Ilvermorny
Draco POV
Draco wrapped his hands around his mug as he listened to Ron and Hermione speak. Their voices were hushed, Ron moving his hands in the air as he spoke, a look of concentration on his face.
They had been arguing about this for nearly an hour now and Draco was slowly feeling irritation creep up on him.
Draco glanced Scorpius, his son discretely shooting a warming spell at his and Draco's mugs of coffee. Draco smiled gratefully at him, both of them sipping thier drinks and waiting for Ron and Hermione to finish.
They were used to this, the both of them.
After the war, Draco hadn't spoken to Ron and Hermione until Scorpius and Rose's first year at Hogwarts, after their children became best friends. The then-kids had pestered their parents to go over to each other’s houses for months, until Ron and Hermione had relented, allowing both Draco and Scorpius in.
To Draco's surprise and gratiture, they had nothing against Scorpius. They had met him a few times and thought his son was charming and polite, a lovely companion for their daughter. It was Draco that they had a problem with. Astoria had brought Scorpius over once or twice in the holidays, which they were perfectly alright with since Astoria had no part in the war, and was acquainted with Hermione through work.
However, when Astoria's illness and progressed and she could no longer leave the house in Scorpius' second year, Draco was forced to take his son over to the Weasley-Granger residence any time the children wanted to meet.
The first time he went to their house was an event that Draco was sure he's remember for the rest of his life.
He had knocked on their door, which had opened almost immediately to reveal Hermione Granger-Weasley. She had socked him in the jaw as soon as she had opened the door, and then smiled at him and welcomed him in like nothing had happened, Scorpius gaping incredulously at them as they walked through the doorway.
Draco had deserved that and far worse, and hadn’t complained as they spoke politely but icily to him throughout the visit. It had been awkward, just the three adults as Rose had dragged Scorpius and Hugo to the backyard to play quidditch, the two boys sharing a long suffering look as they lef to the yard.
He then had apologized profusely for every single thing he had ever said to them, heart hammering in his chest as they stared back stonily at him.
They had accepted it, but it had taken until they went shopping together for Hogwarts supplies the next year at the children’s request for them to have a civil conversation with him.
The first time they had spoken to him properly was when Astoria was on her death bed in the middle of Rose and Scorpius' third year.
His wife had looked so frail on the bed, face gaunt with her hair hanging thin and lank around her, so unlike the regal, intelligent woman that Draco had married.
Draco’s heart had clenched as they had walked in, Hermione hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder.
She had brushed Astoria’s hair away from her forehead, whispering something that Draco couldn’t hear in her hear.
Ron had brought Rose in to say goodbye to Astoria, and she had held Scorpius’s hand as her parents left to the room outside. Their children shared an extremely close bond, and Rose had been Scorpius’s major source of comfort after Astoria had passed away a few days later.
Daphne and Hermione had filled in the role somewhat, but they were more like cool aunts than a mother. Nevertheless, Draco was beyond grateful for their help.
They had gotten close after that, long afternoons of discussing ministry regulations with Hermione or playing chess with Ron.
They grew too. So much more than any of them would have imagined in their youths.
By age forty, Draco was a senior auror, Ron was one of the co-owners of one of the most successful businesses in Britain, and Hermione was Minister of Magic.
Scorpius was Hermione’s secretary, Rose worked part-time at Ollivanders when she wasn’t at Healer training, and Hugo was Head boy.
It had taken nearly a decade, but they were in a good place now. Well, they had been at a good place, until the Dark Lady had risen the previous year. The price that Magical Britain had paid for being complacent in the workings of their ministry. Twenty years after the fall of one dark lord, another rose. Such had been the cycle in Britain for the past two hundred years. A magical school that favoured what it considered the pure of blood, a ministry that brought down regulation upon regulation on magical creatures, shunning them and creating enemies out of them all, and a lack of new blood in politics had all lead to a new, young woman who had risen up the ranks of the dark faction, using force and precision to alienate muggle-borns in their society.
And the worst of all- she could not be killed. Every single time she had been killed, she had managed to come back to life, leaving Wizarding Britain in shambles. Which was why Ron an Hermione needed Potter. They both claimed that he was the only one familiar with the kind of magic she used to resurruct herself every time, and he was the only one who could help him.
Draco had always expected to see Potter's kids at King's Cross along with Ron and Hermione's, but he hadn't been seen in Britain for a few years now, though Ron and Hermione mentioned him often. Draco hadn’t seen him since he came to the manor to return his wand when he was under house arrest, twenty three years ago.
He had shaken hands with his mother, nodded at Draco, and left, declining their offer for tea. The next month they heard that Potter had left Britain with Draco’s Aunt Andromeda and his nephew, only to be seen once or twice over the next few decades.
He knew that Potter had kids and lived in the US, but the large Weasley family and Minerva, the only ones who knew where he was, refused to say anything about him.
Draco was one of the ministry's senior-most Aurors, second only to the department head, with more than twenty years of field time and even longer as a potions master under his belt and even he didn't have clearance to open Potter's file.
"Okay," Hermione turned to him, dark skin lightly flushed. "We've made a decision."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "And? Which one of you is flying over the Atlantic to seek out our chosen one? I vote Ron. Hermione is much more important than you."
Ron shot him a nervous look, clasping his hands in front of him. Draco could tell that he wouldn't be happy with the answer.
"Neither of us. You are."
Draco laughed incredulously. "Me? What makes you think that he would ever listen to me? He would probably shut the door in my face. And the ministry needs me here, I can't leave."
Scorpius stood up. "Wait, you're actually going to search for him? Harry Potter? He hasn't been seen in Magical Britain since I started at Hogwarts. What makes you think he'll come to help us out?"
Hermione smiled thinly, adjusting the files on her desk. "I know my best friend. I'll talk to him tomorrow, but I still want you to go, Draco." She looked at Scorpius. "And to answer your question, he has a lot of family here. All his nieces, nephews, and Ron and I. It's been a few months since he's seen Rose and Hugo in person too."
Scorpius put his mug down. "He married your sister then, Mr Weasley? The former captain of the Holyhead Harpies and the two-time chaser for the English National team."
His voice was tinged with awe, and Draco didn't blame him. He had seen Ron's sister play, and she was incredible in the air.
Ron grinned at him, shouldering his messenger bag. He and Hermione were getting ready to leave. It had been a long week for all of them, and Draco's mind was still spinning from Hermione's words.
"He did. The cousins that Rose and Hugo talk about? The ones who they're really close to? Those are his children. And one of your cousins too Scorpius, Teddy Potter-Lupin."
"Nymphadora's son," Draco said quietly.
"Child, not son." Hermione corrected gently. "They're all grown up too now. Either way Draco, you leave tonight. Consider it a favour for a friend, or an order from your minister. I’ll tell everyone that you're working with MACUSA to solve a missing person's case."
Draco nodded, the gravity of his situation sinking in.
He was going to the United States to seek out Britain's famous lost celebrity.
He was leaving London when it was at its weakest when the Dark Lady would most likely strike soon.
He was leaving his son to her mercy, a target already painted on both of their backs for siding with the ministry. He was well and truly fucked.
Scorpius walked next to him as they exited Hermione's room a few minutes later, barely a foot in front of the minister herself.
"I'll be okay dad, don't worry about me." He said, almost reading Draco’s thoughts.
Draco shot him a look. "This isn't the first war I've lived through," he told his son firmly. "Trust me when I say it's much worse than you think it is."
He stopped when he felt a Ron grip his shoulder.
"We'll protect him, Draco. Don't worry about his safety." Scorpius made a weak noise of protest, and Draco held a hand up to him and turned around fully to meet Ron's eyes.
"He's an adult," Draco said. "But being my son and Hermione's assistant has put an extremely large target on his back. See that you do."
Scorpius scoffed. Draco snapped his head around to look at his son, anger welling up at him. He took a step forward and pushed his left sleeve upwards until it reached his elbow.
The faded grey of the dark mark stood out stark against the pale skin of his forearm. Scorpius' eyes widened slightly, taking in the sight in front of him. Draco kept his mark covered for the most part, and Scorpius hadn’t seen much of it, even though Draco had raised him. Draco looked up at his son.
"That is what the last war left me with. Forgive me if I am worried about your safety."
Scorpius stiffened. "Okay," he said hesitantly. "I’ll be careful. Just make sure you're safe too."
Draco nodded; anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. He had a trip to plan. "Tell Miffy to pack my bags, and to take a week off. I'll leave directly from the ministry; I have some work to finish off before leaving." He told Scorpius.
Scorpius scoffed lightly but leaned forward and hugged him anyway, long arms looping around his shoulders. "You mean subordinates to order around?"
Draco flicked his ear. "Yes, brat." He pulled back, looking up at his son. "Stay safe."
Scorpius looked down at him, brows furrowed, looking eerily like Draco did at that age. "Of course. You too."
Draco walked out of the doors of Williamstown Regional Airport; the bag slung over his shoulder the only visible luggage on him. He absolutely detested planes, but was forced to take one to the States becuase of all the regulations on magical travel.
Instead, he took a flight to Massachusetts and would take a portkey to an area near Ilvermorny where Potter lived. Ron and Hermione had given him the general location, but they had sworn an oath not to reveal the specific location, so he would have to do some following to find that out.
It wouldn’t be that hard to find Potter, Draco thought as he checked into the magical hotel that Hermione had recommended. He knew Potter worked at Ilvermorny, so all he had to do was sneak into one of his classes or wait outside the school to follow him home.
Draco was wrong.
Terribly, completely wrong. He had forgotten to take Ilvermorny’s size into consideration in his search. It was the largest Magical school in the United States and had thousands of students per year group.
He had searched through it for hours with no luck, and he only knew one person who went there-
Theodore Nott. He could have just asked Theo.
Theo had sent his daughters to Ilvermorny, fearing the stigma that they would undoubtedly face by being the daughters of a death eater. He turned around and walked back to his hotel.
As soon as he reached the room, he threw floo powder into the fireplace and waited for an answer. A few agonizing seconds later, Genevieve Nott's face came into view.
“Uncle Draco?” his goddaughter asked, sounded confused, most likely because of the location that Draco was calling from.
“Hey Genevieve,” he smiled. “I’m doing some work for MACUSA right now, and I needed to ask you something about Ilvermorny.”
“Sure,” she said, sitting down in front of the fireplace. “I have a few minutes before my next class. Ask away.”
She hadn’t lost the American accent that living in the United States for nine years had given her, though she had been back in England for two years now.
“You attended a lot of the Defense courses at Ilvermorny, right? Were there any teachers there that resembled Harry Potter?”
She laughed. “Resembled him? We were taught by him, Uncle Draco. He’s Senior Duelling Professor. Taught me everything I know about Duelling.”
Draco’s shoulders finally released the tightness that they had been carrying ever since Hermione had told him that he would be flying out to the US.
“Thanks.” He said. “Can you tell me anything else about him?”
She looked at him suspiciously, looking so startlingly like Pansy that he nearly did a double-take. “Why?”
Draco shot her a look. “I’m on loan from the British Ministry. I have important work that concerns him. I swear I won’t use the knowledge for nefarious purposes.”
Genevieve shot him a disbelieving look. “You won’t use it for nefarious purposes.”
Draco shot her another look, and she relented.
“Fine, fine. His schedule doesn’t change much every year. He usually takes class for the one hour before lunch and two hours in the evening for his senior-most students in duelling season and alternates year groups and houses each day. His office and the duelling auditorium are in the wing the furthest to the East. Arianna takes his class; he has her batch tomorrow at Eleven. His daughter graduated last year, and she works there as an apprentice.”
He smiled at his niece in all but blood. “Thanks, Gen. I’ll make sure you get double presents next Christmas.”
She sniffed delicately, in an obvious imitation of Pansy. “You better. I’ll talk to you soon.”
She cut the floo call and Draco sat back on the floor, mind swimming with all the new information. He would look for the youngest Potter first thing tomorrow. She would undoubtedly be there earlier as an apprentice.
He had a vague idea of what Potter would look like too, but people changed as they grew older, and it had been nearly twenty-five years since Draco had seen him in person.
--
Draco slipped into the auditorium where Potter would be instructing, finally having found the room after a few hours of walking around. Ilvermorny had a pretty solid security system, and the only thing allowing Draco in was his ID card from the British Ministry.
The lights were dimmed, and Draco stood glamoured to look like a student in the corner of the large room among the students, most of them chattering excitedly.
They seemed a little younger than Scorpius, and if he looked to his left, he could see Arianna Nott quietly waiting for the lesson to start, a redheaded boy talking to her in low tones.
The lights suddenly brightened as two figures strode in, and the students around Draco quickly became silent as one of them shut the door behind them.
Draco’s breath caught in his throat as they took off their coats, the students making room for them as they stepped to the front of the room.
It was Potter and his redheaded daughter. He looked startlingly similar to an older portrait of his grandfather, Fleamont, with his grandmother Euphemia’s colouring. Draco had seen the portraits when he visited his family’s main vault after his last promotion, the portraits conversing with their relatives.
Potter looked much older, with grey scattered throughout his hair and older features. He looked healthy and strong compared to the skinny, fidgety looking man who had left Britain Twenty-five years prior. His daughter looked a lot like the fiery redheaded Weasley that Draco remembered briefly greeting in the world cup that Hermione and Ron had gotten him tickets to a few years ago.
Potter stood in front of the class, taking in all of them with his eyes before clasping his hands together.
“Good morning class,” he spoke to all of them, nodding at Arianna before resting his eyes on all of them as a whole.
“Good morning Professor Potter,” they chorused back. Draco noticed that all the student’s bookbags were on the floor behind him and he discreetly slipped off the bag that he was carrying over his shoulder, placing it against the wall. His wand was strapped to his forearm, the glamour making his chin wider and cheekbones less prominent.
Potter stood at the head of the room; arms clasped behind his back as his daughter placed their bags in the corner of the room.
“We have a special guest with us today, she’s going to be my duelling partner until John returns from France.” He gestured to his daughter. “Some of you may remember her from last year, or as Professor Grayson’s apprentice from this year. Lily Potter, my daughter.”
Draco noticed that his voice had taken on an American accent, with only a hint of British in some of his vowels. Well, Potter had lived in the United States for longer than he had lived in Britain, so Draco supposed that made sense.
His daughter waved at the crowd, pulling her scarf and cap off. A couple of students waved back, clearly recognizing her.
She looked to be about eighteen, which made sense considering she had graduated a year earlier. Her bright red hair was cropped short, shaved close on either side of her head. She had multiple ear piercings a bar through her eyebrow, Draco noticed. She resembled Potter quite a lot, though he wouldn't have known she was his daughter until they stood side by side.
“We’re starting combative duelling now,” Potter’s voice carried over the entire room, authority clear in his speech. “I will demonstrate the techniques and then we'll divide up and practice as usual.”
With that, the students all stepped back, and Potter and his daughter stood on opposite ends of the room, both of them bowing at each other with perfect technique, settling into combative duelling stances.
Draco was impressed as he watched Potter change stances and wand grips as he explained them, his daughter firing off spells every time he changed position, perfectly coordinated with each other.
Both of them showed finesse and grace in their steps, and his daughter was firing off spells with startling swiftness as he demonstrated techniques. When they finished a while later, the only sign that they had been duelling was Lily Potter being slightly out of breath, and a slight sheen of sweat on Potter’s forehead.
He and his daughter bowed to each other and he turned towards the students. “This is your first duelling class since the holidays, right?” A couple of students voiced their agreement. “We can spare thirty minutes for your questions before I split you up to practice,”
The students sat down easily; this was something that happened often.
Arianna Nott raised her hand. Potter’s daughter gestured for her to speak, and Arianna stood up. “Your duelling styles are pretty similar. Are you following in Professor Potter’s footsteps with a Duelling Mastery and competitions?”
Lily shared a look with her father before answering. “I’m doing competitive duelling, but I’m getting a defense Mastery rather than a duelling one for now. So yes, I am following in his footsteps either way. I’m competing in the national Duelling tournament this summer.”
Potter had a duelling mastery? And his daughter’s words implied that he had one in defense too. Masteries were hard to do no matter where you were in the world. Two of them were pretty impressive for one person to have.
The girl next to Draco raised her hand. “Professor Potter? Why isn’t Lily apprenticing under you?”
Potter shot her a dry look. “Because I’m her father, Maria. I’m not allowed to be her defense master.” He said, confirming Draco’s suspicions. He held a dual mastery in Dueling and Defense.
A few random questions and duelling demonstrations later, Lily Potter gestured for half of the class to get up, and they followed her to the other side of the room. Draco remained seated on the floor.
She instructed them and corrected them when their stances were wrong. Draco could see a few of the more arrogant looking guys look a little apprehensive of a girl so close to their age correcting them, but one glare from her silenced them.
Potter walked towards Draco’s group of people, who were still sitting on the ground. “You guys will duel next week. For today I want you guys to take out your textbooks or notebooks and make note of today’s lesson. Next week will be more intense, so I hope you guys come prepared.”
His eyes flitted over Draco’s for a second, and Draco’s auror training was the only thing preventing him from flinching or revealing what he thought. Potter looked back at the group.
“On second thoughts, there’s only fifteen minutes left. You guys can leave, just be ten minutes early for class next week. Arianna, Arya, stay behind please.”
Arianna nodded, as the rest of the students stood up and started to shuffle out the door, save for one other student.
Draco cast a dillusionment charm over himself as he exited the room in the middle of the group, and then a muffling charm as he slipped back in, hopefully unnoticed. His spells were auror grade and he had years of stealth training, but the wards of Ilvermorny were unfamiliar to him, feeling uncomfortably slippery against his spells.
Arianna was talking to Potter, waving her hands as she spoke, the other girl, Arya, interjecting occasionally. “-Father and mother don’t want me to return because of the threat to our family, and I’m inclined to agree with them. Gen is going to be touring soon with the British Contemporary dance team, so she’ll be safe in Asia for most of the year. I know I said I would join your senior duelling club but now I’m not so sure.”
Potter nodded thoughtfully at her. “It’s your decision, Arianna. I'm certainly not going to force you to stay, but we'd be glad to have you here. As it is, we've had to cut Britain and Germany off of our championship lists beacuse of the war.”
"Same for me," the other girl added. "Mum and Dad are stuck in Britain with no way out, and I'm not sure if I feel comfortable leaving my siste at home to tour."
"She'll be safe at school, Arya." he reassured. “The same applies to you. We would love to have you, and trust me when I say I understand what you're going through. You’re eligible for the same category that Lily is, the under 19 competitive, and all you have to do is sign up at the front office.”
Both of them looked over at Lily Potter, who was patiently explaining how to correctly do a wand motion, smiling brilliantly at her father when she noticed him looking.
Potter crossed his arms, turning back to Arianna. “Even if you don’t qualify, Lily can still tutor you so you can stay with us. Tell your father that you’ll be safe here. But if you choose to continue your education elsewhere, I can help you find a master who will take you on.”
She shot a grateful smile at Potter. “Thanks, Professor.” She said. “I’ll think about it, and give you an answer soon. I’m trying out for the championships either way.”
Potter reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue card. “These have Lily and Professor Grayson's contact numbers on them. Give her a call to help clear your mind. She’s in the same situation as you. She can’t return to England because of the Dark Lady either.”
Arianna nodded, thanking him once again before walking out, nearly stepping on Draco’s foot as she exited the room. Potter looked at the area Draco was standing at, brows furrowed. Draco felt a pang of nervousness in his stomach, uttering a wandless notice-me-not charm.
His daughter came to join him, and Draco realized that the students were packing up their stuff, some of them leaving through an exit at the backs of the room.
“You too?” Lily asked her father, eyes flitting over where Draco was standing, and Draco’s heart nearly stopped.
“Hmm,” Potter said. “We’ll talk about it at home.” They shared a look and his daughter’s shoulders relaxed. “I spoke to Hermione today and she says it isn’t safe for you, Al, or Anna to leave. I didn’t realize that you had already spoken to her.”
Lily shook her head. “She saw Al yesterday when he came here for you. He told her that it wasn’t safe for any of us to return.” Draco relaxed when he realized that they were talking about Arianna.
He slipped out of the door as soon as they looked away and apparated back to his hotel room soundlessly before he accidentally revealed himself. He cancelled his dillusionment and muffling charm as soon as he entered the room.
A few hours later, he sunk tiredly into the chair in his hotel room, dialling Hermione’s phone number on the phone that Scorpius had forced him to buy a few years ago.
“Hermione,” he said without preamble when she picked up. “He’s extremely happy here. I saw the lesson. I don’t think I can bring myself to tell him to come.”
Hermione exhaled. “Hello to you too Draco. I know, that’s why I didn’t come. I’ve attended his lectures too. Just please, talk to him. He’s the only one who knows how to destroy them. You know that Ron and I wiped each other’s memories of it when Harry moved to make sure that the information never got into the wrong hands.”
Draco pulled his feet up, resting his elbow on his knee. “How is Scorpius?” he asked, but he knew that Hermione could read the reluctant agreement in his voice.
“Ron went to his and Rose’s flat to put up more secure wards a few minutes ago. With Scorpius working full time here and Rose’s job at Ollivanders on the weekends, they can afford to pay for some more security updates as well, so a ward master is coming over from Gringotts.”
Draco hummed. “That’s good. Tell him that he can always ask me if he needs more money. Merlin knows I have enough of it.”
Hermione laughed, and Draco could hear someone talking in the background. “I’ll call you after visiting tomorrow, then.” He said. He didn’t have anything else to say and Hermione probably had better things to get to.
“I’ll update you once Ron is back, and let you know about the security in the ministry as well.”
“Thanks, Hermione. I’ll let you get back to work then. Stay safe.”
“You too Draco. Harry will come around, don’t worry. Bye.”
She hung up the phone, and Draco pulled his bag towards him, removing his work bag and unshrinking it.
He brought out the files on the Dark Lady and began to compile the worst information and the information on her Horcruxes that he had found.
If he wanted to convince Potter, then he had some work to do.