A/N: Here it is! The great reveal! Eeek!
So...we're nearing the end :'( The last chapter will be chapter 10. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 9: As you yourself have said, what other explanation can there be?
Hogwarts, 12 January 2022
"Julian," Scorpius says in the morning. "Could I have a word with Albus?" He asks with a tight voice.
Albus's eyes flick over to Julian, who is the only one left in their dorm, save for Scorpius and Albus, and is in the middle of rummaging his trunk.
Julian shrugs, glancing at Albus. "Yeah. Fine. I'll get my books after breakfast," he says and leaves without saying anything else.
There's a long silence. Albus sits in the middle of his bed, his eyes trained at the schoolbag he's filling with the books he will need later in his classes. He swallows hard as he sees Scorpius's frame in his peripheral vision.
"Al?" Scorpius asks quietly, but rather…vehemently. And Albus knows he can't avoid his friend, like he had done the previous night, when he had returned from his detention.
Zachary, Julian, Cory and Cecil had all been curious to hear why Albus had landed himself into a detention, astonished that their usually calm and collected friend had lost his temper in the most Gryffindorish way. However, after they had heard that Albus had been brawling with his brother, their initial surprise had diminished somewhat. Albus's friends know quite well that if there is someone Albus has ever lost his temper at, it is his brother.
Scorpius hadn't asked about the detention the previous night. He had only asked Albus if they could talk a bit, but Albus had outright declined, lying to his best friend that he was too tired. Albus knew that Scorpius had seen right through him and had understood that Albus simply hadn't wanted to talk to Scorpius, which made Albus feel even more ashamed than he already was.
Scorpius didn't know the actual reason why Albus was avoiding him, no… because – how could Albus tell him, that after he'd hexed his brother for snogging Scorpius, Albus had realised that he himself wanted to do the exact same thing?
Albus curses inwardly, hating himself a little for being so jealous, for feeling so betrayed, that he has become a shitty friend to Scorpius. He forces all the miserable and confusing thoughts into the darkest corner of his mind, wills himself to stay blank before he faces the greyness of Scorpius's gaze.
"Al…please?" Scorpius asks quietly.
Albus sighs, and finally looks at his friend. Scorpius is watching him with both beseeching and desperate look in his eyes. He looks so pale, so… vulnerable, that Albus nearly flinches. He can't even remember if he has seen his best friend like this before.
Albus's throat is suddenly dry, and he has trouble of swallowing. He has trouble of breathing properly. "Hmm?" He manages to ask, summoning a look of indifference to his features.
Scorpius frowns at him. "What did you do?" He asks mutedly, his eyes flickering to the almost healed cut on Albus's lip and back to meet Albus's steely gaze.
Albus wants to scowl at him. Apparently, the only thing his friend is worried about, is what Albus had done to James. "Does it matter?" He grits out.
Scorpius watches him steadily. "It does."
Albus stares at his friend. What does Scorpius mean? What the hell does he mean by that? He looks at the silvery-grey eyes, searching, searching for something. Anything that could give him the answer, because he can't bloody well outright ask his best friend if he fancies Albus's brother.
"Why?" Albus asks, his voice quiet.
Scorpius swallows convulsively, his throat bobbing. He looks away, his jaw tightening, his cheeks colouring. He's embarrassed. Or, perhaps he is afraid to admit it to Albus – why it matters to Scorpius.
Albus doesn't need to ask more questions, and Scorpius doesn't have to say anything – Albus can see it from his friend's expression. Because he knows Scorpius.
And it is such a fucking disappointment. Albus can almost see the cloud of bitterness and jealousy and resentment flooding into him, filling him and twisting his insides.
"He has a girlfriend," Albus says, knowing that it is pointless to bring it up. Knowing that he's a right knobhead to say it.
"I know." Scorpius says faintly, staring hard at the bathroom door, his expression closed.
Albus feels like his chest might explode with distress. "He'll choose his career. He'll choose Char." Albus says, knowing, fucking knowing, that he shouldn't be saying these things to Scorpius, and that he should be the bloody friend Scorpius deserves, but the ache in his chest and the tightness in his throat forces it out, and Albus feels powerless.
Scorpius gives him a jerky nod. "Yeah." He says quietly, and then turns to go back to his own bed, slumps to sit down on it, and buries his face in his hands.
And as his friend finally speaks after a long silence, only to tell Albus that he'll be down for breakfast in a moment, Albus cowardly uses the opportunity to flee from the situation, snatching his bag and nearly running out of their dormitory, feeling like the world's worst human being.
"Thank you for joining me," Harry speaks to the crowd: to Travers's family, to all of his Aurors who have been working with the case, to all of the teaching staff, to the Headmistress, to Malfoy, and to Hermione as the Head of the DMLE, and to the Minister for Magic and a handful of his secretaries.
"It is time to solve this case," Harry tells the audience. "There are two possible solutions to what happened to Jenna Travers on the Hogwarts Express, 9 January. One of the solutions is quite simple, but, unfortunately, would leave an offender unsentenced, for the time being. This solution would fit with most, but not all the facts." Harry speaks grimly, feeling the tension around him in the Great Hall.
He looks out of the window at the softly flickering snow, the glimmering white grounds, and then shakes his head sharply. "The second solution, the more…complex one, it fits," He says with a small nod to the crowd. "It fits with the facts."
Harry takes in a deep breath. "Miss Travers had many friends, but as most of us, one could not be in friendly terms with everyone," Harry explains. "She had some arguments with occasional students. Quite normal arguments – the sort that comes with being a teenager."
"During the train ride, she argued at least with three people. And found out that she was the victim of a prank," Harry says.
"And just like any of us, Miss Travers must've had moments when she felt overwhelmed. Moments, when it was too much. Perhaps she felt she needed a break from all of it? Whatever it was, she had sought ways to calm herself."
Harry sighs, and sees the alarmed looks in Mr and Mrs Travers's eyes. "But what she didn't know – what she failed to realise, was when to stop."
There is a long moment of silence, as Harry watches the people gathered in the hall, a sombre look on his face.
"Only hours after her death, there was an unusually high dose of sedatives in Miss Travers's bloodstream." Harry explains wearily. "We received a confirmation later, that the potions cabinet at Miss Travers's home was missing vials of Calming Draught. Three to be exact."
"Potter! Where are you going?" Malfoy asks, unable to mask the eagerness and impatience in his voice.
Harry throws him a look over his shoulder, right before he's about to disappear to the corridor on the train. "Wait here! I'll be back in a minute!"
And Harry does, fifteen minutes later, carrying a book and a handful of –
"Calming Draught? Really, Potter?" Malfoy says with an arched brow, likely knowing what Harry is going to do. "And what part does the book play in this scenario?" He asks, somewhat curious, as Harry sets the book on the edge of the bench, before levelling Malfoy with a steady look.
There are suddenly shocked gasps and murmuring in the Great Hall.
Harry lifts a hand up, and silence falls once more.
"One of the students had met Miss Travers in the corridor, less than an hour before her death. The student had described Miss Travers as 'distressed', as they were questioned under Veritaserum. Then, the same student had helped Miss Travers – had lent her a book to replace the one that had fallen under a prank of their schoolmates," Harry says, and there's a pause, as he thinks of his and Malfoy's conversation in the compartment, "Then, fifteen minutes later – as the same student had stopped by at Miss Travers's compartment with the book – they described Miss Travers to be quite a lot calmer and in perfect health, when leaving Miss Travers's company and returning to their own compartment."
"Rose had seen her, between one of these," Harry says with a meaningful look, before tossing down one of the vials.
Malfoy makes an urgent move towards him, only stopping as Harry lifts up a hand.
"Potter…for the love of Salazar, tell me you've thought this through…?"
"Amongst the spells Miss Travers had cast with her wand that day, were two Vanishing spells, before the last spell Miss Travers had cast; a Locking spell to the door," Harry explains. "Vanishing spells, that were likely used to vanish the vials of the potion."
Harry then vanishes the empty vial and brandishes it in front of Malfoy's face. "Two Vanishing spells…?"
Malfoy gives him a contemplative look, his eyes flashing silver, his jaw tight.
"After a thorough inspection," Harry says, his mind flickering to the compartment last night, and what resulted during their, well, his, little experiment, "It became clear, that Miss Travers had taken three vials of Calming Draught, before casting her last spell – the locking spell – to the door. And, due to her condition – as with three vials of Calming Draught, it is quite remarkable that she had even been standing at that point – her magical signature, however weak it had been, was transferred to the door. But the door was not locked. The spell had not been strong enough."
Another wave of gasps and shocked sounds fill the hall.
Harry tosses down the two remaining vials, quickly, before Malfoy can do anything but growl his ire at Harry while gripping his shoulders and shaking him.
"You bloody fool!" Malfoy spits out, releasing Harry and lifting his wand to, well, what Harry assumes is to summon an antidote for the dose of Calming Draught Harry has ingested.
"Wait!" Harry says, and hastily vanishes the two vials, and not a moment too soon, as the next second the room starts to spin around him, and Harry knows he couldn't have done it anymore.
"…fuck. I'm…I'm high…" Harry mumbles, stumbling in his steps.
Malfoy actually snorts, and then Harry thinks he schools his features, but he's not sure, as suddenly, five Malfoys stand next to one other, all having the same condemning expressions, tinted with worry and amusement in their grey eyes.
"Stop…moving…" Harry mutters, squinting at the door, where he knows he needs to cast the locking spell.
"Do it already, Potter," Malfoy hisses exasperatedly, and Harry wants to tell Malfoy that it's easy for him to say, when there's only one Harry for him, but for Harry, there're many, many Malfoys, and as much as many doors spinning in front of him.
He finally does it – the locking spell, at least he thinks he did it, when Malfoy mutters, "Curious…"
"Miss Travers's death was both an unfortunate accident and the result of a careless use of sedative potions," Harry continues, his voice now sharper, making everyone fall silent once more. "She fell, unable to control her body after taking three vials of Calming Draught, and hit her head to the edge of the bench in her compartment. The blow to the head caused a massive blood loss and a traumatic brain injury. Had someone been there with her – as Miss Travers had been barely conscious after she fell and incapable of summoning help – we wouldn't be here today." Harry speaks solemnly.
He blinks. The room is filled by colours, his vision darkening at times, and the five Dracos are looming over him, looming over the sky…or…perhaps it is the ceiling…Harry's not sure.
"…You…utter…arsehole…" Draco gasps, his beautiful face twisted in agony, his hands moving over Harry, his eyes blazing.
There's so much red…Draco's hands are like liquid roses, Harry thinks vaguely.
He feels light, he feels…loved. He feels the gentle nudge of Draco's magic, all around him, making him feel…good…making him want to melt into Draco.
"…I'll fucking show you love, Potter. I'll fucking kill you if this doesn't –" There's a hitch in Draco's voice, and Harry realises, that his eyes are brighter than he's ever seen them. Glimmering. Draco's complexion is whiter than Harry has ever noticed it to be. Like snow…
"…You're beautiful…" Harry mumbles, smiling, slipping into the darkness.
"The train's wards were not breached. Miss Travers's compartment did not display anyone else's magic, but her own, as didn't her body in the post-mortem-scan that was performed a day after her death," Harry says, feeling weary, feeling… disappointed after realising how easily Travers's death could've been prevented. After all, the evidence to that small little detail still pulses nastily on the back of Harry's head, obscured by a basic concealing charm.
"Based on this – based on the evidence; I declare this case solved. Jenna Travers died by an accident. An accident, she had caused by herself."
After his final word, the hall explodes with shocked sounds, with urgent discussions, with several, raised hands. And Harry nods at each of them in turn, answers each of the questions calmly and steadily, until the next one.
"Hey, Al," Rose says, catching up with Albus as he walks along the edge of the frozen lake after breakfast – after McGonagall had ushered everyone out and informed that their classes were dismissed for the day.
Albus nods at his cousin, still in a foul mood, after his conversation with Scorpius before breakfast. "Rose."
He stops in his tracks, forcing away the nausea and the ache in his chest, and looks at her. "You okay?"
Rose nods, letting out a long breath. "I know I shouldn't – I mean, we weren't even friends with Jenna, but…I can't stop thinking how horrible it is, what happened to her," she says, her voice thick. "…Even though I reckon many people thinks she deserved it," she says with a displeased tone, biting her lip.
"She didn't," Albus says quietly, looking at the snow surrounding their ankles. "I'm just glad it's over."
He's glad the inspection is over, but he dreads everything it brought up.
"Me too," Rose says, taking Albus's hand and squeezing it.
Albus swallows hard, and looks away from Rose, trying not to think how many times Scorpius has given him the same gesture, and how many times Albus has thought nothing of it.
But it hadn't been anything. Albus is nothing more than a friend to Scorpius. And now Albus is not sure if he is even that.
He feels Rose's eyes on him. "Is – is everything okay with you and, um, Scorpius?"
Albus suppresses an eyeroll, suppresses the urge to throw something, or trash something. "Yes," he says with a clipped tone. Trust Rose to see everything, even though they don't sit at the same table.
His cousin stares at him.
"It doesn't matter. We'll be fine," Albus says tersely, glancing at her. "Don't worry about it."
Rose lets out a huff of breath, frowning at him. "He didn't look good, Al. Perhaps I should go and –"
"Stop it, Rose!" Albus suddenly grits out, glaring at his cousin. "Stop thinking that you're gonna be anything more than a friend to him!" He yells, realising how hysterical he sounds. Realising that he's breathing heavily. He feels like he might be suffocating.
Rose lets out a shocked gasp, her cheeks flushing red, a hurt look in her blue eyes.
"…Fuck," Albus mutters, furiously shaking his head, feeling how his throat keeps tightening, how his breath is hitching. "I didn't – don't listen to me…" He gasps, turning away from his cousin, turning his back to her and hoping to bloody Slytherin that she doesn't ask why, or that she doesn't bring up the fact that Albus is trying so fucking hard not to cry in front of her.
There's a long silence, during which Albus tries to steady his breath, tries to close his mind, and tries not to feel at all. Because if he does, he's not sure if he can bear it – not there, in the middle of the grounds, in front of everyone. What he needs, is to be alone.
Rose lets out a long, weary sigh. "Oh, Albus…" She whispers, and then, Albus feels her fingers curl against his waist, her forehead pressing against his back.
A shuddering breath leaves his lungs.