Albus Potter and the Cursed Legacy | Scorbus

34. Photographs

The overwhelming smell of wet ink and parchment flooded Harry's senses as soon as he stepped foot through the door of the Daily Prophet.

"Well?" Malfoy tapped his foot impatiently as if he was expecting Harry to know exactly what to do and where to go. 

 Of course, he'd visited the Daily Prophet many times before to see his wife during her lunch hour but that hardly meant he was familiar with the building enough to navigate the maze of cubicles, long corridors of offices, and the clamorous rooms of printing presses. 

Instead of responding to Malfoy, Harry approached the wall, where an office directory was posted, listing all of the room numbers and staff member's offices. He ran his finger down the list of names until he found the one he was looking for.

"Lorelei Lacero, room 435," he read aloud, immediately heading in the direction of the lifts with long firm strides. He didn't even pause to see if Malfoy was following, merely waving him along. He was set on his mission now and nothing was going to slow him down.

The visit to the Daily Prophet was long overdue. Years he'd sustained Lacero's gossip articles that seemed so set on tearing him down. He'd become accustomed to them throughout his youth and he knew the Daily Prophet often lacked merit. With all the rubbish he dealt with when Rita Skeeter was reporting, very little phased him--that was until his children became involved.

Harry cursed at himself every time he saw the name of one of his children in a Lacero article. He should have put a stop to it as soon as it started. Perhaps if he had, Albus wouldn't have gotten so hurt in the process. But something always got in the way, including his own mindset. He thought it would all blow over--either no one would care or Lacero would soon grow bored of targetting his family. But when was Harry Potter ever that lucky?

When the articles didn't cease and the slander increased, Harry's thoughts became entrapped in a battle between wanting to intervein to protect his family but not wanting to give her any more reason to speak poorly of him. So he didn't speak up, not wanting her wrath to grow stronger, twisting the story to make it as if Harry was the antagonist, trying to prevent free speech to keep a pristine image.  

It was cowardice, he knew that now. Which is why he needed to put his foot down now--before anyone else got hurt. 

"Are you sure you know where you're going, Potter?" Malfoy's voice felt like a splinter in his side. An irritating reminder that they needed to work together. As much as it bothered him to be making this journey with Draco, he needed to remind himself that they were on the same side here. 

And in truth, Harry didn't know exactly where he was headed. But he knew if he lingered or admitted to himself that he was lost, the confidence that has built up in his chest was sure to dissipate. So he kept turning down corridors and ducking beneath the paper aeroplanes that darted above his head, sending messages around the building, until he reached the office he was looking for. 

Room 435. 

A golden inscription on the warped privacy glass read: 

'Lorelei Lacero 

Reporter & Opinions Editor'

This was it. Harry took a deep breath in. Reaching out, he grabbed the doorknob with a firm grip. But he couldn't bring himself to turn it. 

For the first time that morning, Harry paused. Everything that had happened so far that day seemed like a blur but it all began to catch up with him. 

From arriving at the Malfoy Manor with Albus in tow to apparating to the front entrance of the Daily Prophet, Harry had had a fire burning in his chest. The vile words of every Lacero article about him stirred up in his mind, interlacing with the ones he was sure to spout at her when he finally got the chance. He'd been planning his speech for months now--possibly even years. There was so much he had to be angry for. And this was the moment