MAY 1st 1998 – Near the Scottish Boarder
Seven death eaters jumped up with their wands raised as some one came bursting through the door of the tiny cottage on the outskirts of the town. They all breathed a sigh of relief and stowed their wands bank into their robes when they saw it was their comrade.
"Any news?" Colden Rookwood asked.
"You could say that!" the death eater blurted. "Potter and his friends just broke into Gringotts!"
"What?!"
"Impossible!"
"How?"
"I don't know, but they managed to get inside the Lestrange vault and escape on the back of a bloody dragon!" the death eater reported.
"What did they take from the vault?"
"I have no idea, but it must have been important."
"Why didn't you get one of the goblins to see what was missing?!" demanded Rookwood.
"Because they're all dead!" he shouted getting all the attention in the room. "The Dark Lord went berserk. He slaughtered everyone in the bank. I'm just glad I wasn't there to see it."
"Potter escaped again? We should be looking for him, not guarding this stupid box!" one of the death eaters spat while gesturing to a large wooden crate on the table. It was about the size of a standard Hogwarts trunk and was locked with a simple padlock.
"The Dark Lord wants that box looked after. He wouldn't have sent us here if it weren't important," Rookwood said proudly.
"You don't even know what's in it!"
"It's not my place to know. Or yours!"
"We need to watch the skies. The dragon was last seen flying north and the Dark Lord suspects that Potter might try to re-enter Hogwarts," the death eater said.
"Hogwarts? He wouldn't stand a chance, the castle and Hogsmead are completely under our control," another one said.
"That doesn't mean we shouldn't be ready. If the mark burns then we have to –"
A small clanging noise sounded out as something metal rolled across the floor right into the middle of the group. Rookwook had exactly two seconds to look at the small metal cylinder with confusion before it exploded.
The most awesome blinding light erupted with a sound so loud and intense that their ears lost the ability to do anything but ring. Blinded and deafened, the death eaters tumbled and fell, desperately groping for something to hold onto. Some had tried to pull their wands but couldn't see anything to aim at.
Before the effects of the flashbang grenade could wear off, bullets began cutting through the air and hitting the death eaters one by one. Blood sprayed across the walls as the Squib moved fluidly through the room, killing all of them with deadly precision and merciless efficiency. His rifle had a suppressor attached to the barrel so only small snapping noises sounded out when he fired.
Rookwood had just about regained his sight when the Squib reached him. He raised his wand but it was batted out of his hand and landed on the floor in front of him. The Squib immediately brought his boot down on top of it, snapping it in two. He then shot Rookwood in both legs for good measure.
He screamed in pain, clutching the bloody wounds as the Squib quickly checked the area to make sure all the others were dead.
"You know, it's funny," the Squib said, pulling up a chair so that he could sit next the wounded death eater. "Most muggle kids would have hit the deck the second they saw that flashbang roll in here, but you gormless wizards just stood there looking stupid. I spos' it's to be expected, I mean, you lot don't even know how to work a phone so there's no way you'd know what a grenade looks like, right?"
Rookwood didn't respond. He just clutched his legs while groaning.
"Well," the Squib shrugged, "now you know. Learn something new every day…so, what's in the box?"
Again, he didn't respond so the Squib decided to step on one of the bullet holes. Rookwood hissed in pain and tensed up. "I don't know!" he managed to blurt out.
"You don't know…above your paygrade, huh? Well, your boss got eight of you up here to guard it, so I'm guessing it's important to him," he said pulling out a pack of cigarettes and sticking one in his mouth. "Smoke?" he offered.
Rookwood wouldn't even look at him.
"So, why is Potter trying to get back into Hogwarts?"
"I don't know…" Rookwood muttered breathing hard.
"What was in the Lestrange vault?"
"I don't know," he growled.
"You don't know what was in the vault, you don't know anything about Potter and you don't know what's in the box…is there anything you do know? Do you know how to make pancakes or how to bleed a radiator?" the Squib chuckled. "You know, it's probably better if I kill you…"
Rookwood looked up in horror.
"I mean, you can't tell Lord Mouldyfart that you were bested by a Squib, right? He'd torture you and anyone you were fond of and then he'd probably kill the lot of you."
"No, please…I…"
"See…this is what gets me…you call yourselves death eaters and then you start begging to live as soon as death gets close. You guys really aren't very good at this, you know," he said casually before putting a bullet through Rookwoods head.
He then turned a shot the lock off the wooden box on the table. He opened it up only to find another box inside it. This one was old, made of leather and metal and didn't seem to have an actual lock on it anywhere but was definitively sealed shut.
No doubt Voldemort had placed dozens of protective enchantments on the case to make sure only he could open it. He was going to have to try and find a way around those enchantments later. Meanwhile, just having it in his possession was a good thing because it meant Voldemort didn't. And if what the death eaters had said was even slightly accurate, Potter was heading for Hogwarts.
The school was two hundred miles north. If he could find a fast motorbike he could get up there in about two hours, maybe three. Then he'd have to steal a 4x4 or something else that could go off road to get close to the castle. If that's where Potter was going, then Voldemort was sure to show up at some point.
That might be his only chance.
He grabbed the case and left the cottage but not before setting it on fire.
DECEMBER 25th 2024 – Hogwarts
DAY 18
"Tell me about your mother."
"Never expected you to take the Freudian approach," Albus smiled.
They were sitting in Slughorn's office, within Slughorn's office. This time it was a memory of one of his little get togethers with the Slug Club at Hogwarts back in his father's sixth year. Harry had managed to weasel his way out of this particular gathering but Ginny and Hermione were present, along with Anya's father, Blaise and several other Hogwarts alumni.
Nemesis had taken the form of Gwenog Jones, whom had been captain of the Holyhead Harpies quidditch team and a former student of Slughorn's. They were sitting across from each other in a set of large armchairs.
"You find it odd that an orphan might become interested in how someone that grew up with parents lived?" she asked.
"No, that I fully understand. My dad did it with the Weasley's after all. I just thought you'd probably already checked that box long before you ever came here," he explained.
"I met many people that grew up with parents and they each had different experiences. Now I want to know yours," Nemesis said.
Albus had actually met Gwenog several times when he was younger. Ginny had joined the Holyhead Harpies for a few years before becoming pregnant with James and the two still kept in touch. At the time he'd been too young to realize it but now Albus saw that she was very pretty. The form that Nemesis was wearing was from her final year at Hogwarts so she was the same age as Albus and hadn't sustained any major quidditch injuries yet.
"My father is the head of the family but my mother is definitely in charge," Albus summed up.
"Growing up with six older brothers, I can imagine that she had to find her strength early on," Nemesis remarked, glancing at the younger manifestation of his mother.
"More than she should have had to. It wasn't easy for her after the whole Chamber of Secrets thing. She told me she had nightmares for a long time and that a lot of the other students were still pretty wary around her but eventually, she learned to move on," he nodded.
"She shares many of the same talents as your father. Impressive magical skill and a talent for flying. Order of Merlin second class, awarded for valorous deeds during the battle of Hogwarts. All things absent from your life."
"I don't need you to spell out my short comings –"
"Oh, no, I didn't mean it as an insult," she said quickly. "I said they were absent from your life, I didn't say they were qualities you lack. The truth is, ninety percent of broomstick flying is done out of recreation and has very limited strategic value anymore. You've proven several times already that you are capable of finding ways around magic; your little explosive surprise for the Gryffindor's being the most recent example and Order of Merlin is a pompous mummery that bureaucrats use to pat each other on the back."
"You mean because it's often handed out for financial donations to the right people?"
"I mean, because it no longer has anything to do with its original purpose. The Order of Merlin was established centuries after his time as a way of celebrating people that chose the same path he did. Merlin pulled away from the wizarding world in favour of serving Arthur Pendragon and Camelot. A muggle king that ruled over a muggle kingdom. True, wizards and witches were always welcome in his kingdom, but most stayed away. In some ways, Camelot was the first attempt at integration between the two cultures, even though that was never its original plan. So the Order of Merlin was established to honour those that not only defended muggles but did it at the cost of leaving the wizarding world behind...which is exactly what you plan to do."
Albus couldn't help but laugh. The treatment Rose and Alex had cooked up from the beans had worked very well and his insides no longer felt like molten lead when he moved so he was also free to laugh again without immense pain.
"So, you think I would be worthy of the Order of Merlin if it still meant what it used to?"
"I think the Order of Merlin is a fancy award named after a man that hated fancy awards," she smiled. "Back then, they just used to call them knights."
"There are no knights in the wizarding world," Albus said.
"Mores the pity. Knights were to defenders of virtue. They were sworn to protect the innocent and uphold justice. Those things seem to have been lacking in the wizarding world for quite a while," she said.
"My mother protected the innocent during the battle, as did all the others that fought."
"They were the innocent and they were protecting themselves and each other. Not so much an oath as a choice. There is a difference, you know."
"An oath is a pled that regards the rest of your life, you don't stop following it just because the battle is won. A choice is something you make when you're deciding whether to fight or flee."
"Your mother chose to flight and I'm sure she would do so again if the situation ever arose so I suppose in some ways you could call it an oath…or rather an oath in waiting. From what I've found out, she almost wasn't part of the fight at all."
Nemesis glanced at Ginny again who was currently wearing a fact smile in response to something Slughorn thought was highly amusing.
"Yeah, her parents tried to stop her. Said she was too young to be there," he confirmed.
"Has she ever tried to stop you from doing something because you're too young?"
"No. She gives me a lot more freedom than she was allowed to enjoy. Molly was a very protective mother, like an old lioness fiercely guarding her cubs," he said with a faint smile. "But she knows the cubs are all grown up now."
"Bad analogy, Albus. Lionesses encourage their cubs to learn how to hunt from an early age."
"Because it's the lionesses that do the hunting for the pride. The Weasley's were all boys, except my mum. Molly always pushed her children to do the best they could, she just had trouble cutting the umbilical."
"But, Ginny never had that problem with you?"
"I'm not the youngest."
"Nor the first born."
"You think I'm suffering from middle-child syndrome?" Albus asked with a snort.
"Are you? Do you ever feel excluded from your family?"
"Middle-child syndrome is often psychosomatic, it has less to do with actual differences in personality and more to do with the preconceptions of family structure," Albus said quickly.
"Middle children don't fit in because they think they aren't supposed to?" Nemesis asked curiously.
"It's more common in America. So many politicians, celebrities and evangelical talking about what family is supposed to be, it leaves very little wiggle room to get your bearings. There is a fixed structure, 'the American dream', that often says what a happy family is supposed to be and if you don't fall into that structure, well…it's very easy for children to believe that they are to blame because they're different."
"But, it's not psychosomatic with you. You are different," Nemesis stated definitively.
"There is zero-point-seven percent difference between grizzly bears and polar bears that mostly effects the way they look."
"It doesn't matter how small the change, it has yielded some very big differences. Not just in your magical abilities but in the way that you think and feel."
"So, nature, not nurture."
"Nurture, struggling to catch up with nature. I think your mother affords you a level of independence and freedom in order to display her confidence and trust in you, which, in turn, hides how she really sees you," Nemesis said, staring at him intently through Gwenog's brown eyes.
"And how does she really see me?"
"Vulnerable. Fragile. How can her son possibly defend himself in the big bad world without magic? Personally, I think you're doing just fine but then, I don't share her maternal instincts towards you."
Albus let out a laugh whilst keeping his lips together. The way a person did when they didn't want to be noticed laughing.
"How do you see me?" he asked.
Nemesis studied him for a second, her eyes looking deeply into his. "I think a slayer feels empty without a monster to hunt."
This time he laughed out loud.
"You think I'm a monster slayer? Well…I'll take that as a complement," he grinned.
"It's not a complement, it's a necessity."
"Why?"
"Here there be monsters."
The look in her eyes said that she wasn't talking about herself.
Albus returned to the Headmaster's office a few minutes later. He looked out of the blown-out windows as he passed them as saw snow falling through the shield. It was difficult to make out he was sure he could still see faint movements from behind the great energy barrier. The ministry and whoever else was out there were still camped out, looking for anyway in.
His mother might have been out there. Suddenly he was wondering if Nemesis was right. Did his mother think he was fragile because he didn't share the same talent with magic that the other members of their family did?
"Merry Christmas," Scorpius said as he walked back into the office.
"Christmas? Is it really?" Albus said looking confused.
"Fraid so. Eighteen days…feels like months," he sighed. "Anyway, here."
Scorpius handed him a small chocolate cupcake with some crude icing on.
"Where did you find these?"
"I didn't find them. I transfigured them for some of the chocolate frogs and Rose did the icing using the sugar. Not exactly a Crimbo dinner but…"
"It's a shame Torrens doesn't have any plants in here or we might have been able to transfigure one into a Christmas tree," Dom said.
"You know Christmas trees were first used by Scandinavians," he said smiling at Alex.
"Really?" Anya asked looking interested.
"They weren't called Christmas trees back then," Alex informed after giving Albus a wry smile. "They were used by the Vikings because they believed they were a gift from the god, Balder."
"A tradition later adopted by the Germans who used evergreens to represent the tree of knowledge when doing renditions of the story of Adam and Eve. Mainly because they lasted a long time after being cut down and brought into the theatre," Albus added.
Alex gave him another smile before turning away. That fact that he'd clearly researched her countries heritage was quite flattering.
"She say anything interesting?" Scorpius asked after he bit into the cupcake which unfortunately tasted very dry.
"She said the order of Merlin is a load of bollocks," he answered after swallowing.
"My dad's been saying that for years," Scorpius shrugged.
"That's it? That's all you talked about?" Rose asked looking suspicious.
"No offence, but I doubt you'd understand the other stuff we –"
"Try us!" Aiden hissed.
"Alright," Albus said happily. "We talked about genetic diversity and psychosomatic adolescent divergence in relation to preestablished parental conformities," they all looked at him like his spouted antlers. "Oh, and today, she was wearing Gwenog Jones."
"Really?" Aiden perked up. "Your mum knows her, right?" he asked Rose.
"Yes, and she's not a fan," Rose said grumpily.
"Well, I'm sorry to crush your hopes but Nemesis didn't get us any presents either," he said slumping down onto his bed.
"Pfft, Scrooge," Melissa muttered.
Albus chuckled.
"I'd settle for some eggnog…some very strong eggnog," Aiden said sipping his tea.
"Urg! How can you drink that stuff?" Melissa cringed. "Just thinking about it makes me want to –"
Anya suddenly darted to the balcony and threw up over the side of it. Her morning sickness (or more accurately, whenever sickness) hadn't been much of a problem lately but apparently it was back with a vengeance.
She emerged a few seconds later, red faced and wiping her mouth. Without a word she rushed out of the office and down the corridor towards the staff bathroom.
Albus got up to go after her but Scorpius beat him to it. Alex went after the pair of them a few moments later.
Nemesis had been good to her word and hadn't harassed any of them since the staircase incident but most of them were still nervous to leave the office. Albus was the only one that wondered the halls without a care and they still found that hard to believe since he was the one that ended up with a piece of metal through his stomach. He was also the only one that ventured out alone with the others either going in small groups or everyone going at the same time.
Scorpius managed to find Anya in the bathroom a few minutes later. She was bent over a sink repeatedly washing her face and gargling with water to get the taste of sick out of her mouth. She saw his reflection in the mirror and stopped, breathing heavily.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"That is officially the stupidest question you've ever asked," she said looking at him in the mirror.
"You're right, but I'm obliged to ask."
"Because you want to pretend that you're concerned?"
"Because I am concerned," he said firmly.
"Why? You all hate me…I'm the queen Hogwarts bitch, remember?" she sounded tired, not just exhausted but tired of everything.
"I'm afraid your throne has been taken."
"No shit," she laughed for a second then start crying.
She covered her face with her hands as he rushed over to her.
"Hey, it's okay," he whispered pulling her into a hug. It was awkward to say the least. Never in a million years did Scorpius think he'd be hugging Anya Zabini but then again, their seventh year was turning out to be a bit unusual.
"It's not!" he sobbed. "My family's gonna disown me…"
"Of course, they're not. You family loves you."
"When they find out…" her voice was muffled as she buried her face into his shoulder.
"Anya? Are you okay?" Professor Bonde's voice asked through the door.
"It's okay. Everything's fine," Scorpius shouted back, hoping that he could read the tone of his voice and wouldn't enter the bathroom. He turned back to her. "Anya, you're not going to be disowned."
"You don't know that!"
"I know Albus. And he will get us out of here, I promise," he whispered.
"He saved my life," she whispered back.
"I know."
"I've been so horrible to him…to both of you," she said before crying even harder.
"It doesn't matter now. We're all in this together," he hushed. "Besides, you're not so bad…not sure you belong in Slytherin though."
Anya choked out a laugh. "Oh, and you do?"
"Meh, seemed like a good idea at the time," he smiled.
"Right bunch of misfits, aren't we?"
"Yeah, but it could be worse…we could all be pregnant," he shrugged.
She slapped him on the arm but didn't stop crying. The baby was really worrying her, or rather her family's reaction to the baby.
"What do I do?" she breathed.
"I can't tell you what to do. If you want to keep it or not…it has to be your choice. But, one way or another, you're going to have to tell the Goblin that you –"
"Goblin?!" she snapped.
"Or ghoul, was it a ghoul? A troll?" he grinned wickedly.
"No, you little prick!" she shrieked but still looked amused.
"Does he know? The father?"
"No…I didn't even know until about three weeks after we got to the castle…"
"Do you think –"
"I don't know. It was just one night…we haven't even spoken since…It was just…"
"It doesn't matter…whether it was half-blood, pure-blood or a muggle," he said immediately noticing her reaction to the word 'muggle'. Anya had slept with a muggle, "you've done nothing wrong. Hell, our bodies were literally built for this sort of thing. Yes, your parents are in for quite a shock, but in the end, your decision is the only one that matters. And what ever you decide, you won't have to face it alone. You have friends here," Scorpius said sincerely.
She looked at him for a moment, her tear sickened face seemingly frozen and then, all of a sudden, she kissed him.
Scorpius didn't know how to react. Her lips were just on his and he was frozen solid. He knew pregnant women's hormones often made them act oddly but he definitely hadn't been expecting her to –
The bathroom door opened and just when Scorpius thought things couldn't become anymore surreal, he and Anya broke apart just in time to see the utterly shocked and horrified face of Rose Weasley.
"Oh, sorry…sorry…I…" she mumbled, cheeks flashing red with anger, before turning very quickly and marching away.
Scorpius remained rooted on the spot, trying to figure out what exactly had just happened.