Chapter 10: The Weight of the Past
A heavy silence filled the hidden room after Solim's revelation. Hermione was the first to break it, her voice hesitant.
"So... that wizard, the one who was ensnared by the elves... he was a Weasley ancestor?"
"Yes," Solim confirmed, his tone matter-of-fact. "The name was something like 'Nigenis' or 'Nygillis,' I can't recall exactly. The records are old and fragmented."
He let the weight of his next words sink in. "Fourteen wizards died in that elven ambush. Among them were three Archmages—wizards of immense power. One was a Malfoy. One was a Black. The third... I forget, but that family is gone now." A dry, humorless laugh escaped him. "Archmages. Beings on the level of Grindelwald or Dumbledore. Three of them, wiped out in a single stroke. What do you think the families of those wizards did in response?"
Draco's face was a mask of stunned disbelief. "Why... why has my father never told me this? What happened next, Solim?"
"What do you think happened?" Solim's voice was sharp, laced with scorn for the naivety of the question. "The betrayed families, united in their grief and fury, descended upon the Weasleys. It was a bloodbath. The family was all but obliterated, their wealth and lands divided as reparations among the victims' kin. The only reason a single, distant branch of the Weasley line survived was because they were, at the time, a 'Contracted Family' of the Council of Elders. The rules of the Council forbade a total genocide."
"How could they do that!" Ron shouted, lurching to his feet. "You said he was bewitched! It wasn't his fault!"
Solim fixed Ron with a cold, disdainful stare. "The 'bewitched' story was the official, sanitized version released by the Council to save face for everyone involved. The truth is far uglier and more complex. The Weasley bloodline has always carried a trace of elven magic. Some whispered it was that very heritage that made their ancestor susceptible. But does the 'why' even matter now? The damage was done. The blood was spilled."
He then revealed a darker truth about the wizarding world's history. "Wizards have always been aware of our magical shortcomings compared to beings like elves. Some sought to bridge that gap by any means necessary. Interbreeding was one method. Many wizards with certain wand cores, like unicorn hair, carry traces of that mixed heritage. Others resorted to dangerous, unstable blood rituals to steal power—the origin of abilities like Parseltongue. The pursuit of power has always had a dark price."
He turned his gaze back to Ron, who was trembling with a mixture of rage and fear. "You should be grateful to the Malfoys, Weasley. Or at least, to their restraint."
"Grateful?" Ron spat the word like it was poison.
"Do you have any concept of what a 'Contracted Family' means?" Solim's voice was scathing. "It means the Council guarantees the survival of your bloodline, no matter the crime. But that contract for your family expired centuries ago. The Malfoys, and the other descendant families of those slain wizards, are no longer bound by the Council's strictest laws. If Lucius Malfoy truly wished it, he could erase your family from the wizarding world without breaking a single modern statute."
He painted a grim, methodical picture. Lucius's influence in the Ministry could see Arthur Weasley fired. His shares in Gringotts could cost Bill his job. His investments in the Romanian dragon sanctuary could see Charlie sent home. The Weasleys' entire income could vanish overnight. Any attempt to start a business would be blocked by permits denied at the Ministry. Any stall in Diagon Alley would be harassed and shut down. They would be systematically squeezed out of magical society until they had no choice but to leave—or starve.
"And those are just the legal methods," Solim added softly. "Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater. He has associates who specialize in... messier work. A break-in in the dead of night. A tragic, unexplained accident at the Burrow. It wouldn't be difficult."
Ron had gone pale, his bravado completely deflated. "D-Dumbledore..." he stammered. "He wouldn't allow it! And... and we have friends..."
"Dumbledore's influence has its limits, especially in matters of ancient blood feuds he is not party to," Solim countered ruthlessly. "And as for friends? They might help once, twice. But when your family becomes a permanent charity case, who will stand by you forever?"
Hermione, who had been listening with a horrified fascination, finally spoke. "If it's that simple, then why haven't they done it?"
"Ah, you've found the crucial question!" Solim said, a hint of approval in his voice. "It's because there are things far more important to the Malfoys than settling a centuries-old grudge with the Weasleys."
He turned to Draco, whose expression had shifted from vengeful pride to dawning anxiety. "The Malfoy family has withdrawn from being a Contracted Family. You, Draco, are the sole heir. If something happens to you, the Malfoy line ends. Your father's endless networking, his political maneuvering—it's not for his own glory. It's to pave a way for you. He dreams of the day a Malfoy can once again sign a contract with the Council of Elders and secure your family's place among the truly powerful, where your lineage is protected forever. Right now, without that contract, the Malfoys are vulnerable. If a coalition of other families decided to move against you, even your father's gold and influence might not be enough."
Draco looked as if he'd been physically struck. The weight of his family's precarious legacy, a burden he had never fully understood, now settled squarely on his shoulders.
"So, Draco," Solim asked, his voice quieter now, "knowing the real battle your family is fighting, do you still have the energy to waste on schoolboy squabbles with Weasley?"
Draco swallowed hard, a new, uncharacteristic determination in his eyes. "I... I'll study magic properly, Solim. I will restore my family's standing." He then glanced at Ron, a flicker of his old disdain returning, but it was weaker now, almost habitual. "But... I still don't have to like him."
"Well, I don't like you either, you slimy snake!" Ron shot back, his fear momentarily overcome by sheer stubbornness.
Solim sighed, running a hand over his face in sheer exasperation. After all that, they were back to square one.
"Ron!" Hermione cried, appalled.
"Hmph! I'll never trust a Slytherin!" Ron declared, storming out of the room without a backward glance.
Harry gave Solim and Hermione an apologetic look before hurrying after his friend.
"Let them go," Solim said, stopping Hermione from calling them back. "I didn't expect to solve generations of hatred in one afternoon. I just wanted to ease the tension. As long as they don't try to kill each other on sight, I'm satisfied."
"But... the points..." Hermione moaned, her face falling. "One hundred points! It will take forever to earn that back! The House Cup is hopeless now."
"The House Cup?" Solim looked at her, genuinely surprised. "You actually care about that?"
"It's an honor!" Hermione insisted.
"It's a distraction," Solim countered dismissively. "The real value is in knowledge and power, not a charmed hourglass." He had never bothered to earn points in class; the foundational theory was child's play to him. The practical, often brutal, education at Scuol had left him with little patience for Hogwarts's more theoretical and gentler approach.
"Wait, Solim," Hermione said, her brow furrowed as another of his earlier comments resurfaced. "You said there had been dark wizards in Neville's family, too. What did you mean?"
"Ah, that." Solim leaned back. "It seems our definitions of 'Dark Wizard' are very different. Let me ask you all: what, in your opinion, makes a wizard 'dark'?"
Hermione immediately began reciting from a textbook. "A wizard who practices the Dark Arts, who is evil and cruel—"
Solim waved a hand, cutting her off. "Hermione, for your own sake, never trust a history book written by the victors. The real world is painted in shades of grey, not the black and white you read about." He looked at their confused faces and sighed. It was time to correct some very fundamental misconceptions.