The contract had been signed. Daphne came with us to my house afterwards, and her schedule was overhauled entirely. It was not as though the Greengrasses had given her any great education to speak of -- but we could not afford to have an untrained attendant. So the girl was put to work in earnest: everything from the proper conduct expected of a lady's attendant to the spells she was required to know in her capacity as my personal attendant.
Daphne herself was a little awkward around me at first, but she carried out her duties conscientiously and approached her studies with complete seriousness. So over the course of the year during which I lifted the curse not only from Astoria but from Daphne herself, she became the very ice queen that writers in my previous world had written about so frequently.
Only in my company, and in the company of my mothers and grandmother, did she allow herself to show any emotion -- and also when Astoria came to visit. Or rather, Astoria came so that I could work on lifting her curse, but that did not stop the sisters from spending time together.
Now the two of us stood on the platform, looking at the scarlet steam engine and its long line of carriages.
"Well, the day of our departure has finally arrived..."
I smiled at her.
"Yes, my lord."
Daphne gave me a quiet nod, whereupon I drew my wand and levitated our luggage with a single spell, then set off towards one of the carriages.
"My lord, that was my responsibility..."
"Daphni, you are my attendant, not a porter. As a gentleman, I am perfectly capable of seeing to our luggage."
She simply closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, by which time I had already levitated our bags into the carriage.
"Miss..."
I noticed a bushy-haired girl staring helplessly at her trolley, on which sat an enormous trunk.
"...would you like some help with your luggage?"
"Yes, please!"
I drew my wand and, without word or movement, cast the Levitation Charm to load the trunk into the carriage.
"But that's against the rules!"
"Miss, if you are interested in the law and the applicable regulations, we can discuss that in a compartment. However, I do not think it is a Muggle-born girl's place to lecture someone who was born and raised in this world about what is and is not permitted."
"My lord, this sort of company is not quite befitting your station..."
I cast Daphne a neutral glance.
"Daphni, my reputation can withstand a conversation with a Muggle-born girl."
"So you're one of those!"
She was looking at me now with indignation and anger.
"If by 'one of those' the young lady means a member of a noble family, then yes. I have the honour of belonging to the ancient House of Black. Draco Black. And this is my attendant, Daphne."
I gave a brief nod in Daphne's direction, and whatever had been instilled in her from earliest childhood made her respond with a neat curtsy.
"Hermione Jean Granger. And Daphne -- she..."
"She has no surname, so one might say she is Daphne Black."
"Er..."
The girl looked at me in confusion, then at Daphne, then back at me.
"So then -- would the young lady like to hear about the rules she was so eager to uphold just a moment ago?"
"Er... yes..."
She gave a slightly flustered nod -- she had clearly not expected such a composed acknowledgement of my noble standing, and my manner seemed to put her somewhat at ease.
"Then please, step into the carriage."
I helped Daphne up first, then Hermione, then boarded myself, and the three of us settled into the nearest empty compartment.
"So then -- what would you like to know?"
I looked at Hermione in question, and she fidgeted slightly on the seat before finally beginning.
"Why is she dressed like that and calling you 'my lord'? Why doesn't she have a surname? Why were you casting spells -- isn't that against the rules? And--"
"Stop, stop, stop..."
I raised a hand to stem the uninterrupted flow of questions.
"...one at a time. Let us start from the very beginning. Magic. To begin with, casting spells is only forbidden for Muggle-born witches and wizards. Or rather, unauthorised magic can only be traced in those who live among ordinary people."
"But--"
I raised a hand again before she could voice her righteous outrage.
"And before you say anything about unfairness, let me explain why it is this way. The reason is actually quite simple. If there is no wizard in the family, there is simply no one to help a young witch or wizard if a spell goes wrong -- and spells go wrong in a great many ways. Take the most basic Levitation Charm, which is taught in first year: over a thousand errors have been officially documented for that spell alone, with a very wide range of consequences."
Hermione's eyes went wide.
"Those consequences can range from the entirely harmless -- a feather simply burns up -- to the genuinely dangerous -- it turns to acid and explodes. In a wizarding household, a Healer from St Mungo's can be called, or the child taken there directly, and the whole thing ends with treatment that is quick if not particularly pleasant. But what are Muggle-born children to do? Their parents cannot summon a Healer, yet they cannot leave their child suffering either. So they call a Muggle ambulance, and after that there is a breach of the Statute of Secrecy..."
The girl's eyes were fixed entirely on me.
"...need I spell out the rest?"
"No."
She shook her head and dropped her gaze to the floor.
"Good. You may find it unfair, miss, but the world is unfair by its nature. And that is true not only in the wizarding world, but in the Muggle world as well."
"Now, as for why Daphne calls me 'my lord' -- Daph, you don't mind?"
"As you wish."
Whether she was trying to conceal her reluctance from those around her or not, she certainly could not conceal it from me.
"It is quite simple. She is my attendant, and so she addresses me accordingly. As for the surname -- I am sorry, but that is a private matter and not one I intend to share with a stranger. Any other questions?"
"Yes! Which House will you be sorted into? Professor McGonagall told me, when she helped me with my shopping, that Gryffindor is the best House and--"
"And naturally she would say so -- she is not only the Deputy Headmistress but the Head of Gryffindor. It would be rather strange if she recommended Ravens over Lions. In truth, the choice of House still plays a meaningful role these days, though it no longer affects the qualifications one receives -- the curriculum used to differ between Houses, but now it is unified."
"Then what does the House matter?"
"It is quite straightforward -- the House determines your comfort for the next five or seven years. Gryffindors are brave and headstrong. If you want to be among people who act first and think later, that is where you belong. Ravens love books and tend to be independent. Snakes are future politicians who enjoy long games. Badgers prefer friendship above all else. As for myself, I am weighing up between Ravens and Badgers."
"Er..."
She looked at me uncertainly.
"Not Slytherin?"
"No. After the last war, that House is largely home to adherents of the radical ideology that Voldy spent years promoting."
"Voldy?"
"Yes. That Dark wizard placed a Taboo on his own name -- anyone not bearing his Mark who spoke it triggered an alert, and a retrieval squad would be dispatched."
I shrugged, and Hermione pressed her hand to her mouth.
"Which is why I use something that approximates his name without quite being it. At school, however, you would do better to call him You-Know-Who."
"Right, thank you..."
Hermione nodded.
"Any other questions?"
"Er..."
She looked at me quietly and bit her lower lip.
"Go ahead -- I do not bite, and at the moment..."
I glanced out of the window, where trees were already flashing past in a blur, telling me we had reached full speed.
"...I have time to answer questions. At Hogwarts I will not, since my course of study is arranged in such a way that there will barely be enough time to complete the homework."
"Is Harry Potter really a hero?"
"Well..."
I shrugged.
"...that is what the papers say, and certain sensationalist books -- the sort that Lockhart produces. No genuinely authoritative publication has ever called Potter a hero or a saviour, since no one has ever been able to establish with certainty what actually happened that day."
"Er..."
"And yes -- I would not try to approach him and ask about that day. His parents died then, after all."
Hermione flinched and gave a rapid nod.
"So -- have I answered all of your questions?"
"Yes."
She gave a brief nod.
"Excellent, in that case--"
I was not able to finish, because the compartment door slid open and two red-haired boys peered inside.
"Oh! First-years! Have a present!"
The small object lobbed in our direction met the shield I had raised and exploded, drenching the two redheads in crimson-and-gold paint.
"First-years are good, Gred!"
"Not wrong there, Forge!"
The twins looked at each other and gave me a thumbs up.
"We hope you end up in the most brilliant House!"
"Gryffindor!"
And the redheads vanished.
"Er... what was that?"
"Hogwarts madness -- Fred and George Weasley. Pranksters who care nothing for House points, so long as the joke lands. And their pranks are not always as..."
I nodded at the door, which still bore traces of paint.
"...harmless as that one. Some of their efforts can be genuinely unpleasant. Unfortunately, since corporal punishment has been abolished, all the teachers can do is assign detentions and dock points. As you can see, that does not stop them particularly."
"But why aren't they expelled?"
I shrugged at the indignant question.
"I do not know. I have my suspicions, but without any basis for them they are worth nothing."
Hermione nodded slowly, and I had been about to close my eyes for a short rest -- but Hermione clearly had other ideas.
"Is it true that you -- aristocrats -- dislike Muggle-borns?"
"And what reason would we have to like you?"
Hermione's eyes flew open in shock.
"But--"
"For example..."
I gave no acknowledgement of her bewilderment.
"...have you ever been abroad?"
"Yes, my parents and I went to France -- to the seaside."
I shrugged.
"And have you heard of Arab countries?"
"Yes, of course -- it's barbaric, the women there are--"
"Whether it is barbaric or not is beside the point right now. Tell me: if you found yourself in an Arab country, would you follow their customs, or would you walk out into the street and start telling everyone they were living wrongly?"
"I... I would follow them..."
"Then here is some advice, Muggle-born witch. Do not assume you are still in the Britain you grew up in. We wizards separated from the ordinary world a very long time ago, and our history has followed its own path ever since. What may seem like barbarism to you will often be a meaningful part of a culture that did not develop without good reason."
"I... will try..."
She nodded slowly.
"Good. If you simply keep in mind that you are in a different country and act accordingly, you will avoid a great many problems and--"
"Well, well, well..."
The compartment door opened, and a boy roughly my age stood in the doorway.
"Blonde... well-groomed -- you must be a Malfoy."
A contemptuous smirk played on his lips. I looked him over carefully and merely shook my head.
"You are mistaken. Although..."
"Come off it! I've read the papers and seen the photographs! You're the spitting image of your father!"
"It would appear, Mr Weasley..."
I made no remark on his red hair, his freckles, or the fact that his robes looked rather worn. There was no point.
"...that you have been reading your papers with very little attention. After my father's death, my mother returned to the House of Black. That House accepted me as the Heir to its magic. So I am a Black, not a Malfoy. Though your family has always had something of a tendency towards hasty conclusions..."
I shook my head.
"Ha! At least I have a father!"
I raised an eyebrow.
"Mr Weasley, do you truly believe your words are capable of affecting me?"
I gave a mildly disappointed shake of my head.
"I am sorry to disappoint you -- but you are not. So I would ask you..."
I drew my wand and gave a short flick in Weasley's direction, sending a strong gust of wind that practically pushed him bodily out of the compartment.
"...not to disturb us."
A brief movement of the wand and the door slid shut, followed immediately by a simple locking charm.
"Perhaps that was a bit..."
Hermione was looking at me uncertainly.
"It was not. Weasleys act first and think second. That boy might well have tried to say something offensive to you or Daphni, and then I would have been obliged to respond. And starting my education with a summons to the Headmaster's office over a fight on the train is not something I particularly want."
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