymore because the House of Black would let him choose his ownwife.