Chapter 4. Departure.
The contract was signed, and Daphne came to live with us in my home after that, her schedule completely overhauled. It wasn't as though the Greengrasses had put much effort into her education to begin with — but we could not afford to have an untrained lady's maid. So the girl was loaded down with lessons covering everything from the proper conduct expected of a maid to the spells she was required to know in her capacity as mine.
Daphne herself was a little shy in my company at first, but she took her duties seriously and approached her studies with more than enough dedication. So over the course of the year in which I removed the curse not only from Astoria but from the maid herself, she became precisely the ice queen that writers in my previous world had so often put to paper.
Only when she was alone with me, my mothers, and my grandmother did she allow herself to show any emotion — and also when Astoria came to visit. Technically, Astoria came so that I could work on removing her curse, but that didn't stop the sisters from spending time together.
And now the two of us stood on the platform, looking at the scarlet locomotive and its long row of carriages.
"Well, the day of our departure has finally arrived..."
I smiled at her.
"Yes, my lord."
Daphne gave me a quiet nod. I took out my wand, lifted our luggage with a single spell, and headed toward one of the carriages.
"My lord, that was my responsibility to—"
"Daphni, you are my lady's maid, not a porter. And as a man, I am perfectly capable of seeing to our luggage."
She simply closed her eyes for a fraction of a second as I levitated our bags into the carriage.
"Miss..."
I noticed a bushy-haired girl standing helplessly next to her trolley, on which sat an enormous trunk.
"...can I help you with your luggage?"
"Yes!"
I drew my wand and, without a word or a gesture, cast the levitation spell that loaded the trunk into the carriage.
"But that's against the rules!"
"Miss, if you are interested in the law and the regulations, we can certainly discuss that in a compartment. However, I do not think it is a magiborn girl's place to shout about what is right and wrong to someone who was born and raised in this world."
"My lord, such company is not quite suited to your standing..."
I cast Daphne an indifferent glance.
"Daphni, my reputation is perfectly capable of withstanding a conversation with a Muggle-born girl."
"So you're one of those people?!"
The look directed at me was one of indignation and anger.
"If by 'those people' the young miss means members of the noble class, then yes. I have the honor of belonging to the noble House of Black. Draco Black. And this is my attendant, Daphne."
I gave a brief nod in her direction, and the manners apparently instilled in her from birth prompted her to perform a neat curtsy.
"Hermione Jean Granger. And Daphne, she..."
"She has no surname, so one might say she is Daphne Black."
"Em..."
The girl looked at me in bewilderment, then at Daphne, then back at me.
"So then — does the young miss wish to familiarize herself with the rules she was so earnestly defending a moment ago?"
"Em... yes..."
She nodded, looking flustered — clearly not having expected such a calm admission from me that I belonged to the noble class. My manner seemed to settle her slightly.
"Then please, into the carriage."
I helped Daphne up first, then Hermione, then climbed up myself, and the three of us took the nearest empty compartment.
"So then — what exactly would you like to know?"
I looked at Hermione questioningly, and she fidgeted on the seat a little before finally beginning her questions.
"Why is she dressed like that and why does she call you my lord? And why doesn't she have a surname? And why were you casting spells, that's against the rules? And—"
"Hold on, hold on, hold on..."
I raised a hand to stop the uninterrupted stream of questions.
"...let's go in order. We'll start with the very first question you asked. About magic. First of all, casting spells outside school is only forbidden for Muggle-born witches and wizards. More precisely, underage magic can only be traced in those who live among ordinary people."
"But—"
I raised my hand again, stopping the girl from launching into righteous outrage.
"And before you start protesting the unfairness of it, let me explain the reason. It's actually quite simple. If there is no wizard in the family, there is simply no one to assist a young witch or wizard if a spell goes wrong. And spells go wrong all the time. Just as an example — for the most basic levitation spell, which will be taught in the first year, there are over a thousand officially recorded errors leading to all manner of consequences."
Hermione's eyes went wide.
"And those consequences can range from completely harmless — the feather simply burns up — to extremely dangerous — it turns to acid and explodes. If there is a wizard in the family, they can call a Healer from St. Mungo's or take the child there directly. Then everything can be sorted out quickly, if not very pleasantly. But what are Muggle-born students meant to do? Their parents cannot call a Healer, but they cannot leave their child suffering either. So they call an ambulance — and after that, the International Statute of Secrecy has been violated..."
The girl's eyes were fixed entirely on me.
"...do I need to spell out what follows from that?"
"No."
She shook her head and dropped her gaze to the floor.
"Good. It may seem unfair to you, miss, but the world itself is not fair. And this sort of thing exists not only in our world of magic, but in the ordinary world as well."
"Now — as to why Daphne calls me my lord. Daph, do you mind?"
"As you wish."
Whatever effort she was making to hide her reluctance to have the details aired before a stranger, she couldn't hide it from me.
"It's simple. She is my attendant, and so she addresses me as her lord. As for the surname — I'm sorry, but that is a private family matter and I will not be sharing it with someone outside the family. Any other questions?"
"Yes! Which House are you going to be sorted into? Professor McGonagall told me, when she helped me with my shopping, that Gryffindor is the best House and—"
"And it's only natural she would say that, given that she is not only the Deputy Headmistress but also the Head of Gryffindor. It would be rather strange if she recommended the Eagles to you instead of the Lions. In actual fact, the choice of House these days plays a meaningful role, but it no longer affects the qualifications you receive. In the past, the curricula differed between Houses — now they are the same for all."
"Then what does House matter?"
"It's quite straightforward. Your House determines your comfort over the next five or seven years. Gryffindor is for the brave and the reckless — if you want to be surrounded by people who act first and think second, that's the place for you. Ravenclaws love books and tend to be individualists. Slytherins are future politicians who favor long games. Hufflepuffs, well, they value friendship above everything else. I myself am considering between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff."
"Em..."
She looked at me in confusion.
"Not Slytherin?"
"No. After the last war, that House is largely made up of supporters of the extremist ideology Voldie was so fond of promoting."
"Voldie?"
"Yes — that Dark wizard placed a Taboo on his name, which gave an alert if anyone not bearing his Mark said it aloud. A clean-up squad would then be dispatched."
I shrugged, and Hermione pressed her palm to her mouth.
"That's why I use something close to his name but slightly altered. At school, though, you'd do better to call him You-Know-Who."
"All right, thank you..."
Hermione nodded.
"Any more questions?"
"Um..."
She glanced at me quietly and bit her lower lip.
"Em..."
"Go on, I don't bite, and right now..."
I looked out the window, where trees were already streaming past in a blur, telling me we had built up speed.
"...I have time to answer questions. At Hogwarts I won't have that luxury — my study schedule is arranged so that I'll barely have enough time to keep up with homework."
"Harry Potter — is he really a hero?"
"Well..."
I shrugged.
"...that's what the newspapers say, and certain trashy little books, the sort that Lockhart churns out. In actual fact, not a single genuinely authoritative publication has ever called Potter a hero or a savior — because no one has ever managed to establish exactly what happened that night."
"Em..."
"And yes — I would advise you not to walk up to him and ask about that night. His parents died that day."
Hermione flinched and nodded quickly.
"So — have I answered all your questions?"
"Yes."
She gave a short nod.
"Wonderful, then—"
I couldn't finish, because the compartment door slid open and two red-haired boys peered in.
"Oh! First-years! Here's a little present!"
The small bomb they lobbed in our direction, however, collided with a shield I had put up and exploded, dousing the red-haired pair in crimson and gold paint.
"First-years have got some talent, Gred!"
"Don't I know it, Forge!"
The twins exchanged a glance and gave me a thumbs-up.
"We hope you end up in the best House!"
"Gryffindor!"
And the redheads vanished.
"Em, what exactly was that?"
"Hogwarts madness — Fred and George Weasley. Pranksters who couldn't care less about House points, so long as the joke lands. And their jokes aren't always as..."
I nodded toward the door, which still bore traces of paint.
"...harmless as that one. Sometimes their antics can be rather unpleasant. Regrettably, since corporal punishment has been abolished, the most the teachers can do is assign detentions and dock points. As you can see, that doesn't slow them down much."
"But why haven't they been expelled?"
I shrugged at the indignant question.
"I don't know. I have my suspicions, but without confirmation they aren't worth putting forward."
Hermione nodded slowly, and I was already thinking of getting a bit of rest — but Hermione clearly had other ideas.
"Is it true that you aristocrats don't like Muggle-borns?"
"And why should we like you?"
Hermione's eyes flew open in shock.
"But—"
"Here's an example..."
I pretended not to notice her bewilderment.
"...have you ever been outside Britain?"
"Yes, my parents and I went to France once, to the seaside."
I shrugged.
"And have you heard of Arab countries?"
"Yes, of course — it's barbaric, the women there—"
"Whether it is barbaric or not is beside the point for now. Tell me — if you found yourself in one of those countries, would you follow their customs, or would you go out into the streets and tell everyone they were living the wrong way?"
"I... I would follow them..."
"Then here is some advice for you, Muggle-born witch. Stop assuming you are still in the Britain you are used to. In the end, we wizards separated from the ordinary world a very long time ago, and our history has followed its own path ever since. What may seem wild to you can be a meaningful part of a culture that did not grow up out of nothing."
"I... will try..."
She nodded slowly.
"Good. If you simply remember that you are in a foreign country and act accordingly, you'll be able to avoid a great many problems and—"
"Well, well, well..."
The compartment door opened and a boy roughly my age stood in the doorway.
"Platinum blond, well-groomed — you must be a Malfoy?"
A contemptuous smirk appeared on the boy's face. I looked him over carefully and simply shook my head.
"You are mistaken. Though—"
"Come off it! I've read the papers and seen the photographs! You're the spitting image of your father!"
"It would appear, Mr. Weasley..."
I made no point of remarking on his red hair, his freckles, or the fact that his clothes looked worn. I saw no purpose in it.
"...that you have been reading your papers very inattentively. After my father's death, my mother returned to the House of Black. That family has accepted me as the heir to its magic. So I am a Black, not a Malfoy. Though your family has always had something of a habit of making hasty judgments..."
I shook my head.
"Ha! At least I have a father!"
I raised an eyebrow.
"Mr. Weasley, do you genuinely believe your words are capable of wounding me?"
I shook my head with a trace of exasperation.
"I am sorry to disappoint you, but you are not. So please..."
I took out my wand and gave a short flick in Weasley's direction, sending a strong gust of wind toward him that quite literally pushed him out of the compartment.
"...do not disturb us."
A brief movement of the wand and the door snapped shut, followed by a very simple locking charm settling over it.
"Perhaps that wasn't quite necessary..."
Hermione looked at me uncertainly.
"It was. Weasleys act first and think later. That boy might have tried to insult you or Daphni next, and then I would have been obliged to respond. And starting the school year with a summons to the headmaster's office for a fight on the train is not how I intend to begin."