Having access to money did not truly change as much as one would normally think, mostly due to the fact of how rich my family was.

We already had everything we needed, and if we were to ever even start coming close to emptying our supply closet, however unlikely that was, our house-elves would replace it immediately.

The only reason I hadn't sent Hermione some writing supplies from my own stock was my frugal nature. What I had was expensive, therefore it was better to go through a hoop or two and send Hermione something not of my own stock.

True wealth was as always, defined not by how much one had, but by how little one needed. I pondered as I spread caviar over bread that was freshly imported from the most expensive magical bakery of Paris, and buttered with the produce of the flying bovines that inhabit the Swiss Alps.

One would normally think that it was a stupid idea to let house-elves, a species not known for their double-digit IQ, have any sort of access to our accounts. It wasn't, of course. Just as most popular practices in the wizarding world often weren't.

The house-elves worked under strict limits set by my mother, the one making most of the smaller financial decisions of our household. These limits defined exactly how much they could extract from our Gringotts vault, and what exactly they could spend it on. Which naturally also limited my own access since the only way I could get to the gold was through a house-elf.

Another thing of note was that Dobby, the most well known house-elf in the books, was very much an outlier amongst his species.

Simply said, the little guy was slightly more on the insane side of the spectrum than was strictly safe for everyone in his surroundings, especially when one considered his magical prowess.

He was also devoted to me. Me having foreknowledge of his willingness to die for people he considered worthy beforehand and therefore focusing most of my efforts on him.

Not that I treated any of our elves badly, my family in the other hand. Well, their attitudes had become slightly milder in the past few years once they'd began taking notice of the preferential treatment I received from our elves.

Monkey see monkey do and all that jazz.

Or, in the case of Hermione, monkey be told and monkey do. Her newest essay was still too long, but acceptable considering it was only 1/3 over the required length.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Upon seeing that particular gesture from her side, I'd decided that I'd simply request a shorter essay than I would normally request. So that her then going a third over it would churn out a normal sized essay.

All in all, things were going great. Grandfather had recently informed us that he was close to mastering the fidelius charm. Lucius had told me that he'd found someone willing to sell a pensieve, a status symbol that I'd hinted at him was sorely missing from our collection. Mother, on the other hand, had managed to acquire a memory of the duel between Grindelwald and Dumbledore from her very old and very much dying, relatives.

For the duels between Voldemort and Dumbledore, I'd simply ask my direct family.

In the beginning stages of learning magical combat I would profit much more from watching masters weave their craft than I would from walking the path myself.

I only hoped that my magical sense would work inside the memory, did the person who donated it also have to have ability? I couldn't even remember the last time I'd gazed upon magic only with my eyes, so I hoped not.

The only unpleasantness marring my otherwise perfect life was my soon to occur introduction to higher society. I was by no means a recluse, my family often had visitors, important visitors, with whom I traded a few polite words when prodded to. They sometimes even brought their own children, unfortunately.

I'd had the pleasure of meeting almost all the people with whom I would share the year with if I were to be sorted into Slytherin. The glaring exceptions being Blaise Zabini and Tracey Davis. One was the son of a woman who'd killed and fleeced five husbands by now and the other a half-blood, so it was expected that I'd yet to meet their acquaintance.

In hindsight all the interactions might have been a test from my parents to determine if I was ready to be taken out further into the wide, wide world. It was seen as a great embarrassment if the child of a family being introduced at a formal function behaved inadequately, just as it was seen as a sign of great prestige if the child comported itself acceptably.

More was not expected. Naturally I would have to go beyond mere acceptability. I was an adult and therefore quite prodigious in my composure, surely I would be able to impress a bunch of dignitaries, Ministry officials and lords, who were most likely very dubious of a child being introduced so early. Usually one waited until they were at least eleven after all.

Despite the fact that I did not look forward to the task, I had to admit that I cherished the opportunity to help my family on the broader political stage. The few appearances that I would have to go through yearly, if this introduction started a tradition of getting dragged along to events, would cut into my learning time.

But I was also fairly certain, that after this, if I proved myself to be reliable, I would gain access to our entire library. Well, at least more access than I had now. Not that I was complaining, history was interesting and all, I'd just much rather be reading about spell creation.

All in all, other people were a waste of my time, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make as long as the rewards were numerous enough. Helping and making my family happy naturally being included as a sub-category of reward.

I really needed a sibling who could inherit all this political crap instead of me when Lucius grew too old, the procurement of such a being was being greatly hindered by the Malfoy family curse that prevented them from having more than one child, something to look into.

Weren't we always one death away from line extinction the way it worked? Or would a dead child free up the parents to have another?

Maybe I could just get a wife that would deal with all the nonsense. Political power, as in, the power to make other people do what you wanted, was worth the hassle in a world where magic didn't exist.

But in my situation, where I just spent time training my magical abilities, growing more and more capable of eventually facing off against a squad of aurors on my lonesome, political power became more of a drag. The time spent acquiring it was also less fun than time spent learning magic.