Chapter 57 "The Malfoy Family, a Secret History"

The Granger household consisted of dentists. They weren’t destitute by any means, but neither could they be described as fabulously wealthy.

There’s an old saying: “Gold teeth and silver eyes.”

Dentistry, after all, was a lucrative profession. For the Grangers, being exceptional in their field meant their clinic was always bustling with patients.

Take their Bentley Arnage, for instance—it represented half a year’s income for Mr. Granger.

Oddly enough, Mr. Granger had taken quite a liking to Ron Weasley, particularly fascinated by Mr. Weasley’s enchanted flying car.

To this Muggle gentleman, even a hundred Bentleys couldn’t hold a candle to the wonder of a car that could soar through the skies.

“That’s just so coooool,” he exclaimed, his enthusiasm genuine and unrestrained.

Throughout their journey, Mr. Granger couldn’t stop peppering Ron with questions about the car, even suggesting that Ron ask his father if Mr. Granger could visit the Burrow during the summer to see it.

Ron, naturally, agreed without hesitation. Despite it being their first meeting, he found himself genuinely liking Mr. Granger.

***

Meanwhile, back at Malfoy Manor, Draco had already returned home.

The moment he stepped inside, his face was clouded with displeasure.

“Draco?” Narcissa Malfoy asked, her voice tinged with concern. “What’s wrong? You’ve been in a foul mood since you arrived. Did something happen at school?”

Draco shook his head, his thoughts etched plainly across his face.

“Let’s eat first,” Narcissa said gently, sensing he wasn’t ready to talk. “I had Dobby prepare your favorite—red wine-braised beef.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Draco replied, managing a faint smile as he followed her to the dining room.

Narcissa took her seat to Lucius’s right, while Draco sat across from her.

“Ah, Draco,” Lucius said, glancing up briefly from the Daily Prophet, “congratulations on being sorted into Slytherin.”

“You already congratulated me in your letter, Father,” Draco replied, his eyes flicking to the newspaper obscuring Lucius’s face. For some reason, he felt a sudden surge of boldness.

“You lied to me,” Draco blurted out. “The Sorting Ceremony doesn’t involve fighting a werewolf...”

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He thought he heard a faint, synchronized “pfft” from both his parents—a sound so subtle it might have been missed if not for his heightened awareness.

Could it be? Were they stifling laughter?

Impossible. Absolutely not.

“All right, Draco,” Narcissa interjected gently, cutting him off. “Finish your meal. Your father has been waiting to speak with you.”

Draco had a nagging suspicion that his mother was suppressing laughter, but he had no proof. He merely mumbled an “okay” and sullenly ate the meal he would have otherwise relished.

After dinner, when the house-elves served tea, Draco hesitated several times before finally mustering the courage to speak.

“Draco, if something’s on your mind, just tell your father,” Narcissa urged, giving Lucius a pointed look.

With a sigh, Lucius lowered his newspaper.

“It’s like this, Father.” Draco took a deep breath, carefully choosing his words. “I heard some troubling rumors at school...”

“Troubling rumors?” Lucius’s gaze sharpened as he exchanged a glance with Narcissa. Could someone at school have said something to upset Draco? Or worse, had whispers about Lucius’s past as a Death Eater reached his son’s ears?

“What kind of rumors?” Lucius asked.

“They’re about our ancestors.” Draco hesitated. “Is it true that someone in our family once fought alongside a Weasley to suppress a goblin rebellion and destroy the Ashwinder? I heard her name was... Cassandra.”

The moment the name escaped Draco’s lips, Lucius’s expression shifted dramatically.

“Who told you that name?” he demanded sharply.

“A classmate,” Draco stammered, swallowing hard. “One of Harry Potter’s friends.”

“Silence!” Lucius thundered, slamming his serpent-headed cane onto the floor. “How dare you... how dare you mention that name!”

Draco flinched, startled by his father’s intensity.

Harry Potter?

Why was that name so taboo?

Saint Potter!

“H-he’s my classmate,” Draco mumbled softly.

Lucius froze briefly before his features softened ever so slightly. He exhaled and began rubbing the silver serpent on his cane with his thumb.

“Oh, you were talking about Harry Potter. I thought you meant... him.”

“‘Him’? What do you mean?” Draco asked, perplexed. “Was there another Harry Potter?”

“Yes, yes,” Lucius replied, his tone dry and uneasy.

Taking a sip of tea to moisten his throat, he continued, “As you might guess, there was another Harry Potter. You know the title ‘the Dark Lord’? It was originally used, not for the dark wizard we know, but to describe this man.”

“Was he more terrifying than the Dark Lord?” Draco asked, leaning back in astonishment.

“Hmm... many truths about him have been obscured by goblins over the years,” Lucius mused. “But you’re correct. Our family did have an ancestor named Cassandra Malfoy. She was your grandfather Abraxas’s aunt, which makes her my grandaunt and your great-grandaunt.”

Lucius paused, as though weighing how much to reveal.

“There’s no harm in telling you now since you’ve already heard part of it. She followed that man—along with his companions—to thwart the goblins’ rebellion and destroy the Ashwinder. However, in their final confrontation with the goblin leader Ranrok, he perished alongside the goblin. No one knows what became of him.”

“So... he just died?” Draco asked, frowning.

“Some believe he died; others think he survived,” Lucius replied, a trace of melancholy coloring his voice. “As for Cassandra, she was an extraordinarily gifted witch. According to your great-grandfather, at your age, she could already cast a flawless Shield Charm.”

“Then why have I never heard of her before?” Draco pressed. “If the Malfoy family produced such an exceptional witch, why isn’t her name celebrated? Why hasn’t anyone—Grandfather or you—ever mentioned her?”

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