The Destroyer

Chapter 9

Lucius Malfoy's POV

"I'm not letting this happen again, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. I'm sorry if we didn't take good care of Ms. Malfoy," Dumbledore said calmly, his expression grave as he sat in his chair.

"I will not let it pass that easily, Professor. My child is hurt within the school grounds. I think we'll just transfer her to another school for her safety, the same with Draco," Mrs. Malfoy stated firmly, her concern for her daughter evident in her tone.

"No, my child's not going to leave this school. Let the houses have an early curfew, and don't disturb my daughter's room. She can't sleep with such noise," I interjected, my voice low but stern, emphasizing the importance of maintaining Y/n's routine.

"If that's what you want, Mr. Malfoy, and I'm very sorry about her again," Dumbledore responded, his tone reflecting his regret for the situation.

"ohh and most importantly i want her back at quidditch team" i added as i want to see my daughter play again

"Ah, yes, of course"

Dumbledore nodded, acknowledging my request.

"We'll ensure that Ms. Malfoy is reinstated on the Quidditch team as soon as she's well enough. Her talent is truly remarkable, and it would be a shame for her to miss out on such an opportunity."

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore"

I responded with a nod of gratitude.

"And one more thing"

I added, my tone firm

"I want increased security measures around the school. This incident cannot be repeated. The safety of our students must be the utmost priority."

Dumbledore's expression grew solemn as he considered my request.

"I understand your concerns, Mr. Malfoy. We will do everything in our power to ensure the safety of all our students."

I nodded, satisfied with his response. It was imperative that Hogwarts remained a safe haven for its students, especially in times of uncertainty and danger.

[Hospital wing]

"Oh Mr. &Mrs. Malfoy, Professor Dumbledore, it's good that your here now, Ms. Y/n is already awake"

Madam Pomfrey said as she greeted us at the door. The four of us went to my daughter's bed and saw her spacing out while staring at nowhere.

"Y/n, darling, are you alright?" I asked, concern evident in my voice as I approached her bedside.

Y/n blinked, as if coming out of a trance, and turned her gaze towards us. There was a hint of exhaustion in her eyes, but also a flicker of recognition.

"I'm... I'm fine, Father," she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Madam Pomfrey hovered nearby, her expression one of professional concern. "She's had a bit of a shock, but physically she's perfectly well. Just needs some rest and recovery time."

I exchanged a worried glance with my wife, sensing that there was more to Y/n's condition than met the eye. But for now, all we could do was offer her our support and ensure she received the care she needed.

Y/n's POV

As we settled into our Saturday routine of tackling assignments and catching up on reading, the atmosphere in our dormitory was calm and focused. Maxima, Samantha, and I were engrossed in our respective tasks, the occasional rustle of parchment and the scratch of quills the only sounds filling the room.