In the end, Draco was the first to lose patience. He tugged on Lucius's sleeve.
"Father."
Lucius gave him a look that said you learned every inch of a pure-blood's arrogance and none of their poise. He'd been warming the room, cultivating rapport; Draco cared only about power. Useful, yes—but in wizarding Britain, power also meant people.
Still, Lucius loved his son. That was why the boy was like this.
"Ahem. Could you explain how you intend to strengthen Draco?" Lucius asked at last.
Arthur laid out the basics of the Skill Runes, mentioning—very briefly—how Lockhart had shocked Snape in Dueling Club. Snape's face darkened; Arthur moved on.
As a school governor, Lucius had heard the rumours. He hadn't realised Lockhart's turnaround was Arthur's doing.
"May we see what runes exist?" Lucius asked.
Arthur didn't object. He passed over a page listing names of runes.
A paying client could have that much.
"Hm? Only names? What about their effects?" Lucius frowned.
"Effects vary depending on whether I engrave them on a person or an item—and even from person to person," Arthur said. "So I don't publish fixed descriptions."
Which was true. Human engraving behaved differently, and he'd only done one human before. Who knew how the other trees would mutate?
"Very well. Draco—choose."
"Friendly reminder," Arthur added. "A coherent set is far stronger than a random mix."
Draco ran his eyes down the page—and stopped at the Summoning/Dragon line. It was like the words glowed:
Dragon Egg · Wild Growth · Dragon Tamer · Dragon's Brand
"Father, I want this set."
Lucius glanced at the picks. All dragon-related. With a name like Draco, he'd expected nothing else. "Agreed. As for the fifth base rune, I'll leave that to you."
Arthur nodded. He chose Vitality.
The boy was still growing. If five runes at once were too much for his body… Arthur had no intention of being the man who strengthened a Malfoy to death.
"Alright. Prep and we can start."
"What do you need?" Lucius asked.
"Just a quiet room where no one will interrupt. And if you have it, a magic-augmenting draught to raise his ceiling a little. Runes consume magic; I don't want them sitting unlit because he's dry."
"I have one," Lucius said at once. "I meant to save it until he was older." He disappeared into a side room—likely the study—and returned with a dark vial.
"Drink, Draco."
Draco downed it in one gulp and screwed up his face. Wizarding potions had a theme: awful. His expression said enough.
Nothing changed on the surface; the old Knockturn Alley brew worked over a month, seeping power into the core.
"Good. Let's use Draco's room," Lucius said. In a house this quiet, any room would do.
At Draco's door, Arthur warned, "In a minute, you may hear your son screaming. Do not come in. You'll break the engraving. He won't be harmed—Lockhart lived."
Draco swallowed.
"Don't freeze," Arthur said, and pushed him in, shutting the door.
The room was neat, elegant, obviously kept so by diligent house-elves.
"Shirt off. Face down."
Draco obeyed.
Arthur drew the rune-knife, paused. "You might want something to bite."
Draco stiffened. That bad?
"Never mind," Arthur said. "You'll pass out anyway."
He pressed Draco's shoulders—and cut.
"AAAHHHHHHH!"
The first stroke sent a scream rippling through Malfoy Manor.
Out in the hall, Lucius and Snape traded a glance and both shivered.
They'd each been toying with getting a set themselves. The idea dimmed.
That was when Narcissa—just home and in fine spirits—heard her son's cry.
She flew into the hall. "Lucius! Our son is screaming and you're having tea?"
"Easy, Narcissa." Lucius quickly explained from the top.
She relaxed—somewhat—and then glared anyway. "Something this important, and you didn't tell me."
"Apologies. I didn't know Arthur would come today."
Draco's screams didn't last. Not because Arthur was done—because Draco fainted.
Two hours later, the engraving was complete.
Arthur sat back and read the human results of the dragon set:
Dragon Egg — Randomly summons a dragon egg native to this world and forges a bond. The egg hatches in 30 days.
Wild Growth — On activation, rapidly heals the bonded dragon. Mortal wounds won't fully mend; it downgrades to light injuries.
Dragon Tamer — While your dragon is present, every 60 seconds your casting speed +10%, up to +120%.
Dragon's Brand — Your offensive spells gain bonus damage equal to 10% of your dragon's attack.
All told? Excellent.
Summons had a nice property: while unsummoned, they consumed no magic. You only paid on call-out. Perfect for a boy without oceans of power yet.
Arthur touched his wand to Draco's temple. "Revivifying Charm."
Draco's eyes fluttered open.
"You're awake. Surgery went great," Arthur deadpanned. "You're a girl now."
Draco—blinking, muzzy—bolted upright and grabbed his waistband.
…Everything was still there.
He exhaled, then shot Arthur a wounded look.
Arthur didn't blink. "Engraving's done."
He ran Draco through the effects, then concluded: "Now just channel magic into Dragon Egg and make your bond. What you get is up to luck."
Summoning bases were special; they required an initial magic injection to pull the creature across.
Draco poured magic in.
A moment later, he was holding a watermelon-sized egg, earthy brown speckled with green.
"Congratulations. Welsh Green. Good roll."
Welsh Greens were one of the milder breeds—fond of sheep, not people. Unless provoked, they avoided humans. Their cry was said to be strangely beautiful.
As the name implied, the dragon would be green head to tail—very on-brand for Slytherin.
Gentle meant easy to live with. Bonded dragons obeyed, yes—but pleasant day-to-day mattered. No one wanted their dragon to casually roast a visiting aunt.
Lucius clearly knew the breed; satisfaction lit his eyes.
"Our thanks, Arthur."
Arthur waved it off. "Come on. Let's go down."
"Wait," Draco said. "Arthur… are we friends now?"
Arthur blinked.
So the boy had remembered that conversation in the hospital wing.
On paper, Draco looked worshipped, flanked by tag-alongs. In truth, he had no one. He'd offered Harry a hand once and been rebuffed; pride did the rest.
Arthur smiled and nodded.
Draco's grin was brighter than when the egg appeared.
"If you can put down just a bit of that pride," Arthur said, "you'll find good friends. Just… judge their nature clearly."
He wasn't asking Draco to shed it all. That wasn't realistic. Some doors would always be closed—and some should be.
Draco tucked the words away. First friend. First advice.
Downstairs, Lucius, Narcissa, and Snape all turned at the sound of footsteps.
Arthur came first.
Draco followed, cradling a watermelon-sized dragon egg, a goofy smile stuck to his face.
"Draco—let me see you," Narcissa said, sweeping forward and fussing over him, hands patting shoulders, cheek, chest.
She still looked unconvinced. Her son's screams hadn't sounded like "no problem" at all.
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