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Ancient and Noble Houses	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 29877 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

Chapter List
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Chapter Twenty-Nine—Diary of a Black
            Harry glanced around. He thought he was alone here, but he had been wrong about that before. Hermione and Ron seemed to have decided that he couldn’t get into any trouble if he wasn’t alone, and they followed him into the library, into the bedroom, into the Great Hall, even into the bloody bathroom. At least Hermione let Ron do that part.
            But now he was on the top of the Astronomy Tower, after Summoning his broom while the rest of them were asleep and flying out the window. Harry thought this was as close as he was likely to come to privacy while Ron and Hermione were still on full alert.
            Harry sighed. It wasn’t like he really wanted to avoid his friends. He’d done that so far, and what had it gained him? Only a ridiculous, misplaced trust in a portrait and time in a hospital bed.
            But on the other hand, it had finally occurred to him that he had a different source of information than Snape, whom he would try to fry, or the books, which Hermione couldn’t find anything of interest in, or even Draco, whom Harry didn’t want to drag back into this mess.
            He had the diary that Narcissa Malfoy had owled him.
            Harry dug the book out of his pocket. He should have looked at it a long time ago, he thought, shaking his head. He should have looked at it the evening Draco had handed it to him, instead of dragging Draco off to Grimmauld Place, and then to Gringotts, and getting involved in all those maneuvers that had hurt Draco and probably wouldn’t work anyway.
            He flipped the book open and looked again at the title page. There was a shaky hand there that formed large letters that seemed like twigs. Only when he bent near the paper could he make them out.
            B. B.
            Those stood for Bellatrix Black, Harry was sure of it. There was no one else in the last few generations of the Black family who held those initials. And this time, he had checked the family tree—carefully, while Hermione thought he was doing research on a different aspect of the curse of the house’s influence.
            Harry traced the letters with one finger. He didn’t really understand why Bellatrix would have become the house’s heir, when there were two people who could be still alive. If there was anything he had learned, it was that the house was patient. After Regulus died, it would just have waited until Sirius came out of Azkaban. And then it had probably influenced him as hard as it could when he was stuck in Grimmauld Place, and that was the reason he had acted so recklessly and put his life in danger.
            On the other hand, maybe even houses could get impatient. And from the few pages Harry had glanced at so far, he thought that the house had reached out to Bellatrix in a desperate attempt at a substitute.
            And probably because she was pretty bloody mental even then, and they would get along great, Harry thought, rolling his eyes.
            When he flipped through the pages, they crinkled warningly, and Harry winced and slowed down. He reckoned they must be pretty bloody old, and he wasn’t going to get anywhere by mistreating them. He spread the book flat on his knees and looked at the first entry.
            The walls are speaking to me.
            There was an excited dot of ink on the end of that sentence that Harry didn’t think was an exclamation mark. He swallowed and flipped the page, since it turned out that single sentence was all the first one contained.
            I have gone through my killing. Mother says that she is proud of me, but she also looks at me with fear in her eyes. I know what she’s thinking. The main line, and Cousin Walburga, and the way that I shouldn’t be doing this. Cousins Sirius or Regulus should be doing this. They’re the heirs. They’re the ones who are descendants of the direct line, and the ones that the house should have chosen.
            But Cousin Sirius has rejected everything we stand for, for years, and Cousin Regulus is a baby. The house needs a strong heir. That’s what it told me, and I have no reason to doubt it.
            The Muggle’s head will look fine on the wall.
            Harry shuddered and flipped a few more pages. He should have reckoned that one of the Muggle kills was Bellatrix’s.
            There were a few more single-sentence entries, all of them cryptic, but most of them exulting about something the house had done, seemingly. Harry had to wonder how much time Bellatrix had spent at Grimmauld Place. Had Walburga welcomed her even though Regulus was still alive then, because it seemed as if the house would need an heir before Regulus came of age? Or was she trying to drive Bellatrix away, but she couldn’t do it because the house wanted her there?
            Then there was an entry that seemed to give the answer.
            Poor, poor Cousin Walburga. It must be painful to know that you were lacking as a mother and couldn’t produce the heirs that the house needed, even with Black blood on both sides. But I’m here now. There’s no reason to mourn. The house and I will do it together.
            Harry swallowed and flipped some more pages, wondering what had happened. This diary might be even more valuable than he had thought. Somehow, Bellatrix had escaped being the house’s heir. She might not have rejoiced at that, but the house had let her go. Why? Could Harry somehow do the same thing she had done, commit the same crime, and duplicate the circumstances?
            Maybe I could even get Draco to help me with that.
            He arrived at the last page. There was a great streak of ink down the top of the page, which Harry flinched away from even though he didn’t think it was concealing blood or anything. Then he noticed the entry below.
            It’s done. The house doesn’t need me anymore. It’s focused on Regulus. It seems that being a descendant of the direct line is what you really need after all. And I was about to undergo the ordeal, too!
            And that was it. Harry cursed under his breath and turned back. The goblin at the bank had mentioned an ordeal, too, but he didn’t know any details. And now Bellatrix wouldn’t mention them, either. It was infuriating!
            He did see a longer passage he’d skipped over in the middle of the book before, because it didn’t seem to have much to do with getting free of the house, and he dived into it, hoping that it would tell him about the ordeal if it didn’t tell him why the house had suddenly rejected Bellatrix.
            Cousin Walburga said something strange to me today when I came out of the training room. She said that I should watch out, because the house prefers pure-blooded heirs. I’m as pure-blooded as they come, and I told her so. None of my mother’s family ever bred with filthy Muggles, and my Black blood is just as good as hers!
            But she smiled at me, and said softly, “Pure blood means more than just lack of Muggle blood or a direct line, my dear. The house likes heirs of Black blood, and it likes heirs of the proper temperament, and in that respect, you suit it well. But it likes even more heirs that are appointed by someone in the direct line. You weren’t, as I’m sure you remember. If the person appointed doesn’t yield, the way Sirius hasn’t, then it might draw other people into its orbit trying to make them do so.” She leaned towards me, and her eyes stuck out like a bug’s. I hate bugs. I’m going to kill all the ones in my room as soon as I finish this entry.
            “Sirius is too stubborn,” Cousin Walburga whispered, her voice taunting. “But it will ruin his life in time. And it has Regulus. His father is going to appoint him heir soon. Be prepared to have your life changed.”
            I remember everything she said because it was so strange. But I have to put it out of my head. Regulus might be appointed, but he’s still just a baby. A House takes an appointed heir first who’s of age. Everyone knows that. And I’m the only one in the family who’s reached that age and is living here.
            Then, a few pages later, the house apparently rejected Bellatrix for some reason.
            Harry bit his lip, hard. He wondered if he could appoint someone else heir and get the house to choose them that way, except that he didn’t want to ruin someone else’s life the way his was being ruined.
            He looked back at the passage, and his eyes paused on some words he’d almost ignored the first time.
            it might draw other people into its orbit.
            Harry wanted to gag. He was thinking suddenly of Draco and the way he’d seemed to go along with things after a while, and the way Snape had told Harry himself about the potion when he’d had no reason to do so. Granted, Snape had ended up poisoning him, but maybe that was a way of trying to fight back against the house’s influence.
            Harry stood up, shivering. He had felt more like himself lately, but where had the house’s influence gone? It wouldn’t just leave. Maybe it went somewhere else. Maybe it spilled over onto innocent people.
            Maybe Draco was suffering right now.
            Harry turned and left the Astronomy Tower, no coherent thought in his head but to make sure that Draco was all right.
*
            delia cerrano: Not even Harry knows that yet.
            SP777: Next chapter, things start getting weirder.
            ChaosLady; Thanks!
            alex: Thanks! Draco now has to fight the fact that Harry wants to keep him away when Draco doesn’t want to stay away—at least, not for that reason.
            Jenn: Thanks!
            CareLessLover: Right now, the problem is more what’s going to happen next than who Draco is going to tell, since Harry does know now.
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Ancient and Noble Houses