Imogen’s heart leaps to her throat when an unfamiliar owl lands in front of her eggs and holds out its leg for her. She fumbles to untie the letter, her fingers shaking suddenly in anticipation. Only two people could be writing her this early in the year, and she would recognize her mother’s owl in a heartbeat… which means this must be Mr. Malfoy’s reply.
She tears open the envelope, and her heart sinks again as she scans the terse message inside. Damn herself, she thinks, for giving him the option to meet in person. She should have suggested he disguise his reply in some way and answer her questions in that way, but it’s too late. All she can do now is figure out some way to sneak out of the castle undetected in less than a week.
If she gets expelled for this, a week into her first year, her mother will never let her hear the end of it.
It takes her all day to think of a solution – or part of one, at least – during which time she messes up her Charms classwork and accidentally sends a feather flying out the window, gets in trouble twice in Herbology for not paying attention, and completely tunes out the ghostly professor in History of Magic without consequence, all because she’s too focused on coming up with a way to get to Hogsmeade in time for Mr. Malfoy’s meeting. Finally, as she retraces her steps for the second time that day while trying to find the Ravenclaw Common Room again, it hits her: there must be a secret passageway out of the school somewhere on the grounds. The castle’s very design is built to protect it from outsiders, from the anti-Muggle enchantments on the exterior to Ravenclaw’s blasted ever-changing floor plan on the interior, so it stands to reason that the founders would incorporate at least one hidden evacuation route in case the worst did happen. Besides, it’s a massive ancient castle, why wouldn’t it have secret passageways?
She spends every minute until curfew and every free moment the next day poring over the library’s section on Hogwarts Castle, searching for any indication of how to find the secret passageways. Though she finds many references to their existence, no book on the shelves seems able to tell her where they are. Friday evening comes around, and she’s ready to admit the library can’t help her… at least not the public parts of the library. The Restricted Section might just have what she needs. The problem, of course, is how to gain access. She can’t ask a professor for permission, because what would she say for an excuse? This leaves sneaking in as her only option.
She gets up at the crack of dawn to make her move, accidentally waking her dormmates in her rush to leave Ravenclaw Tower. She feels bad, both for giving up her last few chocolate frogs she bought on the train and for smearing their melted bodies all over the pages of Gilderoy Lockhart’s Guide to Household Pests, but it’s for a good cause, she tells herself. After she innocently informs Madam Pince that someone has defaced a book near the library’s entrance, and Madam Pince swoops off to investigate this crime, Imogen hurries to the Restricted Section at the opposite end, ducks underneath the rope separating it from the main body of the library, and slips out of sight behind the shelves. She breathes a sigh of relief and gets to work, trying not to think of the watch in her pocket tick-ticking down the hours until the meeting.
Before long, she discovers just why most of these books were labeled restricted. In her frantic search to uncover Hogwarts’ secrets, she comes across so much staggeringly horrific, unbelievably inhumane, and utterly fascinating information. If she had days to spend – weeks even – she could get lost here and never grow bored, but she can’t afford to waste any time. She’s all too aware of her looming deadline. With each book she’s forced to discard, her anxiety grows, until finally, finally she finds one that looks more promising than most: Hidden History of Hogwarts. She flips through the pages, and remarkably there’s an entire chapter devoted to secret rooms and passages.
Ten minutes later, she’s sprinting through a tunnel behind a mirror on the fourth floor, flinging off her outer robes that identify her all too clearly as a Hogwarts student as she runs. She skids into the Three Broomsticks – clutching her hat to her head, her skirt torn at the hem where she tripped over it on the way – fifteen minutes after twelve and prays Mr. Malfoy hasn’t left yet.
after a week of dreary weather around malfoy manor, it is easy enough to suggest an outing to his wife. she, of course, aware of lucius’ ulterior motives agreed it best.
he is early and, though he doesn’t expect the young imogen to be, the fact that she is not yet there when he and his small family arrive almost relieves him. he does not want to have this conversation. while, yes, he thinks that she deserves some sort of explanation, it’s been two years. they had lost more than just cygnus.
— the war was over ( though whether he believes that the truth in the long run is another thing entirely ). —
and she was only a child whose mother is more than capable enough to divulge family secrets if she so chose. if the roles had been reversed and it had been him that had died, if it were draco in her place seeking out the selwyns for the answers, would he wish for them to keep the truth as he was conspiring to do now?
twelve noon comes and goes, as does their early lunch, and both he and his wife hold a small toddler hand in one of theirs as they make to leave the inn, draco giggling between them. the small smile he harbours dissipates the second he spots the girl tripping her way in through the doors.
❝ ah, miss selwyn, ❞ a flick of his wrist, his snake-headed cane tapping the ground, and imogen’s torn skirt fixes itself. is he looking down his nose at an eleven-year-old? yes, and it won’t be the last time he does so. ❝ we were just leaving. care to join? ❞ without awaiting her answer, he sweeps past the girl, keen to find somewhere they won’t be overheard. merlin, he should have never offered this damned meeting.
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