Lucius looked at Tris with a mixture of shock and rage, unable to believe that anyone would dare speak to him this way.
He wasn’t the only one; almost everyone present underwent a dramatic shift in expression.
Except for Ron and Ginny, who were the youngest and didn’t fully comprehend, every member of the Weasley family wore a deeply complicated expression.
Madam Malkin, the plump shop owner, and her two assistants also looked utterly panicked.
“Merlin’s beard,” Hagrid muttered, covering his mouth as he stared at Tris in sheer disbelief.
Though Tris hadn’t spoken Voldemort’s name aloud, even referencing him like this in public made everyone extremely uneasy.
“What… what nonsense are you spouting?” Lucius’s pale face flushed crimson as he glared furiously at Tris.
“Mr.
Malfoy,” Tris said with a beaming smile, “why so worked up?
Could it be that I’ve touched a nerve?”
“You’re just a child, what do you know?” Lucius was only flustered for a brief second before instantly regaining his composure.
He turned his gaze to Arthur, who stood nearby.
“Arthur, is this how you raise your children?”
Arthur opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Tris cut in.
“Why, Mr. Malfoy? Why do you dodge my question? Weren’t you once thick as thieves with the Dark Lord?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about! This is slander!” Lucius barked, glaring viciously at Tris.
“Oh? Is that so?” Tris’s eyes drifted down to Lucius’s hands.
Despite the summer heat, Lucius wore a pair of exquisite silk gloves.
“In that case, Mr. Malfoy, would you mind showing us your left forearm?”
Lucius’s face, which had just begun to recover, paled once more.
He instinctively hid his left arm behind his back.
As a former follower of Voldemort, regardless of how much effort he had actually put in, he bore the Dark Mark on the inner side of his left forearm.
Although the Dark Mark had faded considerably after Voldemort’s downfall and loss of power, it was still clearly visible.
That was the exact reason he always wore gloves.
Many in the wizarding world knew of this, but because of the Malfoy family’s status, very few dared speak of it.
Lucius had truly never expected that a mere child would expose him so publicly today.
“Why… why should I do that? I have nothing to prove to you. Who do you think you are?” Lucius’s breathing grew shallow and rapid.
This was a topic he absolutely could not afford to discuss.
Even though Voldemort had vanished ten years ago, and even though his Dark Mark had faded significantly, it had never truly disappeared.
Every Death Eater knew that Voldemort—that terrifying Dark Lord—was not truly dead!
“He’s rattled, he’s rattled,” Tris chuckled, nudging the dumbfounded Ron beside him.
“I hit a nerve, and now he doesn’t dare answer.”
A simple accusation of being rattled, paired with that cheeky, infuriating grin, completely shattered Lucius’s composure.
How many years had it been?
How many years since anyone had dared treat him with such disrespect?
In that moment, Lucius forgot all about his son’s foolish antics that he had just despised; he lunged forward, reaching out to grab Tris by the collar.
But before his hand could even touch Tris, he found himself hoisted right off the ground.
Hagrid grabbed Lucius by the collar, lifting him as effortlessly as if he were a baby chick.
“What do you think you’re doing, Lucius? Trying to lay hands on a child?”
“Hagrid, you stupid, filthy oaf! Put me down! Don’t touch me with your dirty hands!” Lucius was seething with rage.
Being held aloft like this by Hagrid, right in front of Arthur—the man he despised and looked down upon the most—made him feel like his dignity had been completely dragged through the mud.
To make matters worse, the staff of Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions were watching.
He didn’t even want to imagine how quickly this story would spread, or whose ears it would reach.
The mere thought of it gave Lucius a pounding headache.
Hagrid didn’t care about Lucius’s insults.
With a casual toss, he threw Lucius several paces away.
Lucius stumbled a few steps before barely managing to steady himself.
“Father!” Draco cried out, terrified.
Usually, he could swagger around and act as though he owned the place solely because his father backed him up.
The visitors who came to his house were always bowing and scraping before his father.
Naturally, they treated Draco with the utmost politeness as well.
This had instilled in him the belief that his father was the greatest man in the world, which by extension made him the greatest too.
The Malfoy family stood far above the rest.
But today, his entire worldview had nearly shattered.
First, his father was thoroughly rattled by a child, losing all his usual elegance.
Then, he was picked up and tossed aside like trash by a hairy giant.
Seeing Draco’s panicked face only fueled Lucius’s frustration.
He brushed Draco’s hand away with a sharp flick of his robes and barked coldly, “Let’s go!”
He didn’t want to stay here a second longer.
No matter how he spun it, he couldn’t win a debate about his Death Eater past.
After all, he knew exactly how much it had cost him to escape prosecution back then.
Others might not know the details, but Arthur certainly did.
If they started airing that dirty laundry in public…
Seeing Lucius heading for the door, Tris still refused to let him off the hook.
“Oh, leaving so soon, Mr. Malfoy? Won’t you stay and tell us more of those stories about being under the Imperius Curse?”
Lucius nearly stumbled again.
He whipped his head back to glare viciously at Tris, then quickened his pace.
Back then, many Death Eaters had refused to plead guilty.
When accused of their crimes, they claimed they had been acting under the influence of the Imperius Curse.
Of course, that excuse only worked when backed by a substantial amount of gold in the right palms.
Tris had been in this world for eleven years now.
From his parents’ occasional remarks and back issues of old newspapers, he had pieced together quite a bit about those days.
The investigation into Death Eaters was supposed to have been much stricter, but a deeply embarrassing scandal had broken out.
Barty Crouch Sr., the former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who presided over the Death Eater trials, was exposed when his own son was revealed to be a Death Eater.
At the time, Barty Crouch Sr.
had been a top contender for Minister for Magic.
As a result of the scandal, not only did his chances at the minister’s seat vanish, but he also lost his powerful position as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Now, he was relegated to the Department of International Magical Cooperation—a dry, obscure department with virtually no real influence.
It was practically an exile.
And because of the subsequent power struggles and structural upheavals within the Ministry of Magic, the prosecution of Death Eaters had grown considerably lax.
Otherwise, claims of being controlled by the Imperius Curse would have been incredibly easy to verify.
A single dose of Veritaserum would have stripped away every last lie.
Watching Lucius flee in panic, Arthur smacked his lips and turned to his youngest son.
“Tris, how on earth do you know all this?”
“Is it really that much?” Tris shrugged.
“You complain at home all the time, Dad, about how Lucius Malfoy uses his wealth to sway the Ministry of Magic.”
“Did… did I?” Arthur flushed slightly, looking at his other children.
Charlie, Percy, Fred, and George all nodded in unison, confirming that he absolutely did.
While the others just nodded without much else to say, Percy looked at his little brother with newfound interest. Get faster updates on g.com.
Arthur had indeed complained about the Malfoys a lot at home.
Percy knew most of what Tris had just brought up, but laying it out so logically and thoroughly rattling Lucius until he fled in disgrace was no easy feat.
At the very least, Percy knew he wouldn’t have been able to formulate such a structured argument on the spot.
His little brother…
Perhaps he had the makings of a brilliant advisor?
If Tris helped him strategize, could Percy follow the path he’d just read about in that book—Prefect, Head Boy, and Minister for Magic, a perfect three-step ascent?
At the thought, Percy’s breathing quickened slightly with excitement.
Tris had no idea what his third-oldest brother was plotting.
His gaze had already drifted to Hagrid and Harry, who were both watching him with intense curiosity.
He looked at Hagrid first.
“You must be Hagrid, the one Fred and George always talk about? The Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts? I’ve heard you are someone Albus Dumbledore trusts completely.”
Hagrid didn’t react much to the first part, but that last sentence hit him right in his sweet spot.
Almost instantly, a massive grin split Hagrid’s face from ear to ear.
“Heh, Dumbledore does trust me completely, that’s true. Arthur, is this another of your boys? I like this lad.”
“Yes… this is Tris, my youngest son,” Arthur said with a warm grin.
Tris then turned his gaze to Harry and extended a hand.
“Hi there, I’m Tris Weasley.”
Harry felt a bit dazed.
He didn’t quite understand what Tris’s words meant, or why that unpleasant father and son had left so suddenly.
But Tris had driven them off, which instantly won Harry’s favor.
And now, Tris was offering him a warm, bright smile along with a handshake, making Harry like him even more.
To be honest, Harry didn’t really feel like shaking hands—he had already shaken so many back at The Leaky Cauldron—but seeing Tris’s outstretched hand, he took it warmly.
“Hello, I’m Harry Potter.”
“It’s great to meet you, Harry. Can I call you Harry?” Tris asked, looking genuinely delighted and welcoming.
“Of course,” Harry agreed immediately.
Tris’s hand was slightly rough but warm and comfortable to hold—certainly much better than those dry, bark-like hands he’d shaken at The Leaky Cauldron.
This only increased Harry’s liking for him.
“Harry, well, you’ve probably heard this a million times by now, but I have to say—it’s so wonderful to meet you,” Tris smiled, playing the part of a Weasley child meeting Harry Potter to perfection.
“Er… actually, to be honest, I don’t really know what happened,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
“What? You don’t know?” Ron, who had been trying to chime in for ages, finally saw his chance.
“How could you not? Harry, you’re incredibly famous in the wizarding world!”
Harry had certainly felt the weight of his fame today, but he was still in the dark about the actual reason behind it.
Hagrid had mentioned a few things, but not in enough detail for Harry to truly understand what had transpired.
“I grew up with my aunt and uncle,” Harry explained.
“Before yesterday, I didn’t even know wizards were real.”
“How is that possible…” Ron said, his face screwing up in confusion as if struggling to wrap his head around the concept.
Harry looked at Ron, hesitating for a moment before asking, “And I don’t think I caught your name?”
The moment they had heard the boy before them was Harry, Arthur and Molly had immediately ushered Ron to go find Tris and Percy.
As a result, everyone else had exchanged introductions with Harry except for Ron.
“This is my twin brother, Ron Weasley,” Tris introduced with a smile.
A giant question mark seemed to pop up over Harry’s head.
He looked at Ron, then back at Tris.
“T… twins?”