Chapter 119: Daphne's Tuition, Pure‑Blood
At Daphne's words, Leonardo raised an eyebrow.
Tuition?
So she had spoken with Malfoy and learned he tutored. Slytherin could be a headache, but…
Books were another matter.
And the book she was holding…
The cover was a deep violet with a faint gray sheen.
Graphorn hide?
Tougher and more resilient than dragon hide.
Bloodlines and Talent.
Bloodlines, hm.
He remembered the Greengrass family's peculiarity: the family head and heir had always been women, without exception. Their descendants were mostly girls; sons were comparatively rare.
Bloodlines…
Was this related?
The title emphasized talent as well—clearly the kinds of gifts that mattered across branches of magic.
It had to be a study of the link between bloodline and talent. It looked valuable.
But…
Leonardo's gaze slipped to the line beneath the title.
A neat, elegant hand:
Greengrass.
Had she really brought a family grimoire out to him?
He had seen the Potter and Weasley family books. Harry had been a special case. Ron's family had verified his progress before lending him a single volume. Malfoy had gifted a book too, but it was a collectible, not a core inheritance text.
The Weasley and Malfoy situations were normal. No one casually let an outsider read a lineage grimoire.
And the handful that touched a family's true core? Unless a wand was pressed to the heir's brow, no amount of friendship would open those pages to an outsider.
Even then, chances were slim.
In the Muggle world, families that passed down a trade by hand sometimes preferred losing it altogether to passing it out of the bloodline.
That was their livelihood, the skill that fed them.
All the more so here, where knowledge truly equaled power.
It was like expecting a great nation to publish its most cutting‑edge secrets—especially its weapons—whole and unvarnished for all to see. That would only arm rivals quickly and expose one's weaknesses.
At best, sleepless unease. At worst, ruin.
"Greengrass, this book…" Leonardo said quietly. "Does your family know you brought it out? Do they know what you mean to do with it?"
Daphne smiled, unhesitating. "Of course, my family knows."
Yes—her sister, Astoria, knew.
She added that silently. Her mother knew she had brought the book to school at least. Daphne had always held herself to the family heir's standard in her studies, and her mother was pleased.
Bringing the grimoire to school was just diligence.
Her mother did not, however, know she would lend it to an outsider.
Daphne did not think that mattered.
The Greengrass family was very accommodating to sons‑in‑law.
If Draco could see Leonardo's potential, how could she not?
Over Christmas, she had spoken with her mother at length—about what pure‑blood, inheritance, and honor truly were.
The talk nearly shattered her old beliefs.
Pure‑blood meant a wizard or a wizarding family whose pedigree contained no Muggles or Muggle‑borns, judged by parents and grandparents without Muggle blood.
It was the definition Daphne had known since childhood.
But on Christmas Eve, her mother told her plainly: Daphne's maternal great‑grandfather was a half‑blood.
It had felt like thunder splitting the sky, a crack down the middle of everything she thought she knew.
While she was still stunned, her mother had said, calm as ever:
"Do you really think the so‑called Sacred Twenty‑Eight could keep the concept of pure‑blood intact for generations by marrying only among themselves?"
As she grew, Daphne had had faint doubts herself—could pure‑blood lines truly remain pure so long?
She did not have to ask. Her mother continued:
"In most pure‑blood families, if you go back far enough, you will find half‑bloods, Muggle‑borns, even Muggles."
"Only a very few families have chased 'purity' relentlessly. Their members are more extreme—and their looks more… distinctive."
"As for Cantankerus Nott, who compiled the Pure‑Blood Directory, he trumpeted his definitions because he was seeking entry to the Wizengamot, the most prestigious body in our world, where most of the members have always been pure‑blood."
Daphne had murmured, "Then this insistence on 'pure‑blood' is for… advantage?"
Her mother had ruffled her hair and answered patiently:
"For greater, longer‑term interests. Guarding the honor and reputation of pure‑blood became our unspoken rule."
And then came the line that left the deepest mark:
"What truly sustains a family is strength—formidable magical ability."
"No one dared question your great‑grandfather's origins, because he was not only a master of alchemy, he was also a ten‑time champion of the Wizarding Dueling competition."
A clear brightness flickered in Daphne's gaze.
She knew the family history. Beyond holding the post of Head of the Department of Magical Transportation and keeping the family's standing and wealth steady, the moments of real prosperity had almost always tied back to the Greengrass daughters' husbands of that generation.
Seeing Leonardo's expression, she guessed his hesitation.
"Leonardo, yes, this is a family grimoire, but it absolutely does not touch the core inheritance. Otherwise, I could never have taken it from home."
She smiled, light and sunny. "The true core is never shown to outsiders. You know that."
Leonardo nodded, easing a little.
Silently, she added: Whether you count as an outsider later is another matter.
She offered the book again. Leonardo reached out to take it.
The instant his fingertips brushed the cover—
[Ding. Loan unlocked: Pathway‑Engraving Stele.]
[Does the host wish to borrow?]