12

"Hey, Partridge, can you pass the jam?" Rose demanded. She sunk her knife into the dish of preserves and began spreading them on her toast as she eagerly scanned the sky, waiting for the rush of wings that would signal the arrival of the morning post. Up and down the long Gryffindor table, students were doing the same thing, anxiously anticipating the arrival of letters and packages from their families. All but Scorpius, who, as always, was seated on Rose's left, intently studying for that afternoon's Transfiguration test.

Mail never came for Scorpius like it did for all of his friends, a fact which really didn't bother him very much. He had spent his whole life being ignored by his parents, so the fact that they never wrote him wasn't a surprise to Scorpius at all. He was certainly not about to send them any letters; that would mean writing detailed descriptions of his new friends and his activities since he had arrived at school, all of which, Scorpius was certain, his parents would disapprove of. He had quickly found that boys like the jam-hogging Anthony Partridge, who had been raised by Muggle greengrocers, and the tiny Mason Fleshing, who's father edited a widely respected Muggle newspaper, were actually rather intelligent and equally talented at magic. His closest friend at Hogwarts, Rose Weasley, although not Muggle-born, had parents famous for their pro-Muggle leanings, considering the roles that they had played in the Second Wizarding War. Scorpius knew that his proud parents, who obsessed over their pure bloodlines, would not approve of their son's choice of companions.

Then there was the issue of the house mix-up. Scorpius had not told his parents about the incident and didn't plan to- things would only be made worse for him if he did. All that aside, however, Scorpius had found himself rather enjoying Gryffindor house; he got along well with all of his classmates there and, for the first time in his life, had made a number of real friends. All of the pureblood kids, the sons and daughters of his parents' friends who had taunted and teased him for practically his whole life, were enjoying themselves in the dungeons of Slytherin house, a place where Scorpius was now very happy that he was not. The only Slytherin that Scorpius considered a friend was Albus Potter, the boy that he had met in front of the Headmistress's office on his first morning at Hogwarts. Albus was an odd, quiet boy of incredible talent, who many of the first years shunned, but Scorpius had taken a liking to. He was Rose's cousin, and the three of them had spent many hours together in Potions class, or otherwise amusing themselves on the grounds of Hogwarts. Overall, the three weeks that Scorpius had spent at Hogwarts had been the happiest days of his life, and he didn't particularly want a letter from his parents to come and spoil it all. But of course it did.

"Scorpius!" He had been so immersed in his Transfiguration textbook that he hadn't even noticed that Rose was poking him persistently in the shoulder. When he turned around, she handed him a heavy box with brown wrapping and a note attached to the top. The mail had arrived, and Scorpius, the kid who never got any mail, had just received the biggest package at the table. He noticed the other Gryffindors staring and, blushing a little, started to hide the box under his chair. He didn't particularly want to open it- knowing his father, it was probably a shrunken head or something else equally terrible from Borgin and Burkes.

But Rose, of course, wasn't going to let it go. "Open it," she insisted, shoving the package back under Scorpius's nose. He shook his head, but she persisted. "You do it, or I will," she demanded. He gave her a sideways glare and began to unfold the note.

Scorpius, it read

Your Mother's Great- Aunt's estate has been settled. Most of it was divided up in a logical and sensible manner. However, although Marelda Black left no will, she did leave behind a statement saying that she wished for you to have the contents of this package. This makes no sense because, as far as your Mother and I are aware, she never even knew you existed. But her wishes must be followed, I suppose, so attached is your inheritance. I do not see how it will be of any use to you; I have repeatedly tried to get it to open, but it refuses. There is no key.

Your Mother and I hope that you are keeping up with your studies, associating with suitable people, and not disgracing the family. We will see you at Christmas.

Father

Scorpius swallowed hard. Aware that Rose was trying to peek over his shoulder, he crumpled up the letter and shoved it into the pocket of his robes before she could get the chance to see. He was getting a feeling, a cold and clammy one that he had experienced daily while living under his parents' roof. He had been free of that sensation for three glorious weeks, but now it was returning: the feeling of never being good enough.

Trying to shake it off, Scorpius turned his attention to the package. He removed the brown paper slowly and methodically, taking care not to disturb whatever the contents were inside. Rose, who was not a fan of suspense, bounced eagerly beside her friend as he unwrapped, begging him silently to hurry up. Several other curious onlookers from further down the Gryffindor table also craned their necks in curiosity. They were disappointed, however, when Scorpius pulled from the pile of wrapping a plain, nondescript wooden box. It was about the size and shape of Scorpius's Transfiguration textbook, was polished nicely, and was sealed in the front with a dainty silver lock. Like his father had said, there was no key.

"Alohomora," Rose commanded, pointing her wand at the locked box. It was a good try, but it didn't come as a surprise to Scorpius when the box refused to open. After all, his father had said that he had tried everything. As Rose shoved her wand back in her robes with discouragement, Scorpius turned the box over in his hands, examining it from every angle. It was perfectly smooth, with no cracks, crevasses or wrinkles in the wood. Scorpius was at a loss to see how it could ever be opened.

A chime signaled the end of breakfast, and students from all four tables began to exit the Hall. Suddenly, Scorpius remembered that today was not an ordinary day- it was the day of the first Gryffindor/Slytherin flying lesson! The thing that Scorpius missed most about home- the only thing he really missed- was his toy broomstick, and the sense of freedom that he had felt, flying alone and away from everything. Today was the day that he got to return to the air, for the first time in almost a month. His heart leaping with excitement, Scorpius shoved the box into his bag along with his textbooks and rushed out of the Great Hall with all of the other First Years, all thoughts of his ancient relative's strange gift gone from his mind.