The rain had washed Draco clean of any morsal of evidence to suggest he’d ever left the castle grounds. No disheveled hair, no mud on his face, no blood on his hands. A timely storm, he thought. At that, the clanging of gates and thudding of boots rang through the main hall. Chandeliers appeared above and blossomed flames like flower petals raining a soft light throughout the foyer - no more shadows for strange observers to hide in.