Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (MOD Novelization)

5

Still consumed by his thoughts, Harry stood alone on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The festive garlands and wreaths of Christmas adorned the station, but couldn't chase away the chill that had settled in his bones. The lingering steam from the arriving Hogwarts Express mingled with the cold air, creating ghostly shapes that drifted past the brick walls. Posters of Pariah Prince, the escaped prisoner from Azkaban, peeked out from behind the holiday decorations, his wild eyes and lightning bolt scar a haunting mirror of Harry's own past.

From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed a familiar figure emerging through the mist — Draco Malfoy. The man approached, his pale hair slicked back, a long black glove covering his left hand. There was a pensive look on his face, but Harry couldn't help but tense instinctively, coiling like a spring as their gazes met.

"Potter," Draco drawled.

Harry replied with a look of disinterest, his green eyes cold beneath his unruly fringe.

"Goodness me. Where are my manners?" Draco continued with mock sincerity. He made an exaggerated show of drawing back his overcoat, beginning to lower himself in a grandiose genuflect. "Now, is it one knee or two?"

"What do you want, Draco?" Harry asked flatly.

Draco straightened up, a smirk playing on his lips, evidently pleased with himself. "Heard you gave Weasley the sack. Brutal. Can't say I'm not surprised. He never seemed the sort." Noticing the flicker of agitation in Harry's eyes, he added smoothly, "No need to wrinkle that scarred brow, I'm not here to antagonize you."

"How very pleasant for me," Harry said sarcastically.

"As luck would have it," Draco went on, "I happen to have a piece of information that may be worth a Galleon or two—if you were to inquire."

"The question is whether it's worth my time to listen," Harry retorted.

Draco glanced over his shoulder at the brick walls, where the Christmas decorations hadn't completely covered the posters of the escapee from Azkaban. "Still on the lam, I see," he remarked casually.

"Out with it, Draco," Harry pressed, his patience wearing thin.

"You're not being very friendly," Draco observed.

Harry let out a dry laugh. "We were never friends."

"True." Draco conceded with a slight nod. "Well, as you know, the Malfoys have always been collectors of unusual antiques and—"

"Objects of Dark magic, you mean?" Harry interjected sharply. "Like cursed necklaces, or cabinetry that gives murderous criminals access to a castle full of innocent children?"

Draco paused, a shadow crossing his face. "I'm sure you can imagine that, in my pursuit of wizarding heirlooms, I hear all sorts of whispers. One of which may be of interest to you. It concerns an individual who goes by the title of... The Augurey."

"Whatever you've heard—" Harry began.

"No need to confirm or deny," Draco interrupted smoothly. "I know how you Ministry types work. But is it true that you have yet to identify him properly?"

"We don't know what he looks like, if that's what you're alluding to," Harry admitted reluctantly.

"There's a reason for that, Potter. The Augurey wears a Death Eater mask. One of the original designs, from around the time we were born. Quite valuable, in fact. Even with the"—he paused for emphasis—"distinguishable damage around the right eye. Thought you should know."

Harry glared at him suspiciously. "Why the sudden need to help? You don't have anything to gain by it."

Adjusting his black glove, Draco replied, "It's right what they say. No good deed goes unpunished."