Nineteen Years Later
On the beautiful, crisp, fall midmorning in which our story starts, King's Cross Station was bustling with activity. The sun was shining high in the clear blue sky and apple-red leaves danced across the asphalt.
A small family of three hurried into the station, their conspicuous black robes billowing in the wind. To the unfamiliar eye, they were certainly an odd lot; a gray owl hooted loudly from inside its cage, which was perched precariously atop their cart. And of course, their attire certainly was strange. But this was London, the city where people were used to seeing everything.
They seemed, at first, as if they were heading towards Platform Ten. Yet there were no trains scheduled for Platform Ten that day. But then the three figures came to a halt, right in front of the brick barrier that divided Platforms Nine and Ten.
The tall blonde man, presumably the father of the family, leaned down and whispered something into the little boy's ear. The boy's gray eyes widened, then he nodded eagerly. He turned to the brick barrier, with a determined look on his face. He pushed his cart a bit forward, then stopped hesitatingly, looking back on his parents one more time. His father, and the woman that was supposedly the mother, nodded at him encouragingly, and the little boy turned back to face the barrier again.
A nearby ice cream man was running a stand right past the gates. He had been observing the strange group since they entered the station. He watched, completely bemused, as the little boy raced his luggage cart towards the brick wall and -
He blinked. That lunatic of a boy had been just about to crash into the wall - silly git, what was he thinking? - when the ice cream man's vision was obscured by a large, loud group passing by. He pursed his fat little lips, annoyed. He would've liked to see the boy get knocked out by the barrier. Serves him right for his stupid little stunts. He tried to get on his tippy-toes to look over the large crowd, but the group was a tall bunch, especially those three gangly ones in the middle, and the poor ice cream man wasn't much tall himself.
"Excuse me sir?" A small voice asked out of nowhere.
"What?" The man snapped, annoyed. He looked down, surprised to see a sweet little redheaded girl standing at his cart, rocking back and forth on her heels. He softened. "Oh, I'm sorry, poppet. Didn't see you there. May I help you?"
"Can I get an icee? Pretty please?"
"Well, of course, sweetheart." The ice cream man opened his cooler and pulled out a Popsicle. "That's going to be £3.00."
"Uh, I dunno how quite to count money, you see." The girl scratched her head.
The man's eyes gleamed. "Oh, don't worry about it. Just give me all you have, I'm sure it'll be close to enough. The rest is on me."
"Oh, thank you!" The girl beamed ear-to-ear. Then, to the ice cream man's utter bemusement, she dropped two hubcap-sized gold coins onto counter, along with a few little bronze coins. They rolled and rolled and rolled until they clattered to a stop.
His eyes widened, then he burst out into laughter. Was this some sort of joke?
"I'm sorry, love, but I don't take your play money."
"Oh . . .Er . . ." The girl scrunched up her eyebrows and turned to the large group that had been passing by. "Mummy!" She yelled.
A slender, petite, redheaded wonder separated herself from the group. "Oh, Lily-Billy, what've you gotten yourself into this time?" She said, sounding exasperated. She reached the ice cream stand. "Ah."
She surveyed the scene, sighed in understanding, then addressed the ice cream man. "I'm so sorry for the misunderstanding, sir. Here," She dug into her bag and pulled out a £20 note, and tossed it onto the counter. "Keep the change for your troubles."
The ice cream man nodded, smiling widely and eying the money greedily. "It was not trouble at all. I completely understand. Kids, you know. What can you do, eh?" He quickly swept up the £20 bill and stuffed it into his apron pocket.
"Yes, well - you see, my daughter likes to play pretend a lot, she has a wild imagination. Sometimes she gets reality and her fantasy world confused." The woman laughed, a bit forced.
"No problem, ma'am. Well, you feel free to come back anytime, you hear?" The ice cream man said cheerfully, waving them off as they left. He chuckled to himself as the girl whined to her mother.
"But Mummy, it's not pretend." She insisted. "You and Daddy use those all the time! At Gringotts -"
"Hush, child."
By now, the large crowd had moved away from the stand, and the ice cream man glanced again towards the barrier, hoping to be in time to witness the blonde boy getting a proper whooping from his father for being so stupid. But the boy wasn't there anymore. Neither were his mother or father.
The ice cream man frowned.
He noticed the large group that had passed by was also heading towards the barrier. Well, it certainly seemed to be a popular location today.
The ice cream man saw the redheaded woman turn back, glancing at him warily, then she whispered a few words to a tall, lanky man with black hair. The man turned, and the ice cream man locked eyes with him for a second. A piercing jade green . . .
The ice cream man suddenly felt his eyelids get heavy. Moments later, he was asleep.
"Scorpius, dear, your collar!" The thin blonde woman bent down and fussed over her son's gray overcoat.
"Mum!" The little blonde boy, who we've met already, rolled his eyes.
The mother sighed. "I'm sorry my love." She gave him a firm kiss on the forehead, which Scorpius wiped away with a disgusted yuck. "You know I'm just worried about my darling son leaving me for a whole year."
"Mum!" Scorpius jumped up and down impatiently. "Don't baby me!" He looked around warily, making sure no one had seen his mother's embarrassing actions.
The tall blonde man who was standing behind them was a spitting image of the little boy, who, as you've guessed, happened to be his son. Draco Malfoy put a reassuring hand on the woman's shoulder. "Astoria, calm yourself. Can't you see you're stifling the poor boy?'
"Alright, alright!" Astoria gave a surrendering laugh. "I supposed you're going to grow up someday."
Right then, a large group of people poured out onto the platform. The blonde man stiffened, and Scorpius' eyes widened. The gray owl in the cage fluttered its wings in excitement and gave a small hoot.
"Father?" He tugged on Draco's robe, shocked. "Is that - is that really them?"
"Oh, yes." Draco sounded a little annoyed. "That's your adored Golden Trio for you."
"Merlin's beard!" Scorpius whispered. "In the flesh! They're absolutely beautiful, aren't they?" His father snorted. Scorpius turned to his father eagerly."Can I go ask them for autographs?"
"Great Salazar, no!" His father hissed, repulsed. "That's absolutely out of the question."
"Aw, Dad, its -!"
"You're being absolutely ridiculous, Scorpius." Draco sneered. "You know, sometimes I think you're in love with them or something. What with those obscene posters and newspaper clippings pasted all over your wall . . ."
"I just want their signatures!"
"Let me make this clear, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. You are notgoing to go and beg the Potters and Weasels for autographs."
"Oh, alright then, be a . . ." Scorpius trailed off his words incoherently.
"Scorpius!" Astoria scolded.
"Sorry." Scorpius replied, not sounding sorry at all.
Scorpius observed the Golden Trio for a while, itching to approach them. Their family was huge. He'd heard a lot of bad talk about the Weasleys before, but they looked like an awful nice sort despite what his grandfather had told him. There were the traditional Weasley redheads, of course, but also bright blondes, hazel browns, and a couple of jet blacks mixed in the lot.
And there, in the center of it all, pushing their children's luggage carts, was them. Standing out horribly from the crowd even though they were clearly trying not to. A tall redhead, a mass of brunette curls, and a horrible shock of untidy jet black hair that could only be - - him.The hero of the Wizarding world. TheHarry Potter.
The Harry Potter who happened to be nodding at Scorpius' own father at that very second. Scorpius looked up to see Draco return the greeting with a cold, reserved, but polite nod as well.
"So you doknow them!" Scorpius cried with glee.
"Well of course I do." Draco said, a bit amused. "I have no idea why you're so surprised. Even if you didn't believe what I've told you, I'd think you wouldn't question those biographies you waste all your time reading."
"They barely tell us anything about your relationship with them in the war." Scorpius complained. "All it says is that you and Harry had a small 'enmity'-" Here Draco snorted "- at school, and something happened at the Battle of Hogwarts involving you, and during the Trio's time abroad you guys crossed paths. No matter how much I read, I can't get any more information than that."
Draco smirked. His dad's Ministry connections were certainly good for something.
His son continued. "And it's not like you'reany help; you won't tell me anything about the Golden Trio."
"What're you talking about? I tell you stories all the time." Draco said, affronted.
"Let me reword - you won't tell me anything interestingabout the Golden Trio. I really don't care about how you managed to invade the DA Headquarters."
Astoria nudged Scorpius. "It's fifty-five already, sweet, we'd better get your stuff onto a compartment."
"Astoria, will you go ahead and take his things? I'd like to talk over a few things with Scorpius." Draco asked, giving her a meaningful eye.
"Locomotor luggage." Astoria waved her willow wand, Scorpius' trunks and Luna's cage floating after her.
Scorpius turned to his father, puzzled. "What is it, father?"
"Scorpius, listen to me. What I'm going to tell you is very important, and you must do exactly as I say." His father's steely cold eyes locked into his son's.
"Alright . . . what is it you need to tell me?" Scorpius shifted from foot to foot, glancing up at the clock nervously.
"Will you promise to do as I tell you?"
Scorpius hesitated, then said, "Yes. Of course, father."
"Scorpius, you must not, by any circumstances, become friends with any of the Weasleys or Potters."
Scorpius frowned. "Why not?"
"Because" Draco said slowly, "They're just different from us, Scorpius."
"So . . .I'm supposed to be their enemy? Like with you and Mr. Potter?" Scorpius' brows came together. He didn't want to have to be an enemy of the Weasleys.
"No, no, here's the most important part. . . ."
"Whenever, and I mean whenever, any of them need help, you must always help them to the best of your ability." Draco said this with a bit of difficulty.
"What? I - Why?" Scorpius was utterly confused.
"I'll tell you when you're older." Draco said, glancing again at the Potter/Weasley crowd.
Astoria appeared once more. "Scorpius! It's about time to board the train, my love." She gave him a watery smile, then enveloped him in her arms. "Oh, I'll miss you so much, Scorp."
After many hugs and kisses, to which her son barely responded, she let him go tearfully. His father patted his arm good-bye, and wished him good luck at school.
And so with his head full of his father's cryptic instructions, Scorpius Malfoy boarded the Hogwarts Express.