MTLNOVEL Chapter 183: Again
The grey sky above Hogwarts matched the mood hanging over the castle like a shroud. Whispers filled the corridors—Draco Malfoy had been petrified. The news had spread faster than Filch's temper, and with it came fear. The Chamber of Secrets was no longer a ghost story.
By early morning , the heavy front doors of the castle opened with a resounding creak.
Lucius Malfoy swept into the Entrance Hall, silver cane clicking against the stones, his long black cloak billowing behind him like a storm cloud. Beside him walked Narcissa Malfoy, pale and trembling, clutching a lace handkerchief in one gloved hand. Her other hand clutched Lucius's arm with a grip that left no doubt—this wasn't a courtesy visit.
They said nothing to the portraits that whispered as they passed, nor to the stunned students who dared to glance at them. They ascended to the Hospital Wing like a pair of winter spirits gliding through a world too stunned to stop them.
Inside, Draco lay stiff and pale on one of the beds, his eyes wide with the terror frozen into his face.
The moment Narcissa saw her son, she gasped sharply and let out a wail.
"No—Draco! My baby!" she rushed forward and fell to her knees at his bedside. Her voice cracked with despair. "He's not moving! He's not breathing—Lucius, our son is dead!"
"Narcissa!" Lucius hissed, gripping her shoulder to steady her.
"My Draco! What are we going to do?" she sobbed, brushing her hands across Draco's unmoving cheek. "He was only twelve—he didn't even make it to Christmas!"
Lucius looked as if someone had carved his heart from his chest and left a hollow in its place. His jaw clenched. His breathing grew ragged.
"Madam Pomfrey!" he barked, turning sharply. "Why isn't anything being done?!"
Madam Pomfrey, calm but weary, stood beside the bed. "He's not dead, Mr. Malfoy," she said firmly. "He's petrified. His vital signs are suspended but intact. He's in a magical stasis."
Narcissa blinked, tears streaking her cheeks. "He… he's not dead?"
"No," the matron confirmed. "But he cannot be revived until the mandrakes in the greenhouse mature enough to brew a restorative draught."
Lucius didn't appear relieved. His fury was building behind his eyes like an approaching thunderclap. "We are taking him to St. Mungo's," he said. "Immediately. They'll know how to help him. We're not leaving our child here in this madhouse."
Pomfrey hesitated. "Transporting a petrified patient is dangerous—"
Before she could finish, the doors to the Hospital Wing opened.
Professor Dumbledore entered with Professor McGonagall at his side. His robes shimmered with pale blue light, and his expression was solemn but composed.
Lucius turned at the sound and froze when he saw Dumbledore. All the fire, the rage, the helplessness—everything erupted in a single furious movement.
He lunged.
"YOU BASTARD—!"
His fist flew toward Dumbledore's face.
But it never landed.
A clear shimmer of magic flared silently between them—a translucent wall, conjured without wand or word. Lucius's punch stopped inches from Dumbledore's cheek with a dull thump, the energy of the blow reverberating back into his wrist. He staggered slightly, caught off-guard.
Dumbledore didn't flinch.
"I understand your anger, Lucius," Dumbledore said, his voice calm but tinged with steel. "But do not make a mistake you'll regret."
Lucius stared at him, his face contorted with fury and grief. "You were supposed to protect the students! You—you let this happen! You let someone attack my son!"
"We are doing everything we can—"
"Everything?!" Lucius bellowed. "You said the same thing last year when that troll almost killed him! And now—look at him! He's a statue!"
Narcissa stepped forward, still weeping. "We're taking him to St. Mungo's. I won't let my child rot in some dusty wing while you 'investigate,' Albus!"
Dumbledore inclined his head. "You may take him, if that is what you wish. But know that he is stable here. Madame Pomfrey has done all that can be done, and Professor Sprout's mandrakes are being cultivated as quickly as possible."
Lucius sneered. "You think I trust a greenhouse over the best Healers in Britain ?"
Professor Snape arrived in the doorway, robes fluttering as he entered. His face was tight, unreadable. Narcissa turned on him with sudden venom.
"You promised us," she hissed. "You said you would protect him. After last year—you swore it wouldn't happen again!"
Snape stiffened. "I—did everything I could—"
"Clearly not enough," Lucius snapped. "Is this what you call loyalty, Severus?"
Snape's jaw clenched, but he didn't respond.
Together, Lucius and Narcissa conjured a levitating stretcher beneath Draco. Narcissa hovered over her son as though even the floating magic might hurt him. Lucius turned back toward the door, then paused.
"You'll regret this, Dumbledore," he said coldly. "I promise you. You've allowed this school to descend into chaos under your incompetent watch. Before this year ends—Hogwarts will have a new headmaster."
Dumbledore looked at him without blinking. "Perhaps. But until then, my only concern is the safety of all our students. Including yours."
Lucius said nothing more.
The doors to the Hospital Wing closed behind them, leaving a heavy silence behind.
McGonagall let out a long breath and looked at Dumbledore. "I hope this doesn't get worse."
"I know," Dumbledore replied softly, gazing out the window as the sunlight rose from behind the mountains. "I hope so too Minerva, I hope too."