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Those Who Inherit

Year One: Chimera

Chapter 1: The Red Snake

There's blood, there's time, and there's the little deviant.

"But why can't we just Floo to Hogwarts?"

"Because that's less dramatic?"

"To give a chance for the children to socialise before the house rivalry kicks in."

"Oh, not to wear the students out so by the Feast the teachers won't have to deal with them?"

--Hugo, Ron, Hermione, and Rose Weasley, Ask About Hogwarts #87

"Check it out, Rose; it's raining and sunny at the same time."

She looked up from her book (101 Ways to Hex Your Arch-Nemesis and pushed her glasses up. The sky was as bright as it had been an hour ago, but now there was a rather fierce shower of water in between the golden ray. Well, they were in the middle of summer and winter. She said this to Al, who shook his head.

"It's still weird, you know." Now he was pressing his forehead on the window, looking at who-knows-what. In Rose's opinion, he was the weird one, getting so worked up on a regular weather like this. But perhaps, he didn't really have anything better to do. Their compartment was lonely with Aether, Al's owl, and Cantabile, her owl, asleep and James goofing off as soon as the train departed. Knowing Al, not even a good book could keep him quiet for the whole ride; two hours had been a record. She wondered why he hadn't gone off and tried to find their primary schoolmates, or why none had found them. All the better, actually, they were prone to be obnoxious to her.

"What are you reading?" She held up the book's cover to him, not that he didn't already know about it. "Oh, that." Al went back to staring through the window. One second later he went back to pestering her again. "Aren't you excited about Hogwarts?"

She clenched her teeth. It was a ridiculous question, considering how their relationship went and the amount of time they spent. "Of course I am. What, do you want me to jump up and down like Gonzales?" Well, fluttering and squawking would be a better description for James' noisy and pompous barn owl.

"No." Al tried hard—and failed—to hide his hurt. "But you haven't talked to me."

Her first instinct was to accuse him of doing the same thing; the second and better one was telling him, "I'm nervous, Al," and be done with it.

Al slumped in his seat. "Oh, yeah, definitely...hey, you know what—um..." In a flash, his expression changed from slightly depressed, to slightly brighter, and finally settling on apprehension; Rose couldn't help but smile at him.

"If it helps, I can't really understand the whole keeping the families separate thing." Well, not really, she did understand their reasons; she just couldn't see how that could be helpful.

Al bobbed his messy black head—the thing that distinguished him from the rest of the Weasley clan and also something she wished she had instead of her stare-inviting features. Then she mentally slapped herself; it was more than wrong to be envious of Al.So she averted her gaze back to the book, ignoring Al's further descent in his seat.

This spell, when cast properly, should result in the victim's--

"He said the Sorting Hat considers your choice," Al continued as if there never had been a pause.

"Really?" Her curiosity was genuine; the Sorting was never discussed, not even in Hogwarts: a History or from anyone in the family. Fred and James, backed by Uncle George, had insisted it involved fighting a troll and the House was decided from how the student went against it. Fabian and Gideon had hinted that the Sorting was a test of the school subjects. She stopped asking about it then and there; there seemed to be a pact forbidding the first-years to know beforehand. Poor Al was driven mental by this. He seemed a lot more subdued during the ride, though.

"Yep, so I think I'll just chant 'not Slytherin' when the time comes."

"You know James was just taking the mickey out of you."

Al shrugged. "I still don't like it. Slytherin? You heard what Teddy said about them. I mean, I don't want to be in a house with people like them." He shuddered, as though (and she knew this was true) the idea alone terrified him. He stood, walking over to Aether. Under Al's poking, the owl still didn't budge. "Why on earth did we buy this one?"

"You fell in love with it on first sight," Rose deadpanned.

Al blanched. "It was James' fault."

"...How?"

"It's always James' fault."

At this point Rose grinned and returned to her book, leaving Al to bother his owl alone.

--femurs to turn into raw bones, thus producing the eponymous jelly effect. The--

Aether squawked so loud Rose's reflexively craned around to see the owl flapping furiously and Al sprawled on the floor, evidently having been scared badly himself; Cantabile joined in the racket. None of them had a chance to move before the door slid open, and yet another redhead was the cause of it. James slipped through the door like he was chased by the devil (or a vengeful victim, most likely) and nearly trampled Al. He leapt onto the seat and sprang to the baggage holders overhead, hauling himself up and somehow managed to squeeze himself in between Rose's and Al's trunk.

"Hide me!" He hissed. He was asking for the impossible: anyone could see his tuft of red hair between the trunk and the way they were arranged signified that there was something unwanted in between. Just as Al pulled himself up, the door admitted another intruder. Al stared, and nearly fell down again in laughter. Rose, too, openly snickered, for the sight was incredible: Victoire, usually blonde, pale, and tall, now she was yellow all over and she even had a beak; Rose only knew it was her oldest cousin because of the shiny Head Girl badge pinned on her robe.

Victoire pointed her wand at the trunk shelf. "James, get down here this instant!" Even her voice was very high-pitched and fluttery. Rose wondered which of the botched Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes James used this time.

James didn't; he probably thought if he stayed silent Victoire would think he wasn't really there. Silly James. Victoire's wand emitted a bang, making Al jumped and Aether hooting reproachfully. There was a slight ruckus when James scrambled down and nearly stepping on Al's head; Victoire's wand was trained on him all the time. The eldest Potter's usual grin was absent though probably not from so much actual repentance as to easing Victoire.

"I didn't mean it!" James explained, widening his eyes like an innocent puppy. "I mean, it was supposed to be Chloe, not you..."

Victoire was not convinced. "So it was meant for my sister. I'd still like to hex you."

James winced. "I'm sorry, and anyway I have the cure." He showed her a purple-colored pastille.

Victoire eyed it and James suspiciously, before finally taking it. "If this is another trick..."

"I swear on my--"

"You're not swearing on any of our relatives, dead or alive," Al piped up.

James shut his mouth, glaring at Al. Victoire's physique was slowly returning to her normal self. She spent a lengthy time checking every part of her body, during which James looked like he could not hold his solemnity any longer. Finally, Victoire nodded. James sighed. The two remained in the compartment.

"You're supposed to get out," said Victoire loftily.

"I am?" James went out anyway, his grin materialising. Rose wouldn't be surprised if James' intended victim had been Victoire all along, or if his motive was to get back at her for taking Teddy away. Victoire glared at his back until he was out of sight. "See you later in the Slytherin table, Al, after you've used your cunning to defeat the Sorting Troll!" James' voice suddenly hollered loud and clear. Victoire muttered a sentence composed by 'detention' and 'writing to Aunt Ginny' under her breath while Al slumped in his seat, his face whitening again. Rose herself felt like chasing James and trying one of the new hexes she had just read. Then Victoire turned around, looking as though she had just realised she was not chasing James into an empty compartment.

"Oh, hi, Al, Rose. Why are you here?" Victoire plopped down the seat next to Al, looking at the boy.

"Um, we're—"

"Oh, silly me, I meant, why are you not with the others?" Victoire reiterated, smiling slightly. "I almost forgot the two of you are entering this year too. Chloe's looking for you, actually," She said to Rose, who blinked.

"She is?"

"Well, not now, she's busy tearing into Fred or James, I swear." Victoire's grimace only accentuated her beauty, somehow. Veela genes, Mum told her. "They won't sit still until they get at least five detentions by the Sorting Feast."

Al gave a shaky laugh. Victoire looked at him oddly. "What's wrong?"

Rose looked at Al, hopefully conveying her annoyance right. "James--"

"What else?" Victoire snorted. "Well, come on, let's meet the others—I'm sure they're done by now." She got up and strode out of the compartment. Al and Rose looked at each other. Al nodded feebly, and together they followed their oldest cousin. She stopped in front of a door rather far away from theirs, and opened it slightly. When the only noise to penetrate was of people talking in normal volume, she opened it wider.

It was definitely Weasleys' compartment—the passengers had either red hair of varying degrees or freckles that spans from one end of the face the other. The only blonde in there—Chloe, Victoire's younger sister who couldn't look more alike, a fourth-year Gryffindor—jumped up and hugged Rose so suddenly she cringed.

"There you are!" Chloe released the hug and turned to Al, who had taken a few steps back. She spared him. "We were wondering if James had made you late and left you in the station somehow."

Al tried to smile; it looked like a grimace instead. "Well..."

Chloe pulled them and bodily seated them across her and next to Galahad, whose hair was normal again. In front of them, next to Chloe, were Fabian and Gideon, a pair of fourth-year cousins whose appearance was as different as day and night but were always considered together; the two of them were giving her the peculiar look she was growing accustomed to.

"Where are the others?" Al voiced her question as Victoire closed the compartment and sat next to the fourth-years.

"Ophelia's off who knows where," Chloe answered; her expression soured slightly, "the Bicorn Horns--"

"That's Freddie and Jamie," Fabian cut in, smirking. "Creative, eh?"

"Isuggested that," Gideon mumbled.

Chloe glared. Anyone should have known better than to irk her. "Like I said, I hope someone can petrify them until we get to Hogwarts. I think Bizet and Romulus are with their own packs--"

Victoire sprang to her legs. "Okay, I promised them thirty minutes--"

"Fine, I don't care," Chloe said loudly. Rose doubted her sister even heard it; she was bouncing slightly as she made her exit. Chloe pouted the way Victoire always did. Quite abruptly it turned to a grin as she faced Rose.

"Anyway, you'll be in Gryffindor." It was said with such finality that Rose was taken aback.

"Every Weasley's a Gryffindor," chortled Fabian.

"It nearly put me in Hufflepuff," Gideon muttered.

Fabian waved impatiently. "But you're wearing red now, right?" He turned to the youngest cousins. "Then again the Sorting Hat's been a bit barmy these days."

Gideon elbowed him. "They're not supposed to know!"

"Says who?"

"What the idiots are trying to say," Chloe overrode both of them, "is that you'll definitely be in Gryffindor, and we'll make an all-Weasley Quidditch team! We need a Seeker." She was beaming at the possibility of such team.

Rose was not, and neither was Al. Her poor cousin's green eyes had swollen to the size of plates, and Rose felt a strong urge to get back into her own compartment.

"There's James," Gideon pointed out. Al's older brother had announced it rather boldly during Christmas that he was going to try as Seeker.

"He's rubbish," Fabian argued.

"He's not!" Al objected suddenly, surprising everyone as Al normally wouldn't argue with his elders. The situation was worse; the fourth-year pair was particular to objection. Gideon and Fabian had a condescending look that made Al squirmed.

"Fine, so he's a good flyer," Chloe intervened, glaring at the older pair, "but he can't Seek for his life. Tell him to stick to a Beater."

"Reserve Beater."

"Tell him then," Rose piped up.

Fabian fixed them with a glare that reminded her why she tended to avoid him whenever they had grand family meetings.

"I—I think I'll change", Al said, bolting out of the compartment door. Without hesitation Rose dashed after him, ignoring the shout of, "What, are you changing together?" They only stopped after they arrived at the compartment. For a moment both said nothing, Al fumbling with his trunk and Rose leaning on the door with closed eyes.

She supposed it was an inescapable truth; Dad had said it proudly every time a cousin was sorted into Gryffindor. It was in the blood, he boasted, and they were probably descended from Godric Gryffindor himself, so not being in Gryffindor was the same as being disowned. It still felt wrong to her, that personality traits could be passed down through blood just like freckles and hair and eye colour. But then, wouldn't that actually give her a chance to escape, then, discoloured as she was? No one else had heterochromia or strands of colours not related to the dominant dark red…

"Um, he's right, you know." Her eyes snapped open, not expecting Al to speak. He smiled warily. "I'll change alone, if possible."

She mouthed 'O' and made to step out. The door opened on itself and Rose ran into—almost knocking down—the stranger. Her glasses went all the way up to her forehead and the two of them nearly tumbled on top of each other.

"Sorry," she mumbled, steadying herself. She stepped back. "I—"She stopped, for she definitely didn't expect running into this intruder. It was a blond boy who was already in his school robe, the very same one her father had told her to beat in every test, and his grey eyes was locked onto hers; his pointed face betrayed a kind of shock. With a jolt she remembered that her glasses were not covering her eyes, and she quickly pulled it down, snarling at him. "What are you looking at?"

His expression was quickly schooled. "I'm sorry, I'm looking for—"He trailed off, his gaze lingering on something behind her shoulders this time.

"Yes?" She snapped, wanting very much to be left alone right now. Dad had never talked about the Malfoys in a nice way, much to Mum's consternation.

The pale face blanked again. "My owl. Your brother has it."

"My brother?" Al echoed.

"Yes. The other Potter." The reply was slightly impatient.

"How'd you know, Malfoy?"

He regarded her for a second. "The same way you know me, I assume. From our parents."

Rose snorted. "You're accusing my cousin of theft."

Scorpius sighed. "Considering that I saw him loitering in front of my compartment suspiciously, yes."

She couldn't help but smirk. Pranks, yes, taking the mickey out of everyone, yes, but James was not a thief. "Then I'd be more worried of what that owl's going to do to you."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. Al had moved to stand beside her and suggested, "Maybe it's back already. James is probably just trying to make you go spare."

Malfoy appeared thoughtful. He turned to leave.

"Wait! I'll come with you!" Rose stared at Al. "Just in case. This is James we're talking about."

"And who is usually the victim?" Rose muttered under her breath, but followed anyway. As keen as she was to heed her father regarding Malfoy, she couldn't bear leaving Al alone with him.

Malfoy's compartment was near the Weasleys'. When they arrived, both Al and Malfoy stared at the door apprehensively, as if expecting it to bite at them. Rose huffed and rolled her eyes, volunteering to open the door. It looked normal beside the fact that Malfoy seemed to be the only occupant, and there was an eagle owl staring at them from its cage.

"It's still here," she said smugly.

Malfoy frowned. "It definitely wasn't here a while ago."

Al timidly moved closer to the owl; its yellow eyes were wide and unblinking. Just staring at that owl gave her an uneasy prickling on the back of her neck. "Well, this is James we're talking about, so he might have laid a trap."

"Or he's just trying to make him running around," Rose quipped. There was something wrong with that owl, and that was both her feeling and her head talking.

Al scratched his head. "Could be..."

"Al, don't--!"

Her warning came too late; Al had touched the cage. With a soft bang, putrid blue smoke wafted from the cage. It was a stink much worse than the Burrow's ghoul, a crate of dungbombs and a skunk put together; it was and Rose felt suffocated. Her eyes tearing, she snatched Al's sleeve and bolted out, the Malfoy kid close to her heels; the three of them coughing and wheezing.

They were half-running, and even then it took some time and some distance before her nose could detect the scent of rain and the blue hue was out of her sight. Bile formed on her throat and she pushed it down--no need to add her share to the sickness. Unfortunately, she could hear Al retching. She let him go just in time for him to vomit on the floor.

Rose pinched her nose and looked away, fishing into her pocket for her wand, at the same time racking her memory. It wasn't exactly on Mum's list of first-year spells, but...

She pointed her wand at Al's general direction, still not looking. "Scourgify." She felt the magic flowing through her wand and Al's tiny 'sorry' told her she could turn around. She was pleased to find that her spell had indeed worked and Al's state of helplessness was not her fault. Her cousin was sitting on the floor, panting and very much flustered. Malfoy, in contrast, was standing upright with his pale cheeks slightly pink and his once-slicked hair ruffled. For some reasons she thought he was more appeasing to the eyes this way; he looked more like normal human instead of a porcelain doll.

There was a noise right beside her head and she stepped away from it, wand almost raised. She had been standing beside a compartment's door which was now opened and revealed Ophelia, staring straight at the three of them. The third-year's face was scrunched in an expression not unlike Uncle Percy's worst face.

"What in the name of Merlin are you doing, running around and making noises?" She questioned bossily, her eyes were especially boring on Rose and her half-raised wand.

Rose, having just remembered about it now, quickly stowed the piece of wood into her pocket. "You don't need to know." Rose had had quite enough of her cousins' company and intrusion at the moment, even if Ophelia could do some good to James.

Ophelia was now staring at Malfoy who, Rose was pleased to notice, looked slightly unnerved. "Did you get in a fight? We're just halfway through to Hogwarts--"

"We're not fighting," Rose replied through clenched teeth.

"Oh? What then?" That was said not by Ophelia, but by another Weasley behind her. Rose's heart leapt slightly at the sight of him. Bizet Weasley was a stark contrast to Ophelia, from his complexion and colouring down to his manner of standing and expression; Rose looked at him instead of Ophelia. She still couldn't tell him though.

"The usual," Al answered vaguely.

Ophelia continued staring at Malfoy as though blaming him for the trouble, which was not far from the truth. Bizet grinned.

"Oh, well, that settles it," he said cheerfully, "what about sitting with us? Or." He eyed Malfoy. "Are you too ashamed to sit with your older cousins?"

"Course not."

But Ophelia had already caught on. "It's James, isn't it? Or Fred?" She hissed. "What did those little twits do this time?"

Considering that Ophelia was still slightly shorter than James and Fred, or even Rose for that matter, she really had no right to call them 'little'.

"And you still haven't answered my question," Ophelia demanded from Malfoy. "Well?"

Malfoy sighed and looked at her. "If you must know—"

"He's with us!" Al quickly said, tugging at Malfoy's and Rose's sleeves. "And we'll just get to our compartment—sounds like you have enough people in there."

Ophelia looked like she wanted to object, but Al was so persistent he was somehow able to drag his two companions away. Malfoy was soon released because he was eager enough to walk on his own; Rose wanted explanation.

"I thought you said everything's James' fault."

Al shook his head fervently. "I'm not going to give them a chance to have a go at each other again."

"Oh, this has happened before?" Malfoy drawled, sounding curious.

"Do you want to be a Weasley?" Rose snapped, finally agreeing to just follow Al. "Then shut it. Why are you following us?"

Malfoy sighed again, with that irritatingly drawn out way of his. "My compartment's inaccessible for the moment, remember? I don't exactly want to check it right now."

"You can stay with us," Al said right at the same time Rose said, "then find someone else's." She glared at him. He simpered. "It's sort of my fault too."

She scowled, but wordlessly opened the door and sat down at her seat, making sure that Malfoy couldn't sit beside her; he made a beeline to sit beside Al anyway. Cantabile had woken up and was fluttering up and down; it was even wilder now that it found human companions. Aether, his sleep disturbed by the Scops, squawked reproachfully. Rose thought of Malfoy's owl. It was unusually quiet and didn't seem to even realise there were people with it. She would have to ask Fred and James later—it seemed a bit specialised in its design to be a Weasley's Wizarding Wheeze.

"What did you do to James anyway?" She asked out of curiosity, the motive was still missing to her.

Malfoy regarded her with an odd expression. "I told you, I didn't do anything. I hadn't even known his name before meeting you two."

She snorted in disbelief but chose not to chase the matter further, instead she continued her reading. She had an inkling she would need an array of hexes soon enough. Malfoy and Al started their own conversation so she was left to her own devices, which was what she wanted.

Half a book to go…

The door interrupted her again; they must have chosen a jinxed compartment because no one could seem to just leave them alone. At least this time it was a witch with a trolley full of food. At that point Rose's stomach reminded her it was mostly empty. Al bought quite a lot of candies; she bought half as much candy and a bit more cake, but she noticed that Malfoy didn't have anything, though he kept staring at the trolley forlornly. Once the witch left, Al asked him why.

"I'm not hungry," he said defiantly. A low growl came from his direction. Rose couldn't resist a smirk as Malfoy did his best to keep a stoic face.

"You can have some of mine," Al offered.

Malfoy looked hesitant.

"Just pay him later when you can get a hold of your wallet." Rose threw half of her Cauldron Cake at Cantabile, hoping it would shut him. She returned to her book, absently gnawing at a Liquorice Wand. The two boys were back to being merry with each other, Malfoy's features had actually softened enough for even her to see. He was talking as much as Al was, which was quite a feat because whenever she and Al had a conversation, Al would be hogging most of the words.

Rose bit her lower lip. Of course, she had implied that she didn't want to talk to Malfoy or that she preferred her book to Malfoy, but…

How quick of Al to turn his back on her.

She gnashed her teeth silently. Mum had said--among her plethora of advices given incessantly during the journey to King's Cross--that she couldn't depend on her cousins. She would gladly let go of the other cousins, but she had always expected Al to stay by her side during their school days.

He's just another cousin. But he wasn't. Al had always been a bit more special, almost a twin to her…

And Malfoy took him away.

The door opened, again, accompanied by a riot of laughter. She sighed inwardly, bracing herself for any other members of the Weasel clan—the laughter was a great clue. It was James and Fred, the ones she had thought would be uncharacteristic if they didn't meet in the train at all. If she squinted, the two of them could be similar enough to pass as fraternal twins, though James' hair kept sticking up no matter what and there was a slight discrepancy in their height. Malfoy and Al stiffened slightly at the sight of them. James and Fred finally stopped laughing when they noticed Malfoy.

"Oh, he's here. Good," Fred said, grinning ear to ear. "Oy, Malfoy, how did you like it?"

"And what," James continued, slightly tersely, "are you doing with my innocent brother and cousin?"

Malfoy's grey eyes widened considerably. "What—"

"Poisoning their minds, eh?" James snapped, his bespectacled eyes suddenly blazing. "Not enough you mess with us, you're messing with them too?"

"Wha—"

"What do you mean?" Al squeaked.

James jabbed finger at Malfoy. "Oh, you know, just being a Malfoy, like what Uncle Ron said."

For some reasons this hardened Malfoy's jaws. "Like what?" He seethed.

Fred looked at him pityingly while James sneered. "Must I say it? There are too many to count."

Malfoy made a face. Al, oddly enough, nearly did the same. Had James, for once, had the right idea? Most likely, because why else would Al agree with him so quickly? On the other hand, this was James, the cousin who liked to take the fun out of everything and everyone. But James she had never seen him this solemn, or Al this upset…

"Well, Malfoy? Anything in self defence?" James inquired, his right hand reaching into his pocket—into his wand, she realised.

Malfoy's lips curled and his eyes narrowed—the most deviations from his stoic face that Rose had ever seen. She half-expected him to snarl or roar in James' face; he just tightened his face and tried to get out, only that Fred wouldn't let him.

"Running away, are we?" Fred's grip on Malfoy's shoulder was vice-like. Malfoy slapped his hand and without hesitation marched out, slamming the door shut after him. "Coward, just like your father!" Fred hollered to the corridor.

"What about his father?" Rose asked, both out of curiosity and to squash an odd feeling she had after seeing Malfoy's departure. It was the feeling she often had when she told Hugo to leave her alone.

Fred turned to her, his lips curved. "Ah, that's nothing." Rose frowned inwardly. This was not like Fred's usual feigning-innocence nothing. In fact, it sounded very much like how her parents would dismiss Al's questions about why people kept staring at them.

Said cousin was currently best described as sulking with mouth pouting and arms folded. "James, what exactly did Scor do?" He demanded, a bit more forcefully than usual. James didn't seem to notice; he was suddenly grinning.

"Oh, that. Do you really believe that?"

"What do you--" Al's eyes widened. "You mean you lied?"

James rolled his eyes. "Al, my boy," he said with a tone reserved for toddlers, "half of fun lies in imagination and lucky guess--and you see the look on his face! I bet he actually did something to someone." James' eyes had a manic gleam to them. Al's were flashing with anger and hurt, and James finally noticed.

"What's wrong?" He asked, half of the cheeriness evaporating. Fred looked at Al as though he had just grown a second head.

Rose wouldn't mind knowing what was wrong with everyone in the compartment.

"You are!" Al cried with such a force everyone was taken aback. "Get out."

"What?"

"Out!" The door, previously shut tight, was slid open with a resonating 'bang'--the window was broken as well, and the owls made noises--and the same invisible force responsible for the door pushed James and Fred to the direction of the door. They staggered, grabbing the threshold for balance while it tried to shove them out.

Rose leapt out of her seat and grabbed Al's shoulders, shaking him. "Al, stop it! You're going to hurt them."

Al's face, contorted in anger, snapped to daze and then to horror. He panicked jumped to James' side. "I'm sorry!"

Both James and Fred looked dishevelled and shell-shocked, though James brushed Al off. "Never you mind," He said in faked calmness, "We'll see you later." He pulled and dragged Fred, who stared oddly at Al. Al made a jerk, perhaps to help James, but he didn't move.

Once they were out of sight, Al slumped into his seat, his face white and his green eyes were slightly glassy. Rose sighed, setting down next to him. "They deserve it, you know. Their pranks can be rather cruel. Though." She looked at him sharply. His head swivelled to face hers. "You did overreact."

Al made a noise. "Did I?" He said, voice pitch high. "They practically bullied him!"

"They did, but for all we know Malfoy could have really done what James insinuated."

"No, he could not!" Al was expression, normally soft was now staunch and rigid. "He wouldn't have!" Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have openly defied James like the show earlier either...

Was Dad right in telling her not to associate with the kinds of Malfoy?

"So you trust someone you have just met more than your own brother?" She said flatly. "Even after what we've been told about the Malfoys?"

Al looked at her as though she had just said he should throw himself out of the window. "Not you too! Scor is very harmless, you know!"

She didn't need to verbally answer. Al stared at the floor.

"I should probably apologise to him," he said in a very small voice which, if she hadn't been used to listening to him, could have been dismissed as a trick made by the rail's friction or the owls' incessant chirping.

She still couldn't believe he had just said that. "What or why."

He looked at her; she saw with trepidation the determination etched on his face. "He's not his father."

"He's his father's son," she countered stubbornly, "like it or not, some things must have been passed down."

"Like what?" He was back to half-screaming again. Rather than subduing her, Al was suddenly very irritating to Rose.

"I don't know." In contrast to him, her tone was flattening. "How do you know or defend him after just thirty minutes of talking?" Al refused to look at her.

She was suddenly aware that the rain had stopped, that the sun had won at last, and that the temperature in the compartment had dropped regardless.

Rose thought Al had abandoned the idea until he suddenly slid down to his feet and made the move to exit. For a second she was too stunned to object.

"Al!"

He didn't turn--didn't dare to, she realised, but he did stop. She let out a small breath.

"James is right." She stared at his back incredulously. Al's voice had never been this flat. "You are cold and heartless."

The door was slammed shut in his wake.

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