Long Live the Mafia Prince - A Drarry Fanfiction

Part 006

The first recorded case involving the Mafia occurred more than forty years ago. On top of that, cases with possible Mafia involvement date back even before that first case. Overall, the popular opinion is that the Mafia has been stealing from, harming, and threatening our society for over four decades.

It was only about two decades ago that the Ministry got the name of the great evil behind the mass crime cult that is the Mafia. The name is 'Lucius Malfoy', who is well known now as the 'Mafia Boss'. His name was spilled by a young Mafia member who was ditched by their fellow cult mates after failing to flee the scene fast enough. Unfortunately, the name was the only thing they left, because the day after being interviewed by the Ministry, the young soul was found dead in their holding cell. Of course, everyone assumed the Mafia was behind such doings.

From that point, there has been no real progress in any Mafia cases. Even though seemingly unorganized and poorly structured, the Mafia never made the same mistake twice.

If only the Ministry could get a hold of another Mafia member, a vague hint of the location to the Mafia lair, or even just one more name... With these desperate wishes, the Ministry spent thirty years aimlessly following the Mafia's crimes one step too late.

Until now. Until I ended up face to face with the Mafia boss' son.

"Draco Malfoy?" I repeat, my throat clogging up.

Draco Malfoy traces my hand with his thumb. "Do you want me to nail it down for you? That I'm the Mafia boss' hidden son?".

I pull my hand away and take a breath. Sitting straighter, I try to act sensibly. I've already shed one too many tears tonight. "Where am I?".

Draco Malfoy doesn't seem fazed, not even the slightest. "In my home, in my room, on my bed.".

"Is there a reason?".

He jumps off the bed. I flinch. He chuckles as he walks to his desk. "You know, you ask too many questions.".

"And you're too full of yourself." I say, "I work for the Ministry. I can-".

Sitting at his desk, Draco Malfoy pulls something out from the inside of his jacket. "I heard you were one of the brightest in that little Ministry of yours. I guess the overall standards are just low.".

In his hand is my wand.

Everything I've barely gathered together crumbles down. I don't even have the energy to be tense. I clench my teeth as Draco Malfoy smirks, tapping his desk with my wand. Small sparks sliver from the end of it with every tap.

Tap, tap, tap...

"What's your name?" Draco Malfoy says.

"You know my name." I say.

"How about... Where do you live?".

I sigh. "You know where I live."

"Okay, fine. Then..." he says, then he groans, "You know, your questions are better than mine. What were you asking?".

I'm so tired. I just want to go home. "Why am I here?".

"Actually, I don't like that one. Give me a different question."

I blink. "I want to know why I'm-"

"Next question!" Draco Malfoy yells.

I hold my breath, eyes zipping around the room in panic, until it lands on the painting behind Draco Malfoy. 'La vie'... My voice quivers. "Okay. Uh... The painting. Where did you get the painting?".

Draco Malfoy puts my wand back in his jacket and crosses his arms. "You know where, Harry Potter! You know it's from the Papilio Art Museum, you know it's called 'La vie', you know I put it up a day ago! If you know the answer, it's not a very good question. Next one.".

"I don't-".

"Are you done? Do you want me to knock you out again and get you to your house?".

Yes, actually, I do. He's probably playing games with me, again, but... Maybe I don't want to go home yet. I clear my throat. "Why did the Mafia steal a painting? That's never happened before.".

Draco Malfoy sighs. "Only if my father was an art enthusiast, had a scene of style, you know. It really is a shame, especially because art gives me life.".

"You stole it? Not the Mafia?".

He looks at me, unimpressed. "You really thought father would care for art? Doesn't the Ministry know better?".

"Did you use your father's people?".

"Now I feel like I'm being interviewed. Are you going to arrest me?".

I shrug. "Maybe if you gave my wand back, send me home, perhaps.".

He laughs. "Now you want to go home. You're funny.".

"Well, you said it like you were going to let me go, so.".

"Oh, of course, I'm letting you go." Draco Malfoy says, walking back to me, "As long as you're sure your interview is done.".

I pause for a second. Games or not, there's nothing to lose now. "I'm done.".

"Alright, then." he says, then hands me my wand back, "Let's get you back home, Harry Potter.".

/////

Even though I expected to be knocked out this time, it was not a better experience. In fact, it might have been worse, considering I woke up on a bench, not in a cloudy bed, even if it was the bed of the Mafia boss junior.

Legs weak, head spinning, and nauseous, I try to stand. First attempt wasn't very successful, ending in me being seated again, but the second attempt was improved.

I could see my house across the street. When I left the house a few hours ago, it was dark, cold, and quiet. A few hours later, the sun is high, birds are chirping, and everyone is living on without the worry of being kidnapped by the Mafia boss' son. Everything is normal, as it should be, as it should always be.

I pull my wand out of my pocket and hold it. The same wand that Draco Malfoy held. The same wand that the mastermind behind the theft of 'La vie' held, the same wand that my kidnapper held, and the same wand that the person who gave me the information that might change my career held.

I sigh, opening the door of my house. I will bring 'La vie' back to the museum where it belongs, I will put Draco Malfoy in prison, and I will put an end to the age of the Mafia. Out of justice, spite, or whatever it is that's burning inside me, I will do it, and reporting the happenings of last night to the Ministry will be the first step.

At home, I quickly wash my face and get a bite to eat before leaving for the office again. I'm already late, not that it matters now. I just need to get to work straight away, share my new found information, and get the case officially opened as soon as possible... Craving some sleep, but holding on for dear life, I put my coat on. Leaving the house, checking my pockets, though, I pause.

There's a piece of paper, a note, it appears to be. I unfold it and am met with a familiar handwriting. It's the same elegant lettering from Draco Malfoy's kind invention. After everything, I can't help getting unsettled. Did he leave a note on me before dropping me off? Reading the note, I feel an odd shiver crawling up my spine.

It was me, Harry. I did it.