Work Text:
“Malfoy,” Harry said to the empty room, putting the essay down so he wouldn’t accidentally tear it from gripping it so hard. “This is Malfoy’s essay.”
Harry stared at the words Draco Malfoy like they would change if he looked at them for long enough. He certainly hadn’t expected this outcome when he had announced the essay competition, but here he was, Malfoy’s essay sitting in front of him, the essay Malfoy had written arguably the one Harry connected to the most out of all the entries.
The entries had been submitted anonymously. Names were required to be obscured with a charm before submission so that there wouldn’t be any bias as Harry read through them all. He had sorted his favorite five essays into a separate pile, carefully considering each as he narrowed them down to one essay, only revealing the name after he had made a decision.
Harry could pick a different essay – set Malfoy’s aside and declare another the winner – and no one would be the wiser, but…that would be disingenuous. He had insisted on having anonymous entries so that there wouldn’t be any bias while he was judging, and suddenly deciding to change his judgment after seeing who wrote it would be hypocritical.
Harry sighed.
Personal feelings aside, he would announce Malfoy as the winner, and keep the judgment of the competition fair and honest. Maybe he could talk with Hermione and Ron about how to approach making the announcement speech.
Although – Harry thought back to Hermione’s essay, five feet long and as detailed as any research project she had turned in back during Hogwarts, he had known it was hers without needing to reveal the name, and her essay had been the best out of the bunch until he had read Malfoy’s – Hermione wouldn’t be happy with the loss.
On second thought, it would probably be best to refrain from telling Hermione and Ron who won.
Just for now.
***
Harry walked onto the stage, the crowd waiting in anticipation as he began his speech, recapping the essay competition’s prompt and its purpose – to write out a solution to a problem that the writer sees in the Wizarding World. It could be big, or small, the only requirements were to outline the issue, write why it is important, and propose a solution that could be implemented.
Transitioning from growing up with muggles to entering the Wizarding World, Harry had often wished that there had been a shallower learning curve, as those who grew up with magic took to lessons much quicker than those who did not.
Of course, this didn’t mean that muggleborns wouldn’t catch up, but it would be with far more difficulty. Altering the methods that subjects like Potions and Transfiguration into a step-by-step program would only work to make the Wizarding World better – more inclusive – by giving students the chance that could lead to their success.
He continued with the reminder that the essay was chosen anonymously to ensure fairness, and that he felt the essay was deserving of a win, “—which is why I am offering the research position to the writer of the winning essay: Draco Malfoy!”
Harry could practically see the skepticism go through the crowd at the name Malfoy.
Quelling the grumbling crowd as he continued his speech, Harry shared his own experience with his struggle in Potions, only improving after he had found a used potions textbook that had helpful tips and instructions and improvements written in the margins – though Harry made no mention of the Half-Blood Prince or that it had been Snape’s potions book – and further argued that there could have been many other students like him, but who had never gotten the chance to properly thrive, all because the way the subjects were taught.
“The children are our future, and education is how we prepare them to take up the mantle that we will leave for them,” Harry continued. “Therefore, shouldn't it be our responsibility to ensure that they are as ready as they can possibly be? I know that there are many, many brilliant children out there who haven’t gotten a chance to shine yet, but they could – they could be the brightest of us all – if only we reach out by reforming the way Hogwarts is taught.”
Harry concluded his speech by calling Malfoy to the stage to accept his prize.
Malfoy looked uncomfortable to be in the spotlight, and wasn’t that a first, but walked up to the stage to accept the letter of access that would allow him into the Black properties, nodding politely before he left, disapparating amidst the already-leaving crowd.
Once Harry made his way backstage, he caught sight of Hermione.
Harry turned on his heel, heading the opposite direction.
“Harry!” Hermione yelled after him, putting an emphasis on each syllable in his name, the way she only did when she was frustrated with him. Harry walked faster. “Harry James Potter! Don’t walk away from us!”
She caught up to him, grabbing him by the arm, Ron following a few steps behind.
“Look, I’m sorry!” Harry said, pulling away from Hermione as he glared at him. “But I chose the essay anonymously, and I couldn’t just reject it just because I saw it was Malfoy after revealing the name.”
Ron looked like he wanted to say yes, you could have, no one would have known you even rejected the git since it was completely anonymous, but Hermione smacked his arm and Ron chose to leave those words unsaid.
“He did say sorry for being a prat before,” Harry said. Malfoy had approached them after Harry had spoken for him at his trial and had apologized for his actions during Hogwarts. The apologies had been accepted, though they hadn’t seen much of Malfoy after that. “He could be different now.”
It was plausible.
Other than occasionally spotting him in passing, since the Wizarding World wasn’t so big, Malfoy had mostly been minding his own business – enrolling into magical university, avoiding most of their old schoolmates, staying out of trouble.
“But Malfoy?” Ron said. “Really, mate?”
Hermione huffed, but her expression shifted into something friendlier, teasing, “Well, I suppose I can’t complain too much. After all, it won’t be me who has to give him the tour around the vault.”
“Don’t remind me,” Harry groaned, but at Ron and Hermione’s amused looks, he backtracked. “But he seemed nicer, though, at least when he was accepting the letter.”
“If you say so,” Ron said with a shrug. “Let us know how that ends up tomorrow. I’ll provide the drinks.”
“Ronald,” Hermione scolded, but it came out as fond.
Harry laughed, “Tomorrow night at Grimmauld?”
Ron clapped his shoulder, leaning over to whisper, “Don’t worry about ‘Mione. I’ll find a way to sneak the drinks over.”
The whisper wasn’t quiet enough, because Hermione was sighing in exasperation, though still fighting back a smile, “Boys.”
***
Malfoy arrived at the Black family properly early, earlier than Harry had shown up, and Harry hadn’t realized he was there until he entered the building and saw Malfoy already there, standing outside the open door to the vault. Harry hadn’t locked it the last time he checked it.
“Potter,” Malfoy inclined his head in Harry’s direction.
“Hey, Malfoy,” Harry forced a smile. “How much have you already looked through?”
“I haven’t,” Malfoy said, voice flat, though Harry still interpreted it as a question. “Why would I go in before the host has even arrived? I need you to allow me to enter before I am able to.”
“I gave you the letter already,” Harry pointed out.
“So, you’re just giving me free rein to the Forbidden Black Family Vault,” Malfoy said, still standing just before the doorway, looking back at Harry in disbelief.
“You won the competition.” Harry huffed, but waved a hand to usher him inside. “Despite our history, I do plan on upholding what I agreed to.”
“That’s not what I—” Malfoy shook his head. “Nevermind.”
Harry didn’t press further as to what he meant, “Alright, go on then. You’re free to explore, just let me know when you’re finished.”
***
“And I want a copy of the notes too!” Potter called behind him.
Draco watched Potter just walk away after granting Draco complete access to the vault.
Honestly, for someone who had been at the center of a war, Potter had a surprising lack of paranoia. Family Vaults were held under layers of secrecy, and Potter wasn’t even going to supervise to make sure that Draco wouldn’t attempt anything untoward?
Not that Draco was planning anything untoward, but Potter hadn’t even thought to restrict anything. It was almost like he was asking for something to go wrong. Had Potter even realized that saying ‘you’re free to explore’ had given Draco full authority to access any part of the vault?
Draco didn’t think so.
The Blacks were extremely paranoid and, as such, were very…generous with their curses. Draco knew that all too well from Aunt Bella. Anyone who dared to touch something owned by a Black would likely get hexed into the next year, and the Forbidden Black Family Vault was no exception.
Draco wasn’t about to enter the vault without invitation, because even if he was related to the Black family through his mother, only the main family branch was allowed inside private and forbidden properties, unless given explicit permission. As Sirius Black was the previous Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, and had willed all titles and properties to Potter, that meant Potter was the last person who would be considered as part of the ‘main branch.’
Draco had stood at the doorway in disbelief as Potter told him to enter the vault like the curses placed on even crossing the threshold wouldn’t cause him a slow and painful demise. Sure, the letter he received allowed him into the building, but the vault would have been warded with much older protections.
Potter didn’t seem to understand that, though, and Draco didn’t see a point in arguing. Besides, Potter had verbally granted permission a moment after, so it worked out regardless.
Draco started down the hall, relieved that no curses had been activated. Sometimes, even when guests were given permission, there were conditional enchantments that would activate just to ensure that permission hadn’t been given under coercion.
Exploring the first few rooms, he mostly found out-of-date artifacts, ones that were no longer produced due to how volatile they were, being deemed illegal due to how Dark they were, or were simply hoarded over the decades, though he quickly discovered what he had been eager to research.
The Ritual Spaces.
They were warded rooms dedicated to specific rituals, often ones that were unknown to anyone but Unspeakables due to how closely guarded the Black family kept their secrets. His mother had alluded, from time to time, that the Blacks were well-read in temporal magic, and had created rituals more powerful than Time-Turners.
Draco wasn’t sure how accurate that claim was, as he only found one Ritual Space that appeared related to temporal magic. A pedestal was centered in the middle of the room, a faded metal plaque bearing the inscription to the ritual:
blood to magic,
like for like in fair exchange,
to unravel the threads of time;
magic to blood,
intent meets insistence,
to rebuild and remake;
mind and magic,
disappear and reappear,
to engage with the beginning;
soul to body,
restore what once was,
to return and restart
Draco continued down the other rooms, checking to see if he had missed any, but had no luck in finding any other time travel related rituals. It was a shame, really, since temporal magic was such an insufficiently researched field due to the danger surrounding it.
Idly, he wondered if he could find any journals in the Black family library that would elaborate on what they were for and how they worked, something that would provide information beyond the inscriptions carved into the plaque on the pedestals.
He might even be able to persuade Potter to loan him a copy of a few grimoires.
***
“How’s the research going?” Harry asked. Malfoy startled at the sound of his voice, nearly dropping his notebook. “Progress going well?”
Malfoy waved a hand in a gesture Harry couldn’t quite decipher, “It could be better, but I’ve collected quite a bit of information already.”
Malfoy held the notebook towards Harry. Harry blinked at it, uncomprehending.
“You asked to see my notes?” Malfoy prompted. “Earlier today.”
blood to magic, like for like in fair exchange
“Ah,” Harry flushed, accepting the notebook and skimming through the notes as he flipped through the pages. “You wrote a lot about the rituals that are in here…” Harry looked up to meet Malfoy’s eyes, “Do you want to try one of them?”
“Try—?” Malfoy looked taken aback. “Are you mad?”
“No need to be like that – it’ll be good for your research! Writing about the ritual is one thing, but actually performing one and documenting your observations? You’re the only one I’ve let in here – well, other than Hermione and Ron – but you’ve basically got exclusive access to the vault right now, so you should at least make the most of it.”
Malfoy still looked hesitant, “I don’t think performing any spells from here is a good idea…”
“Come on!” Harry urged. “Think about how much this will boost your thesis paper! No one else could possibly have this topic, no one, not unless I let them in here for research, so you basically have a monopoly on the subject. Your professors won’t see this information from anyone else!”
Malfoy was visibly considering it now. Harry prodded further.
“We can do the time travel one,” Harry said, and Malfoy’s reluctance returned in full force. “Oh, don’t make that face at me. You wrote it yourself,” Harry turned the notebook towards Malfoy, so he could read where Harry was pointing, which said, in Malfoy’s own writing, “‘The lack of other time travel rituals suggests that records of the Blacks experimenting with temporal magic have been unsuccessful.’ See! The ritual won’t work, but you’ll still get your bonus research!”
magic to blood, intent meets insistence
“I suppose,” Malfoy conceded, and followed Harry into the time travel ritual room.
They were both standing in front of the pedestal, and Harry read out the inscription, tilting his head like it would explain the meaning of the words if he had a different perspective.
“I still have a bad feeling about this,” Malfoy said, but he had his notebook open to a new page.
Harry let out an exasperated sigh, “Nothing will go wrong, Malfoy, so stop worrying.”
(Perhaps, in any other circumstance, that might have been true, but Narcissa Malfoy née Black was Draco Malfoy’s mother, which tied Draco to the Blacks by blood, and Sirius Black was Harry Potter’s godfather, which tied Harry to the Blacks by magic.)
“So you say,” Malfoy tapped the plaque with the back of his self-inking quill, “How is this meant to be activated—?”
soul to body, restore what once was
The room seemed to spin, and Malfoy stumbled, dropping his notebook and quill, hand landing on the inscription plaque as he tried to steady himself.
The effect was immediate – a magical shockwave was released, and Harry could sense the power of it with a clarity he had never felt before – it was as if everything had been forced to a halt, and all that could be processed was the raw magical energy lingering in the air.
Harry looked at Malfoy and saw that glowing tendrils were racing up his arm like lightning, starting from where he had touched the inscription of the ritual, forming jagged lines over his throat like cracked glass, and spreading onto his face. Malfoy’s eyes flashed gold for a moment before they rolled upward, and he fell into unconsciousness.
“Malfoy!” Harry cried out in alarm, running towards him.
to return and restart
Malfoy never hit the floor, body fading into dust, sparkling and golden, like the sand used to fill Time-Turners, before it too glittered into non-existence. Harry was left standing in the ritual room, which had held two people just moments before, now only host to one.
Harry stood in silence, unmoving and uncomprehending, as the magic in the air lessened, until all that was left was the ambient energy present in any Old pureblood properties. He knelt down, fingers brushing against the spot in the floor where Malfoy had just been standing.
Oh, fuck, Harry thought, frozen in terror.
It worked, said a more rational part of Harry’s mind, one that sounded a bit like Hermione. It was the time travel ritual. Malfoy must have been sent to the past.
Oh, FUCK, Harry thought emphatically.
Yeah, fair enough, the Hermione-voice in his mind agreed.
Harry started to laugh.
It wasn’t funny, nothing about this was funny, but there was nothing to do but laugh because he was arguing with himself after activating a time travel ritual that sent Malfoy to who knows where, or rather who knows when, and he – oh god, he hoped he didn’t accidentally kill Malfoy doing this because Harry was the one to persuade him to go through with the ritual which meant if Malfoy was dead it would be his fault and – Harry didn’t know what he was supposed to do now.
What the hell was he meant to do now?