"From now on, Father, you will stop forcing your pure-blood ideals onto Draco," Victor said, lowering his wand.
"He'll choose his own path, and he'll live the way he thinks is right. You can teach him magic, discipline, etiquette, everything worthy of the Malfoy name. But you will not burden him with a war that ended before he was old enough to understand it."
Lucius's expression stayed unreadable. "You presume to tell me how to raise my own son?"
"I do." Victor's answer came without hesitation. "Because if you keep leading him down the same road, he'll inherit your enemies, your mistakes, and your regrets instead of his own future."
The words hung between them.
"I'm not asking for your permission. I'm telling you what's going to happen."
For several long moments Lucius said nothing, his grey eyes fixed on Victor as if seeing his eldest son for the first time.
"...You've changed."
"No, Father. I've simply decided that Draco deserves the chance to become himself instead of becoming a second Lucius Malfoy." He paused.
"And there's one more thing. Before long I'll place the Fidelius Charm on this manor, and I'll become the Secret Keeper. Next year will be dangerous for this family. Whether you believe me or not, you and Mother will both be at risk."
Lucius frowned. "The Fidelius Charm?"
"You'll understand when the time comes. Until then, stop associating with the Death Eaters."
The words triggered a memory. Lucius's eyes widened slightly. The World Cup. The missing hours. The inexplicable loss of consciousness.
"...You were the one who stunned me at the campsite."
"Yes."
He was silent for several moments before asking the next question. "And the masked wizard?"
"That was me. I was the one who defeated the Death Eaters."
Lucius searched his son's face for any sign of deception and found none.
"This time," Victor continued calmly, "I chose not to cross that line. They walked away alive." He held his father's gaze. "If I encounter them again while they're attacking innocent people, I won't make the same choice twice."
The drawing room fell silent.
His expression softened slightly. "And Father... don't do anything reckless. I respect you because you're my father. I'll always acknowledge that." His voice stayed calm.
"But I care more about Mother and Draco than I do about your loyalty to a dead cause. If one day I'm forced to choose between protecting this family and protecting the people you once followed, I won't hesitate."
Draco, woken by the commotion echoing through the manor, came downstairs rubbing the sleep from his eyes. As soon as he entered the drawing room he stopped. Deep cracks ran across the marble floor, broken furniture scattered about, several portraits hanging at odd angles after the duel.
His gaze moved from the wreckage to Lucius, then to Victor. "Victor... what happened?"
Victor was already heading toward the staircase. "Nothing serious. Father and I had a small discussion."
Draco looked around the room again, then gave him an incredulous look. "...Your discussions are terrifying."
Victor ignored the comment. "I'm going to Diagon Alley to pick up my fourth-year textbooks. Want to come?"
Draco snorted. "What's the point? You've already studied books clear through seventh year."
"Fair enough. I was also planning to buy you the newest Nimbus while we were there, but since you're staying home, I'll spend the money on something else."
Draco blinked. "The newest Nimbus?"
"I imagine the bakery near Flourish and Blotts has enough cakes to solve that problem."
"Wait!" Draco pointed at him. "Don't move. I'll be ready in five minutes." He turned and raced back upstairs as fast as he'd come down.
A faint smile crossed Victor's face. The moment Draco vanished from sight he lifted his wand.
A warm golden light swept across the drawing room — fragments of marble sliding back into place, broken wood rejoining seamlessly, shattered decorations returning to their original positions. Every crack disappeared as if time itself had reversed, leaving the room exactly as it had been before the duel.
Lucius watched the restoration without a word.
Victor tucked his wand back into his sleeve and waited.
***
In Diagon Alley, the two brothers strolled through the crowded street, stopping every so often to look through shop windows before continuing toward Flourish and Blotts.
After a while Draco glanced sideways at him. "You know, Victor, you've been acting strangely lately."
"Maybe it's called growing up, you idiot brother. You just haven't noticed it yet."
"Hmph. I've grown up." He looked Victor up and down, frowning. "We were born on the same day. There were only a few minutes between us. How did you end up so much taller than me?"
"Maybe because I'm more intelligent."
"That's the dumbest explanation I've ever heard."
Victor chuckled, then his expression turned a little more serious. "Draco, did you make any real friends last year?"
"I've got Crabbe and Goyle."
"I asked whether you made any friends."
Draco shrugged. "Whatever. I've got you beside me anyway, don't I? Since you're always going on about being my elder brother, then do your job."
Victor looked at him for a moment and laughed quietly. "So that's how you see it."
Draco looked away, slightly embarrassed the words had slipped out so naturally. "Don't misunderstand. I'm just saying that since you keep acting like the responsible older brother, you might as well keep doing it."
"Fine." Victor reached over and ruffled his hair. "As your elder brother, I'll keep doing my job."
Draco batted his hand away. "Oi! Stop treating me like a kid!"
Victor laughed and kept walking, Draco hurrying after him, grumbling under his breath as the two brothers disappeared into the crowd.
*****
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