Chapter 53: Great, It’s Dumbledore—We’re Doomed

Daphne thought Draco could be clever at times, but when it mattered most, he always seemed to fumble. Go to Professor Snape? Really? Had he forgotten that Edward had asked them to warn Dumbledore about something? Daphne decided it'd be smarter to ask the prefect first about where Dumbledore might be. If the prefect didn't know, they'd try other staff. Luckily, Gemma Farley, their prefect, was right there in the common room, hunched over a long table, scribbling on parchment with a quill. "Where's that potion recipe Edward copied for me? Did it wear off and vanish?" Gemma muttered to herself, tying her blonde hair into a high ponytail. She looked up and caught Daphne and Draco sneaking glances her way. "Greengrass, Mr. Malfoy, what do you two want?" she asked, puzzled. Daphne cleared her throat. "Miss Farley, I was wondering if you could tell us where the headmaster's office is?" "The headmaster's office? Why do you need to see Dumbledore?" "Well, it's about Edward—" Draco started, stumbling over his words. Gemma's commanding presence always made him want to spill the truth. Daphne smoothly cut him off. "Actually, we're looking for Edward. He said he was called to see Professor Dumbledore and told us to meet him at the headmaster's office, but he left in such a rush he forgot to tell us where it is." "Edward got called to the headmaster again?" Gemma's face lit up with understanding. "Makes sense. He just took down most of the Quidditch team, including Flint, in the corridor. Maybe Dumbledore wants him to tone it down." "Sorry, Miss Farley, what did you just say? I didn't catch that," Daphne said, exchanging a stunned look with Draco. Their ears must be playing tricks. What had Edward been up to before going to Snape? No wonder they hadn't seen a single Quidditch player all afternoon! "Oh, don't worry," Gemma said with a dismissive snort. "I know you two are tight with Edward. Flint and his crew had it coming. Slytherin respects strength. Eight older students ganging up on a first-year and all ending up in the hospital wing? Even Snape probably won't care." Daphne and Draco stood there, speechless. Edward had caused that much chaos in such a short time? "Anyway, you're lucky you asked me," Gemma said, lifting her chin proudly. "Most people wouldn't know, but I can take you there. The headmaster's office is on the eighth floor, behind an ugly gargoyle statue." Draco let out a relieved sigh. He'd told plenty of lies growing up, but his mother, Narcissa, always saw right through them. He was in awe of Daphne's ability to lie so convincingly without flinching. What he didn't notice was how tightly she gripped her hands under her robes to keep them from shaking. "Thank you, Miss Farley," Daphne said with a small nod. "Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't ask Snape," Gemma said as they stepped out of the Slytherin common room. "He's our head of house. He'd know exactly where the headmaster's office is." Draco's heart, which had just calmed, lurched again. Why so many questions, Miss Farley? Can't you just lead the way? "Well, we—" Draco began. "Draco and I considered it," Daphne jumped in, "but you know how Professor Snape gets when we bother him with small things. He'd probably be... less than pleased. And if he heard Edward got called to the headmaster again, it might make things worse. We figured you'd be more approachable." Gemma nodded, clearly pleased. "Greengrass, you're starting to remind me of myself as a first-year. You know exactly what to say and when. As for you, Malfoy, why do you look so pale?" "The Quidditch match this morning hit me hard, Miss Farley. Don't mind me," Draco said, trying to sound dejected. It was the best lie he'd ever told, and it worked—Gemma's attention shifted straight to Quidditch. Though she didn't outright bash Gryffindor, she made it clear that even if they won the Quidditch Cup, Slytherin would still take the House Cup at year's end. Her tone carried a hint of frustration, and she didn't hold back on roasting Flint. Draco, who'd planned to try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team next year, was now seriously reconsidering. Their chatter brought them near a fourth-floor corridor. They hadn't meant to come this way, but the staircase to the fifth floor had vanished, forcing them to detour. "Five years here, and I still can't get used to these stairs," Gemma grumbled. "At least they don't disappear when someone's on them. This way." "Wait, Miss Farley, Draco—do you hear something?" Daphne stopped short. It was evening, and the corridor was nearly deserted, but she could swear she heard familiar voices coming from a nearby classroom. Gemma and Draco paused, listening closely. Sure enough, there were voices—someone talking inside. An older voice said, "—everus, move aside, let me try this one—" Draco's eyes lit up. It's Dumbledore! We're saved! But then another voice, sharp and drawn-out, replied, "—bus! How many have you tried already?" Draco's gaze snapped to Daphne, pure panic in his eyes. Snape! We're doomed! What were they doing here? Why was Snape with Dumbledore? Were they supposed to accuse Snape to Dumbledore's face? Draco felt time and space freeze around him. His eleven-year-old brain wasn't equipped for this. Daphne, too, was at a loss. She'd thought telling Dumbledore would be straightforward, but now what? And where was Edward? Gemma, meanwhile, looked thrilled. "Looks like we're in luck. No need to climb to the eighth floor." "Malfoy, you really don't look well. Need to hit the hospital wing later?" Ignoring Draco's frantic expression, Gemma pushed open the classroom door. "Professor Dumbledore, these two students are looking for you." Inside, Dumbledore and Snape stood before the Mirror of Erised, both turning to face the doorway. Daphne and Draco's faces twisted with dread. read more inpatreon ilham20