Disclaimer: Look, we all know at this point that I am not responsible for creating the world of Harry Potter, right? I am responsible only for a small expansion of the story, one which I very much hope you enjoy.

Chapter 6: Familiar and Unfamiliar

"So, er . . . detention," said Al in the Great Hall, when they could hear each other again, "That's . . . bad."

"It's fine," said Scorpius shortly. "The worst part of it will be having to be around Wilkes. I really, really cannot stand her," he said with sudden emotion.

"I'd noticed," said Rose. "Not that I blame you."

"So, er . . . Muggle school?" Al asked in what he probably thought was a casual tone.

Scorpius was silent for a moment over his lunch. "It's not really a secret, I don't think," he said finally. "I went to a Muggle primary school. In Wiltshire. And I suppose Wilkes must have done, too, in whatever province of Hell she grew up in."

"You what?" Al asked, not bothering to mask his incredulity.

"How did we not know this?" Rose asked.

Scorpius shrugged. "It was part of the deal that kept my father out of Azkaban," he said. "And you didn't ask."

But he didn't seem to mind talking about it. Which was good, seeing as Rose and Al had all sorts of questions.

Particularly in the case of Voldemort's younger followers, Scorpius told them, there had been some uncertainty over fitting legal punishments after the Second Wizarding War. Many of them had not performed Unforgivable Curses, or had only done so under duress. And as Wizarding Britain had come to find in the aftermath of the first war against Voldemort, the paths of 'imprisonment' or 'no punishment at all' as the only possible outcomes for accused Death Eaters had not worked to prevent the rise of future conflicts. Wizarding society, and the Wizengamot, began to wonder if there was a path for rehabilitation.

And so, the way Scorpius told it, many of the younger Death Eaters, the ones who got caught and seemed repentant at least, were offered choices. They could serve time in Azkaban, or rehabilitate at least in part by learning about and contributing to Muggle society. Most performed actual community service at Muggle volunteer centers – which took, in fact, a large amount of training to accomplish, since most of them were Purebloods and had grown up using magic for basically everything. And some, including Draco Malfoy, had sent their children to Muggle primary schools before attending Hogwarts. Scorpius had attended a primary school in Wiltshire. Azalea had not been required to do so, since neither of her parents had ever been Death Eaters (though she had an uncle who had). She was his only friend outside of school – and the only link his age to the Wizarding world for years.

It was not talked about. Scorpius and Azalea had never discussed the fact that he went to a school with Muggles while she was homeschooled through their earliest years. They never talked about how he learned to write with a ballpoint pen and not a quill, or how he complained endlessly to his parents because he was the only one in his class who didn't have a television, or how he'd never really had friends at school – after all, his father had been "asked" to send him to a Muggle school, but not to let Muggle children come over to his house. Or, Merlin forbid, let his son go over to theirs. Rose got the sense that it had been very lonely for Scorpius, although admittedly, it had seemed to succeed in changing the course of the Malfoy family's generational distaste for Muggles.

Rose wasn't sure exactly what had gone wrong in Melisenda's case.

"Who else had to do this?" she asked when Scorpius was done.

Scorpius shrugged. "I'm sure there's record from the Wizengamot somewhere, but it's not exactly something my parents liked talking about. And no one really knows who all the Death Eaters were, anyways."

There it was again, thought Rose. No one really knows who all the Death Eaters were. And so no one really knew how many of them hadn't been caught. Where was the justice in that? Where was the community service for those who'd never owned up to their misdeeds? Rose shook her head lightly and turned her attention back.

"Did you like it?" Al was asking.

"The food was rubbish," Scorpius said immediately. He gestured to the piles of food on the tables in the Great Hall, "Nothing like this." He bit into his sandwich thoughtfully and chewed for a moment.

"It was hard," he said. "Their world is so different. There was so much I didn't know about – cell phones, and television, and football, and batteries. But when you spend all day every day with people, you . . . it's harder to think of them as less than, just because they may care about or need different things," he paused and cleared his throat. "I think it's good that I went."

"You said . . .," Rose began hesitantly, remembering something from a conversation with her father over the summer. "You said it was 'part of' the deal that kept your father out of Azkaban. Do you know what else there was?"

"I don't, no. It's not really something we talk about," he shrugged.

"Sorry, I don't mean to pry."

"You weren't," said Scorpius. "If I hadn't wanted you both to know, I obviously would have lied."

Al snorted. "We would have figured it out eventually," he said. Scorpius gave him a look. "Well, Rosie would have, anyway."

It wasn't exactly earth-shattering that Scorpius had gone to a Muggle primary school, but it was very unexpected. Now that Rose thought about it, though, he had seemed to know a surprising amount about Muggle matters. He'd known what a policeman was last year, she recalled, when Al kept accidentally calling them "politemen." He'd known who Shakespeare was. She supposed it was somewhat clever of the Wizengamot, although of course a potential disaster for the Statute of Secrecy. She wondered how it would be possible to enforce secrecy on a Pureblooded six-year-old.

But now the rustling in the Great Hall was growing, which could only mean that it was time for their next class. Thankfully, it was Herbology. Less thankfully, it would be with Slytherin. At least, Rose reflected wryly, that would probably make Wilkes better behaved.

The second years filed into Greenhouse Two to find that netting had been strung up throughout the greenhouse. Uncle Neville stood towards the back of the room, presiding over barrels of what looked like fairly ordinary mushrooms.

"Welcome, second years!" he called loudly, "Come on in, file in, most of the things in here don't bite." There was scattered laughter.

"Today we'll be starting a new stock of Leaping Toadstools from the ends of these," he gestured to the barrels. "Can anyone tell me what Leaping Toadstools are used for?"

Rose raised her hand immediately. She could practically feel Wilkes roll her eyes.

"Yes, Miss Weasley?"

"It's an ingredient in Barruffio's Brain Elixir," Rose said promptly.

"How do you know this stuff?" Al muttered.

"I read a lot of books."

"That it is, Miss Weasley. Five points to Gryffindor. It's also used in several antidepressant draughts and in Pepperup Potion – which," he said, wagging a finger, "I hope none of you have needed yet. Right. I have the compost you'll need here, and jars and paper. You can each come collect two jars and some paper, and you can start by sterilizing them. The spell you'll need is 'Sterilus Florum.' Watch closely."

Reseeding the Leaping Toadstools sounded fine in theory, but in practice, the toadstools seemed to object strongly to being cornered, caught, and chopped up. Hence, Rose imagined, the netting. By the end of the lesson, most of the second years had compost under their nails (and, in some cases, smeared across their faces) and bits of mushroom ground into their robes. Zeke Smith had gotten a bloody nose when one of the toadstools had leapt up with fantastic force right as he was bending over the pot.

"And that's it, everyone!" Uncle Neville cried after the last jar had been sealed. "Thank you for your help, and I'll see you in a few days. In the meantime! Twenty lines on the care of Leaping Toadstools and their uses in various potions." Most of the class groaned. "What, you thought I'd let you get away without homework? On the first day of class? Try me before a Quidditch match; you'll have better luck then." Several students cheered.

Rose packed her bag slowly and hung back. When Al and Scorpius looked at her questioningly, she waved them ahead.

"Unc – er, Professor Longbottom?" she asked.

"Oh, hello, Rose. You all right?"

"Yes of course. I was just wondering. I thought you might know, since you're a Professor and all, but – do you know why Scorpius's grandfather was here last night?"

As soon as she asked, Rose wished she hadn't. She'd never seen Uncle Neville look so angry. His normally kind, cheerful face twisted into a scowl, his brows knitting and his mouth thinning. He huffed a sigh.

"No," he said brusquely, "I don't. Did you ask Scorpius? I know you two are friendly." Rose knew that Uncle Neville knew a lot more than that – that he, in fact, knew about everything that had happened last year, including the fact that Scorpius had been with she and Al in the Shrieking Shack, but was too kind to make a point of it.

"I tried," Rose said, "He had no idea either. He wasn't at dinner that night. I think he was . . . surprised that Luc – er, Mr. Malfoy was let in?"

"So was I," Uncle Neville said darkly, "But apparently when you donate enough money to the school, people feel that it is acceptable to overlook little details like your having been an actual Death Eater. Twice."

Rose took the stormy look on his face as her cue to leave. She'd known it was a long shot, asking him about Lucius Malfoy. If Scorpius didn't know why he had been there, why would Uncle Neville? But it felt like he was the one professor she might be able to ask. And it bothered her. It bothered her that he had been able to come, to be seated at the High Table next to professors and the Headmistress and people who were . . . who were good, and respectable. She supposed it was just that the business about not having caught all the Death Eaters was on her mind. And that Lucius Malfoy, a known Death Eater, could just . . . give enough money to casually be welcome at Hogwarts again. It didn't seem right. There was something there about the unfairness of the world, but Rose knew dwelling on it would only make her angry.

. . .

The rest of their first week back was relatively uneventful, at least compared to that first day. Rose noticed they already had more homework in the first week of second year than they had been used to as first-years. Nearly every professor was now assigning written work and research with each spell or topic. Al spent a good deal of time complaining about all the time they were going to have to spend in the library that weekend, but Rose was glad to be diving back in. She grinned, remembering how reluctant she'd been to even go to the library last year. But even when it could feel overwhelming, school was at least something she was good at – something where there were right and wrong answers. Something where simply putting in enough effort, studying enough, practicing enough, all made a tangible difference. School was uncomplicated.

Before they knew it, it was Friday already, and a half-day, and that meant tea at Hagrid's at three o'clock sharp. Rose was only slightly surprised when Scorpius also accepted Hagrid's invitation ("Muffin's been missin' yeh," Hagrid had said. Hagrid's mastiff, Muffin, had taken quite a liking to Scorpius last year, but the relationship was a bit one-sided. Later, Scorpius had admitted that he had looked up several water-repelling charms to act as protection against Muffin's slobber, and was ready to, "Enter again the den of the beast."). The three of them basked in rare warmth and sunshine as they crossed the grass from the castle to Hagrid's hut.

"'ello, yeh three!" Hagrid beamed, thrusting the door open. "Come in, come in, I've jus' got the kettle on." He ushered them inside and quickly closed the door. Rose looked around the small hut. The only difference she noticed from last year was that the size of what had to be Muffin's bed was greatly increased – she, Al, and Scorpius easily could have lain in it side by side and had room to spare. It was, unsurprisingly, strewn with large chew toys and a couple of bones that Rose hoped had not come from any of the creatures in the Forbidden Forest.

"I see you've got the most recent family picture," Rose said, gesturing to the bureau. Last year's photo had featured, for the first time, Teddy and Victoire holding hands, Lily in her favorite lime-green tutu, and Roxy wearing a shirt that Rose was quite sure said something very rude in hieroglyphics (Uncle Bill had raised his eyebrows, but as he was the only one in the family who might have been able to read the shirt, no one made her change it). Oh, and Al and James placed on opposite sides of the photo – Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny had finally learned. Grandpa Weasley had insisted on dragging in what Rose's mother had called an "air conditioning unit" that he had been gifted for Christmas, even though it weighed about five stone. Louis had tried to stand on it for the photo, and toppled off as it was taken.

"Yer grandma 'n grandpa send 'em every year," Hagrid said gruffly. "Love watchin' yeh grow, yeh little ones."

"I think I could convince my parents to send one too," Scorpius said seriously, sitting with Muffin's head on his knee, where he was drooling so assiduously Rose had no doubt any water-repelling charm would be overcome in a matter of minutes. Scorpius patted Muffin's head absently.

There was silence in the hut.

"I'm joking, of course," said Scorpius, rolling his eyes.

Hagrid laughed and turned around, easily grabbing four of his giant mugs and the kettle for tea. "Yeh had me there for a second, Scorpius," he said. "Yer parents are . . . er . . . fine folk. But, well, they never spent a lot o' time," he gestured broadly around the modest hut, "Here."

"I know my father was a prat at school," said Scorpius. But then he added, slightly defensively, "He's not really like that anymore, though." Fortunately for Rose, he didn't seem to notice the incredulous look she shot his way.

"Sure, sure," Hagrid said equably, bringing over steaming slices of fruitcake.

Talk turned to the first week of school. Rose complained about Professor Wistorren and his impenetrable academic-mindedness; Al talked about falling asleep in Professor Binns's class – three times in the first class alone. Hagrid's eyes crinkled at that. Better had been their first Defense class with Professor Jones, which again promised to have a very physical component, but at least was less likely to put them to sleep. And, of course, Hagrid loved hearing about Professor Longbottom's Herbology classes.

"Always 'ad a soft spot for 'im. For Neville. Yeh shoulda seen 'im as a kid. Yeh'd 'ave thought 'e was 'opeless! And now look at 'im." Hagrid sighed happily and refilled their mugs. "And what about yeh, Scorpius? Yeh 'aven't said much about yer week," he asked.

"Well," Scorpius said, "I have detention tomorrow with Callister. So I guess you could say it could have gone better."

"Detention?" Hagrid said, "Already? What'd yeh do?"

"I, er," Scorpius said, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I hexed Melisenda Wilkes."

"She hexed him first!" Al said quickly.

"I don' think I know 'er," Hagrid said.

"You should be glad," Rose muttered darkly. "She deserved it."

"She musta," Hagrid agreed. The three second-years looked at him in general surprise. "Scorpius wouldn't 'ave 'exed someone undeservin'," Hagrid said stoutly, "'e's better'n that."

"Thanks, Hagrid," Scorpius said quietly. He looked rather touched.

Hagrid spent the rest of their time together asking for Weasley family updates. Rose thought he'd probably heard all of this before from one or more of the other seven Weasley cousins who were still at Hogwarts, but it was clear he didn't mind hearing again, and in fact relished in it. She glanced again at the family pictures on his bureau and felt a surge of warmth for the old groundskeeper.

When the sun started to set, Hagrid hurried them out of his hut and back towards the castle for dinner. "Don' want yeh bein' late on my account," he said. "Oh, an', Scorpius -"

"Yes?"

"Watch yerself in yer detention, all righ'? Yeh call on me if Callister is bein' . . . well, call me if yeh need anythin'."

"I will," Scorpius said seriously. "Thanks again, Hagrid."

"What d'you think that was about?" Al asked after the door was shut, while they were traversing the path back to the castle. Hagrid had been right; it was growing darker, and the shadows were long. It had cooled dramatically, and the three of them pulled their robes more tightly around them as they walked. Food and warmth beckoned in the glimmering lights of the castle.

"I don't know," said Scorpius.

"He warned us about Callister last year too," Rose said. "Remember?"

"Yeah," said Al.

They were passing the greenhouses now, which were arrayed in a line from most to least dangerous, with the safest being closest to the school. The clear glass caught the light of the setting sun, even as the shadows on the far side of the greenhouses grew long. A sudden strange movement in the shadows caught Rose's eye.

"Come here," she hissed urgently, pulling Al and Scorpius behind Greenhouse Three. She crouched down a little and peered out from behind the wall.

"What is it?" Al whispered. "What's going on?"

"I thought I saw someone 'round Greenhouse Five," Rose whispered back.

"Is that strange?" said Scorpius.

Realizing that he hadn't been at the Welcome Feast, Rose quickly told Scorpius about Headmistress Sprout's intriguing comments regarding Greenhouse Five. She crept around Greenhouse Three to try to get a better view, feeling Al and Scorpius follow behind her. Now that they had a view of the entrance, they could see that there was indeed a dark figure sneaking along the front of Greenhouse Five. They reached the door and began trying to force it without success. The figure poked at the lock with a wand, and Rose was close enough to hear the frantic, whispered "Alohomora" – with no apparent effect. The person was clearly a student, or else a very small faculty member, though it didn't look anything like Professor Flitwick even in silhouette.

"Can you see who it is?" Scorpius hissed.

"No," said Al. "They're not looking at us."

Turn! C'mon, turn! Rose willed the dark figure.

And then she did. It was Melisenda Wilkes.

Author's Note: And here we go! Wilkes back up to her old tricks, now with bonus sneaking.

Thank you to those of you who've left feedback on the story, or chosen to follow or favorite! As we creep further into the actual bulk of the story, please feel free to drop a line if you notice typos, American-isms, or continuity issues. I can only read my own writing so many times before I start wanting to tear my own hair out, so there's every chance I've missed something. And - let me know if you have questions! I mean, beyond, "What is going to happen?" which I am unlikely to answer outright.

Thanks for reading!

Love always, bbh