Chapter 4
Scorpius couldn’t remember much of what happened after he had been found curled up in the corridor by the police officer. He had faint memories of the officer leading him outside, instructing him not to look around. Of people moving around lumpy white sheets laid out on the grass. Of someone guiding him into another building and being made to sit down in a dark room.
When he came back to himself, he found that he was seated in a small classroom, a blanket wrapped around him shoulders. The room was crowded but eerily quiet, many others also frozen, seated around the classroom, too shocked to make a sound.
Several people moved around the stunned group, dispensing aid, murmuring questions and occasionally escorting a survivor out. Because that’s what they were. Survivors.
A man with a clipboard was moving down a line of people towards Scorpius, talking to each person in the room before writing down their names. Occasionally, he would gesture to one of the assistants still in the room and point to a student who would then be removed from the room. Scorpius couldn’t help but notice, they didn’t come back.
Scorpius watched him for a while, trying to find something to occupy his mind, to stop him thinking about the horrible things he had witnessed.
Someone entered the room, looking around before gesturing towards the man with the clipboard, who quickly walked over.
Scorpius found himself staring at the newcomer. It was a man in a dark leather coat, so long it was almost like a wizards robe. On his head was a black hat.
Scorpius watched as the two men spoke and the man with the clipboard handed a piece of paper to the other man. The other man looked at it for a moment before opening up his coat slightly, his hand coming to rest on something wooden sticking out of his pocket. Something slim and wand like.
Scorpius eyes widened and he quickly looked away, not wanting either man to see him staring. There were wizards here. No doubt Aurors come to investigate the Death Eaters. Of course. Scorpius should have realised that MACUSA would get involved.
And if there were Aurors here, Scorpius was in danger of discovery.
The wizard world in America was just as much a secret as in England. There was no way the Auror would be letting anyone out who had seen anything, without wiping their memories. Suddenly, the clipboard man’s actions made sense. No doubt, he was choosing who was to be Obliviated and who was to be questioned further. The students were being taken into a room for questioning before their memories were wiped.
And if they got Scorpius in a room, would they be able to guess he was a wizard? Scorpius was a Malfoy, his distinctive blond hair and grey eyes a dead giveaway. Not to mention his accent. He knew for a fact that he looked just like his father, a man well known in the wizarding communities across Europe. And Draco Malfoy did have some businesses in America. MACUSA could know him or at least be able to recognise him on sight. They would become suspicious meeting an English boy with the same Malfoy eyes and hair in the middle of a magical attack. Oh Merlin!
Scorpius hadn’t kept up to date with the wizarding world back home but he did remember hearing from his father that Harry Potter had been looking for them. And since he was the head Auror, had Mr Potter used his position to alerted Aurors in other countries about them being missing?
If the Auror had a suspicion about who Scorpius really was, it could end in disaster. He needed to get out of the room and away from these people, at least for a few minutes to come up with a plan.
The man with the clipboard drew closer.
Ducking his head so the man couldn’t see his eyes, he raised his hand as if in class, trying to gain the attention of his teacher. After a few seconds, Scorpius quietly asked in as meek a voice as he could manage, trying to hide his British accent.
“Excuse me. Can I go to the restroom?”
The man heard and Scorpius could feel him drawing closer.
“What was that, son?” The man asked in a gentle voice, resting a hand on Scorpius shoulder. Scorpius couldn’t help but flinch away from the touch, an automatic reaction but it seemed to have the right affect. The man let go, clearly seeing Scorpius’ distress. Scorpius tried to settle his racing heart, hoping the man would mistake his nerves for shock.
“Restroom?” He asked, still not looking at the man. He couldn’t risk it, in case this man was a wizard.
“I just need to get some more details and call your family, then we can get you all outta here.” The man tried to explain.
“Please.” Scorpius begged, trying to put a whimper into his voice. He needed to get out of here now!
The man paused for a moment before nodding, Scorpius almost feeling the motion.
“Ok son. Come with me.”
Rising, Scorpius allowed the man to guide him out of the room. At the door, the man muttered to someone standing at the door. Scorpius didn’t look up, in case it was the Auror. Instead, he pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, trying to make himself appear smaller.
The man led him out to the hallway, the whole place feeling eerie and silent. Scorpius tried not to think about it as he scanned the halls, looking for a convenient way out. He didn’t know if the clipboard man was a wizard or a muggle but he knew he needed to get away.
But fate must have been working in his favour, the man stopping and pointing down the hall.
“Last door on the left. I’m sure you already know the way.” He said, indicating to the door before turning back to the room, leaving Scorpius alone. Scorpius blinked, not believing his luck. Quickly, he raced into the bathroom and threw off the blanket, letting it fall to the ground.
He rushed to the sink and turned the water on, splashing cold water on his face, the shock of it causing him to gasp. Gripping the side of the sink, Scorpius tried to collect himself. He had a few minutes maybe before the man with the clipboard got suspicious.
Looking around the small white room, Scorpius spied a window. He strode towards it and peeked outside. The bathroom was on the second floor, the rooms clearly chosen so they were away from the lawn where the attack had happened. Outside, Scorpius could see a police line, several officers patrolling it, and behind it, a crown of people watching the building. Families and media waiting to see if their loved ones survived. Even from here, he could hear the screaming of friends and families, learning that their loved ones weren’t coming home.
Briefly, Scorpius thought of Albus. He didn’t have any classes that day and would be home now, hopefully spared the worst of the horror.
Did Albus know what had happened? Did he know that Scorpius was even alive? The through of his boyfriend, alone and terrified made Scorpius long to see him. But how?
He thought about climbing out the window, like he had when he was 14 and climbed onto the roof of the Hogwarts Express. But there were a lot of people down there and someone would see him. If the police noticed him, it would cause a scene and he would be caught and probably brought before the Aurors.
Scorpius suddenly felt like smacking himself on the head. After 4 years, he was so used to thinking like a Muggle, he forgot to think like a wizard. A muggle would have no way out but a wizard….
The Aurors may have put an Anti-Disapparition Jinx up but it wasn’t like he had a spare invisibility cloak lying around. And without some form of invisibility cloak, this was the best shot Scorpius had to escape unseen. He would have to risk it.
Rolling his shoulders, Scorpius reached inside himself for the first time in a long time, for his magic. Like his peers at Hogwarts, Scorpius had got his Apparation Licence when he turned 16. He honestly hated that method of transportation, the horrible painful feeling of the jump and the ever present fear of splinching or landing in the wrong place.
Quickly, he thought of a place to jump to. He could go to the apartment but that was a longer jump and would take more out of him. He was out of practice and it was risky to jump so far on a first try. Once he was past the line, he could disappear into the crowd and become invisible. Looking out the window, he spotted a small alleyway behind the majority of the crowd. It was a risk but the crowd was still watching the collage building. There wouldn’t be anyone to see him appear.
Reaching up, Scorpius carefully pushed open the window a crack, hoping it would ease his way. It was superstition but Scorpius preferred having as few barriers in his way as possible.
Then he closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and disappeared with a soft crack.
-----
Hermione Granger was not having a good day. Since the break out from Azkaban, she had been working day and night to contain the situation, to prevent the news from being leaked. But unfortunately, it looked like her work was all for nothing. Someone had spoken to the Prophet and now it seemed every wizard in England was calling for an explanation, for re-assurance that Hermione could not give.
And not just the wizards in England.
Hermione had not expected the angry conversation with her counterpart in France, the Italian delegation and the German Chancellor of Magic, all of whom had expressed their anger at not being informed of the breakout. Hermione had managed to plicate most of them, at least she thought she had. But she had not expected the news out of America, nor the angry Howler sent with impressive speed from the Head of Magical Law Enforcement in America which had arrived on her desk that morning and her subsequent talk with the President of MACUSA who was furious. The news she had received in that Howler chilled her to the core.
So many muggles, slaughtered by wizards dressed as Death Eaters. Hermione was not fool enough to believe it was a co-incidence that only a week after several known Death Eaters escaped prison, this attack had taken place. But it still left her with unanswered questions. If these were the escaped prisoners, and it didn’t take training as an Auror to guess that they were, why attack a muggle collage in America? Why not attack the Ministry instead? Most of the escapees had been members of Lucius Malfoy’s coup years earlier. It frightened Hermione that she didn’t have answers to those questions.
She knew she had to call an extraordinary meeting, something she had not done in years, since the Time Turner nightmare. She knew that these questions would be asked. And she knew that to not have an answer would not be acceptable.
The stress was giving her a headache and Hermione could already see that Ethyl, her faithful assistant, was run ragged, fending off the more demanding calls for meetings with the Minister.
Sighing, Hermione waved away a Patronus sent from the Leader of a Gaelic tribe, requesting a meeting and stood up. She just needed a moment, to get herself together before she fell apart.
A short walk would do her good. Not outside. Hermione could guess that there were plenty of wizards and witches hanging around outside the Ministry, ready to harass anyone they could. But to the Ministry Café could be good. Stretch her legs and get a quick bite to eat before any more calls came in for her.
Hermione could already tell she would not be going home tonight, to where Ron no doubt had dinner ready.
She left her office, quickly passing by Ethyl’s desk with a promise to bring her back a Cauldron Cake and walked down the hall towards the main foyer. Briefly, she thought about ducking into Harry’s office, to see how he was handling everything and maybe see if she could get her friend something to eat.
As she stepped into the main foyer of the Ministry, she froze. A man was standing by one of the statues. Several people scurried past, eyeing the man warily but no one approached and Hermione didn’t blame them.
The man, far from being offended by the looks he was getting, seemed bored. As Hermione watched, he looked down at his wrist, checking the time on a gold watch. But that wasn’t why Hermione stopped. No, the man was wearing a long black leather jacket and a black bowler hat, the uniform of an American Auror.
What one of them was doing in the Ministry, Hermione had no idea. She had not been alerted to the use of a Portkey, a standard practice for any government official travelling between countries for work. And yet, this Auror had to be here for a reason.
Hermione turned towards the long hallway that led to the Aurors branch. She had a feeling Harry could tell her what was going on. She took two steps before her question was answered, a dark haired witch striding out of the long hall, her face like thunder, her black and gold robes flying around her. Hermione immediately recognised her. Guinevere Graves, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement at the Magical Congress of the United States of America. Hermione took a special interest in other women in power and Graves was certainly a powerful witch, both in her position in the American Magical Government and her own talents with magic. On the other side of the hall, the Auror suddenly stood to attention, watching as his boss drew near.
Harry appeared a few steps behind her, racing to catch up, speaking to Graves in a low voice which Hermione couldn't hear. And running after them, Hermione recognised James Potter, the oldest of Harry’s children trying to back his father up, his wand already in his hands. Hermione didn't need to look at Graves furious expression or Harry's white, panicky face. She could feel the danger in the air.
Harry must have said something to catch the witches attention because suddenly Graves turned, rounding on Harry.
“I don’t care that you took precautions. People are dead! Innocent No-Maj’s are dead! Your precautions are useless and that is on you Potter. You fucked up! None of your bullshit legacy can excuse that!” She said in a loud voice. Several Ministry employees who had the bad luck to be in the hall, all paused to look at the woman, mouths open in surprise as she dared to shout at Harry Potter, still the idol of the Wizard World.
James, ever the brave fool, tried to step in, his chest puffed up at the insult to his father.
“How dare you!” The younger Auror shouted.
Harry reached up and tried to block James but it was too late. Graves rounded on James.
“How dare I? What do I need to do to get it into your thick head what is going on here?!” The woman shouted, stepping towards James.
“Gwen!” Harry shouted, pushing himself between Graves and James.
Graves glared at him. Then she held up a hand.
“Enough. I have too much shit to deal with to waste my time on you.” She stated. “Archie?”
The American man ran to her side, pulling out of his leather robe what looked like a small cardboard coffee tray. He held it out to her.
“Wait! Gwen, we need to work together on this.” Harry yelled, trying to grab at the coffee tray before the woman could touch it.
“Work together?” Graves laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh. “We shouldn’t be working together. I shouldn’t be working on this at all. This is your mistake. But low and behold, it is now my problem and my people will deal with it.”
Hermione had heard enough. Quickly, she strode towards the group.
“Harry?” She asked, walking up to her friend’s side in a subtle display of support. She could feel Grave’s dark eyes fixing on her. “Ms Graves. How nice to see you.” She smiled at the American Auror.
“Minister Granger.” The woman replied sullenly, her face falling behind a mask of indifference, a trick Hermione herself used when trying to hide her anger. “If you would excuse me, thanks to your escaped Death Eaters, I have a clusterfuck to fix up back home and your Aurors are no help at all.”
“Well that’s not true.” Hermione said mildly. “I believe I just overheard Auror Potter offering his help to you.”
This time, Graves was unable to hide the flash of anger from crossing her face as she glared daggers towards Harry.
“After all, who better to help then the man who caught those Death Eaters in the first place?” Hermione continued. This time, it was Harry who looked at Hermione, a look of dismay crossing his face as he guessed her meaning. Hermione ignored it.
“I was speaking to your President just a few short hours ago and offered him the use of all my Aurors to assist in bringing these Death Eaters back to prison. I have no doubts that your people are very well trained and more then capable of bringing them into custody but my people have had previous dealings with them and no doubt, their knowledge would help speed up the process. We would all like to avoid any further attacks. President Quahog is in agreement with me. I guess it’s lucky you arrived so I didn’t have to get a Portkey made to send my people over. It will save a lot of time for all of you to travel together.”
“Hermione. A word.” Harry said in warning as Graves looked taken aback. Hermione was not surprised. President Quahog was a powerful and respected wizard and had been head of MACUSA for many years. If he ordered something, it was very unlikely that Graves would ignore it.
Hermione nodded and allowed Harry to lead her away from the conflicted American.
Once they were out of earshot, Harry let go of Hermione’s arm.
“No.” He stated.
“Yes.” Hermione replied. “Harry, you know you have to do this. It’s become clear that the escapees are in America. You need to go there and assist recapturing them.”
“Why?” Harry asked, running a hand through his messy hair. It was still dark but Hermione could see threads of silver amount the dark strands. Harry was getting old. It was a long time since he had been the young, up and coming Auror facing down all manner of dark wizards and even longer since he had been the teen, trained and manipulated to be the savior of the wizarding world.
“Why America? Why attack muggles? This doesn’t make sense. Lucius Malfoy came close to destroying us once before, there is no way this isn’t part of a scheme to bring us down. I need you to go there and figure out what that plan is.” She glanced over at the Americans, who weren’t looking happy. The male Auror had produced a mirror from his jacket and he and Graves were speaking to it, no doubt trying to confirm the Presidents orders. James stood a little way from them both, clearly unsure what to do. His expression was so like Ron's when Ron found himself in a situation he was unprepared for, his reddish-brown hair a mess and his robes askew from running after his father.
“Plus, I don’t trust President Quahog not to hand them back to us if they do capture them alive. The man is a little too fond of using executions to flex his muscles. I need you to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Harry’s shoulders slumped in defeat.
“I had better Owl Ginny.” He muttered, already foreseeing the anger this would cause his wife.
“I’ll send Ron to talk to her.” Hermione offered. “Get him to tell her it was my decision.”
Harry looked relieved. There were footsteps as Graves strode across to them.
“If you are coming, you had better hurry up.” She snapped. “The Portkey leaves in two minutes.”
She turned and walked back to her colleague.
“This is going to be fun.” Harry said sarcastically.
“Be nice. She is under an incredible amount of stress.” Hermione replied. She truly felt sorry for the other witch. Graves was dealing with a horrible situation and learning that the Ministry had information she did not had to be difficult when lives had been lost. Hermione didn’t like to think of what would have happened if the attack had been American wizards and taken place on British soil, at a muggle university.
“Alright, alright.” Harry muttered before walking back towards the group. Hermione followed him over and watched Graves’ companion again produced the cardboard tray. Harry reached for it.
“Wait!” James suddenly said. “I’m coming too.”
“James!” Harry almost shouted, taken aback by his son’s outburst.
“You need extra hands on this. I can help.” James stated, reaching for the tray. “You know I can.”
Harry looked at Hermione who shrugged at him. James was a good Auror, there was no doubting that. But Harry was an overprotective father. It did not escape anyone’s notice that Harry was always putting James on the safest of cases. It was causing some tension between James and the other junior Aurors who were already whispering about favouritism. Hermione knew, from Ron, who got it from Teddy Lupin who was one of James’ friends, that James hated the attention and lack of chances to show his worth to the branch. It was about time, the younger man got the chance to prove himself.
Realising he was not going to get any help from Hermione, Harry turned towards Graves, no doubt hoping that the woman would reject the idea but the female Auror simply rolled her eyes and took hold of the piece of cardboard.
Sighing, Harry nodded and James enthusiastically grabbed at the tray. Reluctantly, Harry reached for the tray, his fingertips just touching it as the Portkey activated and transported them all away, leaving Hermione alone in the Great Hall. Sighing, the Minister of Magic turned back towards her office. Those Cauldron Cakes would have to wait.
------
Scorpius gasped as his back collided with the brick wall, his legs threatening to give out underneath him. Blindly, he looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings and preying to Dumbledore that he wasn’t about to be grabbed by waiting Aurors.
He could see the backs of several people, none of them looking in his direction. They were all looking up…at the building Scorpius had just been inside. He had made it. Scorpius almost sank to the ground in relief before he forced himself to focus. He had to get home to Albus.
Stepping out of the alleyway, Scorpius slowly started to move around the back of the crowd, hoping to look as inconspicuous as possible.
A head of messy black hair in the crowd caught his eyes. For a second, Scorpius thought he was dreaming, his longing to see his boyfriend causing him to see things. He blinked but the image didn’t change.
Without thinking, Scorpius pushed through the crowd, trying to make his way to his partner.
“Albus!” He yelled, forgetting about their muggle names in his desperate need to see the other man.
Albus turned, looking around wildly, green eyes flashing. He wasn’t wearing his contacts, his emerald eyes visible to the world as he squinted at the crowd, trying to see where the voice had come from.
“Scorp?” Albus asked before his eyes fell on the blond haired man pushing through the crowds towards him. Scorpius immediately threw himself at Albus, Albus catching him in a bone crushing hug. The two remained like that for a moment before Scorpius pulled away, diving in for a desperate kiss.
“I thought…” Albus said as the kiss broke, the two still clinging to each other. Scorpius could see the tears threatening to fall. He could feel his own eyes stinging in response. “You were dead!” Albus finished. He reached up, placing his hand on Scorpius’ cheek as if to check for himself that Scorpius was really there. Scorpius felt himself lean into the touch, lowering his head until his forehead was resting against Albus’.
“I’m ok.” He lied. He was not. He didn’t feel like he would ever be ok again.
Albus seemed to know the lie because he suddenly grabbed Scorpius and held him at arm length, looking him up and down, even as Scorpius knew he had difficulty seeing the details.
“Were you in there when it happened?” He asked, fear seeping into his voice. Scorpius hesitated. It was like the other world all over again, how Scorpius had struggled with telling his friend anything about the horrors he had witnessed for fear of terrifying Albus.
“Scorpius?” Albus asked again. Closing his eyes, Scorpius nodded.
“Are you injured?” Albus asked in a tight voice.
“Please take me home.” Scorpius found himself begging in a small voice, his eyes still closed. He didn't want to be here. He just wanted to be home, where he could feel safe.
Slowly, he felt Albus let go of his shoulders before a hand grabbed his own. Albus free arm reaching around his shoulders so Albus could guide him home. The two turned and left the crowds still gathering at the edge of the police line, beginning their familiar journey back to their apartment.
Neither of them noticed the shadow turn and follow them through the crowd.
------
The Manor was freezing as Draco strode out of the fireplace and into the living room. The newspaper still on the floor where he had dropped it in his hurry to get to the Ministry, Lucius’ photo glaring up at him. Pointedly, Draco stepped on the photo as he moved through the room and out into the hallway, striding up the stairs as fast as his dignity would allow it. Five hours ago, his child’s school had been attacked by Death Eaters led by his father. Draco was not fool enough to think this a co-incidence. He needed to make sure Scorpius and Albus were safe. Owls were too slow and his Portkey was still over an hour away from leaving. He needed the information now.
The Manor was huge, with a lot of hidden rooms. It had taken Draco most of his childhood to memories the layout of the house and even now, he knew there were unexplored corners.
Draco paid no mind to that now, his feet taking him in the direction of a small office, hidden in the depths of the building, down the hallway from the door to the locked west wing. The office was an old one. Historically, it had been part of the Staff’s quarters in a time before the Malfoy family had employed House Elves. In more recent times, it had been Scorpius’ occasional play room, the youngest Malfoy using it to store interesting items he found around the Manor and out on their travels and in the darker times, when Astoria’s illness had reached its terrible end, where the younger man had hidden himself away from the world and tried to forget what was happening.
It made sense that Scorpius’ hidden room now held one of Draco’s most important objects.
Unlocking the office, Draco stepped into the gloom. Despite the gloom, the room was surprisingly light and airy. Scorpius had hung up his childhood drawings and photos on the walls, and the small desk was littered with writing and books, some for young children and some far more complex, gained as Scorpius had grown up.
After Scorpius had left with Albus, Draco had occasionally come into this room to remember his child and the life the boy had lived. It had seemed right then, to keep his best form of communication here.
Walking to the small desk, Draco opened the bottom draw and pulled out the fake bottom. Resting inside was a small metal object. He picked it up.
If Draco’s ancestors could see him, they would shake their heads in shame as Draco pulled the muggle phone out of the hidden space. In the first year, Draco had tried to keep it with him in case Scorpius needed him quickly but Potter’s determination to find Albus and not incorrect assumption that Draco knew where they were made it a risky move on the older Malfoy’s part. Once Draco was sure the two boys were thriving in the Muggle World, he had finally let the phone go, placing it here in the room where it wouldn’t be found if Potter did try to raid the Manor. Only a few times a year did he return to claim it. Scorpius and Albus’ birthdays, Christmas and All Hallows Eve, events that were important in their lives.
It had taken a lot of effort for Draco to break his distaste for muggle technology, a habit drilled into him almost brutally by his father, but even he had to admit, the phone was a marvellous piece of technology.
Turning the device on, Draco quickly checked to make sure the device was working as he had been taught before he reached back into the draw and grabbed a small piece of parchment containing a series of numbers. Finding the one he was looking for, he typed it into the device and raised it to his ear.
He heard the strange ring for a few moments before a voice answered, whispering into the phone.
“Hello?”
“Albus?” Draco asked. The voice was lighter than his son’s, whose voice had deepened considerably as he had grown.
“Mr Malfoy?” Albus asked. “You heard?”
“Scorpius. Is he…?” Draco found himself asking.
“He’s ok. He’s here…” There was a strange noise, of movement and Draco thought he heard a few muted words over the phone before another voice asked.
“Dad?” Draco felt as if the weight of the world had fallen from his shoulders on hearing his son’s voice.
“Scorpius. Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Draco asked desperately.
“Dad, I saw them. The Death Eaters!” Scorpius said. Draco could hear the panic in his voice. “Oh god, they killed people.”
“Scorpius! Are. You. Hurt?” Draco said, trying to put authority in his voice. He needed to know.
“They were right there…” Scorpius said in a small voice. Draco realised his son was in shock, unable to focus on what his father was saying.
“Scorpius, listen to me. I am coming to you. I will be there tomorrow. You and Albus need to stay there, block the doors and wait. Do not go outside until I get there. Do you hear me?” Draco said.
He heard another voice, speaking over Scorpius.
“We do.”
Draco nodded, forgetting that neither young man could see his action.
“Take care of him Albus.” Draco instructed.
“I will.” The younger Potter answered solemnly before the call ended.
Draco shoved the phone in his pocket and strode to the door. He needed to quickly pack before his Portkey. He would travel all night if he had to, to get to his son.
He pushed hard at the door, causing it to slam open. There was a sharp squeak as the door struck something moving past. Draco looked around in confusion before spotting the House Elf. He blinked in surprise. All the House Elves knew not to go near the West Wing under Draco’s own orders.
The male house elf, Bugsey, if Draco’s memory served him correctly, looked up at Draco with guilty eyes.
“Master Malfoy!” The little creature squeaked in a high pitched voice.
“What are you doing up here, Bugsey?” Draco asked, looking down at the elf. He couldn’t help but notice the elf was favouring his right leg, as if somehow injured.
The elf dropped its gaze quickly but not before Draco saw it glance towards the locked door to the forbidden Wing.
“Nothing Master.” Bugsey answered. Draco could hear the guilt in his voice. Draco turned to look at the locked door before looking back at the elf. Since becoming the Master of the Manor, Draco had striven to insure the welfare of his servants. All of them were free elves, paid for their services and allowed to take holidays and wear whatever clothes they desired. He also made sure all were well treated. There were no more kicks or slaps for making a mistake and self-harm was strictly forbidden. To see a House Elf with an injury was troublesome.
Feeling a sudden chill race down his spin, Draco reached into his robe and pulled out his wand, pointing it at the door.
“Alohomora!” He said, the tip of his wand flashing.
For a second, there was nothing before slowly, the door to the forbidden wing opened. Draco looked at it in horror. He had deliberately placed multiple complex charms on that door to ensure it couldn’t be opened, adding more over the years as Scoprius had grown to ensure the curious young wizard wouldn't get into the rooms without permission (Not that Draco hadn't told his son what was behind the locked doors. Scorpius, thankfully, hadn't wanted to go anywhere near the area once he learnt the truth) A simple unlocking charm should not have worked.
Keeping his wand raised, Draco carefully approached the darkness, listening for any signs of movement, a multitude of protective curses running through his mind. As he entered through the door, the tip of his wand lit up, illuminating the long corridor of the west wing. When Draco had locked down this place, he had made sure the numerous old display cabinets lined up along the hallway had been locked down, despite having already gotten rid of anything dangerous from inside.
In the dim light of his wand, he could see that the cabinets were no longer locked up. All of them were open, their doors and draws ripped apart with considerable force.
Glass and wood from the exploded cabinets crunched under Draco’s feet as he carefully ventured further down the hall, eyes scanning the darkness for any signs of life.
Bugsey followed at his heels, noticeably limping and looking crestfallen.
A flash of white caught Draco’s eye. Someone had pinned a piece of parchment to the wall. Draco drew near, trying to see in the dim.
After a few seconds, he realised what he was looking at. Someone had ripped out a page from that vial Rita Skeeter book. But not just any page. It was the one that accused his son. Draco could see the small black and white picture of Scorpius and Albus, along with the larger one of Grindelwald.
In red ink, someone had circled a part of the text.
‘Shell we soon see the return of a most fearsome wizard? An old Dark Lord as the New?’
Draco stared at it in horror, suddenly piecing together his father’s horrible plan.
“Bugsey, what have you done?” He asked quietly.