The trio sat across from Draco at our library table, all visibly uncomfortable. I couldn’t help finding it mildly humorous—how quickly they’d demonized him as the embodiment of Slytherin cruelty. A few mean comments, some rough company, and in their eyes, he was already a villain.

  Yet, as I know well, evil isn’t born; it’s shaped. Draco’s beliefs in pureblood supremacy stem from his upbringing and the worldview his parents imposed on him. His disdain for Muggles and those of mixed blood was learned, and his cruel tendencies were just as common in any child who struggled with an ill or absent parent.

  As Death, I am privy to many things hidden from others. Narcissa Malfoy has cancer—an illness wizards barely understand and for which even magic offers no cure, only temporary relief. Narcissa, a highly talented witch, has likely found ways to slow the disease, but her knowledge can only take her so far. Draco, though he’d never say it, would be deeply affected by watching his mother suffer. His anger at the world was understandable, though I doubted he saw it that way himself.

  “You know, you can talk to Draco,” I said lightly, casting a glance around the table. “I doubt he’ll bite.”

  Hermione gave me a sharp look, crossing her arms. “Why did you invite him here in the first place?” she demanded.

  Before anyone could respond, Nyx stretched and lazily swatted at Hermione’s hand, mistaking her finger for something edible. Hermione’s frustration softened as she scratched Nyx under the chin, earning a deep, satisfied rumble from the feline. I saw Draco’s mouth open, ready to make a likely rude comment about Hermione’s bloodline, and I released a subtle pulse of my spiritual presence—a reminder of my own origins.

  “That’s enough,” I said, my tone cool. The faint touch of my presence sent a chill down their spines, a primal reminder of fear that’s woven into all of humanity. It was a gift from my sister, a perpetual jab at my existence.

  “But he—” Draco began.

  “I’ve already told you,” I cut in, “I don’t care where anyone here comes from. Each of you is uniquely gifted and carries the potential of a great legacy. Many of you may well be the heirs of the greatest wizards and witches who ever lived.”

  Draco’s lips pursed in defiance. “But how am I supposed to sit here with someone so… impure? Didn’t Salazar Slytherin teach us to keep bloodlines pure?”

  I sighed, meeting his eyes steadily. “Salazar Slytherin was, unfortunately, misguided in that belief, though he was one of the most powerful wizards of his age. And he was influenced by his own ancestor, Herpo the Foul—who instilled that very notion into him.”

  A stunned silence followed. Then Draco asked, “You’re sure?”

  “Do you know of any other famous Parselmouths?” I replied, raising an eyebrow.

  Draco scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Even if that’s true, he’s still the greatest wizard Slytherin House has ever known.”

  “Actually, he isn’t.” I corrected him gently. “Slytherin’s greatest wizard wasn’t Salazar himself but his student, one of the most brilliant minds our world has ever seen. His views couldn’t have been more opposite to his mentor’s.”

  “Who?” Draco asked, tilting his head.

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  “Why, Merlin, of course,” I replied. “Merlin surpassed his master in nearly every respect except the Dark Arts. And unlike Slytherin, he believed that all of humankind had the right to magic, regardless of blood.”

  “Merlin was Slytherin’s student?” Ron asked, his eyes wide.

  “Yes,” I said, nodding. “Merlin’s philosophy was an evolution of his master’s, and I believe, Draco, that you have the potential to become Merlin’s true heir—not just in power, but in understanding.”

  Draco’s cheeks flushed, his pride clearly stirred. “But Slytherin’s heirs… I’ve never heard of anyone but his descendants having a legacy.”

  “Nearly all of the great wizards and witches left an inheritance of sorts. They each feared their knowledge would one day be lost to time. Gryffindor, too, left a legacy,” I continued, “and it isn’t the hat or the sword.”

  Hermione leaned forward, curiosity lighting her eyes. “You’re saying we each have the potential to inherit these legacies?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Each of you possesses qualities that align with these ancient legacies as if you were meant to continue what those wizards began.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “And what about you?”

  “There are no legacies for me,” I replied calmly. “I’ll have to carve my path.”

  Draco, who had been silent for a moment, scowled. “But why should she,” he spat, gesturing at Hermione, “have any part in this? She’s… a Muggle-born.”

  Ron bristled. “Hey!”

  I raised a hand to forestall them, my voice was sharp as a knife. “Let me ask you something, Draco. Magical society barely understands cancer. Magic hasn’t yet found a cure, and Muggle technology isn’t there yet either. But what if someone like Hermione—who understands both worlds—found a way to bridge that gap and save your mother?”

  Draco’s jaw tightened, his gaze darkening. He opened his mouth but said nothing.

  “Now imagine,” I pressed, “that she saved your mother’s life, and your father ordered you to repay her by ending hers. What would you do?”

  Draco’s face flushed as he fumbled for words. “I… I don’t…”

  “Your family has gained much from Muggle society, Draco. Most of the Malfoy's wealth came from the Muggle world long ago. So why do you hate them so much?”

  “How do you know about my mother?” Draco asked, his expression shifting to one of barely concealed anger.

  “I didn’t hear it from anyone,” I replied calmly. “My… unique background allows me certain insights.” I cast a meaningful glance at Hermione, who gave a slight nod, understanding the unspoken truth of my origins.

  Draco’s tension eased, though he seemed lost in thought. At that moment, Nyx pawed at my arm, swatting at me in a bid for attention. I began to stroke her fur, causing Fidell to caw jealously from his perch on a nearby bookshelf.

  I met each of their gazes, speaking with a quiet intensity. “In spite of what any of you may think, we need each other. Dark days are coming, and alone, we’re weaker than we are together.”

  Draco’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of responsibility settling on him. The words stirred something in him, that youthful desire to be important, to make a difference. “I… I understand,” he stammered, his voice laced with both awe and fear.

  Turning to Ron, I softened my tone. “Ron, I’ll need your help with something. I want to begin training in fencing, and you have a sharp mind and an athletic edge. I think you’d be the perfect sparring partner. I’ll compensate you, of course.”

  Ron shook his head, looking slightly taken aback. “You’re a friend; you don’t have to pay me.”

  I held his gaze firmly. “No, I insist.”

  He hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “If you… insist.”

  “On that note,” I added, reaching into my bag, “I have your first payment.” I pulled out the wand I’d purchased from Ollivander—the one with unicorn hair. I handed it to Ron, who looked at it in confusion, turning it over in his hands.

  “A wand?” he whispered, staring at it. As he gripped it, a burst of bright sparks erupted from the tip, illuminating the room in warm, shimmering light.

  “It’s yours,” I said, smiling. “Brand new, directly from Ollivander’s. It’s bonded to you now. You deserve one that’s fully yours.”

  Ron’s eyes filled with a mix of shock and gratitude. “Thank you,” he managed, his voice thick with emotion.

  “Don’t thank me now,” I replied with a smirk. “You’ll be cursing me tomorrow after our first lesson.”

  The group chuckled, and even Draco managed a small smile. For now, there was a tenuous truce at our table, a shared sense of purpose. It was enough for tonight. But as we rose to leave, I felt the weight of what lay ahead—a heavy burden, perhaps too great for any of us alone, yet one we might bear together.

  The fact is that things are so rarely black and white. Evil isn't born: it is made! Draco's pureblood supremacy is from his parent's views. He is but a child misled by those he looks up to and his cruel tendencies are common in a child with a mother- that is ill or unwell. He loves her and so takes out his pain on others.

  Others may not know it, but as Death - I do. Narcissa Malfoy has Cancer. The time of her death is not recorded in the book of Death just yet but the cause and potential timeframe of her death is written. Magic cannot cure Cancer yet, just as is true with modern medicine. It can, however, suppress the growth and impact of the disease. Narcissa is a very talented witch and could achieve such a feat herself, although with such little knowledge of the disease - she'd never been able to cure it.

  Only her loved ones, like Lucius and Draco, would be aware of the illness. Her death may be long off - but watching his mother suffer would hurt him psychologically.

  His parent's views on those with impure blood are so negative that they disowned family members for being more tolerant. Those stuck on old perspectives are hard to change. I'll start with Draco whose young and malleable and work my way to his elders at a later time.

  "You know you can speak to Draco, I doubt he will bite," I jested.

  "Why the heck did you invite him here in the first place," Hermione complained, pointing at Draco.

  Nyx who had been lying quietly on the table snatched Hermione's finger between her paws sniffing it to see if it was covered in food only to release it moments later in disappointment. The cute distraction served to delay spiteful comments from both sides as Hermione stopped to pet the furry creature who issued a guttural growling sound, while its eyes closed in pure enjoyment and clear appreciation of chin scratches in general.

  I could tell Draco had intended to say something offensive about Her bloodline, so I intervened.

  "That's enough," I cut in while releasing a portion of my spiritual presence. It would send a cool chill down their spines because of their instinctual fear of death. A thing my sister added to all her children to spite me.

  "But he..."

  "I've told you all I do not care from where you all come from. Everyone at this table is gifted in some form or fashion. Many of you are potential heirs of the great wizards and witches of old," I lectured cutting of my spiritual presence.

  "How can I associate myself with someone so... Impure in heritage when Salizar Sliveren taught blood purity?"

  I shook my head with a sigh before answering," Salizar was the only great Dark Wizard to not turn Dark lord that thought that way, and he only believed such because his ancestor Herpo the foul taught him so."

  There was a brief gasp from everyone, and then Draco asked," Are you sure?"

  "Do you know of any other famous parcel tongues?" I stared back at him pointedly.

  Draco rubbed his chin," Even if that's so, he is the greatest wizard house Slytherin has ever produced".

  "No, his star pupil was the greatest Wizard of house Slytherin, and he believed all of mankind were equal," I corrected.

  "Who?" Draco asked tilting his head unsure of whom I spoke.

  I cleared my throat with a cough, "Why, only Merlin - of course! He was the best wizard ever raised from many houses, certainly Slytherin - and his beliefs were opposite his teachers".

  "Merlin was Slytherin's direct student?" questioned everyone at the table.

  "Yes, he was, and he surpassed his master in all but the dark arts and I believe that you, Draco, could become Merlin's heir".

  " I've never heard of anyone but Slytherin having heirs," Draco said trying to correct me.

  " I know for a fact just about all the great wizards and witches left an inheritance. There is little an old master fears more than their life's work becoming lost to time forever. I personally know of Gryffindors and it's not what you think. It's neither the hat nor the sword," I stated matter of factly.

  "Then you intend for us all to inherit these lost legacies?" Hermione asked

  "Yes, each of you is more special than you all know and I believe that these legacies are meant for you each specifically".

  "Then what about you?" The girl demanded.

  "There are no legacies for me, I will have to carve my own path forward," I explained.

  "How is the mudblood suited for an inheritance?" Draco questioned angrily.

  "Hey!"

  I raised my hand forward signaling them to stop. Everyone quieted, looking towards me afraid I'd outburst with the same energy as before, " let me ask you this Draco Malfoy. Magical society doesn't understand cancer and therefore cannot use magic to cure it. Muggle society knows all about it but doesn't have the technology to do so. Wouldn't it be someone uniquely brilliant as Hermione with a foot in both worlds that could cure your mother?"

  "...." Draco wheezed at a lack of words.

  "What would your honor demand you to do if Hermione saved your mother's life but your father demanded you end hers?"

  " I... I... I don't..." Draco shook.

  " Your family have profited off muggles for a very long time. It's where most of your wealth came from. So why do you hate them so much?"

  "How do you know my mother's sick?" Draco demanded as his face shifted to appear angry.

  "Do not be mistaken. I have acquired that information, not from another's mouth but by using magic. As Hermione has discovered, I wasn't always human. I was a being of magic in a past life and that gives me special perks." I told Draco.

  Draco visibly relaxed," I see..."

  Nyx walked up to me and played by my arm, swatting near misses at me. I started petting the cat which made Fidell jealously caw from a nearby bookshelf.

  I looked up from my furry companion, "In spite of what you all may believe, we need each other. Dark days are coming and by ourselves, we are weaker than we are together."

  I made sure to look Draco in the eyes meaningfully throughout the conversation," I need you to be on our side. The whole world does"

  "I... I understand," Draco gulped, with a small tremor. There's nothing that stirs the youthful's emotions liking knowing the fate of the world depends on them. The feeling of being important and making a difference.

  I then turned to Ron," First, Ron I'll need your help with something. I'm going to be teaching myself fencing and I'll need a training partner. You're good at sports and have a very tactical mind. Also since the training will be hard, I insist on paying you for your services."

  "You're a friend you don't have to do that," Ron replied.

  " No, I insist," I stated firmly.

  "If you...insist," Ron said slightly downcast.

  "On that note, I have your first payment," I said handing Ron the Unicorn hair wand I bought from Olivander. It just so happened to be perfect for Ron and was unbonded because I could never use it.

  "A wand," Ron said picking the wand up to examine it. Sparks shot from the magical tool illuminating the room in magical beauty.

  " It's brand new Ron, never been used and from Olivander's. As you've just seen, it's now bonded to you. It's your wand," I told Ron. The truth was if he kept using that damaged hand-me-down it would only inhibit his magical growth. I need him as powerful as possible in the times to come.

  "This is... Amazing...thank you," Ron started tearing up.

  "Don't thank me now - you'll be cursing me tomorrow during our first lesson," I informed him snarkily.