Rockwood Castle

Rockwood Castle was a thirteenth century castle. The house elves led each guest to his own room and conjured suitable clothing so that the guests could change if necessary – after all, no one had had time to pack. Although the rooms were less refined than those in the Manor, there was something very homely about the rough walls and stone floors, the coarse carpets, the fireplaces and the medieval beds and wardrobes. There was really nothing to complain about – many a Muggle tourist would certainly have paid a price for such romantic accommodation, provided they had been able to operate the magical hot water showers. The latter, however, was only a problem to Bernie, who had to ask the house elves for help.

As Rose, Scorpius and Bernie first wrote and posted the letters to their parents, it was almost half past nine when everyone was seated at the table in the tapestried knights' hall lit by torches and candles. The elves had discreetly asked about the wishes of each guest. Since everyone had already had dinner, only drinks were served.

Roy considered ordering a firewhisky, but Arabella's admonition was still ringing in his ears and stopped him: Your mother died of an addiction, and you don't know if you inherited her disposition! And what did the doctor say at the clinic where he had tried in vain to get a place for his mother? Drinking when you think you need it is the first step to addiction! Roy indeed thought he needed it today, which was precisely why he preferred to order a hot cocoa as a nightcap, like all the students. Draco was right: They should leave this day behind them as soon as possible.

Macnair and Lestrange had taken a seat at one end of the table and were the only ones having butterbeer – a treat especially for Lestrange who hadn't had the chance to enjoy it in the Muggle world for almost twenty years. They had a lot to tell each other and talked animatedly, but in low voice.

None of the Hogwarts students felt like talking. After the stress of the past hours, the sudden quietness was soothing, but at the same time it gave them an opportunity to reflect on their situation.

My God, Roy thought, has it really been less than four hours since we had dinner in the Great Hall as normal Hogwarts students? Less than four hours since I said goodbye to Arabella? He felt his stomach cramping up. He had only given her a quick kiss, and yet it was perhaps the last time ever ...

Control yourself; you are a Slytherin!

In an attempt to distract himself, Roy, sitting between his schoolmates on one side and the two old Death Eaters on the other, tried to listen to the conversation of the latter.

"Ha! A raid on Azkaban!" he heard Macnair say. "Who would have imagined that we, as old fogies, would get the opportunity for such a last hurrah? I am already feeling ten years younger!" His eyes glowed with excitement.

"Do you think," asked Lestrange, "you can round up some more of the boys?"

Macnair took a big sip of butterbeer. "A few for sure ... not very many though. Most of them are happy to be left alone, some are simply too old for such an action. I might get just a dozen. They're old too, of course, but still healthy, just like you and me."

Roy's thoughts drifted again. He looked around the table. Five children, two teenagers, two old Death Eaters. The last posse of the wizarding world: A kindergarten and a rest home.

He looked at Scorpius. What could have become of that Scorpius in other times? He embodies everything that once made his family great, everything in the wizarding world that is noble in the best sense of the word, worthy to be preserved. He doesn't deserve to be last!

Victoire, she too the blossom of an ancient wizarding family. Albus and James, even now worthy sons of a great father. Rose and Bernie: Neither of them would have needed to take sides. Both stand up to their overpowering parents – not at fifteen and out of some fancy, like others, but at eleven and for the best reasons there are. They do it out of loyalty to their friends, and they do it because they have recognised it as the right thing to do.

They are all incorruptible.

Roy was breathing easier now. No, he thought. Those sitting here in front of me are anything but a kindergarten. They are already an elite. And it's not just Slytherins, but Gryffindors too. A world breeding such children will not perish! And if there were more Bernies, there would even be hope for the Muggle world.

"I wonder how you can be so pleased," he heard Lestrange say, looking at his old buddy in amazement. "Aren't you afraid for Ares at all?"

"Nope," Macnair said. "We'll get him out, won't we?"

"What if it goes wrong?"

"Then he or I or both of us die an honourable death. There really are more miserable ways to die than fighting this regime!"

"Sometimes I really wish," said Lestrange, "I were like you. I'm just afraid for Julian. Our grandson is the only thing left of Bellatrix and me, and if he dies ..."

If Arabella dies, it flashed through Roy, nothing will be left of us!

His attempt to distract himself had failed. The Dementors have Arabella! The Dementors have Arabella! He would have liked to scream. He mustn't! He forced himself to listen to the two old men again.

"Oh, Lestrange, you are still taking life far too seriously! That makes you likeable, but somehow you also get in your own way. You'll get your Julian back – a great boy, by the way, I've met him – but first we'll have a lot of fun, look forward to it instead of moping around!"

Now Lestrange had to smile, and Roy too. There was something decidedly infectious about Macnair's cheerful berserkness.

"Albus," Roy asked, "do you have the the Marauder's Map with you?"

"Sure I have, as always," Albus replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Could you have a look on it to see if anyone is hanging around our secret room? If not, the Aurors might not have discovered it yet, and I could go back to Hogwarts and get some older Slytherins."

Albus looked at the map. "Looks bad. There are a lot of names I don't know, probably Aurors. And so many that they can't all fit in the broom cupboard. They must have found the room. If you Apparate there, they catch you immediately. They are probably even waiting for it."

The mood that had just improved immediately sank back to zero.

"It would have been too good to be true. So one would have to Apparate in front of the gate and then go in."

"You'd better not," Victoire said. "Earlier, the entire grounds were surrounded by Dementors, and I'm sure the Aurors are still there, too. Albus is right, they are waiting for us, and for you in particular. There's no point in going there today, we can't do anything, let's be glad we got away. I think we should go to sleep now."

The proposal met with general approval, only the two old men wanted to remain seated for a while, while the younger stood up.

"Victoire," Rose asked a little shyly, "I don't want to be alone tonight, can I sleep in your bed?"

"Sure."

"Crud!" exclaimed James. "Why didn't I come up with that?"

"Because it wouldn't have been of any use to you, my little one," Victoire replied with a grin. "As long as you are capable of such precocious lewdness, you certainly don't need as much comfort and encouragement as she does."

Albus had just got into bed and was about to blow out the candle when there was a knock at his door.

"Yeah?"

It was Victoire.

"I wanted to say goodnight," she said and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I thought you might need someone to talk to. You're really brave, but I think you're more sensitive and afraid for your parents than you admit."

Albus thought about it, then shook his head. "I always love talking to you, but I'm not really afraid."

"Really?" asked Victoire doubtfully. "Or are you just saying that because you think a real Slytherin can't admit to something like that?"

"That's true in a way, but I'd still tell you if it was so. No, I am not afraid simply because Roy is with us. He promised to get them out, and Roy keeps every promise! Really, I'm not afraid."

Victoire smiled. "Well then" – she kissed his forehead – "sleep well."

"You too."

Victoire was just about to leave the room when he called again: "Victoire?"

He hummed and hawed and blushed. He was a little embarrassed, but Rose would be pleased: "Will you ... er, will you kiss Rose goodnight for me?"

She laughed.

"I'll do."