Draco was found lying there by a "passing" wizard.
At the time, he was sprawled out flat, arms and legs spread. When he woke, it was in the Silver Cross Hospital.
Still dazed, Draco rubbed his face. Not long after, a healer came over, dragging him off for a thorough examination. Later, he was told he'd fully recovered and could leave.
He stumbled over to the counter to settle his bill, still feeling like he'd forgotten something.
"Whatever," he muttered under his breath. "Whenever I can't make sense of something, John always can."
As he mumbled to himself, his turn at the discharge desk came up.
"What? A hundred Galleons?" Draco froze. "I was just lying there! You're charging me a hundred Galleons for that?"
The nurse in the white uniform smiled sweetly. "Yes, while you were unconscious, our finest healers performed a full examination. The equipment and service fees add up to that amount."
Her voice was soft and pleasant, like a customer service representative trained to perfection. Draco could only grimace miserably.
"Who's the idiot that ordered all those tests?" he grumbled.
If he ever found out who was behind it, he'd make sure they regretted it.
...
"Accho—!!" At that exact moment, Neville—shopping for textbooks in Diagon Alley—sneezed.
Rubbing his nose, he looked up as Mrs. Longbottom held up a set of robes. "Neville, your arms have gotten bigger again. We'll have Madam Malkin loosen the sleeves."
"Thanks, Gran," Neville said awkwardly. "But I'd rather change the fabric this time."
The sleeves of his current robes were always too tight—it made him afraid to even use his strength.
…
When Draco left the hospital, he was carrying a medical report nearly two inches thick.
It detailed everything—down to the twelfth split end in the third row of hair from the left.
This wasn't a medical report; it was a full instruction manual for Draco Malfoy.
No wonder it had cost a hundred Galleons. If he'd had medical insurance, the fee would've been cut in half to fifty.
Unfortunately, Draco wasn't employed in Knockturn Alley, so he had no such benefits.
"Where's Mother?" he muttered, belatedly realizing he hadn't come alone.
He tried to recall what had happened, but every time his memory reached the moment they left Madam Malkin's, everything went blank.
Walking along the cobbled path, he wandered deeper into Knockturn Alley.
Some parents brought their children here for "experience," though with the clear warning not to touch anything.
After all, one careless grab could mean the kid walked out clutching a shrunken, talking head.
Most people stopped at the Inverted Garden, unwilling to go further. Draco, however, stepped into the garden, intent on finding John.
He headed straight for Silverhand Johnny's Specialty Shop, loudly demanding to see the owner—only to be tossed out by security on the spot.
"Who do you think you are, wanting to see the boss?" one of them barked.
The proud heir of the Malfoy family, insulted and thrown out like a common nobody—Draco could hardly believe it.
Draco, furious, could only stew in silence.
He decided to linger around the garden, hoping to run into someone he knew—and by pure chance, he actually did.
Astoria spotted Draco first and was about to run over when her sister Daphne gave her a sharp look, stopping her in her tracks.
Staying close behind her sister, Astoria followed her in small, careful steps until they stood before Draco.
"Draco? What are you doing here?" Daphne asked, puzzled. What business could Draco Malfoy possibly have in the Inverted Garden alone?
"I'm waiting for John," Draco said blankly, sounding as if his brain had temporarily stopped working.
"John?" Daphne's eyes darted around immediately. "John's coming here?"
Draco answered honestly, "I don't know. I couldn't get into Silverhand Johnny's, so I figured I'd wait here."
Daphne had to restrain herself from smacking him. "You couldn't just send him a message?"
"Message?" Draco repeated dumbly.
Astoria tilted her head. "Where's your badge? Why aren't you wearing it?"
Draco blinked, suddenly remembering it existed. He reached for his chest—then froze, panic flashing across his face.
"Right—my badge! Where is it?" He searched frantically, patting himself down from head to toe, but the Constellation Society badge was nowhere to be found.
"Did you drop it?" Astoria asked, frowning. She knew Draco well—he practically flaunted that badge, as if he'd hang it from his forehead if he could.
"Let me think…" Draco furrowed his brow, trying to piece things together. "Before leaving home, it was fine. Then I went to Madam Malkin's for robes, then to Flourish and Blotts, and then… then…"
The blank space in his memory made his face go pale. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember what came next.
"I think…" Draco said weakly, his face ashen. "I've forgotten."
"What?"
Daphne's eyes widened. Her brow furrowed sharply as realization struck. "You've been hit with a Memory Charm?"
The news spread through the Constellation Society before long—Draco Malfoy had been attacked.
By afternoon, Draco was sitting in the Silverhand Manor, while John stood before him, wand in hand, attempting to restore his memory.
Lucius was there too, his face dark and drawn as he held his wife's arm.
"Sir, my wife has also been struck by a Memory Charm," Lucius said, his voice trembling slightly. "She's forgotten everything."
He couldn't help but think of Karkaroff's death—Voldemort's revenge came to mind immediately.
"That's not impossible," John said grimly. "They attacked your wife and son."
His expression was cold as he glanced at Narcissa out of the corner of his eye.
She looked lost, her eyes unfocused—utterly unaware of what she had gone through.
He hadn't expected Voldemort to be so decisive—to even wipe Narcissa's memory clean.
Fortunately, John had taken precautions in advance.
Lucius was wracked with guilt, furious at himself for letting his guard down and allowing his wife and son to be attacked.
What puzzled him most was Voldemort's motive.
Why erase only their memories—and nothing else?
"In any case, it's best to stay fully alert for now," John said evenly. "I'll have Tommy install defensive wards and devices throughout Malfoy Manor."
He offered Lucius a few words of reassurance before sending him off, keeping Draco behind.
Draco sat there, running a hand through his hair until it stuck out in every direction, groaning, "I can't remember anything at all."
"Don't worry," John said casually. "Your medical report should've cleared you, right?"
Now that Lucius was gone, John's tone was much more relaxed.
Draco nodded and pulled out the two-inch-thick "Malfoy Manual" from the hospital.
John took it, flipped through a few pages, and remarked, "Aside from a little split ends from lack of sleep, you're fine."
Then he stepped closer and adjusted Draco's collar again—just as casually as before.
From within the seam of Draco's collar, John pulled out a thin, pen-shaped silver vial.
Draco had no idea when that thing had been slipped into his collar.
John twisted off the bent, needle-like cap of the silver vial, revealing wisps of faintly glowing silver light swirling inside.
"What is that?" Draco asked—not suspicious of any danger, but genuinely curious about what it was for.
"Your stored memory," John said casually. "Specifically, from the moment you stepped out of Madam Malkin's."
He shrugged, and Draco's eyes widened.
He suddenly recalled John adjusting his collar back in the shop—so that's when he'd planted it.
"You knew all along?" Draco asked uncertainly.
"Heh! Did you really think your mother brought you to the shop just to buy new robes? Your family has tailors who come to your manor for fittings."
John poured the silver light into his palm, kneading it together into a small, shimmering orb. Then he exhaled softly over it.
The light spread into a thin mist, forming a silvery image that hovered between them.
Draco watched as the scene unfolded—his mother suggesting they take the narrow side street, his casual agreement, then Bellatrix's sudden appearance and the ambush that followed.
When the vision showed Narcissa raising her wand, Draco froze, his composure breaking.
"My mother attacked me?" he said, staring in disbelief at the image of Narcissa with her wand raised.
He clutched his face in anguish, on the verge of breaking into a full 'my mother doesn't love me anymore' performance.
John cut him off before he could spiral further. "Your mother had her reasons for doing that."
He gestured for Draco to keep watching. Together, they listened to the conversation between Narcissa and Bellatrix.
It had all been a test—a cruel trial to measure Narcissa's loyalty, to see whether her devotion to Voldemort outweighed her love for family.
In the vision, a small green serpent slithered up beside Draco's unconscious body and took his Constellation Society badge.
"My badge!" Draco fumed, glaring at the snake. He looked ready to crush the slimy creature under his heel for daring to steal from him.
Bellatrix, holding the badge, then cast a Memory Charm—wiping the memories of both mother and son before leaving the alley.
John's gaze lingered on that green snake.
He remembered Percy mentioning that the one who'd attacked Mr. Weasley had also been a green serpent.
But this one… its size didn't match.
"Voldemort didn't appear," John thought silently. "So he hasn't crossed back over yet."
He'd only sent Bellatrix. So where was he himself?
"It was him!" Draco suddenly hissed through gritted teeth.
John lifted his head. Narcissa, still lost in her wiped memories, had already left—without sparing her son a glance.
Before long, Neville—who had received John's message—arrived and brought Draco to the Silver Cross Hospital.
That reminder alone made Draco grit his teeth. "I paid a hundred Galleons for a bunch of pointless tests!"
John coughed lightly. That had been his order, after all—he couldn't risk any potential aftereffects.
Of course, Draco didn't know that. Now he was fuming, cracking his knuckles and muttering about finding Neville to settle the score.
John tried to talk him down but failed.
Then, raising his hand, he pressed his palm lightly in the air—as if hitting a pause button. The projection froze.
He rewound it a bit, stopping the image right where the small green snake appeared.
John studied the creature's crimson eyes, his expression turning thoughtful.
"Could it be… a new Horcrux?"