Chapter Text
To those wandering through Hogwarts’s corridors, in the deepest depths where an enchanted mirror was once kept as the final safeguard for an alchemic stone that gave the elixir of life, getting passed the safeguards would’ve given way to the sounds of screams and grunts of pain. Even the bravest of souls would be terrified at the shrieks that would echo off of the stone walls, and the sight they would be met with of the owner would probably send them stumbling back.
At least, that’s what Draco Malfoy thought as he stood in the entryway to the final chamber. With arms bound with chains reaching up to the ceiling with magical wards blocking him from moving anything but his head as an extra precaution stood a man with blond hair, eyes that matched the emerald green of forests, and the bushiest eyebrows he’d ever seen. This man was great once; but he was also someone Draco had known since he was a boy of just thirteen despite how young he looked. He’d been the History of Magic teacher at Hogwarts from then up until his sixth year, and he’d been someone Draco had once even considered he looked up to, even with their disagreements.
But now, here he stood, bound and weak. No matter how many times he'd been denied food and water, no matter how many times someone physically hurt him, he couldn’t die. It was routine by this point; he knew where the final remnants of Dumbledore’s Army were, and the Dark Lord thought it best to keep him here. Occasionally he’d send someone to try to torture answers out of him, other times Voldemort would come himself. Today, however, it was Draco’s turn to visit.
The man slowly rose his head, green eyes glaring daggers at his direction, but they still seemed to soften when they saw his face.
“So… What brings the Head of Magical Law Enforcement here today?” the man said, his voice horse and crackling from overuse.
“You know why.”
“And you know that I will not tell.”
“I know.” Draco swallowed thickly, even though his mouth was dry.
The man cackled. “So then… what will it be today?”
“If you tell us what he wants to know, then he might let you go, at least ease up on-”
“You and I both know he won’t. He sees me as a danger just for standing around; why else would he hide me away in here away from prying eyes where only he and his most loyal supporters have access to.” The man spat. “The moment anyone who doesn’t agree with him sees me, they’ll want to rise up because they’ll know it in their heart who I am, what I am… And God forbid any of my kind realizes I’m still alive… He’ll have all of the witches and wizards in NATO at his doorstep, maybe even then some.”
Draco stomped to him. “I understand that you don’t like me, but I have a son- I’m just following orders-”
“That’s what they said the last time, too. Back in the 40s when my allies and I rounded up the forces of the last madman who tried to cause a genocide of people who weren’t like him and didn’t agree with him. Really, Mr. Malfoy, do you think that the rest of the world will show you or your son any mercy?”
Draco stared at him. He wanted to help him; he wanted to do so many things in the last twenty years. But he never acted on those wants. The fear of the consequences always stopped him.
“I’ll tell them you didn’t say anything this time either.” He turned to leave.
“I recall I once taught you about Isolt Sayre.” Draco stopped in his tracks as the man continued. “About how she didn’t follow in her aunt’s footsteps and freed herself from her control so she and her family could live in safety and peace. I always thought that you held that choice too, Mr. Malfoy… But now, after twenty years of being trapped in here like some trophy for Voldemort and a play thing for the sadists under him… I see I was wrong.”
Without looking back, Draco left the room, leaving a weakened and forlorn England alone yet again.