Not every pure-blood wizard could be considered part of a true pure-blood family.
Although in recent centuries more and more wizards had intermarried with Muggles, a significant number still maintained entirely magical bloodlines—nearly one-fifth of the wizarding population, in fact.
But among so many pure-bloods, only families with centuries of unbroken lineage and tradition were recognized as true pure-blood families.
Harry's, Ron's, and Neville's families were all pure-blooded.
But they didn't belong to the elite.
Among those who did, the most prominent were known as the Sacred Twenty-Eight—the upper echelon of wizarding society.
In Muggle terms, they were the old-money dynasties, the elite aristocrats, the powerful conglomerates.
At their peak, each could command the attention of the entire magical world.
Their family histories were written into magical history textbooks—a clear testament to their stature.
After all, not just anyone gets mentioned in textbooks.
You ever see some random state governor or provincial official immortalized in history class? Exactly.
Over time, some of these families had declined. New generations brought awkward transitions. But their deep-rooted legacies still kept them anchored at the top.
…
Astoria's mother eyed the young boy before her, hesitantly asking,
"Are you... Draco?"
She had never met Draco Malfoy, but she knew that anyone carrying Malfoy blood should have platinum blonde hair.
The purer the color, the nobler the lineage.
But this boy had jet-black hair.
What made her hesitate, however, was his presence—his composure, grace, and impeccable manners.
To her, this was exactly how a noble child should act.
Maybe Draco dyed his hair? Or perhaps this was another young heir from a different ancient family?
Harry smiled politely.
"No, ma'am. I'm not a Malfoy. I'm Harry Potter."
Two gasps rang out—one from the noblewoman, and one from the little girl.
Astoria's father had already recognized Harry the moment he appeared.
As a high-ranking official at the Ministry, how could he not?
Last summer, when "The Boy Who Lived" returned, every newspaper in the wizarding world covered it.
But what stunned him now was seeing Harry Potter inside Malfoy Manor.
Could it be… Lucius had somehow drawn Harry into his fold?
If true, that would be an astonishing political play.
Harry might still be a boy, but the fame and influence he carried could not be underestimated.
The title "Savior of the Wizarding World" wasn't just a catchy headline.
Especially for someone like him—who had lived through Voldemort's reign—it meant something.
He understood just how terrifying He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been.
And the child who had survived and vanquished that terror…
Even young, Harry was someone not to be taken lightly.
There was a flicker of caution—and maybe even fear—in the man's eyes.
This world was steeped in mystery, and wizards feared the unknown.
And Harry Potter… was a living unknown.
Everyone knew the prophecy:
A child destined to defeat the Dark Lord.
The Dark Lord had tried to kill that child.
And then… he vanished.
Without warning, without explanation.
The almighty Voldemort disappeared.
His army of Death Eaters scattered like rats.
The evil that had nearly consumed the wizarding world evaporated like mist.
And the baby? He lived.
No one knew how.
No one understood what had truly happened.
It was all shrouded in myth.
"The Chosen One."
"The Bane of the Dark Lord."
"The Savior."
"The Golden Boy."
Every one of those titles spoke to people's wonder, admiration—and dread.
Harry would never have guessed that just showing up at Malfoy Manor could send someone into such a spiral of speculation.
If he had, he might've smirked and said:
"I may not walk the stage anymore… but the legend lives on."
…
Astoria's eyes were wide with amazement. Her face lit up with pure curiosity and delight.
She skipped up to Harry and stared at him closely, as if trying to spot a second head or a third arm.
Harry felt a little dazed under her starry-eyed gaze.
Maintain your image! he reminded himself. Girls hate arrogant boys!
What should a normal person do when a little girl's looking at them like that?
Well—Harry did what came naturally.
He reached out and ruffled the top of her head.
With a grin, he said,
"What's the matter, little sis? Is there a flower growing out of my face or something?"
.
.
.
⚡ The Rebirth of Harry Potter
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