A small pond at the northern edge of the Forbidden Forest was a dark mirror, reflecting a myriad of cold, distant stars. All was quiet, and nothing disturbed the stillness of the night.
Save for the sound of muffled cursing coming from the bushes surrounding the pond.
Sometime later, two figures emerged from the thicket and took a few clumsy steps along the pebbled shore. The cumbersome attire they wore would certainly strike any creature of the Forest as most peculiar, had they happened to see the pair. But none did.
All was quiet, as the two figures plunged into the water and disappeared beneath its shimmering surface.
Draco Malfoy was not happy. The rubbery "drysuit"—shamelessly stolen from a muggle scuba store earlier that day—felt constricting and awkward as it clung to his skin, covering every inch of his body.
Upon squeezing his way into the monstrosity, Draco had gritted out, "Next time you come up with a genius idea, remind me not to listen to you."
"It is smart not to waste your magical resources on maintaining Warming and Bubble Charms for several hours," Ruth had insisted, zipping him up. "You'll thank me later."
Not a chance, he thought, clumsily descending to the bottom of the pond. The muggle flashlight, mounted on his helmet, cast a narrow beam of light. Draco scanned the sandy bed until he found the tiny mouth of the tunnel he'd once explored with Gregory. That first time, they had little trouble entering the caves, but with two gas tanks strapped to his back, wiggling through the narrow opening presented a far greater challenge.
As he propelled himself forward with his hands, the silt at the tunnel's entrance stirred and rose, clouding the passage with a murky haze.
Oh Merlin. What a great start.
Inhale. Exhale. Moving forward, Draco focused on keeping his limbs from brushing against the walls, so as not to obstruct his view completely. With deliberate, controlled movements, he swam deeper into the darkness. Gradually, the passage around him widened, and the waters began to clear. There, he stopped and glanced back, searching for the second flashlight beam.
Seconds passed. Ruth didn't show. A heavy, almost tangible silence wrapped Draco like an invisible cocoon. The only sound he heard was his own breathing, which was becoming increasingly difficult to keep even. With only the meagre flashlight to guide him, Draco felt a familiar sense of dread rise within him. What on Earth was he doing here? What made him think this was a feasible plan? There was a reason why nobody before him thought to use this as a passageway, and it was—
A body bumped into him. Another body in a ridiculous muggle suit. He caught her before she could crash into a wall and cause another silt-out.
They exchanged glances and nodded at each other. All was well. For now, anyway. Draco gestured in the direction they needed to go, which, fortunately, was the only path forward. He turned and led the way. After a pause, Ruth followed, keeping a small distance between them.
In single file, they swam deeper and deeper beneath the earth's surface, and as they did so, the darkness pressed in from all sides. With nothing to distract his senses, Draco's mind was flooded with doubts.
Only yesterday, he had been safe, hidden away from the world behind dozens of protective magical layers, presumed dead by all his enemies. And now he was here, in the barely explored underground tunnels, crossing the borders into Death Eater-controlled Hogwarts. Why? Why couldn't he just stay at the damn farm? It wasn't that bad.
But he knew why. He was here to save his parents. They needed him.
Did they?
Or were they perfectly safe, and the only thing that could endanger their lives right now was Draco himself, going out of hiding, only to be immediately spotted and captured?
The funniest part was, it wasn't even Death Eaters he needed to be concerned about at the moment. No. How about merpeople, grindylows, and the giant bloody squid? Draco hoped dearly the potion was still here somewhere. Because if it wasn't, or if it didn't work, the only thing he could offer the merpeople was the promise of Malfoy diamonds, which they probably had no use for and which he definitely didn't have.
No, if the potion was gone, they'd need to turn back and return to safety while they still could.
Draco was a desperate man. He was not a Gryffindor. There was a difference, you see. He knew the line between dismal odds and impossible odds. The line between out-of-the-box thinking and utter stupidity.
The water was dark, cool, and clear. Whenever Draco glanced back, he could always see the second flashlight beam trailing behind him. The tunnel was relatively straightforward, their descent gentle and steady.
After what felt like ages but was likely a bit less than an hour, Draco sensed the passage widening around him, just as it had the last time, until it came to a dead end. He looked up and saw not a dark tunnel wall, but a soft glow emanating from a small, dry chamber above.
With a few strong kicks, Draco broke the water's surface and climbed onto solid ground. A few moments later, Ruth emerged from the water as well. They stood there—their suits dripping, water pooling at their feet—and silently took in the chamber.
All around them, the walls were alive with an ethereal glow. Elegant blue plants, which Draco recognized as Moondew vines, wrapped around the stalactites, casting a gentle, otherworldly light. This light reflected off the crystalline surfaces and enveloped the entire chamber. The plants pulsed gently, illuminating the cavern in hues of blue and green.
"Wow," whispered Ruth, taking off her mask.
Draco could only nod in agreement. It was just as gorgeous as the last time he'd seen it.
But now was not the time to admire the miracles of nature, no matter how mesmerizing. He removed his mask, unstrapped his wand from his right leg, and pointed it toward the next water tunnel.
"Accio pouch."
For the longest thirty seconds of his life, nothing happened. Then, sending splashes in all directions, a small brown pouch burst out of the dark waters and flew into his hands. Inside, along with many Galleons and various trinkets, was a large bottle containing the most powerful Sleeping Draught ever brewed.
Draco had never been so relieved.
Or terrified. Because success in obtaining the potion—which was, for the record, untested—meant they needed to proceed with the plan. The leather bag in his hands suddenly made it feel all too real.
Obviously, the potion didn't solve even half his problems. If only. Suppose he got past the lake creatures and into his old dorm room. What if the welcome he was about to receive wouldn't be warm at all? If Draco's calculated guesses were correct, there should be no one there but Blaise and Theo. His old bed should be empty. The three of them hadn't spent six years complaining about having to room together only to let some other boy take the spare bed. Especially not the one that used to belong to their dear, late friend.
But were they still his friends? After the sixth year, after everything, could he still trust them? For all he knew, Theo and Blaise could be Marked now. Why not? Marcus and Lucian were.
"High quality, indeed," said Ruth, peering into his pouch. "I think it's better to put the guns here for now."
Draco held the pouch open, and she tossed the sealed package containing the guns inside. It landed with a distant thud.
"Shall we continue?"
With a breath hitching in his throat, Draco muttered, "Just give me a minute."
He sat down on a dry rock and took a few steadying breaths.
Yes, the plan was far from perfect. The lake creatures could kill them. Theo and Blaise could turn them in. Snape could turn them in. They could get caught by the new staff—loyal to the Dark Lord, no doubt. Even if Snape didn't hand him over to Death Eaters, he could still refuse to help. And even if he did agree, the rescue mission could still fail.
Draco knew that. Of course, he did. But between his life, his morals, and his parents, he would choose his parents every time.
And so, after taking some time to rest and drink, Draco and Ruth resumed their journey, once again plunging into the dark waters. The final stretches of their route were even deeper, with tunnels winding and twisting, narrowing down to tight restrictions before widening into galleries full of fluorescent fungi. They squeezed and swam through it all.
It took another hour or so to reach the exit. Having spotted the underwater opening looming ahead, Draco gestured for Ruth to wait, as he himself swam closer towards the light, stopping just short of exiting the tunnel. There, he drew the potion from his pouch and... hesitated. Now was the moment of truth. With his heart pounding and his palms sweating under the gloves, he took another deep breath. There was no going back now.
With great care, Draco unscrewed the cork. As he swished his wand, the contents swirled out of the bottle, dispersing through the lake in a series of silvery waves. The magically manipulated current sent the potion droplets travelling to every corner.
Peering out from the dark crevice, Draco watched as the lake creatures began to fall asleep: the fish, both large and small, growing still; the dugbogs curling into balls, blending in with the rocks; and the merpeople, tall and grey-skinned, dropping their spears and sinking gently to the bottom, their silvery tails going limp.
It was working!
Draco sent an incredulous look in Ruth's direction and beckoned her to swim closer. Hidden in the dark shadows, they waited, observing the slumbering lake. The world above was a distant shimmer, and the moonlight filtered down in dancing beams that played across the weedy bed.
From their vantage point, Draco could see the warm, orange outline of the Slytherin common room window. The night was deep, and it was reasonable to assume that no student had stayed up late to watch the lake, but Draco opted for caution nonetheless. As the coolness of the Disillusionment Charm slid down their suited bodies, the two of them climbed out of the tunnel and swam toward the window—or rather, toward the spot next to it: the outer wall of Draco's old dorm room.
Wading through the open waters felt undoubtedly easier than navigating the narrow cave passages. However, after such a long journey, fatigue was settling in; Draco's arms, shoulders, and legs felt sore and tired. Still, exhaustion didn't dull his alertness. His eyes darted around, searching for any sign of threat. But all was quiet. The lake slept.
The submerged walls of Hogwarts were getting closer. At last, Draco could see the window well enough to confirm the common room was empty. With his last breath rasping through a dry throat, he made a final dash forward and bumped into the grey wall. Panting, he rested his back against it. Soon enough, Ruth's invisible form approached too, water swirling awkwardly around her.
Lifting the Disillusionment Charm from both of them, Draco checked the pressure gauge on his wrist. He had less than half a tank left, which could mean anywhere from an hour to twenty minutes, depending on their respiratory rate. Judging by his heavy breathing, though, it was probably the latter. They had vastly underestimated the physical toll that swimming would take on them, as well as the amount of oxygen they would consume.
But that hardly mattered now; they weren't planning to go back the way they came anyway. If all went according to plan, Draco would leave with Snape, and Ruth would find refuge among Gryffindors. If things didn't go as planned... well, then they'd be leaving this castle in a casket.
In hindsight, Draco was grateful he didn't have to exert extra effort maintaining several charms the entire way. He barely had enough energy left for this last spell—the enhanced Severing Charm—and it seemed unlikely he'd be able to manage it if not for the drysuits. Not that he would tell her that.
Catching his breath, Draco stood poised in front of the wall, both hands gripping his wand. Inhale. Exhale.
All of his mind focused on one thought. One incantation. Sectura Maxima.
A faint glow sparked on the spot beneath Draco's wand and began to extend downward following the slow and laborious movements of his hands.
Sectura Maxima.
If casting the spell in pouring rain was difficult, doing so underwater felt infinitely harder. It took all of Draco's remaining strength not to let go of the wand and to keep making painstakingly slow progress.
He felt a tap on his shoulder, which quickly turned into a forceful shake.
What now?
Draco turned to Ruth, who hovered to his right. Her eyes, visible beneath her mask, were round and wide, but she wasn't looking at him.
With a sinking feeling, Draco followed her gaze and found what she was staring at.
A giant squid was coming their way.
Gigantic and very much awake.
That's why we never use untested potions, Snape's derisive voice echoed in his head.
Draco's potion was designed to put magical sea creatures to sleep, and only now did the thought occur to him: the cursed beast wasn't even magical, was it?
It advanced from the bottom of the lake, unmistakably heading toward them, its tentacles propelling it forward with a menacing grace.
Coming out of her fright trance—and finally deciding to be useful, thank Merlin—Ruth pulled out a wand and furrowed her brows in concentration.
Swallowing hard, Draco continued cutting into the wall with renewed fervour. One side down. Now to the right.
The beast was getting closer.
Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a successfully produced red ball of light fly into the approaching squid. Only to produce no effect whatsoever.
If anything, it seemed to invigorate the squid, making its movements faster and more furious.
Ruth continued casting spells, but only half of them formed at all, and none had any impact on the relentless beast. The terror in Draco's chest rose with each passing second.
He had cut halfway through the intended square when one of the squid's massive tentacles wrapped around his torso, swinging him violently to the side. Not a moment later, he saw another tentacle grab Ruth as she was in the middle of casting another spell.
Suppressing his panic and gripping his wand for dear life, Draco began firing the nastiest hexes he could think of, the balls of light travelling through the water and disappearing into the purple flesh.
Sectura Maxima!
That did it. The spell cut deep into the tentacle, and it spasmed, crushing Draco's ribs. The squid screeched loudly. Draco wanted to screech louder still.
Gritting his teeth, he prepared to strike again. But before he could sever the tentacle completely, the squid reeled him in toward its beak, revealing a terrifying mouth full of sharp teeth.
As it neared, Draco, in a split-second decision, slammed his wand into the squid's huge eye.
The creature made a horrifying sound and released them both at once, thrashing wildly in the water.
Without wasting a moment, Draco swam back toward the wall, feeling urgency in his veins. Ruth followed closely behind.
On his cue, she handed him one of her wands, and he resumed cutting into the wall, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. The light shimmered along the intended cut. At this point, it was sheer desperation and determination that fuelled his spell.
He couldn't afford an extra breath—the squid, now with a bloody eye and the wand still lodged within it, was coming back for vengeance.
Finally, Draco completed cutting the big square. The light winked out. With a powerful magical push, the section was thrust forward into the room. That very second, Draco felt a sudden pull. He and Ruth, along with a torrent of water, rushed into the opening with an unstoppable force.
He crashed face-first onto the stone floor, cracking his mask—and possibly another one of his ribs—before staggering and quickly getting to his feet.
With the squid rapidly approaching and the water flooding in, Draco brandished his wand and lifted the huge, severed chunk off the floor, trying to thrust it back into place. But the current was strong, resisting his efforts.
Suddenly, one of the purple tentacles slid inside and lodged itself between the section and the wall. Draco cursed.
At last, Ruth got to her feet and raised her hands, helping him push the section in.
Together, they finally thrust it forward into place, crushing the single tentacle in the process. It fell, severed from the body. Draco thought he could hear the damned creature scream. That almost made him smile.
With a demented expression on his face, he yanked off his mask and made a final wand movement, seamlessly repairing the cuts. The wall was whole once again, looking brand new.
But this was no time for celebration.
"Drop your wand!" someone shouted. "Who the hell are you?!"
Ankle-deep in the water, Draco Malfoy raised his hands high in the air—a broken scuba mask in one hand and someone else's wand in the other—and slowly turned around, only to find Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, in nothing but their pyjama bottoms, glowering as they pointed their wands at him.
Oh well. The night was only just beginning.