Harry stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked off the last trace of blood, glaring at Lucius Malfoy the entire time.
The man held out a crisp white handkerchief with two fingers, his expression one of faint disgust.
Harry ignored it.
He wasn’t stupid enough to hand his blood to a Malfoy.
Malfoy’s lip curled, but he tucked the handkerchief away without comment and slid his wand back into the silver snake head of his cane.
The cane clunked onto the desk, the serpent once again facing Harry.
Nagnok ignored them both.
He shook the vial vigorously, tapped it once with a clawed finger, then touched the same finger to a large sheet of parchment.
Runes bloomed across the surface in glowing silver lines.
Harry leaned forward despite himself, fascinated.
He wished he could read them.
The goblin uncorked the vial and poured the mixture onto the parchment.
The liquid spread, then coalesced into letters, then words.
“Harry James Potter,” Nagnok read aloud, “born July nineteen-eighty to James Doran Potter and Lily Potter née Evans.”
Harry nodded.
“That’s right.”
“You were legitimised on the twenty-sixth of September nineteen-eighty.
Correct?”
“Legitimised?” Harry looked between the goblin and Malfoy.
“What does that mean?”
Lucius answered smoothly.
“Your father wanted you to inherit the Potter lordship.
He could not pass it to a half-blood, so he had you legitimised by naming an appropriate pureblood as your godfather.
If you marry a suitable pureblood, the Potter line remains in the Pureblood Directory.
If you marry outside those lines, the family is removed from the Directory.
Your children would then be unable to claim the lordship unless you formally void the seat before your death.”
Harry’s head was spinning.
“What if I name a pureblood godfather for my own children?”
Lucius’s mouth tightened.
“As you are not fully pure and your future spouse would not be pure, your children could not be legitimised in the same way.
The line would be considered broken.”
Harry sat back, trying to absorb it.
He wasn’t planning on marrying anyone for years.
Still, the idea that his children’s entire status could hinge on something he hadn’t even known existed until this morning made his stomach twist.
“Why does the legitimisation show up on a blood test?” he asked instead.
“Because your godfather gave his blood to the ritual,” Nagnok said.
“Pure blood, to compensate for your mother’s.
The test detects it.”
Harry nodded slowly.
Then Nagnok spoke again, and the world tilted.
“With the recent passing of the Black heir, Sirius Black, who was named your godfather on the twenty-sixth of September fifteen years ago, you now hold the strongest legal claim to the Black lordship as well.”
Beside him, Lucius Malfoy went very still.
Harry’s hand dropped to his wand.
“Would you claim it?” Nagnok asked.
Harry exhaled hard.
“I don’t even know what any of this means.”
“I would advise you to claim both,” Lucius said quietly.
Harry turned to stare at him.
“Why?
Draco’s your son.
He’s got a claim through his mother, doesn’t he?
Why would you hand this to me?”
Lucius’s
voice
remained
perfectly
even.
“Draco is a candidate, yes.
But you carry Black blood through your godfather.
You are the closest thing to a son Sirius Black ever had.
Draco… needs to focus on his studies.
A lordship at this stage would be a distraction he cannot afford.”
Harry watched the man’s face.
Something in the careful phrasing made him push.
“He and Pansy were getting very close last year,” he said casually.
“A Ravenclaw swore she saw them coming out of a broom cupboard looking… dishevelled.
There were rumours Pansy had a pregnancy scare.
People said it was Draco’s.”
Lucius’s fingers tightened around the head of his cane.
His nostrils flared once, the only crack in his composure.
“How would you know such things?” he asked, voice silk over steel.
Harry shrugged.
“Hogwarts gossip travels fast.
Blaise Zabini’s worse, though.
He’ll sleep with anything that moves.”
Lucius looked like he wanted to stand up and Apparate straight to Hogwarts.
Instead he drew a slow breath through his nose.
“Thank you for the information,” he said at last.
“I will address it.
Lord Parkinson will be informed.
A purity test will be arranged.
Such behaviour is beneath proper pureblood standards.”
Nagnok clicked his claws against the desk.
“If we could return to the matter at hand.” Harry dragged his attention back to the goblin.
“So I’d have two lordships.
Potter and Black.
Why the hell didn’t anyone ever tell me?
Not even Sirius mentioned it.
Not once.”
The question hung in the small office like smoke.
Nagnok’s black eyes glittered.
“That is a question you should put to your former guardian, Heir Potter.
Albus Dumbledore has held both seats in proxy since your parents’ deaths.
He has voted with them.
He has spoken with your family’s voice.
And he has never once informed you of their existence.”
Harry felt the cold rage rise again, sharper than before.
Sirius had been free for over a year before he died.
They had spent time together.
Talked.
Laughed.
And still, his godfather had never said a word about this.
Either Sirius hadn’t known either… or he had chosen not to tell him.
Harry didn’t know which possibility hurt more.
He looked at the glowing parchment, at the blood that had written his name and his secrets across it, and then at Lucius Malfoy, who was watching him with unreadable grey eyes.
“I want every record,” Harry said quietly.
“Every vote Dumbledore cast in my name.
Every decision he made with my seats.
I want to know exactly what he’s done with my family’s power while I was locked at the Dursleys scrubbing floors.” Nagnok’s mouth curved in a sharp, approving smile.
“Then we begin the audit, Heir Potter.
Both Potter and Black.
It will take time.
And it will cost.”
Harry didn’t hesitate.
“Do it.”
Lucius Malfoy leaned back in his chair, the snake-headed cane still between them, and said nothing.
But the faint curve of his mouth looked almost like satisfaction.