The Great War

        The sextet bounded down to the dungeons, wands raised, and slid to a halt in front of a cell containing a pale, fancy-dressed boy.  They stared.

        "Did you reject service to the Death Eaters and reform on the principle of self-determination?" Hermione questioned hopefully, eyes on the prisoner's supernaturally silver hair, and Harry jumped in.

        "Did they get angry at your rebellion of thousands of years of Malfoy tradition and lock you away?"

        Luna's gaze slid past Draco's glare to land on the teddy bear leaning against the bed pillows in the cell. 

        "No, I believe it was his mother."

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