"Huh?" Lucius responded blankly. "I don't know. Is it valuable?"
"Is it valuable?" Harry echoed Lucius's words, trying to hold back but failing as a laugh burst out. "Voldemort isn't dead yet. To be precise, a part of him is still alive in this world. You already know that."
"Yes, my lord," Lucius said respectfully. "I've followed your instructions and kept searching for traces of the Dark Lord, but there's been no progress so far. None of the people I know have shown anything unusual—wait, could it be?!"
Lucius's pupils dilated suddenly, his breathing quickening as he realized what Harry was implying.
"This… this… could it be?!"
"Exactly," Harry said calmly. "This diary is one of Voldemort's Horcruxes." He paused, then added, "Congratulations, Lucius. You've completed my task in a way even you didn't expect."
Lucius was speechless. He had never imagined that Voldemort would entrust something so precious to him, nor that the Dark Lord had been so close all along. Most importantly, it was because of him that this fragment of Voldemort's soul was gone—he was the one who had given it away.
No one understood the implications better than Lucius. If that piece of Voldemort's soul were to fully revive and come for him, and if he discovered that the item he'd entrusted to Lucius was gone…
Lucius felt like it might be time to start writing his will. Unless—
"The Dark Lord gave many things to us," Lucius said, his mind racing faster than ever as he wracked his brain. "My father, Abraxas Malfoy, was one of the first Death Eaters. The Malfoy family has served the Dark Lord loyally since the beginning, investing heavily, which gave us considerable influence among the Death Eaters—second only to a few mad fanatics."
"For those of us high-ranking Death Eaters, the Dark Lord rewarded us with many things, but most were Galleons—meaningless to pure-blood families like ours. As for actual objects, aside from me, only Barty Crouch Jr., Bellatrix Lestrange, and Regulus, as the Black family heir, received such rewards when they joined."
"Not many, then," Harry said with certainty. "Are you sure that's all?"
"The Dark Lord rarely rewarded his followers," Lucius said with a bitter smile. "He was our master, and serving him was our duty."
"No need to make yourself sound so pitiful, Lucius. Do you take me for one of those naive children who knows nothing of the world?" Harry said coldly. "You pure-bloods stood behind Voldemort and profited plenty. Didn't you pin your rivals' deaths on him?"
"I wouldn't dare, my lord! I wouldn't dare!" Lucius didn't hesitate for a second before dropping to his knees. "I—I—"
"Enough," Harry said impatiently, waving a hand. "You don't need to grovel before me like you did with Voldemort. These people you mentioned… can you find out what he gave them?"
"That might be difficult, my lord," Lucius said with a wry smile. "It's not that I'm unwilling to serve, but to those people, I'm just a despicable traitor. Especially after they've languished in Azkaban for years while I escaped judgment—they'd never tell me anything. And many didn't survive Azkaban's conditions, like Crouch Jr."
"What about their family vaults?" Harry pressed. "Pure-bloods always have places to hide their treasures. Could we get in?"
He was thinking of the Potter family vault, which no outsider had breached even after all these years—though that was partly because the Potters were war heroes, so no one would dare brazenly tamper with their estate.
"Those things… only the heads of pure-blood families would know," Lucius said, clearly troubled. "Those who survived Azkaban and remain loyal to the Dark Lord are fanatically devoted. He personally taught them magic, and even Memory Charms can't uncover the secrets hidden in their minds."
"I can ask Narcissa to talk to Bellatrix—they grew up as sisters, after all—but the others…" Lucius hesitated. "Many died so suddenly that their family lines ended. Wait—I've got it!"
"Including the Malfoys, many pure-blood families opened high-security vaults at Gringotts for business purposes. There could still be treasures stored there."
"Can you convince the goblins to let us into a vault without a key?" Harry asked.
"No, the goblins are strict about that," Lucius said, smiling awkwardly. "But we might be able to… use less formal methods."
Harry understood.
Through the sewers, a tunnel, or breaking in directly, right?
"Fine. Have Narcissa ask Bellatrix first," Harry said with a nod.
"Yes, my lord," Lucius replied respectfully.
After leaving the meeting room, Harry and Professor McGonagall returned to Hogwarts.
"Do you want to be Headmaster, Professor Potter?" McGonagall asked suddenly as they walked across the castle grounds, watching students playing in the distance.
"Me?" Harry shook his head. "Headmaster or professor—it makes no difference to me. Besides, you've been handling the headmaster's duties for years. All you're missing is the title. I think the students would prefer to see you as Headmaster."
"Thank you for the sentiment, Professor Potter," McGonagall said with a small smile, then shook her head. "But I could never be Headmaster. Shacklebolt was right—I'm no match for the Dark Lord, nor can I stop those demons from invading. Compared to geniuses like you or Dumbledore, my magical strength isn't enough to protect the students in these increasingly turbulent times."
"I worked with Professor Dumbledore for decades, first as his student, then as his colleague, so I know him well," she continued. "More than the title of Headmaster, Dumbledore valued the purity of this school and the safety of its children."
"To be honest, I'm worried about Professor Dumbledore, who still hasn't returned. But more than that, I fear a future where Hogwarts is forced to close because of these attacks." She fixed Harry with a serious gaze. "I cannot allow Hogwarts to shut down. It's more than a school—it's a symbol that unites Britain's wizards."
"So, Harry, what I'm saying is this: if Professor Dumbledore doesn't return soon, please don't hesitate." McGonagall took a deep breath, as if preparing for the worst. "Dumbledore once told me that those with power must bear greater responsibility. I hope you can do the same."
"…I understand," Harry said calmly, nodding.
"So, the Board of Governors wants you to be the new Headmaster?" Sirius said, nearly choking on a cherry as he sprawled on a couch inside the Great Totem. "You? Hogwarts Headmaster?!"
"What's that reaction?" Harry said, exasperated. "What, you think I'm not cut out for it?"
"Of course not!" Sirius said without hesitation. "You were born for this, Harry! I say Dumbledore should've retired ages ago—ha! Hang on, I need to reclaim the Black family's seat on the Board of Governors. That way, no one can stop you when you make decisions. And if anyone tries to oppose you, I'll tip you off!"
"What are you up to?" Hermione, sitting by the fireplace playing with her cat, chimed in. "Is that really what a governor should be doing?"
"Of course—not," Sirius said, switching tones with a righteous air. "A proper governor should be limiting the Headmaster's power and controlling the school. I've never done it myself, but I know how it works from my family."
"And yet you're still—?"
"Obviously, Sirius isn't normal," Ron said without looking up from his Wizard's Chess game with Neville. "The rebellious Sirius Black, whose name even kids like me know—the pure-blood traitor who cut ties with the Black family."
"Exactly, like the Weasleys," Sirius said, laughing heartily. "Didn't Molly cut ties with the Prewetts?"
"Well said! Let's high-five for pure-blood rebels!" Ron grinned, turning to slap Sirius's hand with a loud clap.
"Hopeless," Hermione muttered, shaking her head. She looked at Harry. "Control your godfather, Harry. The governor position isn't for personal agendas."
"But the twelve governors poured so much money into repairing Hogwarts—they deserve some payoff," Harry said, joking. "Still, you should be careful, Sirius. Don't corrupt the innocent kids."
"Innocent?" Sirius muttered. "When I was your age, I was already—okay, fine, Professor Potter, I get it. I'll keep them pure, so stop staring at me like that, alright?"
Laughter filled the Great Totem.
Harry loved this feeling. To him, it was like having a lively family in this world.
"By the way, don't you need some healing, Ron?" Harry asked suddenly. "Your nose is still crooked."
"No way!" Ron refused instantly, turning with a proud grin. "This is a badge of courage! Like Dumbledore's crooked nose—oh, you've noticed his nose is crooked, right? I bet it's from fighting dark forces in his youth!"
"Don't bother, Harry," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "You have no idea what we've been through lately."
"Yeah, it's been three whole minutes since I heard the crooked-nose story," Neville said, suppressing a laugh as he looked up from the chessboard. "I'm getting antsy."
"Hey, how can you say that?" Ron protested. "This is a mark of my heroic fight against Lockhart! I told you, that creep was cursing me and punching me—even used the Cruciatus Curse! But I never gave in! I'm Ronald Weasley!"
"Ronald Weasley? Lavender said you were shouting 'Ron Weasley' back then. Now you're getting all formal?" Hermione teased. "Enough already. We've heard it a million times. Lavender's practically your disciple now, going on about your bravery every day. It's terrifying."
"Terrifying? It's awesome!" Ron said, puffing out his chest. "I'm their big hero! I used the Spirit Link Totem to take down Lockhart and stop them from being sacrificed!"
For Ron, these had been the best days of his life. People crowded around him daily, eager to hear about that fateful day. By now, everyone at Hogwarts knew of Ron's unyielding spirit. A small fan club had even formed, though Snape's mood had soured lately—thanks to Ron's infamous line: "Your fists were weaker than Snape's words, like a slug." Now, students compared Snape's sharp tongue to something deadlier than Death Eaters or demons.
It was glorious. Ron wished he could face a few more Lockharts. Even his parents, who'd initially scolded him for not protecting Ginny, had wept and hugged him after learning what he'd endured, promising a new wand.
For once, Ron—often overlooked as the youngest boy in a big family—felt like one of the Weasleys' most treasured kids.
Though Fred and George got their ears twisted for failing to look after their siblings. They bore the blame quietly.
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