Chapter 14: An Unwelcome Guest

James did seem pretty piqued at them for not backing him up to Professor Longbottom (as well as their subsequent lack of detentions), and Louis was now regularly giving them some pretty wicked side-eye, but overall Rose considered that their trip to Greenhouse Five had not been a complete failure. They knew now that the spells on Greenhouse Five were exceedingly complicated, and that there was an additional alert spell on the door. They knew that Uncle Neville was keeping close tabs on the greenhouse. All of this boded well for Wilkes not being able to figure out getting in anytime soon. Perhaps that's why Rose hadn't been paying as much attention to Melisenda, or to her sister's plea to "watch her," as much of late.

And Rose liked to think they'd helped to increase the security of the castle. She wasn't sure, but she thought she could feel something different about Hogwarts over the next weeks. Something more secure. As they moved through November and into December, the weather shifted, and the ceiling of the Great Hall was a steely grey more often than not. The first snow came and went, and they were having to attend all Astronomy classes wearing mittens and hats, or risk losing an extremity to frostbite. And yet the castle felt warmer, like having an extra blanket on near the fire during winter. Of course, it could have just been that winter had genuinely set in now, and there were roaring fires in practically every fireplace in the castle – but Rose liked to think Sprout had been able to reset some of the defensive spells now, thanks to their help.

That feeling of extra security evaporated when Lucius Malfoy turned up again at breakfast one morning.

It was almost mid-December now, and studying for end-of-term exams was in full swing. Or end of term papers. Or both, as was the case in Callister's Transfiguration class ("The Callister curse!" Al kept moaning). It was the time of year when students had the most difficulty paying attention, with the winter holidays imminent and a break from school in the air. This happens to coincide precisely with the time of year that makes professors realize that, Merlin's beard, they're practically halfway through the year and they've only managed to cover about a third of what they thought they'd get through. A high-pressure time, in other words, and not an optimal time for Scorpius's grandfather to be showing up.

But there he was, on what was otherwise a very typical Sunday morning, save for the fact that it happened to be a Hogsmeade weekend, which didn't matter at all to Rose, Al, or Scorpius. Lucius turned up without so much as a letter to Scorpius, sitting at the High Table just as he'd done at the Welcome Feast. He was buttering a scone. It was all very pedestrian, and Rose might not have even noticed if Annabelle hadn't made a stifled shrieking-into-her-eggs type of noise and pointed dramatically. Willow's eyes went wide and Connor gagged on a kipper. All of the heads at the second-year-Gryffindor end of the table swiveled towards Scorpius, who looked as though he'd been drained of any little color he once might have had. Even his lips looked pale and pressed.

"I suppose there's no avoiding him this time," he said to himself, oddly, but made no move towards the High Table. He pushed his plate away, but didn't stand.

The other second years didn't say anything to Scorpius. Or to each other. It was the kind of silence that settled awkwardly onto the table, like trying to make a bed with a wrinkled sheet. Rose knew from experience that if Scorpius hadn't been there, they would have been whispering amongst each other without compunction, but he was here, and it just felt . . . wrong. It felt wrong to speculate and gossip about his grandfather with Scorpius right there, even when Rose knew they were mostly estranged. But she couldn't think of anything else to talk about either. Without really thinking, she reached down, grabbed Scorpius's hand under the table, and squeezed it once. His fingers were cold. He shot her a look that she hoped was grateful, but she wasn't quite sure. She let go quickly.

Rose looked back up at the High Table and found Lucius Malfoy's eyes, unmistakably, burning into hers. She couldn't help a short, sharp intake of breath, and looked down immediately. There was no way, she thought, that he didn't know exactly who she was.

He stood up, and Rose actually tried to scoot backwards. Unfortunately, the students sat on benches in the Great Hall, so this just meant that she nearly fell off the back of her bench.

She had assumed that Mr. Malfoy had brought an assistant again, but he was advancing towards the Gryffindor table himself this time, his hands clasped behind his back. He moved with disconcerting smoothness. It really was almost as though he was slithering, rather than walking, although of course she never would say that to Scorpius. His eyes seemed to be tracking her. The second year Gryffindors went even more silent, if that were even possible, and as he drew closer, the rest of the table fell silent as well. There were a few whispers up and down the table.

"Scorpius," Lucius said from practically just across the table. It turned out he hadn't been looking at Rose. Or, well, he might have been, but he wasn't anymore. He was standing directly behind Dax and Katie, both of whom cowered in their seats and tried desperately not to draw attention to themselves, as though Lucius could sense that they were Muggleborn just from standing in proximity. His voice was quiet and carrying. And sibilant. Up close, his age was more apparent, his skin finely wrinkled, and his hair more white than blond. His eyes were grey and expressionless, even paler than Scorpius's, which were almost blue by comparison. He seemed to radiate a chill. How could you look at him and not know that he'd killed people for fun? Rose couldn't think of anything else.

"Grandfather," Scorpius said quietly but clearly. Rose could practically feel the tension radiating off of him. His hands were clenched in fists at his sides.

"Shall we walk?" Lucius said, tilting his head. It wasn't an invitation Scorpius could turn down. She noticed that he was careful not to interact with anyone as he got up to leave the table, although she also saw Lucius's eyes dart back and forth between herself on Scorpius's right, and Al on his left. There was no hiding who Scorpius had been sitting with, and not a chance that Lucius wouldn't have recognized them. He probably already knew what they looked like, had seen photos somewhere. He seemed like a man who did not like to be surprised.

The entirety of the Gryffindor table watched them leave the Hall, two slim, black-clad figures with a shock of light hair. A sigh of relief or release seemed to swell from the table once they were gone.

"Merlin, that man is still scary," Fred said. Adeline Cadamus shuddered. Katie MacEwan looked as though her breakfast might make a reappearance.

"Is Scorpius's dad that terrifying too?" Annabelle asked.

Al shook his head fervently. "Not at all," he said.

"Oh, so you mean it doesn't feel as though he's sucked all the air from your lungs like a Dementor when he talks to you?" said Connor shakily.

"No," said Al. "It just feels like he's always on the brink of punching your relatives."

"I think that's just with us, Al," Rose said.

. . .

It was a few hours before they saw Scorpius again. Al had been leaking nervous energy since breakfast. He was a fidgeter under normal circumstances, but today his knee bounced higher than usual double-time and his quill tapped against the table with arrhythmic irregularity. It was enough to put Rose off doing homework. The rest of the second year Gryffindors had abandoned their little corner of the common room ages ago, when Rose had tried to ask Al if he was ok and he made a noise that could only be described as banshee-throttling-a-barn-owl.

"I'm sure he's going to be fine," Rose said at one point, "Malfoys don't seem the type likely to eat their own young."

"Not funny, Rose," Al said shortly.

It didn't help that the common room was sparser than usual anyways, so there was much less distraction from Scorpius's absence; it being a Hogsmeade weekend, most of the students third year and above would be out of the castle. It was a pleasant change for the first and second years to be able to commandeer the lion's share of the couches and chairs on a weekend, but the excitement Rose would normally have felt – and the appreciation of the quiet work environment – was somewhat shadowed by Lucius Malfoy's appearance and Scorpius's subsequent disappearance.

You're turning into Al, Rose scolded herself when she caught her mind anxiously playing out various nightmare scenarios. He's fine. He'll be back any minute. This is completely normal.

Also, she said to herself, this is Malfoy we're talking about. He wouldn't be wasting his time worrying over me if I were gone for a few hours.

Just when Rose was about to wonder aloud what Scorpius and his grandfather could possibly have been doing all this time, the portrait swung open and Scorpius's white-blond head poked in. The rest of his body followed as he clambered through the portrait hole, his eyes darting quickly around the room and settling on her. He made a beeline for their table.

Al shot to his feet. "Scorpius!" He threw his hands up. "You're back!" For an instant Rose thought Al was going to throw his arms around Scorpius, but he just pumped a fist into the air, ran a hand through his hair, and cleared his throat.

"Er, yes," Scorpius said, looking round, "Listen –"

"Are you all right?" Al asked urgently. "He didn't . . ."

"I'm fine, of course," Scorpius said, shooting a frown at Al, "He's my grandfather. I'm fine."

"Where have you been?" Al asked. "What did he want?"

"He –"

"What was he doing here?"

"Listen!" Scorpius burst out, interrupting Al's nonstop peppering of questions, "I think the Book of the Mark is real!"

"What book?" Al asked.

"The Book of the Mark. The thing Binns was talking about the other day. The record of the Death Eaters – of all the Death Eaters."

"But . . .," Rose said, mind whirring. "But why?"

"Because I think my grandfather is looking for it," Scorpius said.

"At Hogwarts?" Rose asked, aghast.

"No, at Stonehenge," Scorpius said, rolling his eyes. "No – I don't actually know where. But I know why he was here today – he wanted something from the library. Something to do with the Book of the Mark."

"He told you this?" Rose was incredulous.

"Not in so many words," Scorpius hedged. He looked back and forth between Rose and Al. "Well, not at all," he amended peevishly. "But it makes sense. He's trying to search the library for information, that's for certain, but he as much said they're not best pleased that he's come twice this year, and he said something off-hand about 'incriminating materials' . . ."

"That's it?" Rose asked.

"Well, and then I asked him about it directly," Scorpius said. Rose sputtered. Al's jaw dropped, if possible, even further.

"If anyone ever doubted whether or not you belong in Gryffindor," Al muttered.

"He's my grandfather," Scorpius said again.

"What did he say?" Rose asked.

"He asked if my father had told me about it."

Rose processed this for a moment. "That does . . . that does make it seem like it's real," she said.

"And then he started to take me somewhere else – we were up on the third floor, I think – but we ran into Headmistress Sprout and Professor Longbottom. They didn't want him wandering the halls – "

"Understandably," said Rose.

"So he went with them and I came back here." Scorpius let out a wavering breath. "And that's it."

That, of course, was not it. Rose and Al each had about a million questions for Scorpius. They made him rehash his entire time with Lucius at least twice more, even the more boring parts where his grandfather had to pretend to be interested in Scorpius's life at least enough to make it seem that the visit wasn't wholly out of character. They talked, at length, about what it would mean for the Book of the Mark to be real.

Al professed to not understand why it would be "such a big deal." Rose tried to explain, since Al evidently had not been paying attention even on the one day in History of Magic when living people actually spoke. They really didn't know how many people would be named in the Book, or who would still be alive. No one did. If they were going to identify Death Eaters who had gone under the radar, there was every chance (and then some, given that the list was likely to be comprised of mostly Purebloods) that these would include high-ranking figures in current Wizarding society. Even in the right hands (by which Rose definitively meant those of her parents and Uncle Harry, or really any of her extended family members), just finding the Book would be huge.

Not to mention if the stories were true and the Book of the Mark was not a list so much as it was a Log of Terrible Things Done by Death Eaters . . . who really knew what the fallout would be?

"Maybe it is at Hogwarts," Scorpius said gravely.

"Wait, what?" Al asked incredulously. When no one answered, he looked rapidly between his cousin and his friend, clearly doing whatever was the mental equivalent of wringing his hands. "It couldn't be . . . right? I mean, you said he was looking for something in the library – it was probably just some book or something, and that's why he was here."

"I don't know," Scorpius said, musing. "If my grandfather is showing up at Hogwarts, there's got to be a reason for it. Using the library just sounds a little . . . flimsy."

"Not to sound like I'm defending him," Al began, "But you and Rosie have both said it – Hogwarts has one of the best wizarding libraries in Great Britain, right?"

Rose and Scorpius looked at each other. "It does," Rose said quietly, after waiting a beat to see if Scorpius would get there first.

"We don't even know if the Book is real!" Al exclaimed. But truth be told, Rose was fairly convinced Scorpius was right.

"It's real," said Scorpius. "It's real, and my grandfather is looking for it, which cannot be good, and – "

"Should we tell someone?" Rose's heart was thudding in her chest and she was already itching to figure out what Lucius had been looking for. And to look up Theodore Nott's testimony from the Death Eater trials, which she'd never even bothered to do after class with Binns . . . but the memories of last year and the danger they'd put themselves in by trying to do everything alone weighed heavy on her mind. "A professor? Someone who might actually help?"

"Well, it's not as though we're going to figure it all out today," Al said, still sounding as though he were slightly in disbelief. "I'm sure we have time to talk to someone. A cousin. Our parents. A professor."

Scorpius gave a half-hearted shrug. After all, there wasn't much more productive talking the three of them could do. They sat in silence for a while, reflecting. Well, at least, Rose was reflecting. Al looked as though he might have been falling asleep, despite the fact that it was still early afternoon. Scorpius got up and left quietly. He seemed upset, or oddly intent (honestly, sometimes it was hard to tell – emotional transparency was not one of Scorpius's top ten qualities). He didn't ask for company, and Rose didn't follow.

Author's Note: Hello! Happy mid-November.

I think, in HP fandom, Lucius Malfoy sometimes gets portrayed as either "clueless stuck-up rich guy who can be persuaded to have morals if he just gets to know the right people," or "spineless fop with pretty hair," but at the end of the day, dude is essentially an elite member of the wizarding equivalent of the KKK. Draco has some redeeming moments in the books; Lucius does not. It does not strike me that Lucius would be anything other than extremely unnerving to spend time around, even for Scorpius . . . perhaps especially for Scorpius. In my headcanon, Lucius and Draco's relationship is fairly strained (although Draco does maintain a close relationship with Narcissa). Draco has pretty publicly recanted his beliefs and renounced his involvement with the Death Eaters, and while Lucius understands the necessity of doing so (and has, in fact, done the same thing himself), private conversations on the matter between Lucius and Draco have not gone smoothly.

Draco seems to feel some actual remorse, for one, and has (to some extent) grappled with his biases and prejudices - if you were to ask him if Purebloods are the superior wizards, he would by instinct start to say "Of course," but then catch himself, remember various incidents involving Hermione Weasley neé Granger, and grudgingly admit that blood purity does not scale linearly with magical talent or power. And yes, it is Hermione he thinks of here, not Harry; Harry may be a half-blood, but Draco has never really been confronted by the fact that Harry may be a more naturally gifted wizard than he is. A better flyer, probably. But it was Hermione who (easily, quantifiably, reliably) beat Draco out in every exam in school.

Lucius, on the other hand, has publicly recanted, but still uses the term "Mudblood" liberally in private, and spends a lot of time bemoaning the dilution of wizarding blood and the inevitable ruination of wizarding society brought on by "Mudblood pollution." He says things like, "They're trying to replace us!" unironically.

Oh, and for the record - if Rose were missing for a few hours and in the company of a known murderer, Scorpius would definitely be worried.

Thanks for reading!

Love always, bbh