Prologue: Strange Meeting
Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy flitted joyfully between the rows and stacks of books in Flourish and Blotts, barely able to contain his excitement as he collected the required texts listed for first-years attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Although Scorpius' father had pointed out that whole sets of first-year textbooks were already compiled at the front of the store, Scorpius had insisted it would be much more exciting to go in search of each book individually. With each new find he would race back to his mother and father, drop the tome in his newly-purchased cauldron, kiss his mother on the cheek, and immediately turn on his heels to speed off in search of his next book.
Scorpius was particularly excited today because his mother, Astoria Malfoy, had made a special effort to travel to Diagon Alley with her son. Astoria was often quite unwell and unable to leave Malfoy Manor, however she had been determined to mark what she saw as an important event in her son's life. "I wouldn't dream of missing your first Hogwarts shopping trip," she had told Scorpius earlier that morning. "I want to be there when you're fitted for your robes, and when you receive your first wand. And besides," she had said, taking Scorpius' cheeks in her hands playfully, "who will help to convince your father that you need a pet to keep you company while you're away at school?"
Since Astoria usually had the most energy early in the mornings, that's when the Malfoys had begun their shopping, and they had enjoyed relative freedom from crowds as a result. As the morning pressed on, however, Flourish and Blotts began to fill with the families of other students doing their back-to-school shopping, and Scorpius was beginning to worry that his mother had been on her feet for longer than they'd anticipated.
As Scorpius dropped his final book into his cauldron with an excited half-dance, he looked up to see a boy around his age descending a staircase in the rear corner of the store. The other boy looked almost as excited as Scorpius had been feeling that morning, and the grin stretched across his face was full of delight. Scorpius' breath caught in his chest for just the fraction of a moment, and the noise of the store became more muffled and distant, as something completely new and foreign stirred deep within his gut.
"What's wrong, darling?" Astoria asked, seeming rather disappointed that Scorpius hadn't repeated his previous shows of affection. "What are you looking at?"
"Nothing," Scorpius said quickly. He wondered why he felt so deeply embarrassed that his mother had noticed him watching this other boy.
As Scorpius tried to judge whether his cheeks might be turning a shade of pink, the other boy's father found him and made his way over to collect his son.
"Well, wouldn't you know ... " Draco Malfoy said with a harder edge than he had intended. "If it isn't the Potters."
Scorpius was genuinely surprised. Harry Potter looked different in real life than he did in the photos Scorpius had seen, and much shorter than the hero he had imagined as his mother told him stories of the Second Great Wizarding War. He'd heard his father speak about Harry Potter before, and although he'd not had unkind words to say in front of Scorpius about the wizarding world's most famous family, he knew there was a lot of bad history shared between the two men. His heart sank.
"Oh Draco," Astoria said. "Don't you think it's time the two of you put to bed all of those old feelings? Scorpius will be in the same year as one of the Potter boys, you know. Albus, I think is his name."
Albus, Draco thought to himself.
"And no doubt he'll be sorted into Gryffindor like the rest of his family, so there will be little cause for them to talk, I'm sure."
"Don't you think it would be sweet if our children could rise above those old family grudges? And the Potter boy would be lucky to have a friend like Scorpius," Astoria replied, smiling warmly at Scorpius and gently brushing his cheek.
Scorpius felt a bubble rising in his chest as his mother spoke. The excitement of the day must have been getting to him. He stole a glance in the direction of Harry Potter and his son, conscious to avoid eye contact with Albus. Due partly to his mother's house-bound condition, and partly due to rumours he knew circled the Malfoy name, Scorpius had not spent a lot of time with children his own age, and he supposed his sudden curiosity in Albus could simply be attributed to a desire to make friends. Even so, he felt stupid thinking about the glow he felt when he saw Albus fingering the same fiction book he had been considering buying earlier. What was wrong with him today?
Scorpius was still looking at the pair when he felt his mother's hand grab for his shoulder. A weight pressed down on him as she tried to prevent herself from collapsing. Scorpius quickly flung his arm around her waist, and Astoria regained enough of her strength that she could support her own weight again.
"Astoria …" Draco said, his voice full of worry. "Are you ok?"
Astoria nodded her reply. "I'm sorry, darling," she said to Scorpius, tears welling in her eyes. "I don't think I have the strength to take you to the pet store today after all."
"That's ok mum," Scorpius said. "We've been to loads of places already. We've got everything from the list now, and you even bought me loads of candy for the trip to Hogwarts. What more could I ask for?" He gave her a tight hug to show how much he truly appreciated the effort she'd made to be with him today. "Why don't we wait outside while dad finishes buying these books?"
Scorpius took his mother's hand and led her outside, turning just once more to cast a final glance in the direction of the boy who had so quickly captured his attention.
. . .
Hermione Granger sat deep within the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, scratching notes on a sprawling piece of parchment as the wizards around her spoke. As Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Hermione was charged with taking meticulous notes at meetings such as this one, and reporting information to her immediate supervisor. While this had always been a strength of hers, today Hermione was struggling to keep her attention on what was being said. Her notes were still punctilious, she was quite sure, but too often her mind would wander back to a phrase uttered earlier in the briefing: forced registration of Muggle-borns.
Usually the daily interdepartmental meeting of cabinet officials struggled to draw more than four or five attendees, but today each seat at the large, round table was filled. This morning's meeting was being led by Alfres Burntiddle, a burly looking wizard attached to the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Alfres had recently returned from a two-year posting to Germany, and this morning he was giving the various departments a debrief of the intelligence he had collected while posted overseas.
Alfres had begun by addressing the steady rise of anti-Muggle sentiments in parts of eastern Europe, including a growing push to introduce mandatory registration of Muggle-borns. This had sounded barbarous to Hermione's ears, however he had assured those in attendance at the morning briefing that this was a well-intentioned move to head off more totalitarian steps.
To Hermione, the idea such demands could be suppressed by legalising and thus legitimising anti-Muggle sentiments seemed weak, naive and self-defeating. Worse, it reminded her of a much darker time when, as a child, she had witnessed her own Ministry's desperate attempts to avoid confrontation. It was times like these, when she saw other nations making the same mistakes her own had made so many years ago, that she remembered how insulated the rest of the world had been against Voldemort's reign.
When Alfres opened the room to questions Hermione was the first person to speak. "I noticed you didn't mention Gerwalt Boite during your briefing," she began. "Isn't her influence over the Black Forest wizarding communities significantly shaping these anti-Muggle sentiments across Europe?"
"I wouldn't judge her involvement as particularly significant at this time," Alfres replied.
"I've heard reliable intel that Gerwalt has also orchestrated a number of attacks against Muggles throughout broader Germany? Surely if she has the support to agitate for violence throughout Germany, her influence may begin stretching into Eastern Europe."
Alfres adjusted himself in his chair before he replied, sitting up taller than he had been before. Hermione wondered if he would have felt the need to assert his physical stature if he hadn't been speaking to the only witch in the room. "Gerwalt has been tied to a number of fairly insignificant attacks - nuisances, really - against Muggles throughout Germany, but her movements remain domestic at this time, and there is no evidence to suggest this will change in the foreseeable future."
"What's the likelihood of similar attacks starting up in Britain?" an older wizard asked. Hermione didn't recognise him, but the way his moustache twitched as he spoke made her think of a small mouse cleaning its whiskers.
"I don't think that's likely at all," Alfres replied. "Based on documents I've seen from the German Ministry, Gerwalt's little group of renegades should be put down within the next twelve months, and that should be an end to it." Alfres allowed himself a satisfied smile, as if he had put an end to this line of questioning, and began to rise.
"Have you submitted a request to mobilise our aurors in support of the Germans?" Hermione asked.
Alfres' smile vanished. "No."
"Do you have plans to do so?" Hermione pressed. Alfres shot a steely gaze at the witch and slowly retook his seat.
"No, Miss Granger, we do not. We have only just begun moving past the second great Wizarding War, and I'm afraid there is simply no appetite for international conflict in Britain. Besides, I promise you, within the next eighteen months the Germans will have their situation under control and no British auror will have put his life-"
"His or her life," Hermione interrupted.
"Yes. His, or her, life on the line," Alfres said, forcing a polite smile.
Hermione wanted to push the subject, but she could see there would be no point. Even if she could convince the jumble of deputy heads at this morning's briefing that acting early would prevent greater conflict in the future, she knew her own department head would never take such a suggestion to Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic. Alfres was right, there was no way British wizards and witches would allow its Ministry to lead them into a foreign war, no matter how just the cause.
Even so, Hermione struggled to concentrate throughout the rest of her day, which was very much unlike her. In her next meeting she stared absentmindedly as a witch told her about a shipment of gillyweed that had been imported in violation of international trade agreements. Later she caught herself tuning in and out of a meeting on counterfeit Le Puissance dress robes being peddled in Diagon Alley. In fact, that evening, Hermione found herself reading and re-reading the first page of a report on recent incidents of illegal troll fighting when a sharp rap on her office door stirred her from her thoughts.
"Come in," she called.
Professor McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, stepped into Hermione's office. Professor McGonagall had been a favourite teacher of Hermione's when she was at Hogwarts, and the younger woman had always admired the professor's keen wit and steely resolve, but even after all these years and in spite of the position of power to which Hermione herself had risen, she couldn't help but feel small as the headmistress stepped into her office.
"Good evening, Miss Granger. I can't say I'm surprised to see you are still hard at work after everyone else has gone home."
"Professor McGonagall," Hermione said, proffering her hand in welcome. "It's lovely to see you. Please, have a seat." Although she was far from an old woman by wizarding standards, Hermione couldn't help but notice McGonagall moved more slowly than she did as a teacher at Hogwarts, as though a great weight now hung around the woman's neck.
Mcgonagall sat down, and Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see her old teacher smiling. "It's always encouraging to see past students make positive contributions to our magical community. Speaking of which, how is that husband of yours? Applying his talents for mischief in a productive way, I trust?"
"You could say that," Hermione replied. "Although, he could bare to spend less time testing his products on himself. Last night he came to bed with fluorescent green hair that glowed in the dark."
"And has he passed that sense of mischief onto your children? I believe Rose is joining us next year at Hogwarts."
"She is! I can't believe how quickly she's grown. She insisted we go out and buy her wand the day she received her letter, and she's been learning incantations ever since, ready to practice her spellcraft on the train ride to Hogwarts. But I dare say you haven't made the journey down to London just to reminisce with an old student."
"No, I'm afraid not," Mcgonagall said. "I had intended to meet with Kingsley this evening, but it seems he has taken rather ill. I wanted to discuss the worsening situation in Eastern Europe."
Hermione wasn't surprised to hear Mcgonagall had been keeping track of matters abroad. It seemed she had inherited more than Dumbledore's title when he had passed. "I'm afraid there's only so much I can share with you, Professor."
"And I would never ask that you betray the confidence of the Ministry, Miss Granger, but surely you have noted the recent Muggle attacks, the disturbing rhetoric being delivered by some foreign Ministries, Gerwalt Boite's ever increasing efforts to incite wizards and witches across Europe towards violence, and now I'm hearing rumours of mandatory registration of Muggle-borns. Surely these acts recall a dark time in our own history."
"I understand your concerns, Professor, but the Ministry isn't in a position to intervene at the moment." This was unquestionably the most distasteful part of her job. She could tell where this conversation was heading, and Hermione knew she would soon be honour bound to defend the Ministry's official position on entering foreign conflicts, a position with which she herself couldn't even agree.
McGonagall's lips grew thinner, and Hermione began to feel like a schoolgirl about to be chastised by her teacher.
"I can attest to the German Ministry of Magic's readiness to -"
"Hermione," Mcgonagall cut across, shocking Hermione with the use of her first name, "I know the official view of the Ministry, and I don't need you to parrot their lines to me. I'm asking for your view."
"Professor," Hermione began, standing to indicate the meeting was coming to an end, "I am the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement within the Ministry of Magic. I'm afraid that means the Ministry's view is my view."
McGonagall stood to meet Hermione's gaze. "Miss Granger, don't make the mistake of confusing loyalty for blind faith in others' judgement. When the day comes for you to take a stand for what you know is right, I hope you will make that stand regardless of how unpopular it may be."
Thanks for reading! I love to get feedback, questions, comments, so please leave a review and let me know what you think, positive or negative!
This prologue is just a bit of a dip back into the past to set the tone, but the rest of the story will take place over the boys' fifth year and after the events of the Cursed Child, when they're already best friends and moving towards something more. Hope you enjoy!