Just a quick note: On this fic, some of the time it will say Draco, others it will say he or I. This is just decided by which one would sound more appropriate where. Also, this is set in the summer before 6th year.

"Draco, come along, today's the day when we find out if you're the heir to the Black family fortune!" Father said softly. He had that sort of air about him, Father could whisper a few words but you'd always feel as if he yelled them from the top of the Astronomy Tower. However, Father was correct. Now that Sirius Black had died, the Malfoys would finally find out if he was the heir of the Black fortune. Hopefully that dratted dog was to arrogant to make a will. The test to find out if he, Draco, was the Black heir was simple enough. All he had to do was go to Gringotts with Father, cut himself, deposit seven drops of blood into a Domus Fortuna bowl, swirl the feather part of a quill in the blood until all the blood was soaked up, and paint the blood all over a piece of parchment that had the exact length of 5 feet. The parchment would then list all the fortunes that you were heir/heiress to.

He, Draco, would admit that he was excited. Just a little bit. When his Father would hear about him being excited, Father would probably allow it, just this once, because it was money he was excited about. Malfoys only feel excited about money and crushing their opponents.

"Draco! I told you to come. Now."

"My apologies Father! I'm coming!"

He looked around his wing in the manor one more time. Draco didn't know why, but somehow he felt that he wasn't coming back. He literally lived on his side of Malfoy Manor, since it was as big as a decent size house if not more. Much larger than the Weasley's stinky dump anyway, he thought to himself. The East Wing contained his room, his private library, a miniature indoor Quidditch pitch, three bathrooms, a music room, a snack corridor (a regular corridor with different sorts of snacks crammed together all over the walls), a ballroom, a balcony the size of the ballroom, and his favorite place in not just the East wing, but the entire manor - the Potter - Hating room. Draco stepped into this room now. The Potter - Hating room was around the size of three fourths of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. All of the walls were done in red with cream accents and fixtures, except for the wall facing the door. That wall was covered with crude drawings of all the different ways Harry Potter could die. Draco's personal favorite was the one where Potter woke up in a tutu and his entire body started to burn whenever he tried to take it off. Potter, being that stupid, kept trying to take it off. Ah, wishes. Anyways, the Potter - Hating room was the meeting room of the Potter - Hating Association. The Potter - Hating Association was composed of Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkingson, Millicent Bulstrode, all former and current members of the Quidditch team during Draco's time at Hogwarts, Marietta Edgecombe, Dolores Umbridge, all Death Eaters, some others who will not be named, and Draco himself. He was planning to ask the Dark Lord too, but Draco had some doubts. The Dark Lord tended to be rather bossy, and Draco was in charge of this club! While Draco (he) was pondering the merits of asking the Dark Lord to join the Potter - Hating Association and wondering if he'd get extra credit for initiative, his Father was rather mad.

"Draco Abraxas Malfoy, do you want me to come get you? If you wish, I can contact Gringotts and tell them that Potter can have your inheritance instead..."


He, Draco, sprinted through Malfoy Manor until he saw Father standing at the doors.

"Good," Father sneered "It's high time you learnt how to navigate through your own home."

Draco did not deign to respond.

We walked briskly out of the manor, into and out of the gardens, and a solid mile and a half before the boundaries surrounding Malfoy Manor stopped. Why, again, could we not just floo?!


"What now Draco."

"Why couldn't we have flooed to Gringotts again?"

"Gringotts doesn't even have a fireplace, you insolent boy."

"Couldn't we have flooed to the Leaky Cauldron?"

"I... I have my reasons, boy."


Father and I side-apparated to the Leaky Cauldron and strutted over to Gringotts.

"I want to see Bloodbeak. Immediately." Father demanded imperiously.

The goblin smirked. "I am afraid that Supreme Under-chief Bloodbeak is currently unavailable."

Father just raised an eyebrow. "I. Am. Lord. Lucius. Malfoy."

The goblin suddenly looked remorseful and worried. It was all an act of course, but the goblin nation wouldn't be very happy with him if he lost one of their best clients.

"Right this way Lord Malfoy," the goblin harried, "right this way."

The goblin led us through the bank entrance and to a pair of double doors, which led to a corridor with doors on both sides. He pushed us through the second farthest one on the left.

"Bloodbeak, sir," the goblin said, "this is Lord Mal-"

"Yes Thornfoot, I am well aware of the name of my best client." said a goblin in finery behind a marble desk with gold features dryly. "Do come in, Lord Malfoy, Heir Apparent Malfoy." He added.

Humph. Finally somebody recognizes that I exist.

That other goblin, what was his name - Thorn-toenail or something - closed the door and left, and Bloodbeak ushered us into posh chairs.

"Bloodbeak," Father began, "I want my son to take the Domus Fortuna test. He will be attending his 6th year at Hogwarts this year."

"Yes, Lord Malfoy." Bloodbeak got out the Domus Fortuna bowl that every Supreme Under-Chief goblin had. "RIPSOUL!" Bloodbeak yelled suddenly. We heard the patter of feet coming down the corridor. Suddenly, a small goblin burst in. Ripsoul. Yeah, right. More like Rip-strand-of-hair!

"Yes Bloodbeak sir, what is it?"

Do you have the ritual knife?

Goblins. The ritual knife. The. When they have over seven million in existence, it's the ritual knife.

"Yes Bloodbeak sir, here it is." Ripsoul withdrew a sharp blade from his pocket and handed it over to Bloodbeak.

"Thank you. You may go now." Ripsoul bowed and then rushed out the door.

Bloodbeak turned his attention to us.

"Heir Apparent Malfoy," he intoned, "take this knife and shed thy blood."

Seven drops. Seven drops. Damn, my blood's to precious to waste on this! Black family fortune, Black family fortune.

He cut his hand and spilt seven drops of blood into the bowl. Gah! That hurt!

Bloodbeak handed him a quill. He, Draco, swirled it around in the blood. Father then gave him the parchment. He looked excited. Draco painted the blood all over the parchment and waited with baited breath. And waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, Father snapped. "Does this thing not work?!" The parchment started to write on itself.

Draco Abraxas Malfoy


Malfoy Family Fortune - seat on the Wizengamot, all monies, heirlooms, and properties

Lestrange Vault - seat on the Wizengamot, all monies, heirlooms, and properties - Father looked surprised at that

Nothing else happened. Father was furious. "That's IT!?"

The parchment began to write again.

Longbottom Family Member Trust Vault

"What!" Father yelled. "How can that be?!"

But the parchment wasn't finished.

Longbottoms older than Malfoys

Longbottoms outrank Malfoys

Draco knew what that meant... oh no


Father stood up. "THIS IS UTTER NONSENSE!"

Bloodbeak, however, was reclining in his seat with a smirk on his face.

"I am afraid, Lord Malfoy, that this is true."


"You see, in the September of Draco's first year, he touched, with his bare hands, the Longbottom Remembrall."

Father drew in a breath.

What was the big deal?

"Young Mr. Longbottom," Bloodbeak saidcruelly, "must not have know that the Longbottom Remembrall was cursed and gifted."


The goblin continued, "Once touched, the human" he spat with distaste, "will become a member of the Longbottom Family. Since Longbottoms outrank Malfoys, Draco is now a Longbottom, and since they already have an heir, Draco is just a measly member."

This couldn't be happening. I said the only thing that came to mind. "But... but Potter touched it too!"

The goblin sneered evilly "Ah, but the Longbottom Remembrall only accepts one child per generation. Pack your bags Draco, you'll be living at Longbottom Manor. Malfoy Manor is no longer your home!"

Father asked the ONLY thing that came to his mind! "Who's the heir to the Black fortune then? Are we in their wills? If not, that'll be easy to fix. Will Draco... will Draco still be heir to the Malfoys?"

Bloodbeak smiled even more ferociously " Harry Potter, our BEST client, is heir to the Blacks. Draco will only be able to claim half of the monies and the cheapest property if you leave him in your will. HOWEVER, as the closest relatives of the new generation, Nymphadora Tonks, through her mother, and Harry Potter, through his paternal grandmother, will be able to claim everything else."

Before I could say a thing, that horrible goblin yelled for Ripsoul again.

"Yes Bloodbeak sir, what may I do for you?"

"Take the boy to the Longbottoms."

Ripsoul grabbed me. Suddenly he didn't seem so meek and puny anymore.


The goblin, Ripsoul replied "Your daddy heard about it, saw it, and let it happen!"


Later at Longbottom Manor

That Longbottom brat, the, the brown haired one smirked at me. "Payback time. WATER MY PLANTS OR YOU'LL BE KICKED OFF THE FAMILY TREE AND SENT TO MUGGLES!

"Yes sir," I harried "yes sir!"

Draco's time passed like that until when they went back to school, where Neville demanded that Draco ask to be resorted into Hufflepuff. If you ever wondered how Neville suddenly grew a backbone, Draco stopped teasing Neville, or why Zacharias Smith became even more of a prat than he was in the D.A., you have your answers now.