Harry Potter : Cael Vale’s journey to Hogwarts

Later that evening, beneath the shadowed edge of the Forbidden Forest, two sharp cracks echoed through the night as Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy Apparated just outside the castle grounds.

Lucius paced like a restless predator, the silver serpent head of his cane catching the pale moonlight with every sharp tap against the earth. His aristocratic features were twisted with fury, his usually pristine composure cracking beneath the weight of rage.

Beside him, Narcissa Malfoy stood still as marble, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her expression was cold as ice, but the flicker of fear in her eyes betrayed the storm simmering beneath her calm exterior.

"How could they let this happen?" Lucius spat, his voice low and dangerous. "A troll. Inside the castle. Trolls!" He hissed the word like a curse. "Our son—bloodied, bruised—because of their carelessness."

"Pray to Merlin Draco is unharmed, Otherwise I will burn this Castle with my own hands " Narcissa whispered, her voice barely trembling, though her hand clenched tighter around her wand. "This is Hogwarts—the most protected school in Britain. Wards, staff, protections—and yet…" Her voice faltered, turning colder. "It's starting to feel like Knockturn Alley."

Lucius' jaw tensed, his pale eyes narrowing as they fixed on the towering silhouette of the castle. "I won't let this stand. That old fool… he's hidden behind his reputation for too long. Let's see how untouchable Dumbledore feels when I tear his precious school apart."

Without another word, they crossed the grounds toward the castle. As a school governor, Lucius didn't need permission to enter—ancient magic woven into the stones recognized him.

The castle doors swung open, and moments later, they reached the hospital wing.

The room smelled sharply of potions and disinfectant. Beds lined the walls. On one side, Ron Weasley groaned softly, clutching his side. Across the room, Harry Potter lay with his leg wrapped tightly in bandages.

And there, by the far window, Draco Malfoy sat propped against the pillows, pale and quiet. Bruises mottled his sharp features, and his hand trembled faintly at his side.

Lucius' eyes darkened dangerously.

"Draco, my darling boy…" Narcissa whispered, crossing the room in long strides. She cupped his face, brushing blonde hair from his forehead.

Draco managed a faint smirk of bitterness, but he didn't resist her touch.

Lucius' cane struck the floor with a sharp crack. His voice, low and biting, cut through the quiet. "What happened to you?"

Madam Pomfrey, busy at the far end of the room, turned with a weary glance. "Mr. Malfoy, shouting isn't helpful—your son is stable."

"Stable?" Lucius sneered, stepping closer, fury simmering beneath his polished exterior. "You call this stable? My son was attacked by a mountain troll in a castle crawling with supposed protectors—and you stand there and call him stable?"

Narcissa's lips pressed into a thin line as she smoothed Draco's hair. Her voice was quiet, but steel laced every word. "Don't worry, my love. They will pay for this."

Lucius spun on his heel, storming from the hospital wing with Narcissa close behind.

It took moments for them to reach the stone gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office. The statue barely had time to step aside before the heavy doors slammed open.

Dumbledore stood behind his desk, hands folded calmly, eyes cool beneath the soft candlelight.

"Ah… Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," he began, voice smooth as silk. "I thought—"

"You ancient, incompetent fool!" Lucius roared, his cane slamming against the floor with a deafening crack. His fury filled the room like a storm. "Trolls inside your school! Students bleeding! My son lying in that hospital bed while you sit here in your ivory tower, untouched."

Dumbledore's gaze didn't waver. His voice remained calm. "Draco is being treated. He is safe."

"Safe?" Narcissa's icy composure faltered, fury shining through her otherwise serene mask. "He was nearly killed. Bruised, bloodied, attacked by a creature that should never have been within these walls—and you dare call him safe?"

"Mark my words, Dumbledore," Lucius snarled, every word dripping with threat. "You will not bury this under your cloak of senile wisdom. If I so much as hear my son cough from this disgraceful failure, I will drag this school through the Wizengamot, tear down every stone of that castle, and have your ancient head replaced faster than you can utter 'Lemon Drop.'"

For a heartbeat, Dumbledore's expression hardened. His usual twinkle vanished, replaced by sharp, calculating focus.

"You are upset—as any parent would be," Dumbledore said softly. "But do not mistake your grief for authority here."

"Authority?" Lucius sneered, straightening his robes with a sharp tug. "I own half the governors. If I want you gone, I'll have you gone. Keep your pity and your platitudes, Dumbledore. Your time on that throne is running out."

Narcissa's gaze lingered on Dumbledore, cool and unreadable. Her hand brushed Lucius' arm as she turned toward the door. "We'll be watching," she whispered, voice smooth as velvet, but the threat beneath it was unmistakable.

Without another word, they swept from the office.

The echo of their footsteps carried through the stone corridors as they descended to the dungeons. Torchlight flickered along the damp walls as they approached Severus Snape's office.

Inside, Snape hovered over a simmering cauldron, the bitter scent of potions heavy in the air.

"What are you doing down here, Severus?" Lucius demanded, his cane striking the floor as he entered. "Your godson lies in the hospital wing, and you… brewing potions?"

Snape turned, his expression as unreadable as ever. His dark eyes narrowed beneath the candlelight. "I inspected him. He's fine. Shaken, bruised, but no permanent harm."

Narcissa's control cracked. Her voice sharpened like broken glass. "What if it had been worse? What if he was—" her throat caught, but she forced the words out, "—gone? You're his godfather. You should have protected him."

Snape's face remained unreadable, but his tone cooled. "I cannot protect him from every foolish choice. He follows Potter like a shadow—arguing, provoking—and the troll attacked during their spat. I wasn't there."

Lucius stepped forward, voice low with warning. "Don't feed me excuses, Severus. I sent Draco here because you teach here. Otherwise, I would've sent him to Durmstrang, where Karkaroff would ensure his safety."

Snape's eyes darkened, his patience wearing thin. "It was your politics that made Hogwarts a battleground, Lucius. Your influence, your allies… you invited danger through these gates." His voice dipped lower. "The attack wasn't aimed at Draco—it was Potter. Your son was simply caught in the storm."

Lucius' pupils narrowed, his grip tightening on the serpent cane. "And that's exactly why I'll see the old man removed. His incompetence put my son in harm's way. It ends."

The room fell silent, tension crackling like static.

Snape's gaze flicked briefly to Narcissa, whose expression had returned to icy calm, though her eyes still shimmered with maternal fury.

"Ensure he's safe," Narcissa said softly to Snape. "Or I'll hold you accountable."

Snape inclined his head ever so slightly. "You have my word."

With that, the Malfoys left the dungeons, their footsteps fading into the dark, made their way to hospital wing to their son .