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“Let me make sure of this request, sir. You want a tuned familiar, but for someone other than yourself?”

“That’s correct.”

The shopkeeper stood and stared at Lucius blankly. Lucius didn’t mind. It often took time for someone else to bring their mind up to his level of brilliance.

The man finally shook his head, muttered a little, and said, “All right, sir, but it’ll have to be a special commission.” He paused and looked at Lucius a little challengingly, as if he imagined that would make him back off.

“I am willing to wait.”

After another long pause, the shopkeeper nodded, then turned and vanished into the back room behind the counter. That left Lucius to look around and soak in the color and life from the walls of the shop.

Well. “Life” in a certain sense.

Ordinary familiars were animals who might or might not bond to a witch or wizard, who might or might not serve a useful purpose, who might or might not agree to be there when they were needed. For those who didn’t like the willfulness of mere animals, there were tuned familiars. They were animal-shaped but animated, artifacts that would move and serve but never wander far from their owner’s side.

And they didn’t need to eat or drink or eliminate, although they could swallow small amounts of food and water presented to them by their owners so that they could maintain the illusion of being real animals if the owner desired.

Lucius drifted over to a silver wire cage in which two blue owls sat. They noticed him and moved towards him with slow, jerky slides along the perch. Their eyes were golden, and they had large talons and soft voices like the real thing.

Lucius smiled. They looked like the kind of plush toys Draco had once demanded and Lucius had trained him out of the demand for. There were more realistic animals in the other cages, however, including tabby Kneazles and black puppies and the like.

He was idly watching a silver rat groom itself when the shopkeeper returned with what seemed to be a lump of pottery cradled in his arms. Lucius smiled and walked over to him, watching keenly as the man set it down in the middle of the counter.

“What animal did you want it to form, sir?”

“An owl. And I think a barn owl. Nothing out of the ordinary, but handsome enough.”

The shopkeeper nodded. His eyes were distant, his hands flying as he began to shape the pottery. Lucius watched politely. It wasn’t his art, and he didn’t think that he would ever wish for that instead of ordinary magic. There had to be people to do jobs like this, of course, the less wealthy ones, the way there had to be house-elves to cook food and put the house in order. But Lucius didn’t have to envy them.

The shopkeeper wove his fingers without fire, half-singing under his breath, and the tuned familiar began to take form. What seemed to be a snowy owl rose up at first, and Lucius nearly opened his mouth, but then its face turned heart-shaped and its feathers a different shade. Yes, it would be a barn owl, and Potter would be grateful for the gift.

At last, the man sagged over and took a deep breath, supported by the counter. He turned the owl around to face Lucius. Lucius watched as the bright eyes blinked and the chest shivered with a breath.

“Perfect,” Lucius said, a compliment that he hoped the man felt the full force of. He wasn’t in the habit of giving them. “How will I tune it so that it responds to me instead of the child I intend to give it to?”

“Spread—pure water over it,” the man said, still breathing heavily. Lucius let his lip curl at the loss of composure, since the man had his head bowed and wouldn’t see. “Then pure fire, and pure earth. It already has pure air. Speak your desire for what it should do, and what functions the child should be able to control.”

Lucius nodded. Simple enough. “What do I owe you?”

“Two hundred Galleons.”

The man spoke steadily, but his eyes traveled across Lucius’s face as though he were expecting resistance. But Lucius simply smiled and reached into the pouch he always carried for the money. It would be well worth it, to have a gift that would report back to him on Potter’s movements in school. He could hardly trust the boy to write everything in his letters, or Draco to be an objective observer.

But with this, Lucius would know in a minute if someone else tried to influence Potter, such as by telling him that Slytherin was evil.

And he would earn the boy’s gratitude, something he was already coming to think could be priceless.

*

“A gift? For me?”

Potter’s voice held equal parts hope and wariness. Lucius had gone to Potter’s suite to present the owl to him after tuning it with the elements. It stood on Lucius’s arm, alive to all appearances, even twisting its head back and forth the way a true owl would. And it stepped onto Potter’s arm with a gentle sound, something that made the boy shiver and stare.

“Yes,” Lucius said. “In truth, I didn’t think an ordinary owl would be a proper gift for you. Ordinary owls can be intercepted, or they can be fickle and switch their allegiance to another owner. This one will never do that.”

“Why, sir?”

At least the boy had sense enough to ask that. There might be hope for him after all. “Has Draco told you anything about tuned objects?”

“No, sir.”

“They’re possessions that are attuned to one wizard or witch alone. They cannot disobey you or be stolen or suborned. Forced to switch allegiance,” Lucius added, as the boy looked confused. They would have to do something about his vocabulary, as well. “This owl is one of those, a crafted bird that will be loyal to you.”

The boy’s eyes opened very wide. Then Potter smiled at the owl and gave a little bow to Lucius. “Thank you, sir. That explains them.”

“And you don’t need more explanation?”

“This is a gift you’ve given me, sir, when you didn’t need to give me anything. You’ve already handed me so much. This room and a place to live and knowledge about magic and a friend when I’ve never had one. If you want to explain the owl more, I’ll listen, but I would never want to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

Lucius blinked. It seemed that Potter was smoother than he’d thought. Yes, the words were crude and vocabulary lessons would be necessary, but…

Things weren’t as bad as Lucius had feared.

He nodded and stepped back, looking around the suite of rooms that he had offered Potter for a moment. They had last been decorated when Lucius’s mother was alive, and the ceiling and floor and walls were all a shade of delicate sea-green that would have driven some people mad with boredom. But the bed was big and soft, and the bathroom had hot water and was private. Lucius imagined that Potter hadn’t yet learned to care for more than that.

He turned back to looking at the boy. Potter bowed his head further, but his arm remained steady to support the bird.

“I have an explanation to offer you now, Harry.”

“Yes, sir?”

“I’ve told you about your place in our family. But what I haven’t told you is that a Malfoy is above everyone, not simply you.”

“…Sir?”

“Hold yourself proudly. Don’t keep looking at the floor and cringing like a child.” Potter started at that, his eyes snapping up to Lucius’s face. “You are someone I found worthy enough to take into my home. You are Draco’s brother, not only his friend. Perhaps not in truth, now, but you will be in the future. Walk as though you deserve that.”

Potter blinked, and then he focused on Lucius and stood straight. His shoulders went back, and a small, confident smile curled his mouth.

“Like this, sir?” he asked, sounding a little absurd. He was trying to speak without changing the expression on his face.

“Yes,” Lucius said slowly. He didn’t know where Potter had got that confidence, and he had to admit it had shaken him a little. “A little less pronounced and artificial, but work on that will come with time.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome, Harry. As a matter of fact, there is one thing you can do for me.”

“Yes, sir? Do I need to go to my vault and get some Galleons?”

“No. And this is a lesson, Harry. You should learn that not all debts can be settled with money, and it would be crass to try.”

“All right, sir. What is it, then?”

Lucius knelt down in front of Potter, and let his mouth twist as if he were uncertain of what he were going to say next. It worked. Potter dropped the confident posture and watched Lucius with wide eyes.

“The method of how you’re Sorted into your Houses at Hogwarts is a secret, traditionally,” Lucius said. “But I wanted to give you some advice. At the same time, I need you to keep it from Draco, who should think that this is a secret. I want him able to take part in the tradition.”

“All right, sir.”

“I’m telling you this because your future could depend on it. If you go into a different House than Draco does, it’ll be much harder for you to be his brother. People could try to influence you and steer you away from us.”

“Because of my fame, sir?”

“Precisely, Harry. So it’s best for everyone if you stay at Draco’s side. And that means making sure you get into Slytherin. A magical hat will read your mind and choose the House best suited for you. At the same time, it’ll take your wishes into account. Wish as hard as you can for Slytherin, Harry. It’s the best choice for all of us.”

In truth, Lucius knew that part about the Hat taking one’s wishes into account because his father had nearly been Sorted into Hufflepuff. But he needn’t expose all the Malfoy secrets to Harry’s eyes, only the ones that would help them hold onto the boy.

“Draco told me about Slytherin, sir. It’s where I want to go.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, sir. I know that people would expect me to be in Gryffindor because of my parents. Draco explained about that, too. But Slytherin is the best choice for everybody, like you said.”

“Indeed,” Lucius managed. He was blinking and feeling a bit off-balance. He had thought he would have to convince a tearful Harry Potter to abandon Gryffindor and his parents’ legacy.

But if he didn’t, well. All to the good.

“And do you believe that you can do well in Slytherin?” he asked, because this play would mean nothing if Potter bumbled about and attracted the sneers of his Housemates instead of their admiration.

“Yes, sir.”

“Why is that?” Lucius prompted, after a long moment when he realized that Potter was simply standing there and waiting.

The boy swallowed a little and shifted his arm as if the weight of the barn owl were becoming too much for the first time. “Because there were…things I had to do, sometimes, when I lived with my Muggle relatives. I had to steal food out of bins and hide and lie and pretend to be happier than I was. Draco said that lots of people in Slytherin would expect me to lie as a matter of course. And pretend to be different than I am. I think I can do that, sir.”

“Food out of bins?”

“Food that Muggles threw away, sir. They didn’t feed me that much.”

Lucius managed to keep himself from recoiling, but it was difficult. No wonder the child had given him such odd looks when the food simply appeared on the dining room table, or when Draco demanded (and got) more pudding.

Understanding’s always good, Lucius told himself, but his stomach was roiling. He took a deep breath. “No one will withhold food from you here.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“In fact, when you wish for food, call for one of the house-elves.” Lucius paused, but Potter showed no confusion, so he must have heard all about them that he needed to hear. “One in particular, called Dobby, should always appear. His major job is to bring us whatever we need. He’ll do that for you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I can’t convince you to call me ‘Lucius,’ then?”

“Oh, I don’t think I should, sir,” Potter said, his eyes widening in a way that would have made it tempting to dip into the mind beyond them if Lucius were a Legilimens. “I think Draco might be upset.”

“Draco.”

“Because it would encourage familiarity, sir. He’s told me all about how I have to be careful and respectful around him, and the rest of your family.”

“Well,” Lucius allowed after a moment of internal struggle, “it’s always good to keep that in mind. But I think you could call me Lucius in private. I’ll speak to Draco about it and explain that I asked you to call me that.”

“Wow, Thanks, sir!”

Potter had uplifted, shining eyes, and if there was a slightly false edge to the adoration, well, Lucius could deal with that. Potter’s playacting could become real. And it would stand him in good stead in Slytherin.

For now, Lucius thought that he could stand up and squeeze a hand on Potter’s shoulder. “Call for Dobby if you need him, and do some studying. We should make sure that you’re as prepared as you can be for Hogwarts.”

“Yes, Lucius,” Potter said, pronouncing the name carefully, before he turned around and walked over to the desk in a corner of the room. There was an owl perch there, too, which Lucius had directed the elves to have ready before he’d left for Diagon Alley. Potter placed the tuned owl carefully on it and drew a book towards him.

Lucius left, smiling. Every day, he saw more proof of his own wisdom.

Not least valuable of the services Potter can provide me is to remind me that I do make good decisions. And Narcissa.

Now, whether he could get his wife to acknowledge that was a different question.