Christmas holidays were never something a pure-blood family would overlook.
Draco Malfoy stepped off the train and inhaled the biting cold air, feeling as though he had been gone for ages. In truth, it had only been a few months since he left home for Hogwarts, but the experience felt like he had endured years of torment in some hellish place. The thought made his eyes sting with unshed tears.
"Draco." A cool, detached voice cut through the air.
An elegant man with shoulder-length platinum blond hair walked toward him, carrying with him a natural aura of authority that instantly drew Draco's reverence and awe.
"Father." Draco pressed down his joy and greeted him with proper decorum.
His father had always reminded him—be elegant.
"Hm." Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater and current head of the Malfoy family, gave a reserved nod. "Give your luggage to Dobby. We're going home."
"Yes, Father." Draco tossed his trunk to a house-elf barely a meter tall.
The elf staggered under the enormous weight, nearly collapsing. But nobody cared about the plight of a house-elf. Clenching his teeth, Dobby lifted the trunk as best he could and vanished with a snap of his fingers.
Father and son used the station fireplace to travel back to the Malfoy Manor's Floo connection point outside the estate. The manor itself was deliberately unlinked from the Floo Network to prevent intruders from entering directly.
Unlike Hogwarts, the manor lacked anti-Apparition enchantments—those required the combined skill of more than ten accomplished wizards, something the Malfoy family could not afford.
As for why they did not simply travel by car, the reason was obvious: noble wizards would never demean themselves by mingling with Muggles. For Lucius, even brushing shoulders with Muggles at the station was an insult.
Sharing the station with Muggle-born parents waiting for their children was, in his eyes, a humiliation.
They also did not Apparate because Draco had never been trained in the art; subjecting him to the disorienting experience risked vomiting—and that was hardly elegant.
The grand gates of Malfoy Manor slowly swung open. Dobby, who had just finished putting away the luggage, rushed out to welcome them. Once inside the opulent, castle-like estate, the elf hurried off again to prepare lunch.
"Draco!" A delighted voice rang out as Narcissa Malfoy swept forward to greet her precious son.
"Mother." Draco visibly relaxed. Compared to his stern father, his gentle mother was far more comforting.
"Don't just stand there—come inside for lunch." Narcissa took Draco by one hand and Lucius by the other, leading them into the dining hall.
The long table was laden with the lavish meal Dobby had prepared. The room remained quiet, the only sound the soft clink of cutlery against porcelain.
The silence lingered all the way until the meal ended. Once Dobby had cleared the plates and tidied the table, Lucius finally spoke.
"Did anything interesting happen at school?"
Though phrased like casual conversation, his measured tone made it sound more like an interrogation.
Draco, long accustomed to his father's manner of speaking, was about to share some anecdotes from school when shame forced him to lower his head.
"Why are you looking down? Raise your head!" Lucius's voice was sharp.
Reluctantly, Draco lifted his gaze, looking between his stern father and his gentle mother. "I… there wasn't anything interesting at school."
"Nothing?" Lucius arched an eyebrow. "I heard Harry Potter started at Hogwarts this year?"
"Y-Yes."
"And you didn't make his acquaintance?" Lucius pressed.
"No. He spends his time with the youngest Weasley boy, and he spoke to me rudely." At this, Draco's expression twisted with resentment.
"Heh… Weasley." At the mention of that name, Lucius's eyes darkened with disdain and disgust. "A family that tarnishes the honor of pure-bloods. Anyone who associates with them chooses degradation willingly."
Lucius's words carried more than the usual scorn—there was bitterness, too. Normally he would have settled for mocking and despising the Weasleys, but this time, his disdain was steeped in genuine loathing.
Recently, troubling rumors had begun to spread within the Ministry of Magic—talk of a decree to ban Dark artifacts, with whispers that even pure-blood families would be searched.
And Arthur Weasley—the father of that brood of redheads—was the one most zealously pushing it forward.
They'll have to be taught a lesson sooner or later, Lucius Malfoy thought grimly.
After all, what old pure-blood family didn't have one or two Dark objects tucked away? More than that, Lucius had once been a Death Eater—one of Voldemort's most trusted lieutenants.
If he hadn't claimed at the time that he'd acted under the Imperius Curse, and then "donated" a generous sum to smooth things over, he'd likely still be rotting in Azkaban, keeping company with Dementors.
So of course his manor housed more Dark objects than could be counted. And beyond those, he still possessed something far more dangerous.
Every time that particular relic crossed his mind, Lucius felt a chill run down his spine.
"Harry Potter," Lucius said firmly, "that Boy Who Lived must already be making a spectacle of himself at Hogwarts, just like his insufferable father."
"Not… not really." Draco hesitated. "The one who gets the most attention at school right now is Louis Wilson."
"Louis Wilson?" Lucius frowned. "Never heard of the name. Clearly not pure-blood. Gryffindor, then? Or perhaps Ravenclaw?"
Naturally, he didn't even consider Hufflepuff. A true Slytherin held nothing but contempt for that House.
"N-No, he's in Slytherin," Draco admitted, though uneasily. He wanted to tattle, to use his father's power against Louis—but some part of him was afraid.
"Slytherin? Then he's a half-blood?" Lucius pressed.
"N-Not exactly. At first we all thought he was a Muggle-born…" Draco began, only to be cut off by his father's furious roar.
"What? A Muggle-born? How dare Dumbledore! He's defiling Hogwarts—defiling Slytherin itself!"
Draco flinched so hard his body shook. He had never seen his father so enraged, and the sight nearly scared the life out of him.
"N-No, Father, that's not it!" Draco rushed to explain. "Later we found out he wasn't Muggle-born… he's descended from a Squib."
"A Squib? And how is that any better?" Lucius sneered coldly. "Degeneracy! I'll rally the other governors to impeach Dumbledore!"
"But… that Squib is said to have come from Merlin's bloodline…" Draco muttered in a small voice.
"What bloodline doesn't matter—what did you just say?" Lucius's eyes widened, certain he'd misheard.
"Merlin's bloodline." Draco repeated it, more clearly this time. "Louis Wilson is a wizard descended from Merlin."
The lavish dining hall fell into dead silence.
"Merlin… bloodline?" Narcissa Malfoy's voice was incredulous. "That's… utterly absurd…"
"Are you certain, Draco?" Lucius asked after a long pause.
Draco scratched his head. "That's what everyone says. And besides…"
"Besides what?" Lucius demanded.
"Besides… he can control dreams. I was cursed by him and suffered nightmares for ages," Draco said, his voice thick with grievance.
"Control dreams…" Lucius's eyes went wide again, but this time with conviction. That ability was proof enough of the Merlin bloodline's authenticity.
And it wasn't just the Malfoys—many pure-blood families soon heard the same from their own children. Even Crabbe and Goyle, dull as they were, repeated the tale at home.
In no time at all, nearly every pure-blood household was shaken by the revelation.
It was as though a massive stone had been dropped into a still pond, sending ripples spreading far and wide.
Only one question remained—how would they all choose to respond to Louis's existence?
*
RedX43's Note:
➤ Want More? Get up to +50 Extra Chapters on Patreon!
➤ [email protected]/RedX43
➤ Thanks for Reading! 🙌