Monday, July 30, 2018
Matt checked his backpack for what felt like the millionth time. He wasn't sure how far away Hogwarts was-he wasn't even sure he could find Hogwarts-and he had no idea what he should be bringing, but he was bringing everything he could think of that mattered. He had enough clothes for seven days, his Bible, all the cash he had and, buried at the bottom, his favourite stuffed bear. He would have liked to bring some food, but his mother would be sure to catch him if he tried that. He took a deep breath and let it out in a woosh as he looked at his last hope.
Dear Matt,
I don't know what you're trying to do. I guess this is looking for negative attention if you can't get positive, or whatever your mother's always quoting at me, but I can't believe your mother isn't feeding you right. She's positively obsessive about your health. So write to me about what this is really about, okay, sport?
I can't override your mother about the school-thing. That judge decided that she got full custody and she certainly won't listen to anything I have to say. I wouldn't worry about it too much; I've never heard of this Hogwarts, so it's not like it's some great school.
I'm not going to be able to see you until September. My job's sending me out of the country and, well, there's some personal stuff going on as well. I hope to have some good news for you soon; maybe you won't be an only for too much longer.
Take it easy, be good for your mum, and remember, you'll always be my son.
Dad
Matt shook his head. It looked like he'd have to rescue himself. As he snuck out the front door, easing it closed as quietly as he could manage, he thought about the note he'd left his mother, hoping she wouldn't be too upset.
Dear Mum,
I'm sorry. I guess I'm evil after all. I just can't do this anymore. I'm going to Hogwarts to see if they'll still let me come.
Tell Dad
I don't want to hurt you. Please be happy and say a prayer for me.
Love,
Matt
Tuesday, July 31, 2018
Breakfast in the Malfoy household was usually a quiet meal. Although all of the family, all five of them, were expected to be present, conversation wasn't required, and appropriate reading material was permitted. Draco smiled a little as he remembered Greg's first overnight visit, when Narcissa had had to find a polite, but blunt, way of explaining that comic books were not "appropriate reading material".
There were no such problems this morning, of course, since it was only the family. Letters, papers and work were all being read and examined in restful, companionable quiet. Unfortunately, the quiet was broken by one of the house elves, saying, "Master Malfoy, your secretary is in the Floo."
After confirming the thing meant him and not his father, Draco excused himself to go into the study. "Yes, Irene, what's so important that it can't wait until I come in?"
Irene was usually very steady and hard to upset, so her shaking voice had Draco concerned even before she said, "There's one of those Muggle Aurors, those, er, erm-"
"Policemen," Draco pronounced correctly.
"Yes, them," Irene said with a nod. "He's asking questions about the Muggleborn students. Well, the one. Little Matthew Mitchell. He's gone missing and his mother thinks he might have contacted us. What do I tell them?"
"The truth," Draco said. "We haven't heard from him; none of us have spoken with him since the first meeting. No matter how wrong we think she is, we won't go against the parents on this." Before she turned away, he added, "Don't tell them we're wizards, though. We're a specialty school who were alerted to Matt's talents and we offered him a place at the school." He calculated distances, and Muggle transportation. "Tell him I'm heading in and I'll be there in about an hour. Let me know if he gives you a problem."
Draco was tempted to say something to the others about how stupid it was not to insist that Muggleborns attend Hogwarts, or another magical school, but that would set his father off on how stupid it was to let Muggleborns in at all. Instead, he walked back, gave Tori a kiss on her cheek and, as he was ruffling Scorpius's hair, he said, "Something's come up that I'll need to take care of personally. I'll see you later."
He didn't rush in, collecting the appropriate papers, but it still took him less time than he would have needed to drive a Muggle car in. He finally decided that, if questioned, he could always say he'd been on his way in. Those Muggle telephones worked almost everywhere.
After Apparating in a nearby alley, he walked into his office to find Irene fluttering. She introduced Draco to the Muggle Auror, no, policeman, whose name Draco promptly forgot. He gave the man his best "superior to hard-working inferiors" smile and said, "Shall we discuss this in my office?" Noticing that he already had a cup, he asked Irene, "If you could bring me a cup of tea and a refresher for our guest." He turned to the man and asked, "Can we get you something else, a roll or something? I expect you frequently don't get the time to eat properly."
"No thanks," the man said, beaming, "but it's nice of you to offer. Most of your sort, well, you wouldn't think of it."
Draco kept his relaxation invisible, but he was relieved that he was now squarely in the "good" camp of the man's thinking. "Now, why do you think we might be involved?"
"His mum's grasping at straws," the policeman said, shaking his head. "Even she doesn't really think your lot've done anything, but she's hoping you might have heard something. He'd wanted to come to your school, y'see, even though she was dead set against it. In the letter he left, he said he was going to try to go to you. Would there have been someone else he would have contacted?"
"Unfortunately, I'm the only person associated with Hogwarts that Mr. Mitchell has had any contact with," Draco said, wincing at how little he was going to be able to help. "I gave Mrs. Mitchell my card but I suspect she tore it up. She was so adamant . . ." Draco shook his head. "What about his father? I remember that they were separated; maybe the boy went there."
"Divorced, but he's getting ready to leave the country." The policeman shook his head. "His last letter looks to be what set the boy off. There's no friends we've been able to find, either; the boy's a bit . . . odd. Could he have found something on the internet? He had some access to a computer."
"No," Draco said, but then stopped. "I don't think so. We pride ourselves on our adherence to tradition, but . . . Could you give me a few minutes? I'm trying to think . . ." Then the answer hit him. "Wait a minute; I have a couple of ideas." He walked out to Irene and said to her, keeping his voice too quiet for the policeman to hear, "Can you explain what's happened to Auror Potter? I know he's worked with the Muggle policemen before. We can't use the Floo while he's here, but if you could go in person." Irene looked at him with huge eyes and left.
Then, he pulled out his list of this year's Muggleborns and studied it for a minute. Potter's cousin would probably be the easiest to explain this to. He carefully punched the number into the telephone's "dial"-which didn't look like a dial at all-and waited for an answer. When "Dursley" came over the receiver, he said, "Mr. Dursley, this is Mr. Draco Malfoy, for Hogwarts."
"Morning," Dursley said, sounding cheerful. "Have you set up that shopping trip? Daphne's come up with at least a dozen things she has to have, and she's been driving Sophie spare."
Wishing he could chuckle, that girl was quite the handful, Draco said, "Not yet, but I think we'll be able to set it for next weekend. The reason I'm calling is, can you find anything about Hogwarts on the 'internets,' I think it's called?"
"Just one of 'em," Dursley said, "and that's more than enough. Er, Google doesn't find anything, but let me ask Daphne. I think I heard her saying something about a group. Can I ring you back here?"
"Of course," Draco answered, "and thank you." He turned back to the policeman. "Sorry, we seem to keep hitting dead ends."
"I'll give you credit for trying. More'n most people'd do." He gave Draco a shrewd, piercing look. "Makes me wonder why."
Draco sighed. Even when he was being completely honest and above-board, he was suspected. Reaching behind him, he pulled the photograph he had on display of his family and turned it around. "My son is a year older than Mitchell," he said. "If something happened, if he got himself into trouble, I'd be hoping other people would be helping me move heaven and earth to help him. How can I do less?"
The policeman took the photograph and smiled as he looked at it. "Good-looking boy. Y'say he's twelve? And his mum's a looker, too. I'd say you're a lucky man, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco took the photograph back. "Thank you. I-" How to put this into Muggle terms without discussing wars and battles. "When I was just a little bit older than my son, I got myself into a situation and nearly died. Other people's . . . mercy saved my life. One of the conditions was that I pass it along."
He smiled as he remembered McGonagall standing straight and tall and looking down her nose at him, telling him, "You will be allowed to return to this school on the strict condition that you assist the Muggleborn students adjust to life here. Especially those who suffered at the hands of the Death Eaters and their followers." She was still tough as nails, but she smiled at him when he visited her these days. Thin-lipped, but it was a smile.
Looking back up at the policeman, Draco smiled. "It was probably the best thing that could have happened to me, and they would have been completely justified in locking me away for the rest of my life. So, a little extra time to help look for a child is nothing. And, frankly, this child is my responsibility."
Standing, the policeman nodded. "I'm suspicious of people who spend a lot of time helping with no thought of return. But paying it forward, that I can believe." As he turned to leave, he nearly ran into Harry Potter, who was barrelling into the office. "'Scuse me, sir."
"Ah, hello," Potter said, blinking at both the other men. "Er, you're DI Sanderson? Hi, I'm Harry Potter, with MI5 Special Forces. I'm an old schoolmate of Malfoy's here; he called me in thinking I might be able to help. Malfoy?" It all came out in one long burst that reminded Malfoy of little Daphne Dursley.
"Good morning, Potter," Malfoy said, trying not to laugh. "I'm glad to see that your reputation for grace and elegance is warranted." The policeman looked between the other two, looking as if he wanted to get out before the fight started. This, er, DI Sanderson had asked if I'd heard anything about Matthew Mitchell. He's one of the non-legacy students in this year's class, the only one who declined our invitation. Apparently, he'd disagreed with his mother over the issue and she believes he ran away to come to us. Unfortunately, finding missing people plays more to your strengths than mine."
Potter shook his head, looking annoyed. "Sorry, your secretary made it sound like someone was in imminent danger." He took a deep breath and turned to the policeman. "DI Sanderson, can you go over the case for me? There's probably not much I can do that you lot aren't already, but I'm here."
Sanderson shook his head. "Wouldn't think Special Forces does much with runaway kids, but I'll take as many eyes as I can get on this one. I've got a feeling about it, y'know."
Draco could almost hear Potter's back straighten, as his old nemesis looked at the Muggle sharply. "Based on what? Anything concrete?"
Sanderson shook his head. "I couldn't put it in a report, but . . . Mother says he's been on a religious fast, but the kid keeps writing his dad complaining about being hungry. All the neighbours complain about all the weird stuff that happens around him, and his mother was talking about evil. I'm hoping we find him, and not . . ."
Potter nodded sharply. "Got it. Can I see what you have? Or, better yet, can you present it to me?" He glanced over at Malfoy. "If I had a Gal-, er, a pound for every time one of my people have put the pieces together while presenting the case to me, I could probably buy England."
Sanderson laughed. "Done it a few times myself."
Before he could go any farther, Potter held his hand up. "Hang on a sec. Malfoy, has anyone notified the Headmaster?"
Draco reminded himself that he was a businessman and not an Auror. Still, "No, I haven't, damn it. Let me get Irene to do that." He opened the door and asked Irene to notify the Headmaster's office of Mitchell's disappearance. "Sorry, should have done that first."
"Couldn't find Hogwarts listed anywhere to get a number, or I'd've done it already," Sanderson said, looking a little curious. He opened the file he had and took a deep breath. "We got a call from Judith Mitchell, Matthew's mother, this morning. She woke up to find him gone and a letter telling her that he was evil and he was going to Hogwarts. While waiting for us to come, she found a couple of notes from his father, essentially saying that he couldn't do anything." The policeman shook his head. "She had quite a bit to say about the father; no love lost there. We've been trying to reach him to talk with him, but he's on his way out of the country and unreachable." He took a deep breath. "In several of the letters, Matthew mentions that his mother has him on a fast to get the evil out of him. That's apparently been going on for a couple of weeks." Shuffling through the papers, he said, "No one's seen him in those couple of weeks. His mother says he won't talk to their minister, and that's it." He gave Potter a look Draco couldn't read.
Potter swore. "So, we have only the mother's word that he's even been alive for the past couple of weeks."
"His voice has been heard."
"Have dogs been brought in?"
"Yeah, but they live in a flat." Sanderson sighed. "They're not getting anywhere." He suddenly swore. "Mr. Malfoy, this is all confidential. I shouldn't have said anything-"
"I'll take the responsibility for that," Potter said. "Malfoy knows to keep his mouth shut about this, right?"
Draco felt sick. "I should have known-"
Potter's voice was harsh. "How? You did the best you could. Believe me, I've been talking to the Mu-, erm, non-legacy students, and I've been hearing nothing but good things. And you know I've been listening for it." At the policeman's concerned look, Potter grinned. "We hated one another when we are at school, and haven't had much to do with each other since. But he's actually grown up."
Draco reminded himself that telling Potter exactly what he thought was going to be completely counterproductive. "Gee, thanks."
Sanderson snorted. "So, is there anything Special Forces can do, Mr. Potter."
Potter looked at the ceiling for a minute while he thought. "We can try. I need a piece of clothing, the larger the better and it'd be better if it hasn't been washed. And, no, we're not using dogs," he said before Sanderson could interrupt, "but some of the principles are similar. I have to go back to my office for some equipment; can I meet you at your station in," he glanced at his watch, "say half an hour?"
"I'll have one of the officers there give it to you," Sanderson said. "We took a couple of pieces. I have a few other people to talk with. When can you tell me what you find? And, well, I hate to bring it up-"
"We're assisting," Potter said, smiling. "Your case, your credit. Why don't I call you, say, around five? Or sooner if I find something." He reached into his suit coat's pocket. "Here's my card, if you need to reach me or you need it for the paperwork."
Sanderson nodded and pulled out two cards, giving one each to Potter and Draco. "Anything you find, I'd be grateful for. This one feels bad."
After the policeman left, Draco looked at Potter. "Is there anything we can do?"
"There is a spell we've been working on," Potter said, "that might be able to track him down. It works on a person's magical signature. It's still in the testing stages and it hasn't been given a real field trial yet." He scowled. "It looks like today's the big trial." He straightened up and looked at Draco. Potter's expression was grim but it didn't appear to be aimed at Draco, who thought his own expression was the same. "Thanks for bringing me into this; if the Muggles can't find him, maybe I can, before it's too late." He held out his hand for Draco to shake.
"No," Draco said, shaking his head. "I'm coming with you. I'll do whatever you say, and I'll keep my mouth shut around the Muggles other than to direct them to you, but I feel responsible and I'm coming."
"Malfoy," Potter said sharply, "you don't belong on this case. You're a civilian, with no idea of the protocols or problems or-"
"Which is why I'll keep my mouth shut and defer to you around the Muggles," Draco said. "But if you won't bring me along with you, I'll just start looking on my own. Since I don't have your new spell, I'll have to go looking for solutions in our library. Somehow, I think you'd prefer Dark Arts not be used on this case." Before Potter could tell him off for using illegal magic, or just arrest him, he continued, "I've met the boy. Short, thin, dark hair, big eyes. Reminds me of this kid I used to know, whose son is my son's best friend. It's-" He took a deep breath and admitted, "I've been having nightmares about the boy. Shut up in a-"
"All right," Potter said. He looked furious and Draco knew he was fully aware of the manipulation. Still, it was true; Judith Mitchell had been bothering him since their first meeting. "But you do exactly what I say, or I'll lock you up until it's over." Before Draco could say anything, he continued with a grim smile, "Protective custody, for your own good. Kingsley'll sign off on it in a second. We don't want a prominent citizen using Dark Arts after all."
Draco nodded, accepting the conditions. Truthfully, he wasn't sure he could do anything, but he couldn't just stand by and wait. He told Irene that he'd be out for the rest of the day and followed Potter out.
At the entrance to the Ministry, Potter stopped. "Wait for me here. I'm not explaining you to every Ministry worker in the building."
Looking around, Draco pointed to a nearby newsstand. "I'll just buy a paper while I wait." Potter left without acknowledging the comment.
The newsstand was a Muggle one. Draco bought a paper, The Sun¸ and started reading. He was so engrossed, mostly in horror, that he almost missed Potter.
"Do you often read that rot?" Potter asked, sounding amused.
"Muggles take this seriously?" Draco asked.
Potter shrugged. "It's no worse than the Prophet," he said. "Now, I don't want you coming into the police station with me either; it'd really look strange and we want to try to avoid creating more questions." After Draco nodded, Potter took off at a fast walk, clearly knowing where he was going. It wasn't long before they were standing in front of an imposing building. "Here's the station. You wait here; I hope not to be long."
It was just under an hour before Potter came back out, his face even grimmer than earlier. "What's happened?" Draco asked.
"Nothing," Potter said. "It's just that none of them believe we're going to find anything but a corpse." Before Draco could ask, Potter said, "Nothing that they're saying, not yet, but you get a feel for these things." He brandished a jacket and looked around. After a minute, he held out his hand and walked toward a taxi and gestured for Draco to get in.
It was the filthiest, most horrible type of transportation Draco had ever used. It took Potter a minute to notice Draco's expression. "Don't worry," he said, "after this we can use Apparition, but we have to take a reasonable amount of time to get to their flat."
Potter had the taxi drop them off a block away from the Mitchells' flat. Once the vehicle was gone, Potter stepped back into an alley, pulled out the jacket and cast a complex spell. After a few minutes, he pulled out a map and made to marks. Then looking at Draco, he said, "I'll have to Side-Along you; I'm not getting the kind of coordinates I can pass on to you."
After they'd repeated the process half a dozen times, and Potter was starting to look strained, Draco asked, "How far are we going each time?" He conjured up two chairs to give the Auror a rest.
"Thanks." Taking a deep breath, Potter said, "It's not a real good connection. I'm only getting a mile or so each time." He looked at the map and muttered, "I wish Hermione were here. She'd figure out where to look."
Draco resisted rolling his eyes. Hermione Granger wasn't the only intelligent wizard in the world. "What information are you getting?" he asked.
"He's about twenty miles out of the city," Potter said. "I can get a pretty good fix on distance, but location is a bit dodgier. That's why we're taking the shorter hops; I can keep from going too far in the wrong direction."
Draco nodded and looked at the map. So far, they'd been moving in a fairly straight line heading north. "Where's the boy heading?"
"We don't know," Potter said, sounding exasperated. "He doesn't know where Hogwarts is."
"Not exactly, but I did mention it was in north Scotland," Draco said. "If I were in charge, I'd find the most likely looking road heading north and go twenty miles out of the city on it. If we're no closer, or further away, then we come back here."
Potter grabbed the map and looked at it. "Wish I'd known you told him where Hogwarts is an hour ago," he muttered.
"Sorry," Draco said, hoping Potter could tell he did mean it. "I didn't think it was important. I thought everyone knew that."
"With a few exceptions, most Muggles don't even know it exists. Before I went there, I didn't know where it was. The letter didn't say," Potter said, grinning a little at Draco's shock. "But if he knows he's heading for Scotland, that's a good idea." He stood up. "Here we go."
"Wait a minute," Draco said before Potter could Apparate. "Since I know where we're going this time, why don't I do the Apparation? Save your energy for the ones where you're feeling your way."
Potter looked surprised, but nodded. Draco banished the chairs and Apparated them.
They were on the side of a motorway, neither especially empty or crowded. Potter cast the spell again and grinned. "Good thinking," he said. "We're closer. A lot closer. Short jumps again, but I think we'll have it in a couple."
Four Apparations later and they were standing beside an empty side road. There was a bit of an incline on one side of the road; after Potter cast his spell, he made his way down it. Draco walked over and looked down. About ten feet from the direction Potter was heading, he saw a trainer sticking out from a bush. "Potter," he called.
Potter stopped and looked to where Draco was pointing. A few minutes later, he was kneeling by the bush. "Can you conjure me up a blanket?" he called.
Draco did and then made his way down the slope. "Is he all right?" he asked.
"I think so," Potter said, taking off his jacket and laying it over the boy. When Draco got to him, Potter took the blanket and covered the boy with that as well. "His pulse and breathing are strong and regular. Hey, Matt," he said, shaking the boy, "can you wake up for me?"
The boy pulled the blanket over his head. "No."
Draco and Potter shared a smile. "Right," Potter said. "Draco, can you come down here and try to get him up? I'm going to start with the cover stories." He stepped away, pulling his Muggle telephone from his pocket and began speaking quietly into it.
Draco concentrated on Matthew. He was a little dirty, and much too thin, but otherwise he seemed fine. "All right, Mitchell," he said, using his sternest voice, "it's time for you to get up. No more malingering."
Matthew's eyes opened a little, but when he saw Draco, they opened wide. "Mr. Malfoy?" he said. "Can I come to Hogwarts? Please?"
"We'll be talking with your mother," Draco said, "but running away's no way to get anything. Can you sit up?"
"Yeah," the boy said, although he needed to steady himself as he did so. "I just got tired." He sighed. "Do I have to go home? Mum hates me and Dad doesn't care."
"Hey, there," Potter said. Draco hadn't heard him return, but he was there now, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Your mother doesn't hate you; she just doesn't understand. It's hard for some people. Now, would you like to see some magic?"
The boy's eyes lit up. "Can you show me some?"
"Oh, Merlin," Draco groaned.
Potter laughed. "Don't worry, Malfoy. No embarrassing spells today. D'you want to keep your paper?" When Draco raised his eyebrows at him, Potter grinned. "No, huh?" He took The Sun from Draco's jacket pocket and pulled out his wand, tapping it on the paper." Turning to Draco, he said, "I've got everything squared away so we can take Matthew straight to St. Mungo's."
"What's St. Mungo's?" Matt asked, his eyes huge as he stared at the paper.
"It's our hospital," Potter answered. "Now, we all need to be touching the paper for the spell to work, all right?"
Matthew nodded, hesitantly touching the paper with one finger. Draco took the boy's hand and placed it firmly on the paper, holding it in his other hand.
Potter sighed.
"What's wrong now?" Draco asked.
"I hate Portkeys," Potter said. As Draco started to tell him they could Apparate instead, Potter continued, "And Apparation and Floos and just about everything else. As far as I'm concerned, Muggle transportation is much superior." He scowled. "But it's not as fast." Before Draco could say anything, Potter tapped the paper again and said, "Portus!"
After Potter's obvious distaste for Portkeys, Draco was expecting a rough landing. Instead, even Matt could stay on his feet when they landed in the reception area. Potter walked directly to the witch in charge and began talking with her in a low voice before she could begin to scold them. After a minute, she nodded. "Come with me."
She led them to a room on the second floor with only two beds. The other bed was occupied by a sleeping boy with green and purple polka dots over all of his skin that they could see. "Make sure you don't touch him," she said, "he's very contagious.
Matthew's eyes were huge. "What's he got?" he asked in what he apparently thought was a whisper.
"We're not really sure," the witch said as she left the room, "but there's quite an outbreak of it. One of the Healers will see you soon."
"I'm not really sick or hurt," Matthew said once she'd left. "You can just take me home."
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Potter said, standing upright with his shoulders back. "Any time a wizard child runs away from home, we Aurors conduct an investigation to confirm that the child should remain in that residence. That will include a complete physical examination and several interviews to determine the reasons you left and the validity behind them."
Draco wanted to punch Potter; he was scaring the child. "You don't punish children for running away from home, do you?"
Potter's stance relaxed a little. "No, of course not. Most of the time we don't find anything wrong and everyone goes home. It's mostly just precautionary, but it's the parents we're investigating."
"Mum didn't do anything wrong," Matthew insisted. Draco was impressed that Potter's expression didn't change with that statement. "And neither did Dad. I'm just bad."
Potter pulled up a chair and nodded to Draco that he should sit as well. "I read your letter, but I have to admit that I don't understand. Your mother says you've always been a good kid. I haven't been able to talk with your father yet, but I'm sure he'll say the same. So why would you think that?"
"The Bible says so," Matthew said, drawing into himself. "Mum loves me and didn't want Satan to get me, but the temptation's just too strong."
Before they could ask him any more questions, the Healer arrived, a big bear-like man. He sent Draco and Potter out of the room to examine the boy. While they waited, Draco asked, "You act like you know what he's talking about."
Potter shrugged. "There are a couple of verses in the Bible that have been interpreted the way he's talking about. It's one of the reasons for the Statute of Secrecy, why there were ever witch burnings in the first place. I'll need to talk with his mother, and probably whatever minister's gotten involved, and straighten things out." He scowled. "Poor kid. I just hope his parents can be reasoned with."
"I don't understand," Draco said scowling. "I've never heard of this before."
"It's not something you'd be exposed to in the wizarding world," Potter said, "and this is the first time you've been heavily involved with the Muggleborn kids before they start Hogwarts. It's not as common an attitude as it used to be; only the most radical would believe this." He shrugged. "I'm kind of surprised that Aunt Petunia never pulled it out, to be honest about it."
The Healer walked out into the corridor. "He's asleep," he said. "I'm Cadoc Riley, and I'll be treating the boy." He looked down at his notes. "Nothing much wrong with him. He's a little malnourished, but nothing a couple of good meals won't solve; he's exhausted, which is largely because he hasn't been sleeping, stupid kid. We'll keep him here overnight no matter what's decided, but he can leave tomorrow or we can keep him here." Ignoring Draco, he looked at Potter. "Any idea how you think this is going to go?"
"Not sure yet," Potter said. "One of my people's interviewing her now, but I haven't got the report. My gut tells me this is a matter of a little education, but-" He shrugged. "You know how it goes."
Riley nodded. "Let me know when the decision is made, yeah? I like to know how many beds I have for the kids."
"Will do," Potter said, reaching out to shake the Healer's hand. Draco did the same and followed Potter out.
Once they'd left St. Mungo's, Potter turned to him. "Look, Malfoy, you've been incredibly helpful in all of this, but it's time you left the experts to their job." Before Draco could object, Potter continued with, "If you want, you can come with me tomorrow when we bring Mrs. Mitchell to see Matthew tomorrow about ten, but it's an official case now."
Draco could tell that pushing Potter wouldn't get him anywhere, and he liked to think that he'd grown up enough to know better than to try just for the reaction. "I am involved in this, though," he said, in case Potter had forgotten. "He's still one of the Muggleborns eligible for Hogwarts in September."
"Which is why I'll let you meet us here tomorrow," Potter said. His voice was calm, almost neutral. Then he unbent a little. "If things go as I hope they will, you'll be helping get everything set up for him, but until then, you're a civilian and I'm a professional." Then he held out his hand. "Thanks for thinking of me; I don't know if I'd go as far as to say we saved his life, but-"
The implication was clear: they very well might have. "Just thinking of the boy's best interest," he said, schooling his face to a polite smile and shaking Potter's hand. "I'm glad I could be of help."
"You were," Potter said with a smile, "and if the Mitchells have any sense at all, they know it too." He waved and Apparated away.
The witch from the reception area by the lifts came up to scold Draco, but she would find nothing to scold him for. "You needn't worry," he said coolly, "I know that I don't have the authority to Apparate in and out of here. I'll be leaving by the lifts." She scowled as she watched him go.
1/31/10
Author's Chapter Notes:
Beta'ed by Goofy.