Harry Potter: Reborn as Draco Black

Lessons did go ahead that day, after all, and they were extremely intensive. Flitwick wanted to make up for the hours I had spent on the preliminary business with Hermione, and to save time for whatever would still need to be done for her family.

And now I stood outside the door of the manor, watching as the French Healers, who had convincingly posed as a serious patient transport service for the hospital staff, carried Hermione and her father inside.

"Miss Jean."

I nodded to Hermione's mother, and she very nearly threw herself at me. I think the only thing that stopped her was the presence of strangers.

"Thank you."

One word, but with so much behind it.

"There's nothing to thank me for yet."

I shook my head.

"Save your thanks for when your family is well. My mother says your husband can be brought around in roughly a week, while Hermione would do better to remain as she is for about a month."

"But..."

"Please, my mother is a Healer, not an Auror. If she says this will be better for your daughter, then it will."

"All right."

"Don't worry. I have no intention of standing at your daughter's funeral, and equally no intention of losing her company at Hogwarts because she's become an Obscurial."

"I... thank you."

She held herself together while the Healers were still with us, but the moment they left she simply crumpled against my shoulder and wept. I patted her back, though Penny was quicker to react than I was.

"Here, take this," she said, holding out a small vial.

Jean looked at the vial with slightly dazed eyes, then at the girl offering it, who was wearing a set of cat ears and an attached tail.

"It's a Calming Draught. You need it right now."

"Thank you."

Jean took the vial and drank it all at once. She swayed slightly, and I had to steady her, but then she looked around the room again, and now her expression held an arctic calm.

"I... yes. That really is better."

She gave a slow nod.

"Good. Sit here while my mother checks on Hermione and your husband once more. After that you'll be able to go to them. We can discuss the details properly once your husband has regained consciousness."

"I... thank you."

"As I said, nothing to thank me for yet."

I rose from the small sofa where I had been sitting beside Jean.

"Now, if you will excuse me, I have to study."

The woman nodded, still somewhat distant, and I left her there. Flitwick descended upon me with renewed and tripled energy.

That pace continued for almost two weeks, until Narcissa finally said that Hermione's father could be woken.

"John!"

Jean rushed to her husband and burst into tears against his chest, despite the near-heroic quantity of Calming Draught she had been taking.

"Jean...

"...you're alive."

A weak smile touched his lips, and he clearly tried to do something but could not. It was clear from the slight bewilderment in his expression.

"...I'm glad. Come now, why are you crying?"

"Jean, if I might ask you to let me speak with your husband. He needs a full picture of the situation."

Hearing my voice, he turned his gaze toward me, which required only a slight turn of his head, though the movement caused him no difficulty.

"You..."

"Yes, Mr. Granger. Let us begin with the relatively good news. And please, no interruptions."

He gave a very slow nod.

"After you lost consciousness, your daughter had a surge of accidental magic. Despite an initially unfavorable assessment from a French Auror, and the subsequent negligence that led to her being placed in an ordinary Muggle hospital, she is all right. Relatively speaking, she is in a coma, but her health is not in danger, and when we bring her out of it in a fortnight or so, she will be considerably stronger as a witch than she was before."

"What's wrong with her?"

He looked at me with a demanding expression.

"The technical terms won't mean much to you, so, in very simplified terms..."

I glanced at my mother.

"Severe exhaustion. She was lucky her magical core sustained almost no damage, and what little damage there was has nearly healed. If the surge had been slightly stronger, she might have lost her gift entirely."

"I see. And how much do we owe you?"

"For Hermione? Nothing."

I shook my head.

"The potions we've been giving her to prevent weight loss and the spells to keep her muscles from wasting cost us practically nothing. Charging you for them would be pointless."

John gave a dry laugh.

"Well, I can manage without an eye."

"I'm afraid your situation is somewhat more complicated. You've lost not only an eye, but also an arm."

A flicker of confusion crossed his face.

"...you also have extensive scarring across your body that will cause you considerable pain for another year or two. There are potions you can take, ointments you can apply, but..."

"Expensive?"

"Not exactly expensive."

I shrugged.

"You could easily afford it, provided your wife can keep the business going in your absence. Or sell it and put the money into shares."

"Ha... you know the non-magical world pretty well."

"Yes, yes."

I nodded.

"The main problem is the arm. Though in theory you could manage without our help and simply have a wooden prosthetic made, we can also provide you with a fully functional one. It won't feel sensation, but it will work in every other respect as your original arm did."

I saw skepticism in John's eyes.

"And what would that cost us?"

"That depends on the materials. The best option is silver. Not pure silver, but an alloy of silver, steel, and several other components. Expensive, but a one-time expense that should last a very long time. Wood is possible too, but a wooden prosthetic won't last more than a couple of years, and if the wood is poor quality, closer to six months."

"How much for the metals and how much for good wood?"

"For the metals, you would be looking at around five thousand Galleons."

John started coughing.

"For wood..."

I ignored his reaction.

"...around two thousand. I can't give a precise figure since material prices fluctuate, and the work of a master artificer, someone who can inscribe the correct runic sequences and make the prosthetic work for an ordinary person, is variable. Incidentally, an eye can be made for you as well. A good one, at that. Though as you might expect..."

"More expensive?"

"Yes."

"I'll manage without any of it."

He snorted.

"A man can live quite comfortably without a hand and an eye. And my wife and daughter won't leave me."

"Darling."

Jean lifted her head from her husband's chest and looked at him steadily.

"Please show some respect toward Mr Black and his family. You have been in a coma for two weeks, and believe me, I was prepared to offer everything, including myself, simply to save our daughter... and you. And instead of pressing that advantage and binding me to some ruinous contract, they waited until your condition stabilized and they are telling us that for now we owe them nothing."

"Darling..."

"I am not asking you to like Mr Black. I am asking you to show a measure of basic respect toward someone who had every opportunity to take advantage of the position I was in, and chose not to."

"Fine, darling."

John exhaled.

"So. I take it this isn't the end of it."

"Precisely."

I nodded slowly.

"You see, these creatures, which the magical police are simply calling the Creatures for now, have appeared before, and you weren't the only ones attacked. I imagine you heard nothing about it because the Memory Department has been doing its job well enough so far. But...

I sighed.

"...soon they won't be able to keep up. There will be more breaches, more frequent and more powerful, and the worst part is, no one knows what these things are yet."

"Just because you don't know something doesn't mean nobody knows."

"That's fair."

I smiled at John.

"But as it happens, a friend of mine is the daughter of the Head of the French Auror Office, their magical police, and he spoke to us very candidly. Nobody yet knows what these creatures are, where they come from, or what they want. What's been established is that the frequency of breaches is increasing, and so is their strength. Before long, it will be impossible to keep any of this hidden from ordinary people. Wizards will come out of the shadows, and the Inquisition and every other organization will follow."

"And what are you proposing?"

"Safety."

John blinked his one remaining eye.

"Safety? But didn't you just say..."

"I remember what I said. I also know that schools are, for the most part, safe, and the protections on my house are not much weaker than those around the schools. My family is an old one. In the near future we intend to acquire a substantial amount of property and extend the protections across it. All of that has already been thought through. And I am offering you a place in it."

"That is... a very interesting offer."

"It is not particularly urgent yet, since we still have to acquire the buildings, put them in order, and lay the wards. In the meantime, you will need to think about how to ensure your own safety and your daughter's. I have no doubt that the Crown will also be working to secure people, the army, the police, perhaps hired magical contractors and other organizations."

I shrugged.

"So you have to choose."

"Yes. You must choose which obligations you will be taking on for yourself and your family. In the Crown's case, there is no way to predict the terms. It might be a lifelong service contract for your daughter in the armed forces, something related to medicine for you and your wife... all of that in exchange for something that is, at best, conditional safety."

John nodded slowly.

"On our side, though, you would simply need to retrain in certain areas."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that if we fit you with an eye and an arm, you would make an excellent engraver, someone capable of covering every millimeter of an artifact with runic sequences. The artificers would simply need to design their work so the runes can be applied by an ordinary person, or adapt a mechanical engraver to produce results indistinguishable from handwork by a wizard. Your wife, meanwhile, could become a potion brewer, producing potions at scale. Nothing too complex, but straightforward potions, brewed consistently and in large quantities, are just as valuable. And, naturally, a contract with your daughter, committing her to repay five times whatever is spent on her education. Nothing more."

"This is..."

"Darling, hush."

Jean must have seen something in her husband's face, because she quietly cut him off.

"Draco, my husband and I will think it over. We can have a little time, I assume?"

"Of course."

I nodded.

"You have until the end of this year if you want to choose your own apartment. Longer, if it's less important to you where and how you live. I plan to start building my network fairly quickly, gathering people who will be under my roof."

"And a small house, would that be possible?"

Jean looked at me hopefully.

"I'm afraid not. Though the spatial expansion can always be increased."

I shrugged.

"In the draft plan, one room is to be expanded to accommodate a proper three-room apartment with a kitchen and bathroom. But for a higher fee to the craftsmen, five rooms could be fitted in instead. I did a rough calculation from what I know about the room dimensions. Quadrupling the space should be straightforward, so it shouldn't be too costly. More rooms, or additional floors..."

I smiled.

"...any luxury, for a price. You could also, in theory, have your own house relocated to the site, but I doubt your means would stretch that far."

"I see. So an apartment, but a very large one."

Jean nodded.

Not at all bad, especially with good neighbors.

"And that would be..."

I shrugged.

"Though I don't think you'd have much trouble getting along with the Tonkses or the Clearwaters. They all live in the ordinary world, and they'll all get the same offer."

"I see."

Jean placed another thoughtful forkful of vermicelli in her mouth.

"...which means I need to wear John down. I have no desire to live in army barracks, and I certainly don't want that for my daughter. And he will absolutely try to negotiate exactly that... Lord, if he could at least negotiate separate private accommodation I might consider it, but given everything I've learned in recent days about what's coming..."

Jean shook her head.

"...it will simply be too dangerous. Which means a communal barracks. No, thank you."

She gave a small shudder.

"Hermione."

Jean looked pointedly at her daughter.

"Home to check on Papa, yes?"

"Precisely. This must be settled in our favor before the end of summer."

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1. Harry Potter: Satan? Nah, Just My Family Crest = CHAPTER 262

2.Marvel: Cosmic Forger of Infinity = CHAPTER 182

3.Harry Potter: Beyond Good and Evil in the Wizarding World = CHAPTER 263

4.Harry Potter: Reborn as Draco Black = CHAPTER 110

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