"Dear Mr. Moriarty, my esteemed friend!" Lucius Malfoy greeted, inclining slightly with an elegant bow. "I represent the noble House of Malfoy, a proud lineage of Slytherin House dating back to the eleventh century. A tribute to the great Salazar Slytherin!"
Lucius gave Moriarty the honor expected of a fellow Slytherin, and Moriarty responded with equal solemnity, "On behalf of Salazar Slytherin, as his contemporary heir, I accept the Malfoy family's homage."
Raising his head with aristocratic pride, Lucius's steel-blue eyes locked coldly with Moriarty's, though his tone dripped with honeyed charm. "Mr. Moriarty, allow me to extend belated congratulations for your triumphant victory at the All-European Wizarding Duel Championship. I've heard from Minister Fudge himself—pure-blood circles in France are in quite the stir."
Moriarty gave a brief nod before turning his sharp gaze to the gathered pure-bloods. "Upon receiving your letter, I returned from Paris posthaste. It is time to unveil the records of the Twenty-Eight Sacred Families."
"Ingo," he called, and with a languid snap of her fingers, the goblin summoned twenty-eight black boxes that arranged themselves neatly before the assembly.
At Moriarty's wave, the lids opened with a synchronized whisper of magic.
"Contained within each is the documentation confirming your ancestry's enrollment at Hogwarts, your family's medieval genealogy, and your unique coat of arms," Moriarty announced.
The younger generation stepped forward, curiosity lighting their expressions, while the elders remained reserved, watchful, and proud.
Ingo observed this with mild contempt. Cowardly wizards, he scoffed silently.
Nevertheless, he explained, "Following Hogwarts' founding, the Bloody Baron was among the first students sorted into Slytherin. In the generation that followed, a Black—Blake in the original dialect—was accepted into the house in his first year."
His satisfaction was evident when he noticed the Black family had no representative present—a small victory over a prestigious name.
"From that era onward, the descendants of the Sacred Twenty-Eight consistently attended Slytherin. Though Salazar Slytherin left the school, his record-keeping endured," Ingo added with a sneer.
Narcissa Malfoy, née Black, hurried to the box bearing her ancestral name. As a daughter of the Black family, she was well within her rights. Her fingers trembled slightly as she retrieved the family tree. Lifting it above her head, the scroll unrolled with a soft creak.
Tears filled her eyes—tears of joy, pride, and vindication. "The oldest and noblest House of Black! It's true! Our ancestral records at Grimmauld Place are incomplete. We were questioned—but look! In 1013, a Black was sorted into Slytherin!"
Draco retrieved the Black family's crest from the box. A silver and black shield, flanked by two hounds, adorned with a French ribbon inscribed with the motto: Toujours Pur.
A murmur rippled through the assembly. The Black family's claim of being the oldest and purest had endured for centuries. Prior to this revelation, the earliest known ancestor in their genealogy was from the 1600s. That their roots stretched back to Hogwarts' first century changed everything—not just for Britain, but for all of Europe's pure-blooded elite.
Lucius, his composure barely containing his excitement, embraced Narcissa before retrieving a thick stack of ancient parchment from the Malfoy box. The enchantments upon it had preserved the material impeccably.
"Here! It's written clearly: the first Malfoy enrolled at Hogwarts in the late 11th century. We were among the earliest purebloods at the school, second only to the Blacks."
He turned the page to display a depiction of the Malfoy emblem—black, silver, and green—bearing a coiled serpent and the Latin inscription Sanctimonia Vincet Semper, meaning Purity Will Always Conquer.
"With this," he declared triumphantly, "who dares claim the Malfoy lineage descends from Muggles?"
Encouraged by Lucius's precedent, the other pure-bloods approached to examine their boxes. Scrolls, genealogies, and crests were drawn forth from each.
To everyone's amazement, save for the Weasley family, nearly every entry from the Sacred Twenty-Eight traced its earliest students to the 11th century—specifically, to Slytherin House.
Even the Abbotts and Macmillans, historically tied to Hufflepuff, and the Longbottoms, a Gryffindor line, had earliest ancestors who once walked the Slytherin common room.
"We are the original Slytherins!" Draco proclaimed, his posture straightening with pride. His cheeks glowed with an unnatural flush.
"Well said, son!" Lucius offered rare praise, his eyes softening as they turned to Moriarty. The young heir of Slytherin had offered them a monumental gift.
But Arthur Weasley stood apart, his expression unreadable. The Weasleys had been Gryffindors for generations.
Moriarty, noticing Arthur's silent demeanor, offered a gentle smile. "Perhaps Mr. Weasley is unaware—there is a legend attributing the Weasley lineage to ancient draconic ancestry. It may explain the family's distinct red hair and remarkable vitality."
The crowd turned to Arthur, eager for his reaction. The purest of the purebloods was addressing the so-called "blood traitor."
Moriarty, however, wasn't jesting. The Weasleys were unique, even among purebloods.
Arthur blinked in surprise, but it was Molly Weasley who stepped forward, offering Moriarty a respectful nod. "Charlie and Percy have spoken very highly of you. Thank you for aiding them last year."
Molly Prewett Weasley—a Prewett by birth—represented another ancient family, though her brothers had died fighting Death Eaters. Moriarty recalled Flint's pure-blood intelligence dossier. Her lineage was not in question.
"Though Charlie and Percy are Gryffindors, they are nonetheless outstanding Hogwarts students," Moriarty affirmed, casting a glance at Arthur. "No one can deny that."
Lucius chose that moment to step forward, pushing Draco gently toward Moriarty. "Mr. Moriarty, I hope you'll turn your attention to my son—Draco Malfoy! A fine boy, destined to be one of Slytherin's greatest."
Soon, other pure-blood parents followed suit. Mr. Macmillan, Mr. Parkinson, and others nudged their children forward, forming a circle around Moriarty as though Dumbledore himself had arrived.
But even Dumbledore hadn't been greeted with such fervor. This was different.
The purebloods entrusted Moriarty with their children, not because of fame, but because he was Slytherin's heir.
Emotionally, they saw the Four Founders in him. Strategically, they saw advantage.
But Hogwarts was not ruled by any one name—not even the great Albus Dumbledore. There were also the Twelve Governors.
Moriarty knew this better than they did. He cast a brief glance at Draco before raising his voice, "Mr. Lucius, I believe Minister Fudge awaits."
"Ah, yes!" Lucius snapped to attention. "The Minister has been waiting in the parlor since early morning. Thank you for the reminder, Mr. Moriarty!"
He backed away, gesturing toward the open manor door. "Distinguished guests, please, the pure-blood gathering is about to begin!"
A chorus rose: "Mr. Moriarty, please, lead the way."
With a nod, Moriarty entered Malfoy Manor. Seven or eight family heads closed in around Lucius, whispering.
"As rumored, he treats all students equally," one murmured. "We can't allow personal bias to hinder Draco's progress."
Lucius gave a cold chuckle, his eyes fixed on Moriarty's retreating form. "The heir of Slytherin is both our fortune and our curse. But we seek to turn misfortune into gain. Speak with him. Follow my lead."
"What of the Weasleys and Longbottoms?"
"That," Lucius answered sharply, "is why we need Fudge as Minister."
Meanwhile, Moriarty admired the manor's exquisite design—pristine gardens, roaming albino peacocks, and an iron gate that shimmered like smoke in the sun.
"Luke, take note," Moriarty said to his loyal house-elf. "You should learn from the Malfoy elves. They understand pureblood presentation."
Lucius overheard and called out, "Dobby? Dobby, come here!"
A small elf with tennis-ball-sized green eyes Apparated at the manor's entrance.
"Master, you called?"
Lucius ushered Dobby toward Moriarty and Luke. "Mr. Moriarty, allow me to offer Dobby to instruct your elves on modern estate presentation. Let your house enjoy the refinement our status demands."
Moriarty agreed without hesitation. Lucius accompanied him further into the manor. Five minutes later, they entered the grand parlor where Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, waited.
"Mr. Moriarty! A pleasure to see you again!" Fudge greeted with open arms, more warmly than he had ever greeted his own officials.
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