Note: Sorry it took so long for me to update. First, there were login issues. Then a brief bout of writer's block. It's time to meet the rest of the Greyswood Elite!

Scorpius retched, but held his stomach. Portkey travel had never much agreed with him. He much preferred to apparate side-along with his father, or go by floo. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to regain his vestibular balance before looking around at the place where they had landed.

The room was large and featured high windows, which made up an entire wall, looking out over the gardens below, which sloped down to a large lake. The sun danced across the water where boats of all kinds moved across the surface.

"We'll need to furnish it," said Draco, turning about as he examined the space as well. "This flooring is absolutely gauche!" he snorted, indicating the wall-to-wall carpeting in the room.

"I think it's called carpet, Father. Muggles prefer it to stone or wood for its insulating properties, and supposed ease of cleaning."

"Mm. Well, it simply must go. I'm thinking a nice oak with a large Persian rug, yes?"

"Well, I—I suppose." Scorpius shrugged. "What exactly are we doing here, Father?" he asked.

"You wanted an immersive study experience. This is it!" Draco informed him. "We are going to live amongst the muggles. We will examine and participate in their customs and activities—I have secured employment already. You will attend a muggle educational institution—of course I will continue to provide your magical instruction here. I think I should like to pen a scholarly treatise on our experiences," Draco mused, as he moved slowly through the space, taking in the characteristics of each room.

"Erm…Father. You know nothing about the muggle world," Scorpius pointed out. "I only know what I've read in Muggle Studies, and what little experiences I've had with Albus. How exactly are we supposed to pull this off without giving ourselves away as wizards, or appearing to be complete nimrods?"

"The answer is quite simple, my son." Draco mounted the circular staircase to the second floor.

"It is?" Scorpius gawked at his father.

"Magic!" Draco proclaimed. He swept up the stairs.

"Merlin's slippers!" Scorpius muttered, running up the staircase after Draco. "Father—"

"What better way to practice your Memory Charm? Perhaps you would like this suite," Draco suggested, leading him around the rotunda to a loft with three sets of double doors. He flung open the set of doors on the right. "It's not the same as your apartment at the manor, but it does have this rather charming turret that would make a lovely parlor. Draco gestured about the large room, indicating the round sitting area.

"Erm…okay, but—" Scorpius began. Draco cut him off again.

"Excellent! Now, then let's discuss furnishings!"

"Father!" Scorpius bellowed. Draco turned to him in surprise. "You're not listening to me!"

"What is it, Scorpius?"

"Well…I mean…look at you." Scorpius conjured a full-length mirror and pointed to it. "If you're going to immerse yourself in this world, you have to go all in." Scorpius indicated their expensive robes, and Draco gazed upon his reflection with a nonplussed expression.

"I'm afraid I don't quite comprehend. You mean I must outfit myself as we did on our excursion to the library?"

"Not exactly. You wore a suit that day. From what I gather, most muggles only dress in such a way for business." Scorpius explained. "Still, changing our clothes is a good place to start." He transformed his own clothing into a pair of cotton cargo shorts and a tennis shirt, transfiguring his boots into a pair of trainers. "Simple." Draco raised a skeptical brow.

"I think not," he said.

"Fortunately, you're not fifteen," Scorpius retorted. He thought a minute, picturing the images he'd seen of muggle men his father's age, and waved his wand.

Scorpius gave Draco a pair of drab olive chinos and a simple white tee, layered with a light grey, V-neck cotton sweater. He transformed his father's fancy slippers into a pair of stylish suede Chelsea boots.

"And you don't have to cut your hair, but maybe pull it into a ponytail, like this." He produced an elastic band and tied back his father's hair. Draco stared at his reflection in astonishment.

"Merlin's wand!"

"You don't like it?"

"Wha—I…I-I—well, I look like…Potter!" he exclaimed.

"Do you?" Scorpius gazed at his father's reflection in the mirror beside his own. "No, you don't—and besides, Mr. Potter is familiar with the muggle world. Who else would I get ideas from?"

"Fine!" Draco threw up his hands in concession. "I suppose it will do for now. I shall have to make a note to do further research on the subject. I suppose I shall have to locate a library. All muggle towns should have one, don't you think? I wonder if it's the same as in England." Draco speculated, speaking more to himself than to his son, as he drifted out of the room, waving his wand as he went. An accent table appeared in the center of the antechamber beyond Scorpius' room, atop it, a large vase filled with an elegant arrangement of flowers.

"The same as—wait—erm, Father?" Scorpius hurried after his father, following him into what appeared to be the master suite. Draco waved his wand again, conjuring furnishings for the sitting room: a stylish cabriole sofa with matching side chairs and tables, lamps, and a secretary appeared, arranging themselves with a useful flow about the space.

"Yes?" Draco continued into the bedroom.

"Where exactly are we?"

"Why, we're in America, of course!" Draco replied matter-of-factly.

"What?" Scorpius stared at him in astonishment.

"Well, why not learn two cultures at once?" Draco shrugged, as a silk jacquard duvet settled onto a round bed with an arched, tufted headboard. "I've always wanted to visit America, but your grandfather considered American wizards too gauche and uncouth. When we visited the library, I read an article about this town. It's called Greyswood. The periodical listed it among America's best small cities to live. I was intrigued by the lake and the photo of the house. Have you decided how you wish to furnish your rooms yet?"

"I—erm—" Scorpius was dumbfounded. They were in America! He was in the same country as Albus! "I—I think I n-need a moment."

"Of course. Explore the house if you like. Don't go too far. We'll need to consider dinner plans soon!" Draco called as Scorpius wandered out of the room and down a back staircase.

He found himself in a vestibule just beyond the kitchen, and cautiously entered the large room, gazing in wonder at the gleaming appliances. He wondered how the stove worked, and where was the fire built. Scorpius hoped that his father had taken into account how their magic would work with the electrical appliances. He'd hate for them to blow up the house and attract unwanted attention from the muggles. Scorpius lightly ran his fingers over the granite countertops as he slowly moved about the space, eventually discovering a set of doors that led out to a small balcony and porch beyond.

He took the staircase from the porch down to the flagstone patio where a large swimming pool shimmered in the late afternoon sun above a lawn that sloped down to the water. A multi-tiered wooden stair led to the shoreline where a pier extended from the landing out over the water. The structure ended in a T-shape with multiple mooring points.

Scorpius made his way down to the water and sat down on the weathered wood deck. He fished in his pocket for his two-way mirror and opened it, letting out a sigh when he saw only the interior of Albus' compact. He snapped it shut and looked out over the water. A mahogany rowing shell, sculled by a girl who appeared to be his age, glided alongside the pier, and came to a stop.

"Hi," she said.

"Erm, hello." Scorpius replied, regarding her.

She wasn't what one might call beautiful, yet she wasn't unattractive. Her complexion was somewhat pallid for one who appeared to actively engage in outdoor pursuits, and the paleness of her skin tone seemed to be enhanced by her lank, black hair, which was tinted purple at the ends, and hung a bit wildly about her face. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn't quite place the resemblance.

"I like your boat," he said, examining it.

"Do you row?" she asked. Scorpius shrugged, shaking his head. He'd never seen a boat such as this before.

"No. It looks like fun," he said.

"It's not bad. I row crew at school. Just about everyone around here either sails or sculls. Are you an exchange student?" she asked, carding her hair with her hand.

"Oh, erm, no. We…erm…just arrived today." He pointed back towards the house. "I'm—my name is—I'm Scorpius."

"Scorpius, huh? That's different. I'm Lilac." She extended her hand.

"Pleasure." Scorpius took her hand. "Where do you—"

Before he could complete his question, a stylish motorboat zipped past, leaving a turbulent wake that rocked Lilac's boat. The vessel teetered dangerously, and Scorpius extended his legs, bracing against the hull and rowlock with both feet to prevent the fragile boat from capsizing or slamming into the pier. The larger boat made a wide circle before slowing and drawing alongside the next dock.

Lilac scowled at the girl driving the boat as she hopped out and tied up her vessel.

"This is a no-wake zone, Belladonna!" she admonished her.

"Funny, you don't look like the harbormaster," the girl replied with a disdainful shrug. Scorpius stared at her, mouth agape. "Isn't this private property?"

He'd never seen a creature such as this, and this girl was total curiosity. Her chest was barely covered with two bright blue triangles of fabric, and a pair of tight-fitting, very tiny short pants just covered her backside. She hopped down onto the beach and sauntered over to their pier.

"Who are you?" she asked. The way she eyed him made Scorpius feel as though she was planning to have him served on a platter. He scrambled to his feet. Lila scoffed.

"I'm-I'm Scorpius. I live here." He pointed up to the New England shingle-styled house at the top of the hill.

"OMG! You're the English boy my mom told me about!" she wrinkled her brow. "I thought she said you had dark hair. Who knows, she was probably already two martinis down at that point. You just moved with your dad, right?"

"Erm…yeah?" Scorpius replied with a bemused look. How did this girl already know about him? They'd just arrived less than an hour ago. Was she a witch? No—she couldn't be. Maybe his father had somehow already met the neighbors. He blinked, realizing that she was speaking again.

"…come to our Labor Day barbecue tomorrow! I'll introduce you to everyone who is worth knowing. You don't want to make the mistake of falling in with the wrong crowd. People will think you're totally lame." She looked around him and gave Lilac a pointed look. Scorpius gave the girl a curious look. Of course he wasn't lame. He was standing on his own two feet. "By the way, I'm Bella."

"Pleasure." He extended his hand. She took his, raising hers for him to kiss her fingertips. He did, with a courtly bow as he knew etiquette dictated.

"Really, princess?" Lilac huffed, rolling her eyes. Bella gave her an exasperated look.

"Shouldn't you be out in search of small children to chuck into your cauldron?"

"Cauldron?" Now Scorpius was truly confused. He thought these girls were muggles.

"You really should steer clear of girls like her, Scorpius. She's a total hag!"

"No she's not," he replied. "Hags are old, ugly and have tons of warts!"

"Oh, my god, seriously? You're not like one of those weird fantasy nerds are you?" Bella rolled her eyes. "I mean she's a witch!"

"Really?" his eyes lit up, and he looked at Lilac with an excited smile. "Wow! I never would have guessed!" Lilac laughed, clapping her hands. Bella rolled her eyes.

"Must be a British thing," she muttered. "Well, whatever. I've got to go. Mommy says we can go shopping for a new swimsuit for tomorrow. But seriously—you should stay away from the freak." Bella spun on her heel and hopped down to the beach, jogging back the way she'd come, eventually disappearing from their line of sight as she ascended the hill to her own house.

"Ha! That was priceless!" Lilac exclaimed. "You're pretty funny Scorpius. I like you, but seriously though—getting on the wrong side of Belladonna Cain is not the best idea. She's like Lakeshore Prep royalty. Her dad's the head of the board of regents."

"She can't be any worse than some of the prats I had to deal with at my old school." Scorpius sat down on the edge of the dock once more. "How did she know you're a witch?" He gasped. "Did you tell her?" Lilac laughed again.

"You got jokes. She means I'm a freak—an outcast, a lame, not rich, and not a prep school zombie like the ones in her clique." She rolled her eyes.

"You don't look like a freak to me."

"Look, before you start hitting on me, you should know that I'm more of a girl kinda girl. Know what I mean?" she informed him. Scorpius looked at her in confusion. "I like girls—well, I like guys too, but not as much—you're not like one of those church people who are totally weirded out by that are you?"

"No, why would I be?"

"Wow! Maybe I should move to the UK. Who knew they were so liberal? My parents are total Puritans-especially my Mom. Well cool, but listen, I'm not out or anything like that, so you mind not telling anyone—especially Bella Bitch?"

"I won't tell." Scorpius smiled. "I guess you aren't invited to her do, yeah?"

"Actually, I am." She slid the seat back and forth to stretch her legs. "The school is getting a new maestro to teach music and direct the orchestra. The chamber ensemble is performing. I play the flute."

"That sounds lovely. I play the violin and piano myself." Scorpius smiled. "I look forward to hearing you perform."

"Cool. Well, maybe I'll see you there. Mind giving me a bit of a shove?" she asked. Scorpius gave the boat a gentle push, and Lilac dipped her sculls into the water when she was clear of the dock. "Later, Scorp!" she called. He waved.

"…with this win under its belt, Tutshill moves to number six in this season's standings. This is the highest ranking the Tornadoes have had since a successful run in the mid-nineties." Ginny leaned back in the chair at her desk in the library, as her self-writing quill dictated a draft of her latest article. A soft gong sounded, alerting her to the floo, and she glanced over towards the fireplace.

"Are you there, Ginny?" Hermione asked.

"Hi, 'Mione. Come on through." Ginny sat up and cleared her desk, before moving to the chesterfield beside the fireplace. Hermione stepped through, holding her official minister's robes over her arm.

"I'm beginning to think that you're avoiding us," said Hermione. "Why did you turn down dinner the other night? You were awfully cool the other day when the kids left for school. Is it about Harry going to the U.S.?"

"You know he took Albus with him, yeah? He let him just jump off the train and tag along!" Ginny ranted. "I don't even know why I bother any more, Hermione. How could you and Kingsley even think this was a good idea? He's never home as it is!"

"That's not true, Ginny," Hermione argued. "The reason he took the post as head of the DMLE was so that he could have more time with the family. From where I stand, you're the one who's always on the go."

"Hey, I am home every night!" Ginny protested. "Just-sometimes late. You know how these matches can go."

"I'm not arguing with you Gin. It's a good opportunity for Harry, and a stepping stone to a prestigious posting with the International Confederation of Wizards. Besides, if you want to be with him, why don't you just go? Mr. Akingbade and President Picquery-Tomlinson arranged everything so that you wouldn't have to give up your career."

"That's not it!" Ginny insisted. "You know—never mind. I need to—" she sniffed. "Shit! Goddammit!" she raced out into the hall and dashed down the back stairs. Hermione ran after her.

The kitchen was filled with smoke which billowed from the oven.

"Evanesco!" Ginny cried as she opened the oven, vanishing the charred lump that had once been her dinner. Hermione flicked her wand to open the windows above the sink. "Brilliant! Just fucking brilliant!" Ginny fell into a chair, tossing her wand down onto the table.

"Hey, why don't we go out?" Hermione suggested. "It's witches' night at the Sleeping Mermaid in Bristol."

"I dunno." Ginny hedged.

"Aw, come on! The Cauldron Boys are going to be there!" She wiggled her brows.

"The all-wizard exotic revue?" Ginny gasped. "You can't be seen at an event like that! You're the Minister of Magic!"

"So?"

"Rita Skeeter will be wetting her knickers for an exclusive on that!"

"Rita Skeeter has already run afoul of Ministry security once again, and will be enjoying the accommodations in the catacombs for the entire weekend—no wand, no quick-quotes quill!" Hermione grinned maliciously. "Come on, Ginny! We deserve a girls' night out!" Hermione begged.

"Okay! Okay! But you're not going anywhere with me, dressed like a Quidditch mum! Let's get transfigured into something amazing!" They ran upstairs to dress.

An hour later, both witches were well into a second bottle of giggle water as a wizard wearing only a sagara hovered above their table, as he performed a seductive aerial dance. Hermione jingled a pouch of gold coins towards him as witches around the room, hooted and cat-called the dancers. Ginny sat semi-sprawled across the table below the dancer, a goblet in one hand, which sloshed as she animatedly talked to her sister-in-law.

"The pr-r-r-o-o-blem-m-m is that he doesn't even seem to ca-a-a-ar-r-re!" she drawled, slurring her words between giggles.

"Who?" Hermione asked, distractedly as she cupped the dancer's derriere. "His bum-m-m is almost ex-actly like Ronnie's!" she declared.

"Ronnie? You call him Ronnie? And don't ever talk about my brother's arse in public…ever again. That's just—that's just…ugh!"

"Why don't you think he care-hic-car-r-res?"

"I don't know if Ronald cares what you call hi-hic-him. Hee-hee!" Ginny giggled.

"Not Ron—Har-hic-Har-ry! You said—ha-ha-ha—he doesn't care. Hic!"

"Because he doesn't! I could shag Gordon Horton in the middle of the drawing room, and he wouldn't even n-n-notice!" She turned up her goblet and emptied it.

"Why would you shag Gordon Horton in your drawing—" Hermione gasped, and stared at Ginny in shock. "Did you cheat on Harry?"

"I—no—well…" Ginny instantly realized that she'd said too much. Hermione grabbed Ginny's hand and they immediately disapparated.

"OWWW!" Ginny shrieked, sprawling on the floor as they landed in the drawing room. "Fucking hell!" Blood ran down her left leg and a sizeable chunk of her thigh was missing. "Oh, fuck! I've been splinched!" she screamed.

"Calm down! Calm down! Have you got any dittany?" Hermione pressed her hand to Ginny's leg, to stem the flow of bleeding.

"Second f-floor l-lav—"

"Accio dittany!" a second later, a phial containing essence of dittany zoomed into Hermione's hand.

She unstoppered it and poured the liquid over the wound. A greenish vapor wafted from Ginny's flesh, and when it dissipated, her leg only appeared to have a minor indentation where the injury had once been. Ginny curled onto her side with a drunken whimper before Hermione helped her up onto the sofa and summoned a blanket to cover her. She cleaned her hands with a quick Tergeo spell and quickly mixed a sobriety potion for them both. Ginny reluctantly took the cup with trembling hands and drank the warm liquid.

"Ugh!" she closed her eyes as the potion took effect.

"Did I hear you correctly?" Hermione asked, settling into a chair across from her. "You slept with Gordon Horton?"

"Well…" Ginny avoided her eyes. "What difference does it make? You know what Harry told me?"

"He knows?" Hermione leaned forward, gaping at her in disbelief.

"Apparently, he saw us together at James' quidditch match back in August. Gordon sat in the press box with me." Ginny confessed, her voice was quiet and laced with regret.

"Merlin's balls, Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed. "What if Rita Skeeter had been there?"

"I know! I know! But maybe it would have served him right!"

"You're joking!"

"Am I?" Ginny sat up. "Do you know, I came home one night, apparently reeking of Gordy's cologne, and Harry just said 'maybe you want to wash up, yeah?' He didn't even question me or anything! He accepted my story about having dinner with Gwenog, and suggested that her perfume was too strong!"

"Are you serious?" Hermione sank back in her chair.

"And that's not all! We had a rather heated row about the whole America assignment, and that's when he told me he'd seen us together. Do you know what he said? He just shrugged and said 'If you don't want to go to America, fine.' Fine! He doesn't care, 'Mione! He was more concerned that I was inhospitable to Draco Malfoy and his delinquent son!"

"What are you talking about?" Hermione was confused. What did Ginny's infidelity have to do with Malfoy?

"I come home early, hoping to make some amends for spending so much time away—I really wanted to make this work, Hermione. I did! I thought maybe I just needed to try harder. Anyway, I get here and I hear all this kerfuffle upstairs. I get up to Al's room and there's Draco and Scorpius and Harry and Albus all carrying on! Apparently, Scorpius ran away after his hearing and Albus hid him in his room! Harry accused me of being unreasonable because I don't want my son consorting with some rich ne'er do well—especially a Malfoy!"

"Ginny…" Hermione sighed, rubbing her eyes. "As much as you don't want to admit it, Albus and Scorpius Malfoy are friends. They are ridiculously close, I know, but both of them are dealing with legacies that are not of their making, and they understand one another because of it. Trying to tear them apart is only going to push them closer together, and cause Albus to rebel against your authority."

"So you're taking his side?" Ginny accused, getting to her feet. She went to the credenza and poured herself a glass of brandy. "I might have figured as much. Whatever Harry does…wherever Harry goes, you and Ron go traipsing off behind him. It's like he's your fucking Svengali!"

"Oh, come on, Ginny! Now you're just being dramatic!" Hermione gave her an exasperated look.

"He left me, Hermione! He keeps leaving me! For Merlin's sake! Don't act like you weren't there!" She angrily set the snifter down, upsetting it in the process. "Who does that to somebody they love?" Ginny sat down heavily on the couch, tears streaming down her face. Hermione moved to sit beside her, wrapping an arm about her shoulder.

"So, what are you going to do?" she asked.

"I don't know." Ginny murmured. "I don't know."

Albus wiped his brow, setting the tray of young herb plants onto the long wooden counter.

"So, why are you working in a nursery?" he asked Harry.

"It's part of my assignment, son. The muggles are to believe that I run a small-scale organic nursery. It was the easiest career to place me in where I can still quietly employ magic."

"Okaay." Albus shrugged.

"A Herbology N.E.W.T. is required for acceptance into Auror training, and Uncle Neville worked tirelessly with me to improve my expertise in the subject when we first started out. So, at least twice a week, you'll work in the shop with me—"

"What?" Albus exclaimed.

"As part of your Herbology lessons. I won't allow you to neglect your magical education. You said, that I would teach you." Harry reminded him. "Now, first lesson—no magical plants allowed in the front of house." Harry pointed to the plain stone wall at the rear of the greenhouse. "Make sure you never let anyone see you going into our exiting the magical conservatory. We don't want anyone getting hold of the Chinese chomping cabbage."

"You made it unplottable?" Albus stared at the blank wall.

"Yes. It's just like at home. It will appear to you, when you wish to enter. You've just got to remember, it' the same as when you cast a spell; do it with confidence. You've got to mean it."

"Mean it."

"Exactly! C'mon. It's getting late, and I've a feeling that if we don't show up at the Cain's fête, they'll send out a search party!" he chuckled. Albus took his wrist and they apparated home to change before making their way up the street to the rustic-styled house two doors up Shoreline Road. There were valets in the driveway, parking cars, and classical music could be heard floating from the open doors as they approached.

A small ensemble of teens performed a Nocturne by Franz Doppler while a small band of guests listened intently.

"Oh, Harry, right?" Harlowe Cain emerged from the crowd as the music came to an end, the crowd clapping politely. She enveloped Harry in a tight hug, careful not to spill her cocktail on his shirt. "I'm so glad you made it!" she gushed. "Come on, let me show you around!"

Albus awkwardly followed as she dragged Harry through the throng and out to a stone patio where Tarquin stood beside a large grill, gesturing with a pair of tongs as he held forth to a group of men gathered around him.

"Harry!" he exclaimed as they approached. "Come on over! Meet Skip Atkinson, Headmaster of Lakeshore Prep. This is Mike Connors. He's the president of the Greyswood Lake Yacht and Rowing Club. Fellas, this is Harry Potter and his son, Albert—"

"Albus—it's Albus," Harry corrected. "How do you do?" They shook hands all around.

"Right. Right. You should meet Bella—Bella!" he called over the patio railing. "She's down by the pool with the other kids. Bella! Come and meet the Potters! You know what? Just go on down. We've told her all about you. The stairs are just over there." Tarquin gave Albus a nudge, and he gave his father a wary look over his shoulder as he left.

Harry gave Albus an encouraging smile before Tarquin clapped him on the shoulder, pulling him back into the conversation.

"So, Harry, is it? What brings you to Greyswood?" asked a very tan gentleman in golf pants and a Callaway sun visor.

"Harry this is Myron Goodwater. He's the president of the Greyswood Lake homeowners association," said Tarquin.

"Oh, erm, pleasure. I run an organic nursery. My specialty is shade tolerant landscape plants, succulents small-scale edibles—onions, kale, olives and the like; also a wide variety of herbs and medicinals."

"Medicinals? I hope you don't mean marijuana!" chuckled the third man in the group. He was tall, with silver hair and wore a simpering expression.

"Oh, ho!" Tarquin chortled. The others joined in.

"Let's not upset the reverend!" Myron laughed.

"Meet Frank Mathers. He's the pastor of Second Salem Church."

"Ah, I see. No, we don't sell marijuana. Although new studies have shown that cannabidiol, a naturally occurring cannabinoid constituent of cannabis, does have numerous health benefits—that's the extract from the plant without the THC, which is the psychoactive element in cannabis." Harry cleared his throat.

"You seem to be very well versed on the subject, Mr. Potter." The older gentleman gave him an appraising look that reminded Harry of the first time he'd met Severus Snape.

"Well, it is what I do." He chuckled lightly.

"Ah, don't let him intimidate you, my friend. Frank's a harmless old softie!" Tarquin assured him, grinning broadly. He paused to remove the meat from the grill. "Let me get you a drink!"

Albus stepped down onto the lower patio, which was crowded with teenagers, several of whom were splashing about in the large pool. Modern music played loudly from speakers that he could not see, and small groups gathered around loungers or sat with their feet dangling into the pool. Once again, Albus felt awkward and out of place. He wandered towards a table laden with food and two large jars with spigots filled with punch and water.

"Who are you?" drawled a voice behind him. Albus turned to see three girls in skimpy bathing suits sitting together on a nearby chaise longue. The girl in the center stood up, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Oh, erm. I'm Albus—Albus Potter. We just moved in a few days ago. The erm…the Cains invited me—us."

"(Gasp) He's British!" one of the other girls giggled.

"He is totes adorable!" her friend added, leaping to her feet. "Hi! I'm Sophie." She stretched out her hand, but before Albus could take it, the first girl stepped in front of her.

"I'm Bella Cain. This is Sophie Baxter and that's Lizzie Winthrop." Albus shook hands with all of them.

"Come join us, Albus!" Sophie tugged his arm, dragging him back to the lounger they'd just abandoned. "Are you going to attend Lakeshore Prep?"

"I dunno, actually. My dad hasn't said." He shrugged uncomfortably. Albus was unused to this sort of attention.

"I'll bet you will. Everyone on the Lake goes to Prep," Lizzie informed him.

"And then there are some who just got lucky." Sophie snickered.

"God! People are going to think I've invited her!" Bella grumbled.

"Oh, just be nice, Bella. Even the help has to eat!"

Albus looked over his shoulder to see who they were talking about. He saw a girl with dark hair, highlighted purple on the ends, standing at the table with what looked like a flute case tucked under her arm. Unlike most of the other kids, who were clad in swimwear, or casual summer attire, she wore a royal blue polo-style shirt with a gold crest and a pleated skirt in Fraser Clan yellow tartan. She filled a cup with lemonade and looked around. Her expression revealed her obvious discomfort. She looked in their direction and Albus gave her a smile. She returned it with a curious gaze.

"Oh my god!" the girls laughed. "She is not looking over here!"

"So, Albus, do you have a girlfriend back in the UK?" asked Lizzie.

"Wha—erm, n-no." He reluctantly tore his attention away from the girl.

"What? No way!" the girls pooh-poohed.

"You are way too cute to be single!" Bella insisted. "I think he's got a girlfriend, but he just doesn't want to say. I mean—she's a whole ocean away! Who's gonna find out?" She winked at him, licking her lips.

"Uh, excuse me! What about the hottie you met yesterday with the wicked witch of the lake?" Lizzie gave Bella a look, gesturing over her shoulder at the other girl. Albus looked back, but she was gone.

"Well, he's not here, is he?" Bella rebutted. "A girl has to keep her options open."

"Right," Sophie snorted. "That's why you've been ignoring Tucker all evening."

They glanced across the pool to a group of boys in Bermuda shorts who seemed to have the attention of most of the girls present. A tall, muscular red-haired boy paused in his conversation and looked their way. Bella rolled her eyes.

"We're on a timeout. He still hasn't apologized for not bringing me as his plus-one to Grace Mathers' party." She scowled.

"Bella! Come up here, please!" her mother called over the rail. "Bring the new boy!"

"Excuse me, gentlemen." A handsome woman with perfectly coiffed blonde hair, wearing a fluttering sundress stepped up to them. "They're here."

"Oh, that's great! Where are they?" asked Skip, craning his neck to look around.

"Harlowe, come on, shug—and oh, good! Here's Bella and Al."

"Erm. Albus. It's—" Albus tried to interject, but the men weren't listening. Harry gave him a sympathetic smile and a shrug as they followed the group, wondering who this special guest was.

"Everyone, may I have your attention, please?" Tarquin tapped the side of his wine glass with the signet ring that he wore. "As head of the Lakeshore Preparatory Academy Board of Regents. It gives me great pleasure to introduce to you our newest faculty member. He comes highly recommended from the Hogsmeade School in Scotland."

"Hogsmeade?" Albus and Harry exchanged a look. Harry led him to the edge of the gathered crowd.

"He is here to serve as our new orchestra director and head of the music department, and we are happy to have his son enrolling with us as well. Come on over, gentlemen! I give you Maestro Draco Malfoy!"

Harry and Albus wore identical expressions of astonishment as Draco and Scorpius emerged from the crowd to stand next to Tarquin and Skip.

Well, surprise, surprise! Albus and Scorpius have already each made an impression on Bella. How will all of the wizards react to seeing one another in the same place? Does it seem like Lilac is hiding a secret?