Chapter Four
The Blood From the End
Hermione Weasley woke to the sound of thudding. Her brown eyes blinked blearily in the dark and the bulk of quilt and blanket in the bed next to her snored loudly. Something thudded again and she pulled the covers back to expose her husband asleep with his mouth open, dressed in old fashioned stripy pyjamas with his greying red hair flopping over one eye. He was obviously not the culprit. She pulled the covers back over his sleeping form and he continued to snore, obviously unperturbed by his recent exposure.
Slowly, Hermione reached for her wand. Her hand scrabbled on the bedside cabinet, brushing the waving family photograph, the biography of Celestina Warbeck, the box of tissues and finally the wand, although not before knocking a glass of stagnant water onto the carpet.
Hermione held her breath. If it was a burglar, they could have quite easily have heard the muffled thud. The silence, broken only by Ron's continued snores, seemed to stretch out forever until finally the other kind of thudding, the thudding that had woken her up, resumed.
Carefully, she lifted her feet out of bed and snuggled them into her fluffy slippers, carefully avoiding the wet patch on the carpet. She picked the glass up and put it back on the bedside cabinet.
"Lumos" She hissed and her wand illuminated, casting an eerie light over the bedroom. Ron stirred and grunted.
"Put that bloody light out, woman!" He exclaimed, before being hushed by an indignant Hermione. "What?" He whispered grumpily as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
"Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"That noise?" They were silent for a minute. There was no thudding.
"What noise?"
"The thudding. There!" Thud. Thud. Thud. Slowly, Hermione moved towards the door of the bedroom and peeked out onto the landing.
"You're going mad, Hermione." Ron mumbled after her. "It'll just be a tree or something."
Hermione was not easily convinced. She crept out onto the landing and sneaked past the doors to Hugo and Rose's rooms before slowly descending the stairs. More family photographs were illuminated as the light from her wand passed them and the occupants all waved at her from their various poses. The largest one and the one that seemed to have been given pride of place on the stairway wall had been taken in the kitchen at the Burrow and the whole of the Weasley family were all seated around a huge Christmas dinner. The Potters and the Grangers also occupied the long wooden table and, as everyone dug into Mrs Weasley's turkey, they all waved at Hermione as she passed them. She shushed them with a finger to her lips and they all obliged, glaring at each other whenever they scraped their knives or forks too loudly on their plates.
Hermione reached the bottom of the stairs and stealthily crept into the living room. It was then that she got the fright of her life.
Clawing at the living room window, staring at her with huge amber eyes, was quite possible the biggest owl Hermione had ever seen. She shrieked and her wand fell to the floor with a clatter. After regaining her composure and realising that, while huge and scary looking, it was just an owl, she moved over to the window and unlatched it tentatively. The owl launched itself into the room, landed on the coffee table and extended its leg to expose its letter, almost removing Hermione's left hand in the process. Luckily, Hermione had good reflexes and managed to get her hand out of the way before it was lacerated by one of the owl's deadly talons.
"What in the name of Merlin's left ..." Ron had appeared in the doorway, although had stopped full-flow when he'd seen the beastly bird, now busying itself with ripping up one of the magazines on the coffee table.
"Oi!" Hermione removed the magazine from the owl's beak and swatted it on the head with it. "Stop it."
Ron moved towards the bird and untied the letter from its leg.
"Who could this be from?" He asked. Hermione shrugged.
"Who would send an owl at this time in the morning?" She replied. Ron unfolded the letter and spread it out on the table before them. The owl chirped noisily.
"I've not finished with you..." Ron said, pointing at it threateningly as Hermione read over his shoulder.
"It's from Rose!" She exclaimed. "Why would she...ah..." She gulped and waited for Ron to reach the line in question. She would know when he did.
Sure enough, Hermione felt Ron suddenly stiffen.
"Malfoy?" He said, in a dangerously low voice, a voice that Hermione knew meant she was treading on thin ice. "Is she out of her mind?"
"No." Hermione said soothingly. "She doesn't know anything about the Malfoys, remember?" She glanced back at the letter. "I'm sure this...Scorpius...is a very nice boy..." Ron snorted, although it was a snort without humour.
"He's a Malfoy, Hermione. A Malfoy. Of course he's not going to be nice."
"Well I'm just glad she has someone." Hermione said, suddenly. "We've both been worried about Rose for years and now she has a friend..." She stopped and scooped up the letter from the table. "I think we should be happy for her..."
"But she wants to invite him for Christmas!"
"This isn't about you, Ron. This is about Rose. We don't even know this boy. I'm sure he's nice. Rose isn't stupid; she wouldn't make friends with someone awful..."
"She's never made friends with anyone before!" Ron yelled. "Maybe she's got social problems!"
"Ron!"
"Well maybe she has! We've both been worried about it – like you said. Don't you think it's a bit weird that after all these years she chooses a Malfoy to be friends with. Don't you think that's just a bit odd?"
"Ron, Rose is our daughter and we should be happy for her."
"I know..." Ron's voice was calmer now. "...and I would be, Hermione, you know that. Just...a Malfoy?" He shook his head. "I just don't want Rose to get hurt."
"I know." Hermione smiled back fondly. "But she has to make her own mistakes. We can't protect her all the time." Ron frowned. "What?"
"It's just...at the office..." Ron began. "...this case with Malfoy heirlooms..."
"I thought you couldn't find anything. I thought it was just a jewellery box. Luton said he's never detected anything out of the ordinary before."
"I know...but still." Ron shook his head again. "There's something not right about it. This jewellery box, it's got Parseltongue properties. I meant to get Harry to check them but I've not had the chance."
"Ron."
"Yeah?"
"These things haven't got anything to do with this boy. Rose likes him and we should make an effort. I'll invite him for Christmas. Don't make that face. If it makes Rose happy, it's worth it."
"Alright." Ron scowled for a moment. "I'm tired. I'm going back to bed."
"Okay. I'll come up in a minute. I'll just put this owl with Ernie. I hope he doesn't kill him."
"Yeah." Ron smiled. "Love you."
"Love you too. Goodnight."
"'Night."
Rose read the sentence again. She'd read the same sentence roughly five times. She was normally a good reader, a trait she'd inherited from her mother, but today was different. Today she was distracted.
The distraction came in the form of Scorpius Malfoy, who was occupying the bench opposite her. His blond, almost white hair was messy from when he'd been running his hands through it and it had managed to stay in that position, some strands now sticking up almost ninety degrees from his head. It fell over his eyes, the grey eyes that were staring at the page with so much concentration that she was surprised the book didn't catch fire. He stirred and yawned, bringing his arms about his head. Rose panicked and turned back to her book quickly, her face flushing as she did so. She stared at the sentence again, feeling his eyes drilling holes into her scalp as she refused to meet his gaze. Finally, thinking the coast clear, she looked up. It wasn't.
Scorpius was still staring at her. His gaze was strong, intent and he searched her face, as if looking for something. Rose found herself turning red, her heartbeat quickening. His eyes seemed to be staring at her lips. Did she have a spot on her chin? Was that what he was looking at? Shakily, she touched her chin with shaking fingers. She felt no tell tale bump, there was no blemish. Why was he staring at her lips?
Slowly, Scorpius leant forward, keeping his gaze locked on Rose's. He tenderly brushed a strand of hair away from her face before stroking her cheek. He glanced back down at her lips again, their faces mere inches apart...
"Rose!"
Scorpius' hand suddenly flashed back onto the table. Rose jerked her gaze away from him and turned to find Albus brandishing a roll of parchment in his left hand. He bopped her on the head with it.
"How're we doing, Rosie?" He winked, jerking his head over to where Scorpius was watching him, smiling in confusion. Rose cleared her throat.
"Albus, this is my...friend, Scorpius. Scorpius, this is my highly irritating cousin, Albus." The two boys nodded at each other, Albus grinning smugly.
"This is for you..." Albus handed her the parchment. "...It's from Professor Grundelwort. You missed him, you were that...busy..." With another grin and a wink, Albus disappeared behind a bookshelf, no doubt in search of another cousin to annoy.
Rose glanced down at the parchment in her hands.
"Oh God..." She moaned. Malfoy looked up.
"What?" Rose sighed.
"Grudelwort's been on at me for weeks, desperately trying to get me to go to this potions thing...I reckon that's what this must be about...It says to see him as soon as possible..." She smiled apologetically at Malfoy. "Sorry; I'd better go."
"It's ok..." Malfoy smiled back. "I've got to do this." He gestured towards the unfinished essay. "If I bat my eyelashes enough, do you think Madam Pince would help me out?" Rose snorted as she loaded her things into her bag.
"Nah...I reckon there's something going on between her and Filtch..."
"My God...It's a sad, sad day when you're refused over Argus Filtch." Scorpius shook his head and Rose sniggered before reluctantly leaving the library.
She found Grundelwort in his office in the dungeons, drinking a glass of brandy and dozing off to the old wireless balanced on a stack of books.
"You asked to see me, Professor?" She said, inching further into the cluttered room. Grundelwort woke with a start.
"Oh!" He exclaimed. "Miss Weasley!" He hastily pulled himself to his feet. "Yes...I wanted to talk to you..." He moved over to his desk and started leafing through the papers scattered there. "Aha!" He looked back up at her, brandishing a copy of The Quibbler in his hands.
"The Quibber?" She asked, sceptically. Her godmother, Luna Lovegood was the now the senior editor of the magazine and, if Luna's own sanity was anything to go by, the magazine's articles would not be gospel.
"I know, I know..." Grundelwort said, flicking through the pages. "...but before you get all funny on me, Miss, read this..." He handed her the magazine open on a double page spread. One whole page was devoted to a photograph depicting a smiling, dark haired woman waving smugly and blinking behind her cat-eye glasses. She was dressed in what seemed to be only a bundle of embroidered scarves that wafted around the page as she moved her arms and made her appear mysterious and goddess-like. The caption read, '...opposite: Hester in her element.' The opposite page was completely covered in writing.
'Janquool Launches Youth Scheme...' boasted the title. Casting a wary eye over to Grundelwort, who was watching eagerly as Rose read, she continued to skim the text. 'Hester Janquool, 42, Order of Merlin Third Class and renowned potion mistress and researcher for St Mungo's Hospital, has launched a new competition for gifted potion students.
"It's a great idea..." says Janquool from the comfort of her Herefordshire home. "It'll really inspire kids to take potions seriously, to learn more about the subject.'
Janquool is certainly pulling out the stops with this one. A two-day residential course running from the 3rd of January to the 4th, the students will battle against each other in various rounds until one is declared a winner. Although an opportunity not to be missed, there are only twenty places available on the course.
"There's only one of me!" laughs Janquool. "By restricting the numbers, we've made the course more worthwhile. It's a shame we can only accept twenty people but I have got a very busy year ahead of me. I wish all applicants the very best of luck and hope to see them in January."
All in all this seems like a fantastic opportunity for any potential potion masters/ mistresses. Applications can be made by simply answering the following question:
What is the name of the lead singer of the Wizarding Rock Band 'The Humming Hydra'?
Gurt 'The Brain' Windleworm
Thoma Sparksteen
Herbert Pringlebottom
Please send all applications by owl post to: 15 Hackney Court, Merrleby, Herefordshire.'
The rest of the page had been devoted to displaying all of Hester Janquool's various awards.
"You want me to go on this...thing, don't you?" Rose said.
"Well yes. I do. I think it would be a fantastic opportunity, and you're by far the best potions student in the year..." Rose glanced back down at the article, back down at Hester Janquool's gleaming face.
"I'll have to speak to my mum..."
Harry Potter twiddled his wand lazily between his fingers, occasionally making little sparks emit from the end, purely for his own amusement. Work behind a desk was worthwhile, if boring and he often found himself caught up in memories of the old days, when he, Ginny, Hermione and Ron had all worked together, out in the action. Things had changed now, though. They all had children for one, and if that wasn't a hearty dose of action, Harry didn't know what was.
The office door burst open, wafting the Weird Sisters poster on the wall to the floor. Ron marched in, before hanging his cloak on the back of the door.
"Do you know how many bloody times I've told Hester about those memos?" He exclaimed, obviously in full flow. Harry smiled knowingly.
"How many times?" He asked, throwing his wand up in the air and catching it with one hand.
"Dunno." Ron flopped down behind his desk. "About fifty."
The office that Harry Potter and Ron Weasley shared at the Ministry of Magic was not particularly big, yet it held all sorts of precious, sentimental objects and neither of them would have traded it for a larger one. The bookshelves were crammed with obscure, spindly objects that Ron had collected while in Romania with his brother, Charlie. Harry didn't have a clue what they were for and neither did Ron, but they looked quite impressive when coupled with the leather spines of great wizarding literary volumes, supplied courtesy of Hermione, who took Ron's repulsion at the written word as a personal insult.
On top of the bookcase was a tea cosy, the same tea cosy that had once perched on the head of a house elf.
The walls were full of photograph frames, all boasting smiling, cheerful images of waving people, most of whom had flaming red hair. A few newspaper cuttings had been framed and hung on the wall too, boasting headlines such as 'POTTER/WEASLEY DUO BOAST SUCCESS AT THIRD ARRSET THIS MONTH', beneath which a smiling Harry and a slightly bemused Ron both blinked at the camera, appearing considerably less grey-haired.
In the corner of the room was a glass fronted cabinet, the contents of which was concealed behind the leaded frames of glass in the doorway, although a faint light seeped through the gap between the doors.
"Busy day?" Harry asked, as Ron stretched his arms behind his head.
"Yeah...you?
"I wish..." They were silent for a moment.
"Oh." Ron suddenly said. "I meant to tell you..."
"What?"
"We'll have an addition for Christmas."
"I know." Harry groaned. "James is bringing home another one of his dim girlfriends. I can't remember her name; the last five have been a blur..."
"No..." Ron said slowly. "Rose's bringing a guest this year too..."
"Ah." Harry said, judging by his friend's face that this was not good news. "This is your first time, right?"
"What do you mean?" Ron asked, thrown off guard.
"Your first son or daughter to bring home a boyfriend or girlfriend. Don't worry; I'll guide you through it, I'm a professional.
"It's not that." Ron said, agitated. "Although, don't get me started on the whole boyfriend thing...wait until I tell you his name..."
"Oh yeah?"
"Scorpius Malfoy." Ron spoke as if confessing to a mortal sin. Harry's mouth opened slightly.
"Bloody hell."
"I know." They were silent for a moment.
"What're you going to do?" Harry asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Are you going to break it off?"
"God no – Hermione would kill me. I don't even know what 'it' is; she says they're just friends..."
"That's what they all say..." Harry nodded significantly. Ron frowned worriedly.
"Well..." Harry said, drumming his hands on the desk. "...we've got that to look forward to. It must be , what? Four years since I saw a Malfoy..."
"I wish I could say the same." Ron mumbled. Harry looked at him. "I was there the other week – covering Luton's area..." He explained. "...I had to pick up some stuff. In fact, there's something I've been meaning to show you..." He got up and went over to where his clock was hanging on the back of the door. He dug around in one of the pockets before pulling out a small, dusty box. He crossed back over to the desk, where he opened it and displayed its contents to Harry.
"I don't think it's anything dangerous..." He said, as Harry pulled the ornate jewellery box out of its case and turned it over in his hands. "...it's muttering Parseltongue. I put a silencing charm on it though; it was driving me mad..." He pulled out his wand and muttered the counter-curse. Slowly, the hissing began again and the office was filled with the sound of serpentine noises.
"What does it say?" Ron asked. Harry looked up at him, his eyes were tired and full of an emotion Ron hadn't seen on his friend's face for a very long time: confusion.
"This is strange..." Harry muttered. "...very strange."
"What does it say?" Ron asked again, his voice rising in frustration. Harry took a deep breath.
"The blood from the end will open me."
Ron frowned.
"I don't get it..." He mumbled.
"That's not the worrying part." Harry said, clutching the small box. "What's worrying is the voice."
"What voice?"
"The voice of the person saying it..." He paused. "...a person I know to be dead."
"Who?"
Harry looked up at Ron, his green eyes staring into Ron's blue ones. "Astoria Malfoy."
A/N – Thanks for all the lovely reviews. Criticism is welcomed, as always and I hope you like this chapter. What do you think of Harry and Ron? Are they in character? Let me know...
Thanks for reading. Reviews are great.
Ellen x