His broomstick still leaned against the wall by the entrance, dust gathering on the bristles. That was the first sign something was wrong.

The second was the faint, muffled sound coming from the boys' dormitory staircase. A sound that didn't belong in these stone corridors.

The door to Draco's room was ajar. Inside, the curtains around his four-poster bed were drawn tight, blocking out the dim afternoon light. A single, choked sob escaped from behind the velvet.