The Boy Who Lived

An Ancient and Noble Bloodline

Mr Potter looked at her and then Mr Malfoy quizzically. 'I don't remember seeing one. Ossy!' he called.

It was with a quiet pop! that the House-Elf appeared.

'Madame Knipping,' said Draco, 'this is Ossy. He is, I suppose one could say, the House Steward here. He knows everything there is to know about Beaumont Hall and its running and he is, indomitably, in charge of us all.'

The House-Elf went from preening with pride at Draco's title and compliment to indignant embarrassment. 'No, no, Master Draco, you is most wrong, I is never being in charge here. That is Master Harry, I would never presume...'

'...it's alright, Ossy,' interrupted Harry. 'Draco's only teasing. Though he is right about you being our House Steward.'

Ossy glared at Draco who only smirked back.

'Ossy,' continued Harry. 'Do we have a family tree tapestry?'

'Yes, Master Harry, in the formal Drawing Room but there is being many boxes and furniture stored in there at the moment. I can be showing you some of it.'

Ossy led them all through into the west wing, Hercules trotting along behind Harry while Draco held his hand firmly. Mirroring the library, the room ran the entire length of the west wing and opened up into the turret.

'This is once being a ballroom, Master Harry, but now...' Ossy looked sad for the room was packed with bits of furniture and boxes and was a horrible mess that made Harry's heart sink.

It was also here Ossy pointed to the walls above the waist-height oak panelling that were covered in the Potter Family Tapestry.

Draco read aloud the wording repeated around the top of the wall; 'Ecce! Quod Domus Dei in sanguine nobili genere natus, et antiqua Potter'.

'Behold! The noble lineage and ancient bloodline of the House of Potter,' whispered Madame Knipping as Harry stepped forward and carefully touched the tapestry.

He felt the magic ripple beneath his fingertips and the colour of the threads brightened where he'd touched it.

'It's faded,' he whispered in awe, not at all used to the idea of having anything like this - of being part of anything like this.

The background was bleached sage-green and near the double-doors into the room were the roots to a gold tree that reached across every part of the tapestry. The tapestry hung on three walls of the room, and the tree led onwards to eventual silver blossom on branches that were yet to be filled in. Amongst the first branches were images of Harry's earliest ancestors, the first he found was the name Linfred of Stinchcombe who had just winked at him when he was in the library but there were more, older ancestors too.

It suddenly brought the seriousness of inheriting Beaumont Hall to life, there was an obligation in having his roots here. Not to do with his title which still seemed rather ridiculous and far too grand for someone like Harry, but no, this was a connection to an ancient history of his family. This was something he belonged to; this was his place. And needed to cherish and nurture until he was ready to hand the mantle over to the next in line.

This, he thought intuitively, this is part of the answer.

It was then that Harry understood why the Ancient Houses had become so caught up in blood purity and the old traditions. He obviously didn't agree with blood purity but from what Mione had briefly relayed to him about the Ancestral Well, the purity wasn't the issue but the tradition of continuing the bloodline and looking after his heritage was key too. He wondered what the answer was. It wasn't as if he was going to walk away from Draco for the sake of producing his own children.