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Chapter 45: Missing
🕑 Added 2025-04-03 22:50:50 +0000 UTCWhen Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley returned to St. Mungo’s, they were met with a somber scene. Molly Weasley sat by Ginny’s bedside, her eyes red and swollen from crying. The rest of the Weasley children stood nearby, their faces etched with worry. Harry sat in a corner, his expression heavy with guilt.
As Dumbledore and Arthur entered the room, Molly looked up, her eyes filled with desperate hope. “Well?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Arthur shook his head sadly, while Dumbledore spoke in a calm but regretful tone. “Lucius Malfoy doesn’t know where his son is. He disappeared without telling them as well.”
The room fell silent, the weight of the news pressing down on everyone. The Weasleys, who had always despised the Malfoys, now found themselves wishing more than anything that Dante would appear. The boy they had once viewed as evil and dangerous was now their only hope.
Harry, who had been silent until now, spoke up, his voice filled with guilt. “This is my fault. If Tom Riddle’s memory hadn’t been so obsessed with finding out how Voldemort died, he might have let Ginny go after the basilisk was killed.”
Arthur immediately stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Harry, my boy, this isn’t your fault. That was dark magic—evil and manipulative. You didn’t cause this.”
Dumbledore nodded in agreement. “I knew Tom Riddle fifty years ago. He was sly, manipulative, and incapable of understanding love. Even if it hadn’t been for you, he would have continued to use Ginny. If anything, your presence made him impatient, which allowed us to find him before he could do more harm.”
Harry’s shoulders slumped, but his guilt didn’t fade. “He wanted to know how I vanquished the Dark Lord so badly… but it wasn’t even me who did it.”
The Weasleys, except for Ron, looked at Harry in surprise. Arthur frowned. “What do you mean, Harry?”
Harry took a deep breath. “My mother… she used an ancient and powerful magic to protect me from Voldemort. She sacrificed her life to save me. That’s why I’m still here today.”
Dumbledore’s eyes flickered with interest. “How do you know that, Harry?”
Harry hesitated, then said, “Dante told me. The first time we met, he said that my mother’s love created a powerful protective magic at the cost of her life. He said it still protects me from Voldemort even now.”
The Weasleys exchanged surprised glances. They had never heard of such magic before. Ron, however, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, Dante was creepy that day. He looked at Harry like he wanted to dissect him with his eyes.”
Harry added, “He also said my scar was interesting and that he’d never expected to see a living one. To this day, I don’t know what he meant by that.”
The Weasleys looked puzzled, but Dumbledore’s blood ran cold. He immediately understood what Dante had meant. The boy knew about Horcruxes—and he had recognized that Harry was a living one. This revelation only deepened Dumbledore’s unease about Dante’s knowledge and power. The future he had feared, where Dante’s potential could lead to the birth of a new dark lord more dangerous than the last, now seemed even more ominous.
Dumbledore composed himself, his expression calm as he addressed the room. “What happened to Ginny was the result of dark magic, not any of your actions, Harry. There is still hope. Lucius has agreed to let us know when Dante’s location is known or when he returns.”
Molly’s eyes filled with tears again, but this time, there was a glimmer of hope. “Do you really think he can save her?”
Dumbledore nodded. “His intellect and resourcefulness are above anyone I have ever seen. If anyone can find a way, it’s him.”
Unexpectedly the Weasleys found themselves praying for the return of a Malfoy.
___________
The school year at Hogwarts came to an end, and summer arrived, but there was still no news of Dante Malfoy’s whereabouts. Days turned into weeks, and the Weasley family’s hope began to fade. Their only chance to save Ginny seemed to have vanished without a trace.
Dumbledore had tasked Snape with checking on the Malfoys periodically, but each time, Snape returned with the same answer: no news. Even Narcissa, who had been furious when Dante first disappeared, now seemed more worried than angry. Draco, too, was visibly concerned about his older brother. Even Lucius, who had once boasted of Dante’s unmatched power, began to falter in his confidence as the summer dragged on.
When the new school year began, the students returned to Hogwarts with their usual excitement, but the atmosphere was tinged with an undercurrent of unease. The Defense Against the Dark Arts position had been filled by a competent professor for the first time in years—a welcome change after the disastrous tenures of Quirrell and Lockhart. The new professor’s presence brought a sense of stability, but it wasn’t enough to dispel the lingering tension.
One of the most noticeable changes was in Draco Malfoy. The once-arrogant Slytherin, who had never missed an opportunity to humiliate and insult Gryffindors—especially Harry and Ron—was unusually quiet this year. He kept to himself, his usual smirk replaced by a somber expression. Harry and Ron, too, were unnaturally subdued. The usual animosity between the two groups had faded, replaced by an unspoken understanding.
By now, most of the school—students and staff alike—knew the story. Ginny Weasley, the youngest of the Weasley children, was dying after an incident involving a dark artifact. The family’s only hope was Dante Malfoy, but the legendary student had disappeared without a trace. Six months had passed, and there was still no sign of him.
Rumors began to circulate. Some whispered that Dante had been killed in some remote part of the world, his body buried in an unmarked grave. Others speculated that he had abandoned the wizarding world altogether, choosing to live among Muggles. Whatever the truth, his absence cast a long shadow over Hogwarts.
___________
Dante apparated to the top of a snow-covered mountain, the cold air biting at his skin. The landscape around him was a vast expanse of white, the snow stretching endlessly in every direction. His breath formed visible clouds in the frigid air as he took in the familiar surroundings.
He scanned the area carefully, his silver eyes sharp and focused. After a moment, his gaze settled on two frozen rocks partially buried in the snow. Dante approached them, his boots crunching against the icy ground. When he reached the rocks, he spoke, his voice carrying an ancient, forgotten language—one that had died with time.
The rocks, covered in snow, began to glow faintly. Between them, a staircase made of ice materialized, descending into the depths of the mountain. Dante hesitated for a moment, then stepped onto the staircase. Each step felt heavy, as if the weight of his purpose pressed down on him.
At the bottom of the staircase, Dante entered an enormous, mesmerizing cave. The walls were made of strange, shimmering crystals and reflective stones, their surfaces glinting in the dim light. The ceiling was adorned with massive glowing rocks that illuminated the entire space, casting an ethereal glow over everything.
But Dante paid no heed to the breathtaking beauty surrounding him. His gaze was locked on the ghostly figure floating in the center of the cave. The figure was translucent, its form flickering faintly, as though it were struggling to hold itself together. In front of it stood a tombstone, crafted from ice and crystals, its surface shimmering faintly in the cave’s ethereal light. Dante approached slowly, his expression unreadable, but his silver eyes betrayed a storm of emotions—determination, sorrow, and something deeper, something ancient and unresolved.
