I saw Cursed Child on Feb 15th and it was utterly fantastic; I can see why it's won so many awards. Every cast member was amazing, the scenery and costumes stunning, the choreography excellent… Utterly fantastic. My husband isn't particularly into HP and he absolutely loved it (partly, I think, because his background is in theatre and performance). I do still have a few quibbles with certain elements of the plot, but I was able to put that aside. I can't remember the exact tones and movements of the actors so for the opening scene I'm relying on my memory and assumptions.

I've chosen to write in the present tense because it feels more immediate and more appropriate for a fic based on a play script. The first scene and the first two sentences of the second in this fic are taken directly from CC.

I don't want to get into a debate over whether or not CC is canon, or plot flaws, or anything like that.

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*Significant spoilers for Cursed Child, so if you don't want to know anything about it, don't read this fic!*

This fic stems from an idea I had of "What if things went differently? What if things went wrong?"

Disclaimer: Not my characters; all are the property of JK Rowling and Jack Thorne.

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Fragmentation

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"You think you're stronger than me?" Delphi demands of Harry.

"No. I'm not," replies Harry, all his attention focused on the young woman he knows he needs to stop, and soon. He knows he has to keep Delphi engaged, her attention focused on him and away from whatever Albus may be up to, and he hopes that his younger son will be sensible. They need those doors open, and quickly. Harry and Delphi exchange rapid wandfire, violent and urgent. He catches movement and flashes out of the corner of his eye, maintaining his focus but relaxing a little. "But we are," he adds as Albus finally manages to open the doors of St Jerome's church. "I've never fought alone, you see. And I never will."

Bursting through the doors, Hermione rushes in, followed closely by Ron, Ginny and Draco, Scorpius bringing up the rear. The next few minutes are chaotic and confusing as they support Harry, the multi-coloured flashes and bangs of many different spells flying back and forth; Harry cannot allow himself to lose focus even for a second, but is confident in the knowledge that he has the backup of the others.

Eventually, hopelessly outnumbered, there is a final series of bangs and Delphi lets out a groan of "No… No…" as she tumbles to the stone floor of the church.

Instantly, Hermione is there, with an emphatic, "Brachiabindo!" and Delphi is bound. Defeated, she does not struggle against the ropes binding her. Harry approaches, not taking his eyes off her, while the others stay back, not trusting her abilities despite the restraints around her. "Albus, are you okay?"

"Yes, Dad, I'm okay," comes the reply from behind him.

"Ginny, has he been injured? I need to know he's safe…"

"He insisted," Ginny informs him. "He was the only one small enough to crawl through the grate. I tried to stop him."

"Just tell me he's okay."

"I'm fine, Dad. I promise." Albus sounds unhurt.

Unable to check, but reassured by the strength in his son's voice, Harry advances towards Delphi, his wand unwaveringly trained on the captive. His anger is barely under control; he can feel it bubbling just below the surface, ready to explode if she even considers trying anything wandlessly. "A lot of people have tried to hurt me – but my son! You dare hurt my son!"

"I only wanted to know my father," Delphi says, tone part-wheedling, part-sulky.

Harry pauses, taken by surprise. "You can't remake your life. You'll always be an orphan. That never leaves you." How often has he, in the past, wanted to remake his life? To have grown up in the wizarding world, knowing his parents, to have never had to live with the Dursleys? He wonders if he can ever make her understand that it simply isn't possible.

"Just let me – see him."

Harry is cold and firm. "I can't and I won't."

Delphi drops her head, and when she speaks, her voice is pathetic, pitiful. "Then kill me."

Oh, how tempting it is! It would certainly solve a lot of issues – guaranteeing that she would be unable to speak to Voldemort, whose arrival here must now be imminent, preventing any potential future breakout from Azkaban, preventing the possibility of her being found less than guilty… But that isn't the answer. "I can't do that, either…"

"What?" Albus sounds shocked, horrified. "Dad? She's dangerous."

Harry shakes his head. "No, Albus…" The difference between what is easy and what is right. Sometimes he hates it.

"But she's a murderer – I've seen her murder –"

Now Harry risks taking his eyes off the prisoner, turning to look at his son and then his wife. "Yes. Albus, she's a murderer, and we're not."

"We have to be better than them," adds Hermione.

Ron nods his assent. "Yeah, it's annoying but it's what we learnt."

Desperate, Delphi pleads, "Take my mind. Take my memory. Make me forget who I am."

"No," Ron tells her firmly. "We'll take you back to our time."

"And you'll go to Azkaban. Same as your mother," puts in Hermione. There is no mercy or compassion in her voice.

"Where you'll rot," spits out Draco.

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The next few minutes are chaotic. Voldemort arrives and, despite the protests of his friends, Harry insists on lingering, needing to see the moment his life changed forever, the moment he still sees whenever Dementors draw too near, and his friends stand with him as he clutches Ginny and Albus tightly to him. When it is over, before there is any chance of anyone spotting them, they return to their own time, and Harry's knees give out as he drops to the ground, relief and exhaustion coursing through him. It's over. Delphi, bound, gagged and unconscious, is with them, Hermione and Ron both training their wands on her just in case. Ginny and Albus stand over Harry and Draco is slightly behind them, Scorpius in his arms.

Ron lets out an audible sigh of relief. "We did it. We stopped her, stopped him. And now we're back in our world and everyone's safe and it's all okay again."

"No it's not." Draco's quiet voice cracks on the last word, and everyone turns to look at him.

Ron rolls his eyes. "Look, Malfoy, I get that none of that was easy, but we've come through unscathed –"

"Not all of us."

Harry feels cold dread settle in his stomach as he sets eyes on the limp figure in Draco's arms and notices the lack of colour in the other man's face. "What – what do you mean?"

But Draco does not answer, his eyes unfocused as he gazes off into the distance.

"Draco?" Hesitantly, Ginny approaches him and places a hand on his arm. It startles him and he whirls round, eyes wild. "Draco, what's wrong? Did she hurt Scorpius?"

"Then why are we standing here?" demands Albus, panicked. "We need to take him to St Mungo's! Now!"

Eyes hardening, Draco shakes his head. "There's no point." His voice is empty, emotionless, cold.

Harry feels the dread begin to spread throughout his body. "What do you mean?"

"It was chaotic. She must have hit him without any of us realising."

"Hit him…?" The blood drains from Ginny's face and she reaches out a shaky hand to Scorpius's wrist. It is cool and still. "You mean…?"

Draco gives a curt nod, and when he speaks, his voice is devoid of any emotion. "She murdered him. My son, the only family I had left, is dead."

The hustle and bustle of Godric's Hollow fades into the background, not penetrating their little group. Harry shakes his head. "He can't be. He's just unconscious, he's got to be."

"You don't think I checked?" snaps Draco, anger flaring in his eyes.

"Let me." Before the other man can stop him, Harry steps forward and puts two fingers to Scorpius's neck, praying that he will feel something, anything. But as the seconds tick by and no pulse reaches his fingers, he feels his hope draining away, and after nearly a minute he drops his hand and steps back, shaking his head. "It – it's no good. I'm sorry. You're right."

"No!" cries Albus, eyes wide. "He can't be! He can't be!"

White-faced, Ginny pulls her son into her arms, pressing his face to her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Albus. I'm so sorry." She holds him tightly, despite his struggles, and she murmurs soothing sounds to him.

"We need to get to the Ministry," says Hermione decisively. "Ron, I need your assistance."

"What about us?" asks Harry, looking back and forth between his wife and son, Hermione, and Draco, the latter of whom has not moved and has resumed gazing off into the distance, statuesque and face impassive.

"You and Draco should bring Scorpius with us to the Ministry; I'll send for a Healer to confirm the death. Ginny, I think you and Albus should come, too. I have a Portkey that will take us directly to my office. Everyone ready?" When they nod, she draws a scrap of fabric from her robe pocket and holds it out to them. "It will activate when I tap it with my wand." Once they are all grasping it, she does so and moments later the group lands in her office. Albus, still clutched to his mother, stumbles, and Harry has to step aside to avoid being knocked over by Delphi's unconscious form. The next few minutes are hectic, with Hermione sending a Patronus to St Mungo's, Harry doing the same to McGonagall, Ron briefly disappearing to fetch some Aurors to deal with Delphi and Ginny holding Albus back. Draco leans against the bookcase; when Harry suggests lying Scorpius on the sofa he grips his son's body more tightly to him, shaking his head and lips pressed together in a thin line.

The fire flares up as the headmistress of Hogwarts emerges, face white. "How did it go? Harry, your Patronus just said something terrible has happened…" Her gaze lands on Delphi and her face hardens. "Is that her? Is this the one behind this whole fiasco? The one who killed poor young Mr Bowker?"

"Not just him." Draco's taut voice cuts through the room.

McGonagall frowns in confusion, then turns to look at the limp teenager in his father's arms. "What do you mean? Draco?"

"She killed Scorpius!" Albus bursts out. He lets out a howl of despair and allows his mother to pull him into her arms; Harry is quick to join them.

McGonagall swallows hard. "She killed…? Oh, Draco…"

The fire flares again and a woman aged about forty, wearing the trademark lime-green Healer robes, emerges. Hermione greets her with a handshake. "Thank you for coming, Lisa."

"No problem," replies Lisa Turpin, a Ravenclaw from their year. "What's the situation?"

"I need you to confirm a death."

The Healer's eyes immediately land on Delphi, but Hermione shakes her head and gestures towards Draco, who remains inscrutable. Lisa cautiously approaches. "May I?" she asks, wand ready. After a moment Draco nods; Lisa takes a deep breath. "I need you to put him down so I can cast the necessary spells; if you're holding him, your own life signs interfere."

Draco does not move, does not appear to have even heard her. It is only when McGonagall places a hand on his arm that he reacts, and he does as Lisa has requested. He is reluctant to completely relinquish the physical connection with Scorpius; it requires both McGonagall and Harry to persuade him to let go of his son's hand. From the contact he makes with the other man, Harry now realises that Draco's entire body is shaking minutely from the effort of maintaining his composure and dignity, and his heart breaks for him. He has known so much tragedy in the last eighteen months, and it seems grossly unfair to Harry that Draco should lose his only child, especially so soon after losing the woman he loved so much. He watches as Lisa casts the spells, desperately hoping she will tell them that it was a mistake, that Scorpius is merely unconscious.

But Lisa gets to her feet with that terrible pity in her face, the pity Harry saw so many times in the immediate aftermath of the war, and shakes her head. "I'm so sorry; there's nothing I can do. He's gone. It was the Killing Curse." She takes a roll of parchment out of her pocket and begins filling out a death certificate. Draco silently watches her, and does not look away even when four Aurors hurry into the office, barely stopping to knock. In a whirl of activity, Hermione briefs them and then Delphi has gone, taken to Azkaban, with the promise of statements from all involved. At some point Albus begins sobbing, and Harry and Ginny focus their attention on him.

Lisa finishes her work, duplicates the certificate and hands one to Draco, who silently takes it. "I'm sorry," she says again. He does not respond; Hermione tells her not to take it personally. She nods and turns back to Draco. "I'm assuming you'll want to take the body home, as is tradition?" When he gives her a curt nod, she briefly places a hand on his arm before Hermione thanks her and dismisses her, and then she leaves through the fire. The office is silent apart from Albus's broken sobs. Ron slips his arms around his wife and McGonagall gazes sadly at her student's lifeless body.

Eventually, Draco straightens up, away from the bookcase. "If nobody has any objections, I would like to take my son home and begin preparations."

"Of course," replies Hermione.

"Please let us know if you want or need a hand. With anything," says Ginny.

Harry places a hand on Draco's shoulder. "You don't have to do this alone. You have friends."

The blond man gives no indication that he has heard, turning to McGonagall. "Minerva, I would appreciate it if you could keep the details of this from the school. They only need to know that he has…that he has gone. Not how, where, why or anything like that."

"Understood," the headmistress assures him. "I would like to attend the funeral."

He picks up Scorpius and without another word disappears through the Floo to Malfoy Manor. The others look at each other uncertainly. Hermione is the first to break the silence. "Do you think he'll be OK?"

"I'm honestly not sure," replies Ginny, "but if we try to interfere and push ourselves on him he'll just shut us out."

Reluctantly, Harry nods, knowing she is right. He just hopes Draco will turn to them.

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