Chapter 3

After the sumptuous breakfast, Draco retreated to his wing of the manor.

He chose a spacious room on the ground floor where he got to work, preparing for Crabbe's and Goyle's visit.

When Vince and Greg arrived, Draco was long done.

Draco had transfigured all the furniture into mundane fitness equipment, one could find in every fitness studio in the future.

„What is all this stuff? Aren't we going to play quidditch?"

Vince asked puzzled, because this was a first and Draco always wanted to play quidditch when they visited.

„No. Today we're doing something else. Come on, I will show you."

Draco patiently demonstrated the correct use of every piece of equipment and led the two boys through two hours of intensive muscle and stamina training.

Vince and Greg took to the physical training like fishes to water.

Like they were made for it.

Draco figured they would take really well to Chinese body magic, so he decided to try and teach them in the future.

When Draco deemed their physical training done for the day, he summoned Flobby for the nutrition potions and the mild healing potions.

Vince and Greg protested against the foul tasting potions, but Draco insisted and made them drink them anyway, knowing this way the training would bear the best fruits.

Afterwards Draco pulled out his wand.

Vince and Greg were much less enthusiastic practicing magic, since they were far less talented magically than physically.

But Draco knew their strengths laid with battle magic and dark magic, so he exclusively focused on that.

Additionally, he was very patient with them and let them take their time honing the knock-back jinx and grasping the shield charm.

At the end, Draco concluded their training with a mock-duel, the two of them together against him.

Naturally, they stood no chance, but Draco went easy on them, taking care to advise them and point out their mistakes.

„From now on, we will do this every day. I want you to come here every afternoon. Got it?"

Draco planned to form the two of them into competent fighters.

With what was coming, this would help the two the most.

That this would also help Draco was only the cherry on top.

The enthusiasm they replied with was only half-fake, so they were on board.

In the evening, Draco celebrated his successful time travel by going to bed early.

He couldn't remember when his old mind had rested comfortably for the last time and his elation about his success had a really relaxing effect on him.

Lying in bed, he happily formulated plans for the new future until he fell asleep.

...

The next day.

After breakfast, Draco left Malfoy Manor through the front gate to get out of the range of the wards so that he could disapparate.

With an almost unnoticeable pop, Draco disappeared from the North York Moors, where Malfoy Manor lay, and reappeared on a street in the middle of London, right in front of Grimmauld Place Number 12.

Since Dumbledore had not yet cast the Fidelius Charm on the property, it was no problem to spot the townhouse and walk right up to its front door.

Draco used the antique doorknocker to announce himself.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Kreacher was busy rearranging the furniture in the sitting room on the second floor for the ninth time in two weeks on orders of his Mistress Walpurga, when he heard the knocking on the front door.

It had been a year before his Mistress' transformation into her current state when the Black's townhouse had had its last visitor.

And that had been years ago, Kreacher didn't know how many exactly, but he knew it had felt like an eternity.

Understandably, Kreacher froze, not knowing what to do when there was suddenly a visitor after such a long time.

Fortunately, his Mistress awakened and screeched for him to answer the door and drive away the mudbloods and bloodtraitors.

„...And kill them if they are muggles!"

His mistress screamed her last instructions just as Kreacher was opening the door.

There was a handsome blonde young man at the door, clad in dark pants and a white shirt, who chuckled as he heard his mistress' harmonious yelling.

The young man's fine aristocratic features seemed a little familiar to Kreacher.

That, and the young man's bearing were the only reasons Kreacher didn't immediately turn hostile against this stranger.

„Good day, Kreacher. My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. I'm Narcissa Malfoy nee Black's son. You remember my mother, don't you?"

Draco introduced himself and mentioned his mother in the same breath to quickly built a rapport with Kreacher.

That worked terrifyingly well.

Kreacher's old face twisted into a wide happy smile and his bulbous eyes even started to get wet.

„Young Master Draco, Kreacher is so happy to see Young Master healthy. Kreacher hopes Missy Cissy is well. My mistress always liked Missy Cissy and doted on her very much. Mistress will be happy to see the Young Master. Please, come in, Young Master."

Kreacher bowed low and gestured for Draco to enter.

„Don't mind if I do."

Draco grinned.

„Welcome to Grimmauld Place Number 12, Young Master."

Kreacher was a mix of pride and shame as he led Draco into the townhouse.

Kreacher was always zealously proud of the Black family, no matter what.

What shamed him was the dirty, dusty and wholly neglected state the house was in.

It was a real shame to show it like this, but this was Kreacher's self-imposed punishment for failing Master Regulus' last order.

Doing nothing, being lazy and neglecting work was torture, but Kreacher didn't deserve anything else.

„Kreacher, has Sirius visited lately?"

Draco inquired casually.

„The bad master? Bad master is in Azkaban. Bad master deserves nothing less for breaking my mistress' heart. Even if bad master chose to stand on the family's side in the end and betrayed the mudblood lover and his mudblood wife..."

Kreacher was really crass.

Draco just ignored Kreacher's hatefulness.

You couldn't expect anyone whose only contact for years had been a crazy-talking portrait, a self-portrait created with dark magic by an unhinged old witch to be exact, to be full of sunshine, especially not an old house elf raised by the Black family.

So, Sirius hadn't been back yet.

Then Sirius had yet to magically inherit the position of Lord Black, since he couldn't inherit officially anyway.

How fortunate.

Also fortunate was that the Black Family was so old that they predated the Ministry of Magic and had made sure that an inheritor using their internal inheritance laws could also assume the position of Lord Black legally.

Draco and Kreacher soon reached the foyer where Walpurga's twisted magical portrait hung.

Out of consideration for Kreacher and also out of curiosity, Draco decided to exchange a few friendly words with the crazy portrait of Walpurga Black.

In Draco's old future, the wall had already been replaced when Draco had visited for the first time and he had only heard the stories about the crazy witch's portrait.

Draco hadn't been entirely sure if Harry had made this up to entertain the war-torn children, but now Draco was seeing it himself, in all its dark and twisted glory.

Walpurga had really perverted the portrait magic, using sacrificial blood magic.

As far as Draco could infer, she had sacrificed her own body and fused it with the portrait in death.

It wouldn't surprise Draco if she had touched the realm of soul magic with her feat and trapped herself completely within the portrait.

What a pitiful existence.

"KREACHER! WERE THERE MUDBLOODS TRYING TO BREAK INTO THE GLORIOUS HOUSE OF BLACK?! Did you kill them and hang their entails at the door as a warning for all others?"

The deranged painting-spirit of Walpurga Black screeched at Kreacher as soon as he stepped into her field of vision.

"No Mistress. Kreacher is so sorry. A thousand apologies. There was no mudblood. It was Missy Cissy's Draco."

The old elf pointed at Draco.

"Ohh.. You are Narcissa's son from that promising young pureblood Lucius Malfoy, aren't you? Abraxas' son. Yes, the Malfoy blood is strong in you. You look just like your father and grandfather. But you are even more handsome, because you also have the aristocratic features of the Black Family, especially these exquisite full lips and those high cheekbones. Are you married to a respectable witch yet?"

Walpurga's abrupt arrival at this topic made Draco raise his brows.

"No, Grandaunt Walpurga, I am not married yet. I apologize, but I don't have much time today... I will take care of my business now. There will be opportunities in the future for us to converse again. Good day."

Draco wasn't interested in talking to the insane painting-spirit further, especially not about this topic, so he just walked off.

"Kreacher, follow me upstairs."

Draco could still hear the paintings muttering as he walked up the first flight of stairs, he was glad she didn't try to keep him.

"Good bye. Come back soon. No suitable match yet? What are the boy's parents doing? That is not good. What if a mudblood-harlot seduces him and ruins the bloodline? That would be terrible. Like that girl Andromeda, the stupid slut, spreading her legs for a mudblood and even pressing out his mudblooded spawn. What shame... What horrible humiliation for our great name. Good that she was kicked out with nothing, but maybe we should have killed them to be on the save side, the... "

The elf hesitated in front of the painting but since his mistress was just ignoring him, mumbling to herself, Kreacher made to fulfill Draco's order and followed him upstairs.