Christmas with the Malfoys - 7

"I'm not surprised that she's looking into ways to strike a compromise. She's always been partial to the purebloods, despite the fact she's only a half-blood herself," Narcissa said with a slight sneer.

"What kind of compromises does she feel are acceptable? Blocking Muggleborns from attending Hogwarts when it reopens or getting jobs at the Ministry?" Hermione asked, scowling. "More oppression and elitist attitudes, no doubt. It appears the Wizarding world can't get enough of them."

Percy winced. "I haven't been privy to her list," he said stiffly.

"I don't believe this," Hermione said, fuming. "She's deemed herself some kind of modern day Neville Chaimberlain."

The vast majority of witches and wizards at the table stared at Hermione blankly, but Harry saw Professor McGonagall nodding, a pleased expression crossing her stern features.

"Who?" Pansy asked scornfully, jabbing her mashed potatoes with her fork.

Hermione waved her hand in the air. "He was a Muggle Prime Minister who tried to peacefully negotiate with a madman. It didn't work then, and it won't work now."

"A Muggle, you say?" asked Mr. Weasley eagerly.

"Yes," Professor McGonagall said, nodding. "Miss Granger is correct . The Muggle to whom she's referring was called Adolph Hitler, I believe. Prime Minister Chaimberlain tried to forge a peace treaty, but it ended up in tragedy with the loss of many lives."

"Fascinating," Mr. Weasley replied.

"Oh, really now, Arthur. We're all aware of your odd obsession with Muggles, but this really has nothing to do with them," Narcissa said disdainfully.

"There is nothing odd about my husband's fondness for Muggles," Mrs. Weasley said, her face growing alarmingly red. "It's called compassion. Maybe you ought to try it sometime."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed. "Why should I have compassion for the Muggles? They mean nothing to me. Let them handle their own business."

"It's that kind of attitude that causes all the problems," Hermione insisted. "Chaimberlain couldn't negotiate a compromise because Hitler was uncompromising in his hatred."

"What's madness is your assumption that Wizarding matters have any similarity to Muggle politics," Narcissa sniffed.

"I see tremendous similarities all the time," Hermione said, firing up. "In fact, Hitler bore a striking resemblance to another Dark Wizard who was terrorizing the Wizarding world at the same time. I'm certain you remember the story of Grindelwald."

"Grindelwald was a pureblood," Narcissa snapped.

"Or so he said," Harry remarked lazily. "Voldemort likes to pretend he's a pureblood, as well, but we all know he's not."

"Don't speak such blasphemy," Narcissa said, clutching her chest.

"It's the truth; he's a half-blood. His mum was a witch, but his dad was a Muggle who abandoned him before he was born," Harry replied, noticing that several Weasleys looked up in surprise by that statement.

"How do you know that, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked. "Did Dumbledore tell you?"

"Well, we talked about it, but it was Voldemort himself who told me. He went on and on about it both that night in the graveyard and when we were in the Chamber. His real name is Tom Riddle. I am Lord Voldemort is an anagram for Tom Marvolo Riddle. That's his full name," Harry said, shrugging.

"He won't like you spreading that story around," Draco drawled.

"Since when have I cared what he likes?" Harry asked.

Using her wand, Mrs. Weasley made all the empty dishes float into the air and begin hovering in a line towards the sink, which began washing them with assembly-line precision. Several platters of pudding suddenly appeared on the table, with a large treacle tart placed directly in front of Harry.