The Fearsome Name of Riddle

Difference In Discipline

1974

Summoned to the school. A distraught letter from Slughorn telling Victoria that her darling boy had been involved in yet another fight. He made firm mention that Octavian, while fine in himself, was in serious trouble for his behaviour. Though the cause of her boy's outburst seemed to have been lost in the message. He wasn't a violent child, defensive when provoked but not vicious. Not like her. 

The click of heels climbing stone stairs surged Regulus to life in his seat outside the hidden door to the Headmaster’s office. He jumped with every step and began to shuffle around his seat. A nervous boy who rarely found himself facing punishment, he had learned to avoid it. A boy with messy dark hair shifted his gaze to Sirius who sat across the hall with his head tucked down and looked like he might be sick. 

Victoria had strode faster than Ivan and Walburga, determined to get to the bottom of this mess. Evan and Regulus looked almost hopefully up at her until a sour looking woman with the same notable Black features and a man with broad shoulders and the same sandy blonde hair as Evan stepped into view behind her.

The Dark Lady scanned the hall with a scowl. Six boys, none of them hers. Regulus, Evan, and their dark haired friend on one side, separated from Sirius, the Potter boy, and who she assumed was the Pettigrew that didn't fail to produce magic. Minerva Mcgonagall stood, tight-lipped, in front of the large griffin statue at the end of the corridor, cat-like eyes watching her like she might explode like a bomb at any moment. 

"Come here boy," Ivan said with a low thunderous growl that sent shivers through the dark haired boy. Evan went a sickly white but forced himself to stand at the command. 

"I think we should all discuss the matter with the Headmaster before we move forward." Professor McGonagall spoke up for the first time since they had all sat down. The look on her face told Victoria that she understood the fear in some of those boys. 

Lifting a slender hand, Victoria barely turned her head when she silently told Ivan to back off for now. He obliged, staying obediently quiet to Minerva’s concerned surprise. 

"Minnie," Victoria cut through the tension with a disinterested tone but there was an anger in her voice. "Where is Octavian? I do not see him." 

Professor McGonagall's whole body stiffened, her pinched expression growing tighter. Perhaps a little petty. Perhaps not the time, but they had never gotten along. From school as teenagers to hearing about Minerva from her children, Victoria felt a malicious sort of need to see her hurt at the thought of her. 

"Your son obtained an injury in the confrontation," McGonagall said in her professional tone. "He is in the hospital wing being treated, Ms Malfoy." 

She had been lied to then. Octavian was not fine after being attacked by those thugs sitting there looking so scared. She would bet good galleons that they did not look so innocent when the incident had happened. 

"I see." Victoria began to irradiate rage as she turned on her heel and left Evan and Regulus without their protective shield. 

McGonagall looked torn as the assaulting group split into two. She couldn't protect the children if she followed Octavian’s mother but she didn't seem to want to let Ms Malfoy out of her sight either. 

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The hospital wing looked just as she remembered it. A long room lined with metal framed beds, looking about as comfortable as they were. One of the screen curtains had been pulled around a bed by the door, across from it lay her dearest love. He looked almost peaceful. Dark curls fell over his forehead, someone had brushed them from his eyes. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling evenly with each breath. A bruise mottling beneath his eyes and spreading down to his lip held her gaze and seared itself into her mind. The sight of her darling boy unconscious on the hospital bed made Victoria want to fall to her knees and cry until she threw up. But pureblood etiquette demanded that the fear of seeing her son like that be transformed into a blinding rage.