Chapter 4: Then, perhaps, all these here are linked together - by death
Hogsmeade, 10 January 2022
"Potter." Draco mutters, watching the other man carefully.
Potter lets out a soft grunt, his eyes glued on the book. He then tears his eyes away from it, and looks at Draco. "I suppose we need to expand our investigation," he says with a grim look.
Potter pulls the book closer, closes it and flicks his wand at it, checking it for any traces of magic. Draco already knows there are none.
"Merlin," Potter groans, placing the book back on the table before trailing a hand through his hair, worry flickering into those weary green eyes.
Draco's eyes follow the movement, wondering briefly what exactly is going on in his mind right now. His focus swiftly moves to the door as there's a knock before it opens.
Auror Berrycloth walks in, followed by three Aurors Draco doesn't know by name; a woman in her forties and two men, who both seem younger than the woman and Berrycloth. They all greet Potter and then eye Draco curiously, before Potter makes the slightly clumsy introductions; Aurors Bones, Smith and Keir.
"Where's Quinn?" Potter, who has schooled his features into a serious expression, asks from the grumpy one – Keir, Draco thinks.
Keir sits down next to Draco. "He'll be here soon. Was with Moonstone and the Head Boy when we left, going through the last of his interviews," the man grunts.
Berrycloth – the only one who Draco has actually exchanged words with, as he was the one who sealed the train after Draco had wrapped up for the day and sent the body with a Portkey to his colleagues at the wizarding morgue – levitates a large tray behind him, placing it on one the side tables before casting a stasis charm to the several plates of food. He then takes the seat next to Potter.
Potter gives the food a longing look before evidently deciding that work needs to be done first, as he squares his shoulders and tells the others to sit down. "Let's start without Quinn. What have we got?" He asks from everyone, then nods at Draco to start. "Malfoy?"
Draco clears his throat, glancing at the notes he has stacked neatly in front of him. "Sixteen-year-old girl, found in the train compartment with a severe penetrating blow to the head, resulting a massive blood loss and a traumatic brain injury; which I have confirmed to be the cause of death. Based on the body temperature, time of death is approximately between five-thirty and six-thirty pm," he says, glancing at the timepiece on the wall, "yesterday, on January ninth."
He turns a page, checking his notes. "The blow to the head may have occurred during a thirty-minute time range before her death."
Draco feels Potter's questioning look even before he sees it. "Yes?" Draco drawls, lifting his head and arching a brow at Potter.
"The head injury didn't instantly kill her?" Potter asks with a deep frown.
Draco suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. "It would appear so."
Potter definitely wants to ask more but manages to stifle the urge and nods at Draco to continue.
"I have examined the compartment, and found two objects that could have caused the impact and the wound; the edge of the compartment bench and a schoolbook," Draco explains, and sees Potter swallowing hard, evidently thinking about said book's owner.
He then glances his notes again. "I also took a blood sample and analysed it; there was an unusually high dose of sedatives in the girl's bloodstream," Draco says, and looks at the others.
Several pairs of eyes give him puzzled and expectant looks.
"Calming Draught or the Draught of Peace are the most probable potions; both of which are used in Psychopharmacology, and with an abnormal measure those could cause a similar result to what was found in the blood analysis," Draco clarifies.
There's a short silence.
"Could the dose of sedatives have made it impossible for her to summon help?" Potter asks slowly.
Draco gives him a nod. "I'd say she was barely conscious after the head injury."
Potter eyes Draco thoughtfully. "Anything else?"
Draco's eyes flicker to the book, and then back to meet his gaze. What the hell is Potter playing? "No recognisable traces of magic inside the room other than the door, which you examined and confirmed there to be traces of a locking spell – matching to the last spell performed by Miss Travers's wand."
Potter takes in a deep breath and then nods at Keir, who sits on Draco's left.
As Keir starts to summarise his interviews; the Head Girl and six Prefects – including two more of Potter's nieces – Draco is somewhat amazed Potter hasn't brought up the book yet, as it does concern one of his nieces. He watches Potter carefully as Keir goes through the information he received – nearly all of them had seen Travers and one of them is a friend of Travers's boyfriend, it seems. The prefect in question had been with Travers's boyfriend almost the entire hour before the train had reached Hogsmeade.
Potter confirms this, explaining how he and Auror Quinn had questioned the boyfriend. Quinn arrives just then, looking rather harried as his gaze moves across the table, flickering twice on Draco. He nods at everyone and silently takes his seat at the other end of the table as Keir finishes with his report.
Draco wonders, what the bloody hell that was, and if Auror Quinn – who Draco thinks with a mild irritation, is too good-looking to be an Auror – had perhaps learned something that could help solve the case.
"Bones?" Potter asks, interrupting Draco's thoughts, as he gestures for the Auror sitting beside Keir to give her report.
Bones had been questioning the Gryffindor Prefects, and while several of them saw Travers in the company of either her friend Westen or her boyfriend Riley, it had been during the first hours of the ride. The Gryffindors had described Miss Travers quite differently than the students from both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw house; that Miss Travers was a vain or conceited person, who didn't really care if she hurt someone's feelings.
And Draco thinks it is all very dull, until Bones pauses and gives Potter a calculative look. "One of them, Mr Longbottom –" and Draco barely suppresses a flinch; Longbottom has a child? "– told us that your son dated Miss Travers in the beginning of their fifth year."
Potter gives Bones a bemused look. "James?"
Bones shakes her head slightly, an expressionless look on her features. "Your younger son."
Draco's mind whirls. Potter's younger son – Albus – has recently dated the victim?
"What…?" Potter mutters, staring at the table and looking utterly taken aback. "Albus…Albus – dated her?" He asks weakly, moving his eyes back to Bones's.
The woman gives Potter a sharp nod. Draco takes note that everyone else watches the situation intently.
"What did Myrus – Longbottom – say? When did this happen?" Potter asks hastily.
Bones's brows furrow slightly. "Mr Longbottom was not sure about the specifics," she says, glancing at her notes. "According to him, they were seeing each other during the previous September, but hadn't been spending time together moving towards the end of the year."
Potter looks stunned, unable to form words. Draco wonders if there are other things the boy is keeping from his father. He would quite like to point it out, out of spite, as he has always somewhat envied the relationship between Potter and Albus – like it wasn't enough that Draco has already felt jealous of the bespectacled wonder since the day they met – envied Potter's good terms with Scorpius, and how the two of them seemed to interact effortlessly, compared with Draco and Scorpius.
Of course, he is not daft enough to utter something like that out loud. At least not in the company of five Aurors, who are in the middle of a murder investigation.
Auror Smith clears his throat on Berrycloth's other side. "Sir," he says with a small grimace. "There's something you might want to hear about your other son," he says, and Potter's eyes widen, almost comically.
"What is it?" Potter asks quietly, fixing an assessing look at Smith.
"Both Mr Flint and Miss Hawthrone – the fifth-year Prefects – spoke about a New Year's party that occurred at your house," He says, and Potter visibly stiffens.
Potter clenches his jaw. "A what?" He asks mutedly, his neck taking an interesting shade of red.
And Draco would definitely find it amusing, but he knows that Scorpius had been staying at the Potters during that time, and apparently without a parent in the house. He narrows his eyes at Potter, deciding to bring it up later.
"Your oldest son organised a party during New Year's Eve, and Miss Travers was seen there," Smith says, looking very uncomfortable.
"A What?" Potter grits out, looking quite furious. "He did WHAT?"
Smith manages to look even more uncomfortable. "There was…a dispute, between James and Miss Travers," Smith continues quietly.
Potter gapes at him, then moves his gaze away, evidently in his mind going through the events during the holiday.
Draco doesn't think that neither James nor Albus had anything to do with Miss Travers's death. They would've reached out to their father for help. He knows them – well, Albus, more like – well enough to make the presumption. He can only hope his own son would act similarly and come to him in a tight situation. But he unfortunately knows Scorpius well too. Draco would probably be the last person Scorpius would ask help from. Well, perhaps Lucius is, Draco thinks ruefully.
Auror Quinn grimaces. "It appears, there was also an argument on the train – "
"For Merlin's sake!" Potter exclaims, standing up with a huff. He walks towards the side table, presumably to pour himself a stiff drink but lets out a disappointed grunt when he finds only Butterbeer.
He grabs one, and then glares at Quinn. "Are you all taking the piss out of me?" He demands, his expression bordering desperate.
Draco quickly checks the others; Keir still looks grumpy, Bones's expression is as blank as it has been since she walked into the room, Smith looks like he has a permanent grimace on his face, and Berrycloth seems like he is somewhat worried.
Quinn gives Potter a helpless look. "It didn't involve your sons, sir."
Potter arches a quizzical brow at Quinn. "What?" He says with a dubious look. "What are you talking about?"
Quinn then glances at Draco, and for fuck's sake, Draco thinks, of course his son would be involved in this.
"Scorpius?" Potter asks, almost silently, following Quinn's gaze.
Quinn nods. "Yes. Mr Malfoy and Miss Travers did have, what Miss Scott – a fifth-year Hufflepuff prefect – did describe as an 'intense argument'," Quinn says apologetically. "Scott heard Mr Malfoy pleading Miss Travers not to reveal something as they were speaking in the train corridor. She heard him tell Miss Travers that it would cost him dearly if she did."
"What?" Draco and Potter ask at the same time. Potter looks puzzled, but Draco thinks, he himself definitely looks horrified. What in the name of Salazar is Scorpius playing? What has he meddled into?
"Miss Scott told me that Miss Travers and Mr Malfoy continued their conversation further down the corridor, after noticing that other people were listening to their conversation, making it impossible to hear what they were speaking about. Miss Scott stayed in her compartment with her sister and her sister's friend Miss Westen. Scott explained how they saw Mr Malfoy and Miss Travers, before Miss Travers's boyfriend Mr Riley joined them. According to Scott, Mr Riley and Miss Travers soon left back to their compartment."
There's a stunned silence. Scorpius? Intense argument, with the possibly murdered girl, only hours or moments before she died. Draco is starting to feel nauseous. "What time did this conversation take place?" Draco asks, forcing his voice to stay steady, forcing his expression into an indifferent one. He is quite aware how every pair of eyes are fixated on him, but he focuses on Quinn.
Quinn gives Draco a strained look. "According to Scott, less than two hours before the train arrived Hogsmeade."
Draco stares back numbly, wondering what the bloody hell has his son done? This is a fucking nightmare, he decides.
Potter lifts a hand up. "Hold on," he says with a low voice and a deep frown. Everyone turns to look at him. "I questioned Miss Westen. And she didn't mention anything about this argument. Neither did Riley." Potter says, glancing at Quinn. The other Auror gives him a confirmative nod.
Draco lifts his brows at Potter.
Potter lets out a deep sigh, his gaze fixed at Draco. "It seems that we need to question Miss Westen again. And probably the Scott sisters as well."
Berrycloth clears his throat loudly and turns to look at Potter, who is still standing next to the side table. "Sir – may I suggest that you assign one of us to question both of your boys? It would be better to take care of it without delay, even more so, since there are inconsistencies in the students' statements, so that we can move on with the investigation as smoothly and quickly as possible."
Potter has been staring at Draco, so intensely, that it almost seems like he has forgot there are others in the room. Draco keeps the walls protecting his mind up, keeps the blank look on his face, and watches emotionlessly back as Potter's concerned, green eyes try to search his, try to find something, before they move away, and focus on the middle of table.
"Sir?" Berrycloth presses on.
"Yes. That would be – Quinn, you can take the lead," Potter says, his brows furrowed, sounding somewhat absentminded.
Draco twitches slightly at the name. The bloody Prince Charming – something Scorpius has taught him; a character in a Muggle children's story. And where his son has even found such Muggle books, Draco doesn't know – is going to question his son. Draco wants to ask Potter, why he assigned Quinn – is it because he is the best? Draco really fucking hopes so.
Draco then remembers that the Auror is going to question Potter's sons as well. So, perhaps he is the best. Still, Draco cannot stop the unease crawling into the bottom of his stomach.
"I wish to be present when this questioning occurs," Draco says stiffly.
Potter nods at him. "That is your right as a parent," he says quietly, looking rather troubled.
Potter then clears his throat and looks at the others. "There is something else," Potter says, chewing the inside of his cheek as he flicks his wand at the book on the table.
The book moves to the centre of the table, and opens, displaying the inscription Draco showed Potter less than hour ago. Draco watches silently as Potter sets his jaw and takes a deep breath.
"It appears I need you to question my niece as well, Quinn," Potter says quietly, watching Quinn with a weary look.
The Aurors go over the results of their interrogations once more, trying to form a timeline based on the Prefects' answers. Most of them eat, but Draco cannot stomach even the idea of food. All he can think of is his son. What is going on with Scorpius? What will happen to him?
Draco knows that there are still people – still, after almost twenty-five years! – in the wizarding world who think ill of the Malfoy family, and old Death Eater families in general; at least of those whose family members fought in the wrong side of the two wars. Will the Aurors be impartial, and give Draco's son the same treatment and the same benefit of the doubt than they do for the rest of the students? Something they will most certainly do for the Head Auror's sons?
Draco rolls his eyes inwardly. Unlikely. He just has to figure this out by himself. He needs to speak with his son, in private. He needs to know that Scorpius hasn't got anything to do with the girl's death.
Scorpius did have an argument with Miss Travers, possibly around the time of her death. What was that about? And Albus – he dated the girl not six months ago, and James had invited her to his place during the holidays. Draco himself hadn't even heard of the girl before, even though he thinks her family must be one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. But apparently his and Potter's children did know Miss Travers. Apparently, they knew her well.
It isn't until one-thirty in the morning, that the Aurors finally decide to turn in for the rest of the night, after agreeing with the plan for the next day; who they will question, and how they will proceed.
There is a soft knock on the door, just as everyone has stood up and started to gather their things.
"Harry!" Weasley – Ginevra – bursts through the door, and makes her way swiftly towards her husband, throwing herself straight into his arms. Draco then remembers disappointingly that her last name is Potter as well.
Draco quickly looks away and distracts himself with his notes, while the rest of the Aurors mutter their goodnights and leave.
"Hey Gin," Potter mutters.
Weasley – and Draco sure as hell is not going to start addressing her as 'Potter' within his own mind since wouldn't that be confusing? – shoves Potter hard. Draco has to give it to her: she seems strong, and fiery. But Potter does have more muscle in him than he did in his school years – not that Draco has been looking that closely – so he barely moves an inch.
"Ouch!" Potter grunts. "What was that for?"
"You tell me? What the bloody hell is going on in here?" She nearly shrieks, and as Draco glances at the woman, he can see her face lined with tear tracks.
Brilliant.
Potter frowns at his wife. "Didn't Hermione call you?"
"Oh, yes! Hermione called me. Not you." She says pointedly. "I know you probably came here with firebolts glued under your shoes, but you could have informed me," She says, almost hisses, giving Potter a disenchanted look.
Draco barely suppresses a much-needed sneer. What does Weasley think, exactly? That Potter has been slacking during his time in here? That he has had all the time in the world, during a possible murder investigation? Now that Draco is looking at him, and seeing how exhausted Potter looks, he reckons the poor bloke probably hasn't been able to take a proper breath during the whole day before now, and even now he is being reprimanded by his wife.
Potter stammers something under his breath, and then they both seem to realise that the room is empty of Aurors, but Draco is still there.
"Malfoy," Weasley says blankly, turning slightly towards him, still keeping a tight grip on Potter's other arm.
Draco stares back at her with an equally expressionless look. He wonders if she knows. "Mrs Potter." He replies with a miniscule nod, since he's not bad-mannered. Just irritated by her presence.
Draco's eyes find Potter's – Harry's – and he inclines his head to the door. "Until tomorrow," he murmurs and then takes his notes and makes his way out of the room.
He's barely out of the room when he hears her whispering loudly, and furiously, at Potter.
"What the HELL is he doing in here?"
She definitely knows.
Hogwarts, 10 January 2022
"You reckon she was killed?" Albus whispers to Scorpius, sitting on his friend's bed.
Scorpius, who is crouched over the nightstand between their beds and is in the middle of rummaging through his books visibly flinches, his grey eyes quickly darting around the room behind him. Albus too glances at the others; Zachary's is in the bathroom, Cory and Cecil are both already in their beds, curtains closed. Julian – who had told them everything about the interrogation, and confirmed that it was Travers who died, thirty minutes earlier – is sitting cross-legged on his bed, furthest to Albus's and Scorpius's, and writing to his parents.
"Why would you think that?" Scorpius mutters quietly, focusing on his books again.
Albus frowns at his friend, feeling that Scorpius is acting very strangely, and has been like that since the train. "What is going on with you?" Albus asks, shifting closer to his friend. "Are you…are you upset about what happened? To Travers." He asks, even though he knows it cannot be that.
Scorpius blew Albus off in the train, after – well, after their row with Travers – and even during the holidays, Scorpius wasn't his normal self.
He wants to think 'good riddance', since the girl was nothing but a mean and selfish bint who used people for her own gain. Who used him. But since he is not a horrible person, he feels bad especially for the girl's friends and family. And if someone actually killed her, well, that is even more concerning. They could have a murderer on the loose.
"I don't know. Maybe I am..." Scorpius says absently, not looking at Albus.
Albus narrows his eyes at his friend. What were the two of them talking about in the train before Albus got there? "Why were you talking to her?" Albus asks, his curiosity piquing as his friend stiffens slightly.
Scorpius clears his throat and pulls a book from the shelf on the nightstand and straightens up, facing Albus. "Nothing. She was just –" He shrugs, "– saying something rubbish about you, I suppose." Scorpius mutters and nudges Albus's foot with his. "Now stop conquering my bed. You have your own," He grunts and Albus slowly stands up to let Scorpius lie on it.
"You didn't answer my first question," Albus says, scrutinising his friend. There's something Scorpius is not telling him, and Albus feels a flicker of doubt when his friend looks at him.
"I dunno. That is why your father is here, I suppose," Scorpius says dismissively, and then turns his gaze at the book, flicking through the pages.
Albus feels irritated by Scorpius's dickish behaviour. He moves back to his own bed and watches his friend closely. "And yours."
Scorpius's eyes snap back to his eyes widened with surprise. "W-What?" He breathes.
Albus arches a brow at him. Why would Scorpius act like this when his father is mentioned? Is he afraid to see him? "Your father? Isn't he the Crime Scene Investigator?"
Scorpius blinks, visibly relaxing. Really, he's the worst Slytherin there ever has been, Albus thinks.
"Yeah. He is," Scorpius says, and frowns slightly, before putting the book on the nightstand. "Tired," He mutters, and pulls the covers over him before flicking his wand at the curtains.
He never closes the curtains, Albus notes. Except now.
"Good night, Albus," Scorpius says behind the thick, green fabric.
Albus stares at his friend's bed, his mind racing. Something is definitely not right.
Does Scorpius know something about Travers's death? Surely, he would tell Albus if he did; they tell each other everything. Albus knows everything about his friend. He knows about Scorpius's childhood, his relationship with his dad, and how Scorpius still misses his mother. He knows what annoys Scorpius the most, and how to calm him down. Scorpius has spent so much time with Albus and Albus's family during the past few years, that it is like he's one of Albus's siblings. Except he is not his brother. Definitely not. Scorpius doesn't keep secrets from Albus. Hell, Albus even knows the girls his friend has fancied during the past years – not that Scorpius has had the courage to ask anyone out – and the fact that his friend hasn't kissed anyone.
Albus murmurs his good nights and jumps into his own bed, lying on his back and staring at the canopy. Why would Scorpius get mad at him for interrupting the argument between his friend and Travers on the train, if they had only been talking about Albus?
Was it really so? Or is Scorpius lying to Albus? He tries to remember exactly what happened; the words, the expressions, the tones of voices…
Albus finds Scorpius finally after a short search, and is about to call him, but then he sees who he is with. Jenna. Or, 'Travers'. Anger flares in him. How dare she bother his friends? If anyone, she should be bothering James.
He was the one who embarrassed her at the party. He was the one who invited her there in the first place, apparently just to pay her back. Albus grits his teeth and decides to think about strangling James later, and marches to save his friend.
"– your word? That you're not going to –" Scorpius says pressingly, but is interrupted by Albus.
"What are you doing?" Albus asks from Travers tensely, walking closer until he stands next to his friend, facing Travers. Albus lifts his brows at her expectantly.
Travers gives him a cold smile. "None of your business, Albus."
Albus narrows his eyes at her. "It is my business if you're bothering my friends," He grits out.
He knows there is no reason for Scorpius to willingly speak to her, not after how she treated Albus, so he can only assume the brainless witch has accosted his friend.
"Mate," Scorpius says quietly, a hint of warning in his voice.
Albus gives Scorpius and incredulous look, before turning back to Travers, who looks somewhat amused. "Stay away from me and my friends, Jenna," He growls, a deep scowl on his face.
Travers scoffs, and then turns to Scorpius. "Pity. I would've said yes," She says, with an indifferent shrug.
Albus watches his friend, and sees how Scorpius's eyes widen slightly with dread, how he swallows hard, before he schools his expression into a blank one.
"And as for you," Travers says, turning to glare at Albus. "I know all of your secrets, too. You should perhaps mind your own business," she says icily, "if others finding out about your…incompetence…would bother you," she finishes with a spiteful smirk.
"It doesn't." Albus snarls. Because, who would believe her? He can live with the fact that he has told her a bit about himself – about his insecurities. And if someone would by some miracle believe her, well, he could live with that too. As long as he doesn't have to be bothered by her again.
Travers gives both Albus and Scorpius a scathing look. "We'll see about that, won't we?" She asks airily. She opens her mouth but before she can say another word, her plonker of a boyfriend – Riley, Albus thinks – walks up to them, a suspicious look in his eyes.
"What is going on?" He grunts, narrowing his eyes at Albus and Scorpius.
Albus gives him a mild shrug. "Apparently some people don't know how to back off," He says blankly.
Travers lets out an outraged huff, Scorpius bristles next to him, and Riley – he lifts a brow at Albus, staring at him intently. "Talking about yourself?"
Albus rolls his eyes. "That ship has sailed long ago. But based on how intently you," He looks at Travers, "still try to wiggle your way close to my friends and family, I'm wondering if you were aware of the fact."
Travers seethes, and Riley takes a step closer to Albus, looking somewhat angered.
"I think we're done here," Scorpius says forcefully, taking a hold on Albus's arm – a bloody tight and painful grip in Albus's opinion – and starts to pull himself away from the couple.
Both Travers and Riley give Albus and Scorpius their final, deep scowls before they turn to the other direction – with Riley practically dragging Travers with him to a compartment down the corridor.
Scorpius lets go of Albus, and takes in a deep breath, looking away.
"What?" Albus asks with a small frown.
Scorpius whirls towards him. "Why the fuck did you do that?" He hisses, and Albus startles.
Scorpius usually never swears like that. He says it is beneath him. But apparently not now.
"What the bloody hell is your problem?" Albus asks, irritated by his friend's strange behaviour. He should be grateful that Albus saved him from Travers's claws.
Scorpius narrows his eyes at Albus. "I was fine on my own. I don't need you to fight my fights," he grits through his teeth. He turns slightly away from Albus.
What the hell is going on? Why is Scorpius acting like this? Like a – like a tosser. Is he angry because Albus came to help him? What the hell was he supposed to do then? Stay behind and watch? Not bloody likely. Scorpius would've done the same had the situation been reversed.
"Scorpius, come on," Albus says, annoyed, and reaches out a hand to pull his friend back to face him.
Scorpius glances at Albus and sneers at him. He. Fucking. Sneers.
"Do not." Scorpius growls. He takes in a deep breath, and visibly calms a bit, his eyes moving across the corridor. "I'll find you later," he mutters, and then marches away.
Albus is left in the middle of the corridor, gaping at his friend.
"– Night," Zachary says quietly as he hops into his own bed, opposite to Albus's.
Albus is shaken from his thoughts. "Yeah. Night." He says, and chews the inside of his cheek, still staring at the canopy of his bed.
After the encounter in the corridor, Scorpius had stayed away from Albus for the rest of the ride. It wasn't until they had reached Hogsmeade, that Albus had found his friend at the carriages, looking grim. Albus had apologised, even though he wasn't sure what exactly he was apologising for. That had helped to make Scorpius relax a bit. But now, Albus is wondering if Scorpius is still distressed about something.
What was he talking about with Travers? Albus is willing to bet his Firebolt that it did not concern him the slightest...