Chapter Text
The official record states that Draco Malfoy applied for an Unspeakable position within the Department of Mysteries in the year 2001 and was subsequently turned down for the job. It also states the candidate presented with outstanding N.E.W.T scores and an enthusiastic attitude toward changing his life around from his notorious past. However, Mr. Malfoy was unable to pass the necessary background checks to begin Unspeakable training.
An astute observer would notice that exactly 18 months later, a brand new undercover agent file was created under the name Twilight. This agent would not be classified as an Unspeakable but rather an independent agent who worked alongside the Ministry but was afforded certain freedoms from the law that Unspeakables did not qualify for. These positions came with a caveat: getting caught and you were on your own. No official rescue attempts, no cover-up stories- every job was done at your own risk.
Suppose this observer knew that this was the exact amount of time it takes to complete the International Confederation of Wizards independent agent training. In that case, they might be able to make a certain correlation. However, getting any proof of this would prove impossible. The ICW denied the existence of the entire program, as did the Ministry.
Wizarding Britain knew Draco Malfoy as a reclusive Psychiatric Healer who had gone abroad for his mastery and returned a changed man.
Where did you study for your mastery? Eastern Europe and thereabout. I took a little training under several individuals to customize my practice to suit our community's needs best.
Who are your patients? I’m afraid Healer -Patient confidentiality vows won’t let me disclose any identifiable information. Besides, they aren’t the kind of people you would associate with…
Draco Malfoy was the consummate professional. A wizard who was trying to move on from the past and help heal the community in the process. He made generous donations to various charities and kept to himself. The lad had lost both his parents by the end of the war. He was better off left unbothered.
Some said he should be in prison still. Some said he had suffered enough. None of them were close enough to know the truth.
And as for Agent Twilight? That was someone who didn’t exist.
The music of a four-piece orchestra, the sound of clinking cutlery, and the din of polite chatter filled the air of the fine dining restaurant, where Draco Malfoy sat across the table from Daphne Greengrass. The type of place that required formal wear for the evening or denied entry. The kind of place wealthy people went to be seen by other wealthy people.
Back to the wall, facing the entrance, just like his training had enforced.
He supposed in another lifetime, he might have found Daphne pretty. There was certainly nothing wrong with her face, but he wasn’t partial to blondes. She wore a black, low-cut dress and had all her flaws meticulously beauty charmed away. She probably thought she looked enticing, but he only thought that she might have been replaced by advanced artificial intelligence, and he would never know the difference.
It was her attitude that repelled him most now, though, in another lifetime, he supposed they might have agreed with it.
Her foot toyed with the hem of his trouser leg, and he had to keep himself from flinching.
“Can you believe they’re actually discussing including muggle-born children into the Eden academy? The wizarding world finally gets a primary school, and the first thing they want to do is fill it with riff-raff. “ Daphne sniffed and took a sip of her wine.
“A shame.” He agreed, lying through his teeth easily. He only needed to endure her presence for a few moments longer. “When they do, I’m sure Purebloods will go back to exclusively schooling their children at home.”
Daphne made an uncomfortable noise, shifting her sheet of honey-blonde hair over her shoulder. “Draco, darling, you know there aren’t enough independently wealthy Purebloods left to make a difference. Not after the outrageous reparations the Ministry took to build that school.”
Draco took another bite of the braised salmon in front of him. He had a long night ahead of him and needed to keep his strength up. “Fair point, but none of my children will be going to Eden Academy or Hogwarts.”
“Have you been thinking about starting a family?” Daphne’s eyes lit up, and she dropped the wine expectantly. She even moved her legs to one side of the seat as if expecting to be proposed to that very moment.
His wand vibrated in the harness around his shoulders and under his formal outer robe, signaling the wards he’d set up earlier being triggered.
“Yes. I have. But not with you. I think we should break up.” Draco said, taking a few more quick bites of food before standing up. “Please do not attempt to salvage this relationship with attempts at communication. Thank you. Goodbye”
Daphne made a high-pitched noise that made the windows shake in their frames, and several dogs barked from a few blocks away. The orchestra stopped playing. The other restaurant patrons stared openly.
Draco dropped enough money to cover twice what the meal might cost and walked directly out into the night.
Cuthbert Greengrass approached the address he was given in Budleigh Babberton, hoping against all hope he wasn’t about to step into a Muggle home as all the surrounding houses seemed to be. The informant he was to meet was definitely of magical stock, but he wasn’t sure about taking information from anyone who sullied themselves with a non-magical lifestyle.
Faint pulses of magic made themselves known as he approached the front stoop, and he sighed in relief. At least they had the good sense to ward the riff-raff out.
The place had a distinctly abandoned feel to it, but Cuthbert pushed on, knowing that information was worth the momentary discomfort. They needed the money in any case -
The front door slammed shut behind him, blocking out the dim light from the street lamps outside.
Cuthbert fumbled for his wand and lit it with a quiet Lumos, only to illuminate the shadow of a man less than a foot in front of him. He yelled and brandished his wand at the figure.
“Stay back!” but the thing performed a silent expelliarmus and disarmed him, taking long strides until the older wizard was pressed into the wall. The still-lit wand shone from the ground where it lay.
The figure had transfigured its features and distorted its voice. A long, thin black wand with a silver handle pointed under Cuthbert's chin.
“Who are you working for?” The voice was almost an octave deeper than any natural human-speaking voice. The wand dug deeper into his neck. “Who are you working for? Don’t make me go in there, old man.”
He bristled at the insult. “I don’t know who you think you are! Release me at once, or I’ll call the Aurors here in an instant!”
“No, you won’t. You haven’t trusted the Aurors since the end of the war. You won’t have anything to do with the Ministry because you still owe 50,000 galleons in reparations, which you don’t have.”
“How…how did you -”
The shadow moved more into the wand light, and Cuthbert could see the eyes more clearly. Cold, grey, dead things. The eyes of someone who had seen too much…and yet…something in his memory recalled them.
It spoke again.“Your daughter. She likes to talk a lot, but you know that. Might want to bring it up at Sunday brunch.”
“You don’t -”
“I know everything. I know her routines down to the minute, all her friends, every mark on her naked body.”
“I don’t believe you! You wouldn’t dare hurt my family.”
The shadow sighed, actually sighed in such an off-putting, distinctly human way that Cuthbert dropped his defenses for a moment.
“I really do not have time for this.”
And suddenly, his mind was being sliced apart before he could even register the muttered Lelligmens. The movements were clean and precise, like a surgeon with a scalpel. Every attempt at a shield was cut through with just enough force for the magic to push through. When the memory was found, it extracted it down to the second, leaving the rest of his mind intact.
When the old wizard came too in the weak light of the dawn, he had no memory of how he got there or what had happened. When he tried to think back on the moments from entering the village to waking up were missing, but nothing else from that night was. Except for being sore from a long night on a hard floor, he bore no marks or injuries…
The last spell on his wand was a Lumos, which must have been when he entered this house, but why was the question?