Chapter 259. Crabbe and Malfoy
Hasty footsteps echoed down the corridor. Portraits lining the walls occasionally blinked open, calling out, “Hey, child—what are you up to today? I don’t see anyone around!”
Wade didn’t spare them a glance, striding past with purpose. His black wizard robes billowed behind him in the wind, giving him an air eerily reminiscent of Professor Snape.
Behind him, the portrait’s wizard grumbled indignantly, “Unbelievable lack of manners!”
Wade reached the Infirmary entrance, casting a quick look back. Makki, who had brought him here, gave a single nod before vanishing with a soft pop.
Then Wade pushed open the door. The figure standing just inside snapped up his head, eyes wide with alarm.
It was Malfoy.
He flinched as if seeing a ghost, his face ashen, trembling uncontrollably. A few yards away, a group of Slytherin students stood apart from him—like they were separated by an invisible wall.
These were the usual companions of Malfoy, the ones who’d competed alongside him this time—Pansy, Zabini, and Theo Nott.
With Crabbe, Daphne, and Malfoy, they made up their team—their small group.
As for Crabbe, his intelligence was tragically limited, and this time, he’d been left outside as an audience. He wasn’t here now.
Wade noticed that several professors—Dumbledore and Snape among them—were gathered around a hospital bed. On a small cart nearby sat a dozen potion bottles.
“For now, we can only do this much…” Madam Pomfrey whispered. “We need to send him to St. Mungo’s.”
Dumbledore nodded. “Then I’ll ask you to take care of it, Pomona, Filius.”
“You’re too kind, Dumbledore,” Professor Sprout said, wiping tears from her eyes. “Poor child.”
Professor Flitwick gently levitated the unconscious figure with magic, while Professor Sprout wrapped the majority of the body in a hospital blanket.
As they passed through the entrance, Wade recognized the figure beneath the sheets—Crabbe.
His eyes were shut, his skin deathly pale, but the scent of blood was thick in the air. There was also a faint, unsettling pulse of dark magic radiating from him.
Malfoy flinched violently, jerking backward two steps, unable to bear looking at Crabbe’s state.
The door slammed shut behind them.
Then Professor Snape approached.
He was always cold and cynical, but now he seemed even more terrifying.
And yet, Malfoy—usually favored by this professor—was utterly panicked, looking as if he might faint at any moment.
Snape stopped in front of Pansy and the others.
“Go back,” he growled, his voice low and strained, as if torn from between clenched teeth. “If I hear even a whisper of rumors—”
The Slytherins shook their heads furiously, Zabini leading the retreat. They fled from Snape’s presence as quickly as possible.
Only Malfoy remained. He stared blankly at the floor, his expression one of utter despair.
“Wade,” Dumbledore said, stepping forward. His tone was calm. “I recall you mentioned that the Streaming Mirror could capture nearly every corner of the Maze?”
“Yes,” Wade answered, pulling his gaze from Malfoy. “It records everything.”
“Can it replay footage from a short time ago?” Dumbledore asked again.
“That’s correct,” Wade confirmed.
“Then we may need a portion of it,” Dumbledore said. “About ten minutes ago.”
“I can get Mr. Coliver to provide it,” Wade replied, glancing at the Infirmary. “Uh… is he here?”
The room was still empty now, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. In ten minutes, it would be packed with students.
Injuries were common during the competition. But most were holding on, refusing treatment, eager to stay in the stands and witness the outcome.
Dumbledore sighed, weary. “Come to my office. Severus—”
He turned to Snape.
“I need you to bring in Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Crabbe’s fathers.”
Snape’s pale face gave no expression, but he nodded once, without a word. He didn’t even glance at Draco Malfoy before turning and leaving.
“Wade,” Dumbledore said, “I’ll leave the recording in your hands. The fifth level of the Maze—northwest horn—about ten minutes ago.”
“Got it,” Wade nodded, and left swiftly.
As he stepped out of the castle, he saw students returning—cheerful, excited, still buzzing with the energy of the match. They didn’t know about the unexpected incident. Laughter rang out among them, and even the injured were reluctant to miss the celebration.
Those who could walk dragged themselves along, some even proudly showing off their wounds, demonstrating them to younger students.
One boy held up a giant scale like a trophy, surrounded by a group of first-years.
Gryffindors carried Harry on their shoulders, singing and dancing, utterly delighted. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff joined in the celebration. Even Slytherin, though they hadn’t won first place, weren’t too down—having secured second.
The Ministry of Magic officials lingered at the end. They didn’t return to the castle right away, instead entering the Maze, observing the layout. Fudge kept asking questions, clearly concerned.
With the Headmaster absent, Professor McGonagall, as Deputy Headmistress, had to take on the role of host. Though her expression remained serious, there was a hint of irritation beneath the surface.
Fantastic Beasts, unaware these were government officials, remained unpredictable. Hagrid and the others stood nearby, alert and ready.
Only Mr. Weasley stayed behind, comforting the pale, devastated Percy.
Wade found Mr. Coliver at the magic workshop without trouble. Before he even reached the door, he heard Coliver’s excited voice:
“You’re back, Mr. Gray—never mind, did you see the feedback from the Streaming Mirror? Every Child Mirror across the British Isles is showing it! This is—”
“Mr. Coliver,” Wade interrupted, whispering, “I need to take one of the Mother Mirrors.”
Coliver’s “control panel” could broadcast the feed, but the actual footage still resided within each individual Mother Mirror.
Coliver paused, then seemed to understand. He didn’t ask questions, just nodded. “Of course. Which one do you need?”
A few minutes later, Wade carried the Streaming Mirror into the Headmaster’s Office.
As he entered, he saw Malfoy’s parents seated beside Draco, their faces as pale as ever. Lucius Malfoy idly stroked the giant gem on his walking stick, silent and still.
On the other side of the room, the father of Crabbe sat slumped in a chair, head down.
Wade had never seen him before, but the power of genetics was undeniable. One glance told him exactly who he was.
Professor Snape stood nearby, arms crossed, his gaze icy.
The sound of the door opening drew every eye in the room.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
