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HRHL# Chapter 117: Lucius Discovers the Truth
🕑 Added 2025-03-10 20:09:27 +0000 UTCA black-haired, red-eyed girl?
Harry immediately recalled the girl named Merope from Draco’s memory.
According to Lucius, the mark on Draco’s arm should be the Dark Mark, Voldemort’s exclusive symbol.
From this, it was clear that the so-called "Merope" was actually Voldemort himself.
The thought made Harry feel nauseous.
Voldemort, the self-proclaimed Dark Lord, disguising himself as a young girl to deceive people?
That was… utterly shameless.
However…
Harry also remembered the Muggle accounts of a "black-haired, red-eyed young man"…
Could that be Voldemort’s male disguise?
It seemed highly probable… but what was he doing slaughtering people on a cruise ship?
"It seems Muggle technology shouldn’t be underestimated," Arthur continued. "That thing called 'surveillance' can clearly record everything that happens, even capturing sound… Harry, you grew up in the Muggle world. You must know what this thing is for, right?"
"Sorry, Uncle Arthur." Harry sighed. "I’ve never seen it before. It seems to be some advanced and expensive technology."
"I see." Mr. Weasley nodded knowingly. "No wonder… I think we should get some of these gadgets and study them properly."
"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley glared at him. "Don’t forget which department you work for!"
"The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office—" the five Weasley children chorused in unison.
"Alright, alright." Mr. Weasley sighed. "I do work in that department, but learning from Muggles to make up for the shortcomings of the wizarding world doesn’t exactly count as misuse…"
"Save that for when you become Minister of Magic," Percy muttered.
Mr. Weasley shot Percy an annoyed look, then suddenly noticed something beside Harry.
"Wait, is that… a unicorn?!" He belatedly exclaimed, "Merlin’s beard, when did we get a unicorn in our house?"
"You just realized?" Ron said weakly, clearly accustomed to his father’s delayed reactions.
"She’s my friend, Uncle Arthur," Harry explained.
"I see." Mr. Weasley nodded. "Wow, this is the first time I’ve seen such a sacred magical creature up close…"
"You’ll be seeing a lot more of her these days," Fred and George said in unison.
Harry had to admit, Mrs. Weasley’s cooking was excellent—on par with Mrs. Granger’s.
After all, Mrs. Granger came from a well-off middle-class family in Britain and never skimped on spices, making her dishes incredibly flavorful.
In comparison, Mrs. Weasley’s cooking might even be a notch above. But Harry wasn’t about to rank them—he was just grateful to have someone cook for him.
Especially the stewed potatoes with diced meat, cooked until thick and sticky, perfect for scooping up with bread—it was the definition of comfort food.
After dinner, it was time to sort out sleeping arrangements. Harry and Ron shared a room—and a bed. As for Poppy, she went back to sleep inside the enchanted purse.
"Just don’t get handsy in the middle of the night," Ron warned seriously. "Or I swear, I’ll kick you off the bed."
Fortunately, both of them slept soundly. When they woke up the next morning, they were still neatly separated, with the blanket forming a clear boundary between them.
The Weasley household might not be as grand as the Malfoy Manor, but the warmth of this home was exactly what Harry had always longed for.
The kitchen mantel held a mirror that amused him the most—it always shouted at Ron whenever he walked past, reminding him to tuck in his shirt, button up properly, or berating him for looking disheveled.
But the mirror never scolded Harry. After all, he had spent years at Hogwarts under Black’s rule, where personal appearance was ingrained into his subconscious.
Not that he would ever admit it was because of Cassandra.
The most overwhelming thing for Harry was Mrs. Weasley’s affection—she seemed determined to make him eat until he was stuffed, offering him extra servings four or five times per meal, refusing to let him stop until he was practically bursting.
Meanwhile, Mr. Weasley enjoyed having Harry sit beside him, constantly asking about Muggle technology. He seemed particularly fascinated by televisions and computers.
Computers… that brought back distant memories for Harry. The last time he had played on one was over six years ago—before he traveled back in time a hundred years. Whenever the Dursleys were out, he would sneak onto Dudley’s computer.
If it were the old him, he’d definitely have secretly exchanged some galleons for pounds to buy a computer and bring it to Hogwarts.
But now, he had bigger aspirations, and entertainment wasn’t as important anymore.
Still, it gave him an idea—he had been wondering what to bring as a gift for Nicolas Flamel. A computer seemed like a perfect choice.
Poppy had been living her best life lately. The Weasley home had a large grassy field nearby where she could run freely and graze whenever she pleased, looking utterly carefree.
"Sometimes, I wish I were a unicorn," Ron mused wistfully, watching Poppy frolic in the field.
"Yeah, right." Fred and George chimed in, "If anything, you’d turn into a Flobberworm."
"Or a Niffler," Percy added.
"Good one, Percy," the twins said in unison, smirking as they mimicked his expression.
Percy pointed both index fingers at them and returned the gesture.
It seemed that older brothers tormenting their younger siblings was a universal truth.
After about a week at the Burrow, Harry received a letter from Hogwarts.
The envelope was made of yellowish parchment, the text written in green ink, and sealed with the Hogwarts crest in wax.
"Looks like Dumbledore knows you’re here," Ron said, holding the letter. "Nothing escapes him, right?"
Harry smirked. Ron seemed to think Dumbledore was all-seeing and all-knowing.
But if that were true, he would have known about Merope—or rather, Voldemort—stirring up trouble in Slytherin.
If he had known, he wouldn’t have stood idly by. He would have laid a trap and dealt with Voldemort long ago.
For a moment, the Burrow fell into silence, the only sounds being the rustling of paper as Harry opened the letter.
The letter reminded them to be at school on September 1st and included their book list for the upcoming year.
Second-year students required:
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk
Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart
Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart
Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart
Wandering with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart
A Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart.
"What’s going on?" Harry muttered. "Is the new professor some kind of devoted fan of this Gilderoy Lockhart? Why do we have to buy so many of his books?"
"Shh, keep your voice down," Fred grabbed Harry, though his own voice was anything but quiet. "Mum is a huge fan of Lockhart. If she finds out that we have to buy only his books this year, she’ll go absolutely mad with joy."
"And those books aren’t cheap," George quickly added. "I know for a fact that Gilderoy Lockhart’s books are ridiculously expensive..."
Just as they were talking, another owl flew in.
Hmm...
"Oh, wow—Mum, look! Ron got a Howler!" Fred and George exclaimed gleefully.
Ron stared in horror at the fiery red envelope, swallowing hard, a terrible sense of foreboding creeping over him.
Mrs. Weasley also looked up at the Howler—she was a sharp woman, and she had already guessed who had sent it.
"What should I do?" Ron asked in panic.
"I should remind you, Ron," Mr. Weasley said, looking at Ron with an amused expression, "if you don’t open it right away, the Howler will explode and yell even louder—"
Before he could finish, Ron, acting purely on instinct, tore open the envelope in a flurry.
The letter floated into the air and transformed into a giant mouth.
"RONALD WEASLEY! WHAT ON EARTH WERE YOU THINKING?! I TOLD YOU SO MANY TIMES—IF ANYTHING HAPPENS, YOU HAVE TO WRITE ME A LETTER! I SENT OVER A DOZEN LETTERS TO PRIVET DRIVE! NOT A SINGLE REPLY! I WAS STUPID ENOUGH TO THINK HARRY WAS STILL WITH THE DURSLEYS—UNTIL SOMEONE TOLD ME HE WAS AT YOUR HOUSE!"
The furious Howler suddenly shifted its tone and turned towards Harry.
"Oh, Harry, looks like you must be busy. I’ll be going to Diagon Alley next Wednesday to buy my books, so I’ll see you there."
With that, the Howler stuck out its tongue at Ron and then tore itself to shreds.
The whole family stared blankly at the pieces of the Howler, all of them feeling that... the way it spoke... sounded awfully familiar.
Someone they knew very well.
"I think she and your mother would get along just fine," Mr. Weasley finally said after a moment of stunned silence.
Which earned him a swat from Mrs. Weasley with a feather duster.
Harry did a quick mental calculation—next Wednesday would be August 12th, and his appointment with Mr. Flamel was on August 16th.
Hmm... it seemed like the timing worked out. He could finish buying his textbooks in Diagon Alley before heading to France—after all, with intercontinental Apparition, the distance between London and Paris was practically nothing.
For now, they had plenty of time to just enjoy themselves.
Of course, no one was doing their homework—except for Percy. But Fred and George still dragged Percy, protesting all the way, out to have fun.
As they put it, if they weren’t careful, the family would end up with yet another Head Boy—which was a disaster for them, since only one could hold the position in their seventh year, and as they were in the same year, one of them was bound to lose.
Rather than being the only non-Head Boy in the family, it was better to make sure Percy didn’t get the title either.
Harry couldn't help but think—yep, they were definitely brothers.
Before long, Wednesday arrived, and this time, they were traveling by Floo Powder.
Mrs. Weasley picked up the flowerpot from the mantel and sighed. "Not much left, Arthur—we’ll have to buy more today."
Then she handed the pot to Harry.
Harry reached in and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder—he had used it plenty of times before at school, given that back in the day, Hogwarts was full of Floo-connected fireplaces.
He never really understood why something so useful hadn’t been preserved.
Thinking this, Harry stepped into the fireplace, threw the powder into the flames, and called out, "Diagon Alley!"
In an instant, the flames roared up, engulfing him. A moment later, after the familiar sensation of spinning, he tumbled out into the Leaky Cauldron.
"Cough, cough, cough..." Harry coughed a few times. The one thing he really disliked about Floo Powder was how unpleasant it was—he always ended up covered in soot, coughing his lungs out.
"Harry?"
A voice he hadn’t expected rang out. Harry looked up—it was Draco.
"You’re here too?" Draco took off his glasses and flicked them lightly.
Instantly, the dust vanished from his glasses—and his clothes.
"Cool, was that wandless magic?" Draco remarked with admiration. "That’s a pretty advanced skill."
Just then, a silver snake-headed cane reached over and nudged Draco aside.
"Mr. Potter, we meet again," Lucius Malfoy greeted, extending his hand with impeccable politeness.
It wasn’t without reason—while fun and games were one thing, after tricking his dear great-grandson once, Septimus had ultimately chosen to reveal the truth to Lucius.
Yes, the Harry Potter standing before him was the same Harry Potter from a century ago—the one whom his great-aunt had adored the most.
Lucius felt a headache coming on. But he supposed he couldn’t blame anyone—after all, who wouldn’t be thrown for a loop upon discovering that their son’s classmate might very well be their great-uncle?
Septimus hadn’t said much beyond that, but Lucius was no fool—no one could become the head of the Malfoy family without a keen mind. He immediately understood his ancestor’s message.
In short, he was to build a good relationship with this Harry Potter.
To be fair, even without this new revelation, Lucius had already considered it a wise move to befriend the Boy Who Lived. Now, with his family’s explicit endorsement, it was an even clearer choice—
"Good day, Mr. Malfoy," Harry shook Lucius’s hand. "Pleasure to see you. What brings you here?"
"Taking Draco to Diagon Alley to buy some books," Lucius replied with a composed smile. "You know how it is—Hogwarts sent the booklists along with the owls not long ago."
Just as he finished speaking, another voice rang out from behind Harry.
"Lucius, good morning."
It was Arthur Weasley.
