Finally, I have returned to this story. Sorry it took so long; the muses for the other fics came back, so I had to let them tell their stories before I could come back to this one. Thanks for the reviews; it had been so long that I figured I was the only one actually interested in this. Anyway, here's the second chapter…the third is on its way.
I own nothing but the plot…but you knew that already.
The Aurors entered the room, doing a sweep for Death Eaters. They had gotten a tip from an anonymous wizard that there was Death Eater activity in an abandoned building on the outskirts of Surrey, and they had quickly Apparated to the area to check it out. However, someone had apparently alerted them, because when they got there it was almost completely empty. They found a few Death Eaters who couldn't themselves Apparate, and had taken them back to Headquarters for sentencing and then a trip to Azkaban.
But this room was different. Instead of the Death Eaters, like they had expected, the only thing in the room was a body hanging from chains in the ceiling. On closer inspection, it was revealed that it was a boy, around the age of seventeen, who looked like he had been severely tortured. One of the Aurors approached the body, wanting a closer look. "Minerva, do you think that's a wise idea?" said one of the others.
"Kingsley, do you honestly think this boy poses much of a threat?"
"Well, no, but you never know if-" He was cut off by a sharp intake of breath by McGonagall. "What is it?" he asked as he moved closer to her, wand at the ready.
"It's – this boy is – was - one of my students," she said sadly.
"Really?" Kingsley asked.
"Yes. It's Lucious' son."
"A Malfoy." His feelings on the matter were clear.
"Yes." She sighed. It was always hard when she found someone she knew, especially students, be they current or past. The healer for the group approached. "I doubt your services will be needed, Opal. I fear the time is past for healing."
"I must try nonetheless, Minerva; it is my duty."
"Don't bother; it's a Malfoy. Nothing lost." Kingsley said the name as if it were a curse, spitting it out like a vomit-flavored bean in a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.
He received a glare for his troubles. "I must attend to all wounded, Kingsley, not just ours. I am a healer, and as such am not allowed the luxury of bias. A wounded man is a wounded man, no matter whose side he fights for."
Kingsley shook his head as the healer approached the hanging body. She put two fingers to the side of his neck, checking for a pulse. It was there, but faint. "He's alive," she said, surprised that someone so badly injured could somehow manage the strength to cling to life. She inspected the shackles holding him up and took out her wand. "Kingsley, if you are done having a tantrum I need you to come support the body."
He sighed loudly, protesting at the need for his involvement, but at Opal's glare he approached and supported Draco's unconscious form as indicated by the healer. She put her wand to one of the shackles, muttering an incantation, and the shackle opened, eliciting a grunt from Kingsley as the sudden weight of the body caused him to stagger so he wouldn't drop the boy. Opal shook her head and pulled her attention back to the other shackle. She repeated the process on the second, warning Kingsley when the shackle broke so he wouldn't be surprised. It wouldn't do to help the boy now only to lose him when his head hit the stone floor.
Kingsley lowered him to the floor and Minerva put a rolled up cloak under his head while Opal looked the boy over for the injuries that needed the most attention. There was a split lip, but that wasn't fatal. Bruising over most of his body, but that could be dealt with later as well. His condition seemed to be the work of a Cruciatus curse, which meant that most of the injuries wouldn't be visible; the curse affected the nervous system, meaning that, in effect, the pain was a figment of the mind, so the greatest injuries were often psychological rather than physical. She thought of the Longbottoms, which were textbook cases of the affects of the Cruciatus curse. Neither of them had shown any outward signs of injury when they were found other than the fact that both were unconscious. However, they both were now at Mungo's, and would be there for the rest of their lives, as their minds had been shattered from the experience. She hoped the boy would not suffer their fate; it was a horrible existence, consisting of long periods of catatonia punctuated by brief periods of lucidity during which the patient lived through the experience over and over until catatonia claimed them again. It was no life for anyone, least of all one so young. Unfortunately, Opal had seen too many cases to expect anything else. All she could do was heal his body to the best of her ability and hope he would recover.
Yeah, I know; it's short. The next one will be longer, don't worry. Please review; they give my life meaning. Well, maybe not, but I certainly appreciate them greatly.
