What do you want?

Sam had initially been hesitant to do this job. It was very unlike anything he had ever done before, and he wasn't sure he would be able to do it. But since Dawson thought so highly of him that he trusted him to build all of this by himself, he wanted to prove him right. So, he had done exactly as Dawson ordered, though he thought the top-security cells were a little cruel. He had installed some lights in there, even though that had not been in the original plan. He was excited to see if Malfoy would manage to escape. He hoped he would not. And he hoped that when Dawson saw how well he had done, he would finally do what he had said he could do and release his brother. 

Why did he always end up doing things he didn't really want to do because his brother got into trouble? This might be a surprisingly gratifying job, but also very boring all alone. He sent some food down the tube, not really listening to what Malfoy tried to shout up to him.

Malfoy seemed to take this rather seriously, trying to get him to relent and let him out. That was what had happened in Azkaban, according to Dawson, though Barnsby placing guards under the Imperius Curse had made it worse. They needed to find a way to keep people secure, but not able to interact much with others. But did it have to be taken to such extremes as this? It could drive anyone crazy, being down in a hole in the ground alone.

***

Scorpius didn't know how long he had been down here, but if he was fed three times a day, as seemed likely, it had been at least three days. He had tried to shout up to Sam, but he hadn't gotten any response. He had tried telling him this was not a game, that Dawson was crazy. No response. Either Sam didn't believe him, or he didn't hear him. 

He had tried opening the trap door in the ceiling, but it was very high up and there was nothing to use to levitate him up there. Any time he tried to make platforms with earth, they collapsed as they got near the ceiling. The feeding tube was fastened tightly, probably with magic and there was some sort of device in there that gave him a nasty shock if he tried putting his hand too far up the pipe. It would not be a good idea to try and remove that anyway, as it was his only lifeline to food and air. He had tried to blast the door open, but that had just caused a lot of the surrounding dirt to fall down on him. Clearly, the opening was Imperturbed. He had tried to make handholds so he could climb up there but that didn't work either, the dirt was too soft. He had tried everything he could think of, and nothing worked. Sam had done a way too good job on this. Would he really have to spend the rest of his life stuck in a hole in the ground? Surely, Sam would realise sooner or later that this wasn't a game. 

Scorpius had removed his fake beard, it just got in the way, but he thought he felt some stubble grow on his cheek. Strange, he had never been able to grow a beard of his own before. Malfoys usually never had much facial hair. He wondered if it was blonde, like his hair.

Suddenly, the hole in the ceiling opened. A bright light shone at him, and he was thrown against the opposite wall. He blinked, trying to get his eyes to adjust. After several minutes, he saw Dawson coming down from the top of the hole. What was this all about? Luckily, he didn't have the wand out.

"I must say, I am almost disappointed. You haven't even tried to escape? You're no fun."

"Why are you doing this Dawson? Who are you working for?"

"For the Ministry, obviously. I'm rooting out the troublemakers and the ones that got away."

"I'm also working for the Ministry. Why did you take me here? What do you want?"

"You can't fool me, Malfoy. You managed to talk your way into the most influential family in the Wizarding World, but they are all weak. They want to see the best in people. But I know better. You showed the world your allegiance a few years ago. When you knelt and pledged yourself to the Dark side. You think that is something to be done lightly? You bear the witness to what you've done on your arm to this day!" Scorpius' left arm burned with a sharp pain as Dawson sent some sort of spell towards the Dark Mark. He shouted out in pain and shock.

The man was insane! Scorpius saw his eyes bulging from his face, clearly enjoying this moment. Did he really believe any of this, or was this part of the sick game he was playing?

"I was cleared of that! I was working to undermine them. What do you want from me? You can't keep me here forever; they'll miss me eventually. I let Rose know where I was going, she will start to worry about me sooner or later."

"Don't worry about her, I found your notes. All the ones on the desk and in the drawer. Your owl, that was a clever trick, never made it out of the Ministry. Your pretty little wife might worry for a time, but she'll get over it. If she makes a big deal out of it, we might find a very damaged body somewhere that looks very much like yours. She'll believe you've died. That is for the best. Then she can focus her talent on where it should be." 

Scorpius filled with dread. Rose might actually believe that, whether or not she believed Dawson's story. If she hadn't seen any of his notes, she would worry, but she would have no idea where to even start looking. And if he turned up dead somewhere…

"What do you want from me? Why go through all this trouble just to bring me here?"

"I told you. I need to keep undesirable people away from the Potters. No one can be allowed to mess with them, especially not monsters like you. Only when that is taken care of can I get back to where I was supposed to be."

None of this made any sense. The man was crazy. 

Then Scorpius saw something that made it even worse. It was as if the man changed right in front of him. Dawson quickly took a sip of some dark liquid and he returned to normal. Polyjuice Potion. 

Who even was this man?