It didn't take long for an update- one with a decent length at that, so hooray. I'm hoping to keep this up, and with my writing schedule solely mainly writing on the weekends (as it's my only time I'm very less exhausted from work), I should be able to get a chapter up next weekend.

Chapter 44: Embrace in the Shadows

Harrison had spent the night at Malfoy Manor, brushing off Snape's persistent arguments that he should return to Hogwarts to avoid raising suspicions. He'd already accounted for that by claiming illness- an excuse bolstered by a supposed contagious fever, should anyone inquire, though he doubted they would. It was Sunday, after all, and there were no classes scheduled.

Every step toward Ella's room was a battle against the searing ache left by the Cruciatus Curse from the night before. His body screamed in protest, his muscles wracked with residual pain that would linger for days. It wasn't just the pain, though; it was a brutal reminder of his failure. But he wouldn't let it happen again. He couldn't.

Twice, he was forced to pause in the dim hallway, gripping the wall as waves of agony surged through him. His jaw tightened, his breaths shallow, but he pushed on, determination overriding his suffering.

At last, he reached her door, leaning heavily against the frame as he raised his hand to knock.

He waited at the door, his hand resting against the frame for support, until Ella finally opened it. A series of emotions flickered across her face- confusion, recognition, and then a bright smile that lit up her features.

Without hesitation, she jumped up, throwing her arms around his neck and tugging him down to her height. She squeezed him tightly, as though ensuring he was real and standing before her.

"Harry!" She exclaimed, her voice sounding muffled against his shoulder, "I thought Hogwarts was still in session. It isn't break yet, is it? So, what are you doing here?"

Despite the pain that still coursed through his body, he managed a faint smile, his arms wrapping around her in return. For a moment, the ache seemed too dull, replaced by the warmth of her embrace.

"Hey, Ella," he murmured, his voice low but steady. "Miss me that much?"

She pulled back slightly, her hands still on his shoulders, her eyes scanning his face. "You have no idea… But, why are you here? Did something happen?"

"Something like that," He told her.

Ella frowned slightly, her sharp gaze searching his face. "You wouldn't be back here unless it was something very important… Unless it has to do with the Dark Lord. Then that's very understandable."

Harrison smiled, "Then you wouldn't mind this surprise I'm about to show you."

Ella's brows lifted, curiosity sparking in her expression. "Surprise? What surprise?"

Harrison didn't answer immediately, instead stepping inside the room and gently shutting the door behind him. "You'll see," he said, his voice tinged with anticipation.

"Come on, can't you tell me?" Ella pestered.

"Then, where is the surprise in that?" He told her. "Now, let's go."

Harrison kept moving through the corridors, each step feeling like a battle against the searing ache that refused to leave his body. Ella's quiet footsteps echoed behind him, but the sound of their breathing was all he could focus on. The grandeur of the portraits, windows, and statues lining the hallways faded into the background, too distant to matter. His mind was elsewhere, fighting to stay ahead of the pain, hoping that if he just kept walking, if he just kept moving, it would fade.

But it didn't.

The agony surged through him again, sharp and relentless, pressing into his cells and bones like a brand. He stumbled, gritting his teeth, and leaned against the cool wall, struggling to steady himself. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, and for a brief moment, he let himself pause- just to breathe, just to push past the waves of torment.

"Harry, are you okay?" Ella's voice was quiet but filled with concern. It cut through the haze of pain, and he hated it, hated that she could see his weakness. She wasn't supposed to see this. She wasn't supposed to worry about him.

"I'm fine," he replied, his voice harsh as he straightened up and brushed her off.

"Do you have to be so stubborn all the time?" She asked, raising her voice just a little bit. "I get that you want to remain strong all the time, but clearly something had to happen for you to be like this."

"Ella, drop it," He hissed.

"Then why do your hands twitch? Explain that," She pointed out.

Harrison looked down and silently cursed himself. He hoped that the twitching would have stopped but it seemed like his body still wanted to betray him, for the remnants of the curse to still haunt him like this.

"Harry, you're not okay," She whispered. "Did someone curse you or something?"

Harrison laughed hollowly, "Something like that…. Don't worry about it. It'll fade within a few days."

She brushed his face with her fingertips, "You know there are things to help with whatever happened. Potions, spells." she offered. "Perhaps, we should find Aunt Cissa and maybe, she'll help with whatever is hurting you."

"No," he hissed sharply, his eyes flashing dangerously as his magic surged beneath his skin, raw and volatile. He clenched his fists, forcing it back down. Not here, not now. Not in front of Ella. He would never allow himself to lose control, not around her. "This is my reminder."

"Reminder of what?" she pressed, her brow furrowing. "What did you do?"

"I upset the Dark Lord with my actions," Harrison admitted, his voice low and strained. "As a result, he cast the Cruciatus Curse on me. I had one job, and I couldn't even do it right." His jaw tightened as he forced himself to meet her gaze.

"Harry," Ella murmured, her voice heavy with worry. "Didn't you know not to upset him? Why would you risk that?"

"I do know," Harrison replied, looking away, his tone subdued.

"Then why?" she demanded, stepping closer.

Instead of answering, he turned abruptly and began walking down the corridor. Ella hurried to catch up, her footsteps quick against the carpet as she matched his stride. She kept asking questions, her voice insistent, but he remained silent.

Before long, they finally arrived at their destination- a set of large, ornate doors looming before them.

"What are we doing here?" She asked, a frown present on her features.

"You'll see," He told her.

He pushed open the doors, revealing a room filled with makeshift beds. Around two dozen patients lay scattered across the space, most of them staring blankly at the walls or sitting up, clutching bowls of porridge or mugs of hot chocolate. The atmosphere was heavy with exhaustion and quiet murmurs.

Several witches and wizards moved among the patients, potions and wands in hand, tending to each of the ex-prisoners with care. They whispered soft reassurances as they healed injuries and soothed aches, their movements steady and purposeful.

He walked slowly down the rows of beds, Ella trailing closely behind him, her eyes darting around the room, searching. His steps faltered as he caught sight of a familiar figure.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Her dark, unruly curls framed her hallowed face, the deep shadows beneath her eyes serving as a stark testament to the torment Akaban had inflicted. Her frail hands trembled slightly as they cradled a steamy mug of hot chocolate.

He stopped abruptly, and it didn't take Ella long to notice where his gaze had landed.

"Mama!" she cried, her voice cutting through the quiet like a bell.

…

Ella ran forward, nearly tripping over her own feet as she hurried to the bed where her mother lay. This had to be a dream- some cruel twist of her imagination- because it didn't feel real. After months of separation, months of longing and fear, the idea of finally holding her mother was almost too much to comprehend.

When her arms wrapped around the frail figure on the bed, it was like coming home. Bellatrix held her tightly, trembling under the effort but refusing to let go.

"Oh, my sweet girl… you're here," Bellatrix whispered, her voice raw from disuse but brimming with emotion. It was a softness Ella hadn't heard in so long. The words seemed to echo in the air between them. "You're here… I'm so glad."

Tears streamed down Ella's face as she clung to her mother. She hadn't realized how deeply she'd missed this until now, the dam of her emotions breaking all at once. "Mama, I've missed you," she whimpered, her voice cracking as months of fear and sorrow poured out of her. "It's been so long… I thought, maybe…"

"Oh, Ella," Bellatrix said, her relief mingling with disbelief. "We were waiting for the day they would finally break us out… And last night, the day finally came. The Dark Lord, Harry, and several others came and got us out of there."

Ella's head shot up, her tear-streaked face turning toward Harrison. He stood a few steps away, hands tucked neatly behind him, his expression unreadable. "Harry?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion. "You never said you were there last night… You didn't say anything about that. You told me you made the Dark Lord upset, and that's why he cast the Cruciatus Curse on you."

Bellatrix's demeanor shifted instantly. Her head snapped toward Harrison, her sharp eyes narrowing. "He cast the Cruciatus Curse on you?" she demanded, her voice cold and cutting. "What did you do? We didn't teach those lessons for nothing."

"Ella," He said, his tone calm yet distant, "I didn't say anything because it was going to be a surprise for you… Besides, your mother, and your family was my top… priority. Where would the fun be in that?"

It was clear that he didn't want to talk about it. Perhaps, when they were in private, where there were less ears that would listen in, he'd be able to open up to her.

Ella watched as her mother's jaw tightened, a flicker of dissatisfaction crossing her face. Bellatrix didn't press further, though her gaze lingered on Harrison, as though searching for cracks in his unyielding composure. "Thank you for bringing me my little girl," Bellatrix finally said, her tone softening. "I hope she's been good for my sister and for you."

Harrison inclined his head slightly, his hands still tucked out of sight. "She's been nothing short of perfect," he said simply, his voice steady.

"I was…" Ella murmured softly, "Though, you wouldn't believe how incredibly lonely it is when they're not here…"

Her mother smiled warmly at her, the expression a mixture of understanding and longing. "Oh, I know," Bellatrix said, her voice tinged with both sorrow and relief.

"Cissy!" Bellatrix suddenly called out, her tone brighter.

Ella turned her head as Narcissa approached. Her aunt's usual composed demeanor was replaced by a bright smile, one Ella knew was reserved for family.

"Bella! Are you feeling a lot better?" Narcissa asked concerned, "You were in rough condition last night. Although, I think we all know why, considering you had fought me on me giving you a dreamless sleep potion, amongst several calming draughts for you to finally be able to relax and sleep. None of which I could blame you for."

"Could you blame me?" Bellatrix replied, arching an eyebrow at her. "I haven't seen my daughter in months."

"No, not really."

Ella glanced between the two women, feeling a warmth in the exchange that she hadn't experienced in so long. It was familial, genuine, and grounding in a way that made her chest tighten.

"Oh, can you help him? He was under the Cruciatus curse last night," Ella interrupted. She pointed towards Harrison, who looked at her with a displeased look, not like she cared. She wanted to make sure he was okay.

Narcissa's smile faded slightly as she turned her sharp gaze to Harrison, one eyebrow arching elegantly. "What happened?"

"He displeased him, Cissy," Bellatrix said simply.

Harrison shifted uncomfortably under Narcissa's scrutinizing gaze. "It's fine," he said tersely, as though trying to wave the matter away.

Narcissa's lips pressed into a thin line. "Fine? You call lingering effects of the Cruciatus fine? I doubt that that's not true… It took Lucius several days to recover from what happened to me back in June. Although, I should have guessed it was bound to happen to you sooner or later…"

"It's fine, Narcissa," He told her firmly, "Really, it's not that bad."

"I doubt that," She said. She waved her wand and summoned a potions bottle and handed it to Harrison, "Drink it… It'll help with the aches and soreness, until your body recovers. I do suggest, however, that you tread carefully with him. He isn't merciful, no matter who you are. I still think I'm too young to be serving his cause, and I'm sure my lord agrees with me. So, whatever happened last night, better not happen again."

"It won't," He told her.

"Good," Narcissa said with a small, satisfied nod. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to check on the others."

Ella watched as Narcissa turned away with a fleeting smile, disappearing into the crowd of patients and healers. Turning back to her mother, Ella felt the soothing motion of her mama's fingers brushing through her unruly curls, each stroke deliberate and filled with unspoken love.

"Why don't you go fetch your papa and uncle?" Bellatrix suggested softly, her voice carrying a rare tenderness. "I think they'll appreciate seeing you. It's been a while since we've been together as a family, where there wasn't anything between us."

"Okay, mama."

Ella slid off her mama's makeshift bed reluctantly, the absence of her mother's gentle touch and the soothing fingers combing through her hair leaving an ache she couldn't quite name. She cast a glance back before walking away, her heart tugging as her mother's presence faded behind her.

It didn't take long to find them. Her uncle lay on a nearby bed, staring blankly at the ceiling with eyes that seemed hollow, lost in thoughts too heavy to share. Her papa sat in a chair beside him, his knees drawn up to his chest as he stared at the wall, the tension in his posture betraying the storm of emotions he was holding back.

"Papa? Uncle?" She asked softly as she approached.

Her papa looked up, his face lighting up with a faint, tired smile. "Ella." He said weakly, his voice cracking. "Oh, my sweet girl… you're here."

Before Ella could react, he pushed himself out of the chair with a sudden burst of energy, wrapping her in a tight embrace. His arms, though frail, held her as if he never wanted to let go. She could feel him trembling, the tension in his body slowly unraveling as he clung to her.

"Are you okay?" Ella asked, her voice muffled against his chest. She pulled back slightly to look at him, her brow furrowed with concern. "You two don't look so good."

Her father chuckled weakly, though the sound was more hollow than reassuring. "We've just… had so much taken from us," he admitted, his voice heavy with weariness. "You know how those dementors are. It's hard to believe we're not there anymore. This… All of this feels like a dream. We've been in that place for so long, Ella. Hope and dreams- they faded away. It's a wonder we even held on."

"I know," She murmured, her voice muffled through the hug, "But we're together again."

"That we are," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion as he began to rock back and forth on his feet. "I promise we'll never leave you again. We won't let anything bad happen to you ever again."

"I know, Papa," Ella murmured, though her voice wavered, and she couldn't hold back the tears any longer. The dam inside her broke, and she collapsed fully against him, her sobs muffled by his chest.

He held her tightly, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles against her back. "It's okay, Ella," he murmured, his voice a soft reassurance. "We're here now… You're okay."

The comfort of his embrace was overwhelming, and she cried harder, the months of fear, loneliness, and helplessness spilling out in waves. She felt his arms tighten protectively around her, grounding her amidst the storm of emotions.

Suddenly, another pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her into a broader embrace. Ella blinked through her tears, her breath hitching as she realized it was her uncle. He had finally risen from the bed, his legs trembling with the effort, but his determination to join them evident.

"Don't cry," Her uncle said. "You're okay, now."

The three of them stood there, locked in a fragile yet unbreakable circle of love and relief. For a moment, the weight of Azkaban, the horrors of separation, and the lingering shadows of the war faded into the background.

Ella nestled herself further into the embrace, her heart swelling with the bittersweet realization that, after everything, her family was finally whole again. Even as tears continued to fall, a small, hopeful smile tugged at her lips.

"Together," she whispered, her voice cracking but resolute. "We're together again."

Her father and uncle exchanged a glance over her head, their expressions weary but full of quiet determination.

"Together," her father repeated softly, the word a promise as much as it was a declaration.

Her uncle nodded, his hold on them both firm despite his shaky stance. "Always."

She clung onto their grasps, not wanting this moment to end, because she'd never had something like this happen. The only thing they did back in that awful place was that they were barely able to touch each other, but nothing like this.

"Mama's waiting," Ella murmured through her tears, her voice trembling with emotion. "She told me to go fetch both of you."

Her papa's tired but genuine smile warmed her heart. "Then we'd better not keep her waiting," he said softly.

The three of them made their way back to her mother, their steps slow and cautious as Ella did her best to steady both her papa and uncle. Her mother's face lit up with a smile as she saw them approach.

Her parents exchanged a glance before moving toward each other, and Ella watched as her mama and papa embraced tightly, their kiss filled with passion and the weight of years lost. They clung to each other for what felt like forever, their silent reunion speaking volumes. Finally, they pulled apart, though their hands remained intertwined, and Bellatrix turned to hug Rabastan. He stood there stiffly at first, unsure of how to react, but eventually, he softened, leaning into her embrace.

Harrison flicked his wand to summon a couple of chairs. Only one was needed, though, as Rabastan sank into it with an audible sigh of relief. Bellatrix shifted slightly to make room for Rodolphus beside her, pulling Ella closer so she could sit in front of her, nestled against her mother's chest.

Ella noticed Harrison beginning to turn away, clearly intending to leave them alone. Bellatrix also seemed to notice the movement, and looked over her shoulder.

"Harry, you could stay," She said.

"Oh, no, I don't want to interrupt," He replied.

"Nonsense," Bellatrix insisted, "You've been a part of this family for so many years now. Besides, you've kept Ella safe for all these months- something that none of us had been able to do."

Harrison hesitated, but a small, grateful smile crossed his face before he stepped closer, staying just at the edge of their circle.

"I've waited for this moment for so long," Bellatrix murmured, pulling them closer to her.

"Longer than I have?" Ella suggested softly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Her response earned a few chuckles, the sound light and genuine, filling the space with a rare, comforting warmth. Ella couldn't help but smile back—it was a fleeting but precious moment of joy amidst the chaos.

"We've waited for this moment for such a long time," Bellatrix said, "All of us, here together once again."

"Don't worry, we'll make Dumbledore pay," Rodolphus hissed, "He'll pay for sending you to the god awful place and sending you away to the orphanage in the first place. You never deserved any of that."

"I know," She murmured, "He'll pay, eventually."

They sat in a peaceful silence, the warmth of being together finally outweighing the lingering heaviness of their shared past. The quiet wasn't awkward—it was comforting, like a blanket draped over them, shielding them from the world outside.

"What is home like?" she asked, looking up at her mother with wide, expectant eyes.

Her mother's expression brightened. "It's probably the most beautiful thing you could imagine. You might not remember much- you were only three when you were taken. There's a manor out in France, nestled in the countryside where it's quiet. We have a garden filled with every flower you could think of. You used to run through them when you were little, your laughter echoing through the gardens. Your Uncle would often complain that you were ruining the flowers." She threw a look over her shoulder.

"A child shouldn't be running through the flowers," Rabastan protested, with a grin on his face. "It's hardly very decorum for a pureblood like her."

"She was a toddler, having fun," Bellatrix countered. "Toddlers aren't concerned about decorum- they're concerned about having fun."

Rabastan chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Still, trampling over the roses? What would have the elves have said?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, a smirk forming. "They didn't dare say a word. Besides, she never ruined anything. She loved those flowers- picked them carefully and brought them to me like little treasures."

Ella's cheeks flushed as she looked between them. "I did?"

Her mother nodded, her expression softening. "You did. You'd come running to me, clutching a fistful of blooms like they were the most precious things in the world. And they were, because you picked them."

Ella's eyes lit up as she tried to picture it. "And the inside?"

Her mother nodded, her smile growing. "The inside is just as beautiful. The walls are lined with paintings of our ancestors, tapestries with the family crest, and chandeliers that sparkle like stars. Every room has its own character, but always with a touch of Black elegance- marble floors, polished wood, and the deep green of our family colors."

Her papa chimed in, his voice warm with nostalgia. "There's a library too, bigger than you can imagine. Shelves reaching up to the ceiling, filled with books about magic, history, and adventure. You used to love flipping through the picture books, babbling about the stories you couldn't read yet."

Ella's heart swelled at the thought. "It sounds like a dream."

"It is," Bellatrix said softly, brushing a strand of hair from Ella's face. "But it's more than just the beauty of the place. Home is where we're together. Where we're safe. And soon, Ella, we'll take you there. You'll see it for yourself, and it'll be yours as much as it's ours."

Ella leaned into her mother's touch, comforted by the promise. "I'd like that," she whispered, her voice soft but full of hope.

Her papa, who had been quiet until now, added, "It's been too long, Ella. We'll rebuild. We'll make new memories together. As a family."

…

Saeviour should have known something was wrong the moment he didn't see his twin in the Great Hall. The air was different- quieter, heavier. Students whispered in hushed tones, stealing glances at him and the headmaster, as though searching for reassurance that everything was under control.

But he brushed it off, focusing instead on loading his plate with bacon, sausages, waffles, and eggs. He dug in, savoring the meal and tuning out the odd atmosphere around him.

"Hey, Ron," he said after swallowing a mouthful of eggs, "did you finish McGonagall's essay, by any chance?"

Ron grimaced, shaking his head, "No… I was hoping that you had. Maybe we could ask-"

"No," Saeviour interrupted quickly. "I'm not going back to her. She made her choice, and I made mine. We're doing just fine without her."

Ron shrugged, his expression uneasy. "I guess. It just makes things harder, though. I still don't get why you had to have that fight with her. Now we've got all this homework to do, on top of your Quidditch practices and everything else."

"She made her choice," Saeviour repeated firmly. "And honestly, it was a good one. Who'd have thought that elves would be the thing to set her off like that?"

Ron sighed, looking very unconvinced, but he didn't push further. The awkwardness lingered between them, hanging in the air like the whispers in the hall.

Soon, the owl post arrived, heralded by the rustle of wings and the soft flurry of feathers. Owls swooped gracefully through the tall windows of the Great Hall. The air buzzed with excitement as letters, packages, and parcels were carefully untethered from the owls' legs and claimed by their eager owners.

He barely glanced at the Daily Prophet the owl carried, his attention instead drawn to the letter he was certain came from his father. Tearing it open with practiced ease, he unfolded the parchment, already anticipating his father's familiar tone and the latest update or advice he was sure to find within.

But this letter was different.

His father's words carried an urgency he wasn't expecting, practically pleading with him to stay within the safety of Hogwarts and to avoid sneaking off or venturing anywhere without a trusted adult by his side, until the threat was resolved.

Before Saeviour could fully process the weight of the letter, Ron nudged him, his voice edged with unease

"Hey, Sae, you might want to see this," Ron said, shoving the Daily Prophet toward him.

Saeviour frowned, confused. "What? Did something happen? Is it another article about me? Although I can't remember the last time I did an interview… other than that one with Professor Lockhart back in August."

"Mate, just look," Ron insisted, pointing to a headline in bold lettering. Saeviour's eyes followed his finger, and as he scanned the words, his breath caught. His eyes widened in shock.

MASS BREAKOUT AT AZKABAN

RITA SKEETER

In a shocking turn of events, the wizarding world woke this morning to the alarming news of a mass breakout from Azkaban, the Ministry's high-security prison for the most dangerous witches and wizards.

Late last night, the Ministry of Magic issued an emergency statement confirming that a significant number of prisoners, including ten high-security detainees, escaped during the night.

Minister for Magic Lucius Malfoy addressed reporters from his private office, stating:
"It is unfortunate that Azkaban has suffered a breach of this magnitude. Evidence strongly suggests outside interference. Rest assured, we are mobilizing every available resource to recapture these individuals. We urge the magical community to remain vigilant and report any suspicious activity immediately."

Among the escapees are notorious Death Eaters and high-profile criminals, including Bellatrix Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback, Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, and Barty Crouch Jr. For a complete list of escapees and their known crimes, turn to page three.

Adding fuel to the fire, anonymous sources within the Ministry have suggested a possible connection to Lord Peverell, heir of Slytherin, formerly known as Harry James Potter (see details of his disownment on page 8). Skeptics speculate that Peverell-Slytherin, himself a former inmate of Azkaban, might have orchestrated or facilitated the breakout (see details on his crimes on page 9) .

Though no evidence has been provided to confirm his involvement, Peverell-Slytherin's known association with some of the escapees and his controversial history raise questions. Could this be a calculated move to rally old allies? Or is this simply another baseless rumor spread by a fearful community?

For now, the wizarding world watches with bated breath as the Ministry scrambles to restore order. Stay tuned for updates on this developing story.

"So, that's what he meant," Saeviour muttered, his gaze fixed on the article, processing the implications.

Ron frowned, clearly confused. "What do you mean?"

"My dad sent me a letter telling me not to go off alone, not to sneak around, until the threat is over," Saeviour explained, his voice steady but edged with frustration. "I think I know who's behind this. I'm willing to bet it's him."

"Who?" Ron asked, his brow furrowed, but it didn't take long before realization swept across his face. "It's certainly possible. You know he's a slimy snake."

"Exactly," Saeviour replied, a grin creeping onto his face as he nodded.

Saeviour turned away, his plate of food untouched and forgotten, his mind consumed by the thought of confirming his suspicions. He had to know, and he couldn't wait any longer. With a determined stride, he pushed his way through the crowded Great Hall, ignoring the murmurs and glances from students who were still digesting the news from the Daily Prophet. His focus was singular:

Draco Malfoy.

Saeviour's eyes were locked on Draco as he spotted the familiar pale-blonde head, flanked by a few of his Slytherin cronies, making his way up the grand staircase. That same smug look was plastered across Malfoy's face, and it made Saeviour's blood boil. He pushed through the growing crowd of students in the corridor, his steps quick and purposeful.

"Malfoy!" Saeviour's voice rang out, cutting through the chatter of students.

Draco paused, his eyes narrowing just a fraction before he turned around, his smirk quickly replaced by a mask of calm indifference. The students around him faltered, sensing the tension that suddenly charged the air.

"What do you want?" Malfoy asked, his voice dripping with derision. "Did a little lion get lost or something?"

Ron, who had been right behind Saeviour, growled in warning. "Shut it, Malfoy."

Draco gave a short laugh, raising an eyebrow as he scanned the two of them. "I didn't know you needed a little sidekick to speak for you, Potter." He stepped forward slightly, his smirk widening. "Especially considering it's from a blood traitor."

Saeviour's temper flared, his jaw tightening. "May I remind you that my father is an Auror," Saeviour snapped, stepping closer, his voice low but edged with menace. "One word, Malfoy, and I'll have him raiding your little corner of the world."

Draco chuckled darkly, his arrogance unwavering. "You think I'm scared of your little threat, Potter?" he sneered. "My father is the Minister of Magic, and, therefore, in a much higher position than your slimy, old, bloodtraitor of a father."

Saeviour's fists clenched at his sides, and his eyes darkened with barely contained fury. "Where is he?" he growled, his voice dangerously low.

Draco's lips curled into another smug smile. "You'll have to be more specific," he countered, looking down at Saeviour with feigned ignorance. "There are several people."

Saeviour's patience snapped, and he took a deliberate step forward. "You know exactly who I mean," he hissed. "Where is Peverell-Slytherin? I know it's him behind all of this. Don't you find it suspicious that he's not here, the day after Azkaban was attacked? I know you know something about this, Malfoy."

The tension in the air became palpable. Saeviour pulled out his wand, his fingers gripping it tightly. He pointed it squarely at Draco's face, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Now," Saeviour hissed, his voice cold and commanding, "where is he? I demand you tell me."

The words had barely left his mouth when a cold, sneering voice interrupted from behind him.

"Potter, Weasley," Snape drawled.

Saeviour turned slowly, his jaw clenched as he met Snape's cold, unyielding gaze. The professor stood tall, his dark eyes gleaming like polished onyx, his expression stoic.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor," Snape announced, his voice sharp and laced with authority. "And detention tomorrow night for pulling your wand out in the corridors, and attempting to use magic in such a manner."

Saeviour's fists curled at his sides, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. He wanted to argue, to shout at Snape for interfering when he had every right to demand answers, but he knew better than to provoke the professor.

"Fine," Saeviour muttered, his voice tight. "But this isn't over." He shot one final, seething glance at Malfoy, his eyes filled with a promise of payback. Then, without another word, he turned and stalked away, his steps purposeful as he ascended the stairs, leaving Snape, Malfoy, and his cronies behind.

He'll get to the bottom of this, no matter what it took- one way or another.