"You must be joking!" Harry murmured.

"Scorpius!" Albus exclaimed.

"Albus?" Scorpius stared in disbelief. Draco gave a start, and followed his son's gaze.

"Harry Potter? What are you doing here?"

"You two know each other?" Tarquin looked on with interest as Draco and Harry cautiously stepped towards one another.

"I might have asked you the same, except—" Harry gestured.

"Why yes. Yes we do! Good to see you my friend!" Draco exclaimed, clapping Harry on the back as he pumped his hand. "Harry and I have known one another for years! We attended the Hogsmeade School together."

"That's right. Different houses however." Harry nodded, playing along.

"What the hell?" Scorpius murmured.

"Who are they, and what have they done with our fathers?" Albus muttered.

"Wow! Fancy that!" remarked Skip. "I'll bet the two of you have some wild stories to share!"

"You've no idea!" muttered Harry.

"Well, gentlemen! Make yourselves at home! Get to know everyone—oh! Harry—Draco—you must not have known you're neighbors!" He shoved a beer into each of their hands.

"What?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Yeah! Oh, yeah! Potter you're at ah…twenty-two thirty-three, right?" Harry nodded. "Yeah, and Draco, you're right between us at twenty-two thirty-five! Whaddya know?"

"Right. What do you know?" Draco mumbled, taking a long gulp of his beer.

"I'm guessing your boys also attended dear old dad's alma mater?" Skip pointed to Scorpius and Albus who were quickly making their way back towards the rear of the house.

"Hm? Oh, yes!" Harry nodded, quickly.

"Thought so. Tradition is very important these days! Looks like they're pretty close. Like father, like son, eh? Hey, the night is young! Everyone, there's plenty of food and drinks! Enjoy! Listen, Skipper, I want you to have a word with Gary Chang about the library fund. I think together we can convince him to increase his annual donation…"

Tarquin drifted away from them, steering Skip away, and leaving Harry and Draco standing alone.

"Hogsmeade School?" Harry whispered.

"Well it does sound a shade more muggle than Hogwarts, yes?" Draco raised a brow. "What are you doing here, Potter?"

Before he could answer, they were accosted by numerous guests introducing themselves.

"Draco, may I call you Draco? I'm Lisbeth Massey, head of the Lakeshore Orchestra Parents. I'm so glad you accepted the offer! We were just devastated when Maestro Pichler decided to leave us so suddenly—and right after the start of term! But naturally, who could turn down an offer to be an instructor at Juillard? Have Skip and Tarquin told you about our season? …"

"Oh, Harry! I'd love to hear more about your shop. Now, two years ago when we visited the UK, we toured the Chelsea Physic Garden. Is that where you get your inspiration?..."

"I'm Peggy O'Brien. My son, Matthew plays cello. Last year he was second chair. Personally, I think it's because the girl in first was the daughter of a large alumni benefactor. Of course, she's graduated now, so I assume you'll be auditioning for new principals?..."

"I'm Melissa Parris. That's my husband Thom." She pointed. "He's the associate pastor of the Second Salem Church. We'd love to get together with you and talk to you about our ministry. Are you all looking for a church home? You're not Catholic are you?..."

"So, like…you guys know each other? Now you're living next door. How weird is that? Did you live next door in England?" Bella slipped her arm through Albus'. Scorpius raised a brow. Albus blushed with discomfort and rolled his eyes.

"Erm, no. I'm from London, and Scorpius lived in Wiltshire."

"Yeah, but we were roommates at school," Scorpius added.

"Fuckin' hell! Boarding school? Was it like one of those like…all-guy schools? I heard like everyone there is a homo." They were joined by the red-haired boy from earlier in the evening that Sophie had called Tucker.

"Oh, no. No. Hogw—I mean the Hogsmeade School is co-ed," Albus quickly informed them.

"Oh, hell yeah!" exclaimed another boy, approaching the group and draping an arm about Lizzie's shoulder. "Private school chicks are hot! Right, babe?" He gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"Ugh! You're so gross, Hunter!" Lizzie wiped her face, elbowing him in the ribs. He cackled, but didn't move away.

"Hey, a bunch of us are hooking up at Tucker's boathouse later. You guys should come," said Sophie.

"I don't know if my father will let me," said Scorpius. "We just arrived yesterday."

"We've still got a great deal of unpacking to do at our house." Albus shrugged, making a face.

"Just sneak out," suggested Hunter. "We all do it. You got a boat?" Albus and Scorpius shook their heads in the negative. "That sucks! Well, look. It's not far. You can walk up the beach. We're pier twenty-five. Up that way." He pointed over his shoulder. "Just be careful on the Lathrop's dock. They've got motion detectors."

"Good to know," said Albus.

The new teens endured several more minutes of conversation with the others, before slipping away from the crowd.

"Merlin's beard! They're so banal!" Scorpius groused, as he and Albus strolled down the stone steps towards the beach.

"At least they seem to like us," Albus pointed out.

"Yeah. I don't trust that Bella, though. She seems like a bitch."

"No kidding! She reminds me of Sofia Zabini."

"God! I'm so glad I don't have to see the likes of her anymore!"

"Yeah." They paused on the last step. Albus reached for Scorpius' hand. Scorpius moved closer to him. They heard a splash and leapt apart.

"Shit!" someone cursed. There was another splash, this one much quieter, followed by quiet mumbling.

"Hello?" Albus said. They cautiously stepped onto the dock and saw a figure sitting at the end of pier in the moonlight. She turned around.

"Lilac?" Scorpius asked.

"Scorp?"

"Scorp?" Albus repeated, his tone laced with amusement.

"Shut up!" Scorpius hissed. "Lilac, this is Albus. He's a friend of mine from England."

"How do you do?" Albus extended his hand. He recognized the purple-haired girl from earlier in the evening. "I saw you earlier. You were holding a flute?"

"How observant. So, you managed to slip away from your adoring fans, I see."

"Is that what they were?" Albus smirked. "I thought they were sirens preparing to lure us to the depths of the lake for the grindylows to devour us!" Scorpius gawked at Albus.

"What did you say?" Lilac looked at him suspiciously.

"Joke!" he laughed. Scorpius joined in.

"It's an old school legend about demons in the lake on our campus," Scorpius lied. "They used to tease the First Years, warning them not to get thrown in the water."

"Oh, huh." Lilac gave a half grin. "So your dad is the new music department head?"

"Yeah. Oh, you're in the orchestra, right? I guess you'll meet him this week then."

"Guess so." She shrugged.

"Do you live around here?" Albus asked.

"Me? Heh, no," Lilac emphatically replied. "I'm a townie girl."

"You don't look like a townie to me." Albus looked at her curiously. She scoffed.

"Yeah? So what's a townie look like?"

"You know. Tacky pastel track jacket with 'princess' spelled out on the front, poorly bleached hair and at least three piercings in one or both ears." Albus pulled an expression of disdain. Lilac laughed. "No class, no job, no goals, no future."

"Oh, my god! Is that what a townie is where you come from? Here, it basically means anyone who doesn't live on the lake, doesn't have a trust fund, and doesn't go to Lakeshore."

"But you go to Lakshore," Scorpius reminded her.

"Yeah, but I'm on scholarship. We attend church with the Cains and the Atkinsons. Personally, I was perfectly happy to go to Greyswood High. It's not that bad actually—not like in KC, or some other places."

"KC?" Albus and Scorpius looked at her in confusion.

"Kansas City."

"Ohh."

"So I guess you're not going to the do at Tucker's boathouse then?" asked Scorpius.

"Ugh! No way! I'm just waiting on my dad to get here to pick me up. That's probably him right there." She pointed to a light on the water that was drawing closer. They realized that it was a motor boat.

"Does everybody here have a boat?" asked Scorpius.

"Pretty much. My dad is a rescue worker with the water safety patrol," she said. The boat slowed a short distance away and slowly approached the pier; the captain tossed a line out and Lilac caught it.

"Ready, princess?"

"Yeah. Dad, this is Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy. They just moved here from England. Scorpius' dad is the new music teacher at school."

"I see. Gentlemen." He nodded, resting one booted foot against the side of the boat and reaching for his daughter's hand to help her aboard. Lilac took his hand and hopped into the boat. Lilac's father looked much like she did. He was a thin man with a rather prominent nose and dark hair with long bangs that hung into his face, which appeared dull and weathered.

"This is my dad, Eric Snape."

"I'm sorry, what?" Albus started.

"Did you say, Snape?" Scorpius asked.

"Yes, why?" Though his voice was soft, his eyes were keen and penetrating, even in the dim light of the boat.

"N-no reason," Albus stammered. "Just a familiar name."

"Yes, we wouldn't have guessed anyone in America to have such a unique nomenclature." Scorpius smiled disarmingly. "It was a pleasure to meet you sir."

"Yeah." Albus nodded.

"Bye guys. Guess I'll see you tomorrow, or sometime this week." Lilac lifted the line away from the pier with a boat hook, and pushed away. Her father restarted the engine, and slowly reversed from the dock.

Harry opened the refrigerator and retrieved two bottles of beer, offering one to Draco.

"I don't happen to have anything stronger at the moment." Draco accepted the bottle, vanishing the cap. "Now, explain to me again how you ended up here?" Harry leaned against the island and took a drink.

"Scorpius wanted to learn more about the muggle world. With all that's happened of late, I decided to take him up on the idea. Both of us certainly need a change of scenery, and I needed to put some distance between me and Lucius."

"So you decided to become a music teacher in America? Really?"

"Music is the one muggle thing that I happen to do well." He shrugged. "Besides, how was I to know I'd end up living right next door to you?"

"If Scorpius wanted to learn about the muggle world, there's plenty of books out there he could have read," Harry pointed out. They moved into the great room and sat down at opposite ends of the sofa.

"Well, yes, but I don't believe that would have satisfied Scorpius. Isn't that part of how he managed to get himself into trouble? After we left your house that evening, Scorpius and I had a serious discourse over dinner. He's decided that if he cannot continue his education at Hogwarts, he wanted a much more transformative learning experience. He challenged me to learn more as well."

"Wow, Draco. I'm impressed, but are you sure you're up to it? You've never lived in the muggle world. Do you even know how to operate a computer or a stove? Do you know how to cook?"

"Is it really that difficult?" Draco scoffed. Harry gave him an exasperated look. "Okay! I admit, I have a rather steep learning curve." He shrugged. Harry sighed, and turned up his beer bottle, swallowing the last dregs of lager.

"Tell you what. I'll try to help you as much as I can. It could spell disaster for both of us, if you're found out."

"Both of us?"

"Listen, you mustn't tell anyone why I'm here," Harry said, lowering his voice. He moved closer to Draco. "MACUSA and the ICW are worried about an anti-witchcraft movement that's gaining momentum here in the U.S. You remember reading about Grindelwald's capture in the twenties?"

"When he unleashed an obscurus in New York City? Newton Scamander helped to apprehend him."

"Right. Well, there was a movement then, called the New Salem Philanthropic Society, which was working to expose and eliminate wizardkind in America. They're descendants of the escaped Scourers from the seventeenth century."

"What are Scourers?"

"Vigilante wizards who started out as law enforcement before the formation of MACUSA. Eventually they even trafficked in their own kind during the witch hunts here!"

"Merlin!"

"Anyway, some of them escaped justice by integrating into the muggle world, and intermarrying, to rid themselves of magical offspring. They adopted puritanical beliefs and a deep hatred for the world they left behind, even going so far as to indoctrinate their descendants with the truth about the existence of magic, teaching that we should all be exterminated."

"So this New Salem movement is what—some sort of grotesque muggle version of the Death Eaters?"

"If they manage to build up their political base, they could very well be. That's why I'm here. There's a contingent of highly specialized Aurors in strategic places around the country, who are monitoring their activity. A descendant of one of the founders of NSPS has been elected to the muggle Congress, and MACUSA is worried that he'll have a platform to spread his message. If they manage to mobilize the Scourers again, he may get them legitimized by the government, and America could be facing witch hunts again."

"Merlin's wand! I had no idea!"

"You have to keep this to yourself, Draco. Even Albus doesn't even know."

Draco was startled by a high pitched ringing sound, and Harry reached into his pocket, retrieving what looked to him to be a large wafer. He touched it, and held it to his ear.

"Hermione, hi! Listen, it's a bit late…I know. I closed the floo because the neighbors here like to drop in unannounced…is something wrong?...Well, I should have some time tomorrow—erm today—around three o'clock your time? …brilliant! Tell Ron I said 'hi'." He touched the wafer again and turned his attention back to Draco, who stared at him with a perplexed expression. "It's a mobile phone. You really should get one. They'll be suspicious if you don't have one."

"Mobile phone, right. I suppose I should be relieved that we happened to have come across one another. Scorpius did express some concern that I'm terribly out of my depth. He even had to help me conjure an appropriate outfit." He chuckled self-consciously.

"Well, you look nice—very nice," Harry remarked. Draco blushed, clearing his throat.

"I erm…I should go. I've got an early morning. It will be my first day at the school, and I've got to get Scorpius ready. Will Albus be attending Lakeshore?"

"Looks that way. He didn't want to go to Ilvermorny, and the neighbors all seem to insist that it's the best school."

"So I heard—over and over again!" Draco rolled his eyes. Harry laughed. "Anyhow…" He stood.

"I'll walk you to the door." Harry stood. A moment later, they stood in the foyer, both wizards with their hands shoved into their pockets.

"This is awkward," Draco curled his lips into a half smile. "I never would have thought—"

"Nor would I," Harry nodded.

"Listen—Hey, why don't—" They both spoke at the same time.

"I'm sorry. You go ahead," said Harry.

"No, no, no. It's nothing. You were saying?"

"Well, just—I was going to suggest that you and Scorpius join me and Albus for breakfast. Then I could drive us all to the school afterwards."

"Oh, erm. Yes. Yes, I think the boys would certainly enjoy that. Say half-six? Is that too early?"

"That sounds fine. See you?" Harry opened the door and extended his hand. When Draco took it, he felt a tingle of energy move up his arm. Harry looked at Draco. The other wizard held his gaze a moment before giving him a slight smile and departing.

"Well, at least there's no tie," remarked Albus of their school uniforms, when he and Scorpius sat down to breakfast.

"Tuck in!" Harry commanded. Albus eagerly plunged his fork into his dish, while Scorpius and Draco stared at their plates. "Something wrong?"

"What exactly is this?" Draco asked.

"You've never had a fry-up?" Harry asked.

"Heavens no! Typically, breakfast at the Manor is a rather light meal. A petit dejeuner with a baguette, a choice of jams, honey and butter, and a hot beverage: coffee or tea."

"Minted people!" Harry muttered. "Well, we have sausage and bacon, beans, tomatoes—that cuts some of the fattiness, fried bread, two eggs—we eat our over easy, black pudding, kidneys, kippers and potatoes of course. We had to bring the sausages and pudding over with us. Fortunately, Greyswood has a butcher who sells kidneys." Harry cut a piece of sausage and took a bite.

Scorpius tentatively tasted the beans.

"It isn't bad, Father. I do like sausages. Didn't they serve them at Hogwarts when you were a boy?" he asked.

"They did. I wasn't much fond of them. I preferred tea and toast most mornings." Draco tasted the bread. "It's a bit greasy, but rather palatable, I suppose."

Harry offered him a cup of coffee, and they finished the meal with pleasant conversation, Draco and Scorpius peppering Harry and Albus with questions about cooking. Finally, everyone gathered their belongings, and Harry flicked his wand, sending the dirty dishes to the dishwasher.

"Your magic doesn't interfere with the e—lectronics?" Draco asked.

"There's a charm for that," Harry replied. "I can stop over and help you with that, if you like."

"That'd be great!" Scorpius exclaimed as they piled into Harry's SUV. "I burned out all of the bulbs in my bedchamber this morning, as I dressed!"

Several minutes later, they arrived at Lakeshore Preparatory Academy, a sprawling complex on the eastern shore of Greyswood Lake. The Tudor Revival style building, featured brick, sandstone, wood timbers and a roof of clay shingle tile. Scorpius was immediately reminded of Malfoy Manor, as he gazed upon the campus grounds, dotted with large shade trees, a gurgling fountain and rambling lawns.

"Ah, welcome Mr. Malfoy! And Mr. Potter, so glad you chose Lakeshore!" Skip Atkinson greeted them when they entered. "He led them to an office just off the main hall and introduced them to the Dean of Men, Mr. Cullen. "Let's see." He gestured for them to take a seat. "I'll need birth certificates, social security—or a…ah, what is it called?"

"It's a national insurance number," Harry supplied as he handed over the requested documents. The dean took them and turned to his computer, flipping through the paperwork as he entered information into a database.

Harry noticed a look of consternation on Draco's face, and surreptitiously flicked his wand.

"Look in your attaché."

Draco's expression morphed into one of amazement. He opened the case and saw a folder that he did not recognize. He opened it to see a set of papers that looked similar to the ones Harry had passed to the dean. He gave Harry a grateful smile and handed him the paperwork when he finished with Albus'.

"Now then," he said once he'd entered the boys' vital information and recommended core classes into the computer. "Tenth grade students are also required to take a foreign language. At Lakeshore, we offer French, Spanish, Japanese, German and Latin."

"Latin," both boys said together.

"My!" Mr. Cullen exclaimed. "We typically don't see such enthusiasm for this subject. I think you'll enjoy it, however. The class is small, and Mr. Horowitz is well liked by his pupils. Now for Physical Education, you have a number of options: fall offerings include training for crew—basically a beginner or conditioning class for experienced rowers, tennis, gymnastics, volleyball, basketball, and soccer—I believe that's football, right?" Albus nodded enthusiastically.

"I'd like to try soccer," he said.

"Alright." He wrote onto a small form. "And you, young man?" He looked at Scorpius.

"May I take crew?" he asked.

"Good!" He wrote on a separate form.

"We also have a number of electives from which to choose. Students are required to take one, or they may choose an extended day and take a second course. I assume you will be taking orchestra, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked Scorpius.

"Erm, yes, sir. May I take another course?"

Mr. Cullen listed the other options for electives, and Scorpius chose culinary arts, while Albus chose photography and zoology. He hoped it would be as interesting as Care of Magical Creatures.

"Well, that's that!" the dean declared. "Here are your schedules and your locker assignments. One of our student congress representatives will give you a quick tour and show you to your first class. Harry left, and Cullen showed Draco to the Headmaster's office, where he received rosters, a course list with teacher's names and office keys.

"So, you'll be responsible for conducting the chamber and symphonic orchestras, a strings class, and three piano classes. Each piano lesson is thirty minutes long. Students attend on alternate days with independent study on the days they are not with you, so you'll have roughly eighteen students for that total," explained Atkinson as he showed him to the music department. "The entire department is state of the art, with a listening lab, recording studio and recital hall. Of course, concerts are held in the performing arts center. Here we are."

They walked out of the main building and down a corridor lined with tall, arched windows which looked out onto the school grounds towards a set of double doors beneath a sign which read Martha Paxton Conservatory of Music.

"Here's your office." They pushed open the door. The room was large, and featured an executive desk and chair in front of a stained glass window. There was a grand piano on one side of the room and matching bookshelves framed a row of file cabinets fashioned to match the woodwork. Draco pulled open a drawer and discovered several files of music scores. "The room is built to professional music studio specifications for acoustics and sound-proofing." He pointed to a door just beyond the desk. "And this door leads directly into the orchestra studio."

Atkinson led him out of the office and into the corridor, pointing out each classroom. " This is the choral studio. Ms. Hong is the choral director, and Musical Theater instructor. The other instructor offices and classrooms are located down the main corridor. Mr. Whitman teaches Composition, Jazz Band Studio—that's Mr. Polk. He also teaches Brass. Dr. Meyers teaches Music Appreciation, Theory and Music History. Dr. Vargas is Percussion. She's a feisty one! Finally Madame Gruber teaches Woodwinds. I've arranged a department meeting for this afternoon so that you can get to know everyone. Oh, yes! I nearly forgot. The orchestra and dance department collaborate each year to present The Nutcracker. You'll want to meet with Madame Janiček to arrange the rehearsal schedules. These are your office hours, make yourself at home! Someone from IT will get your computer passwords to you by the end of the week. Dial my office if you have any questions, and welcome to Lakeshore Prep!"

"Ah! Novum alumni! Opera Latina grata est! Professor sum Horowitz, et tu es?" The exuberant professor looked like a young version of the portly potions professor, Horace Slughorn.

"Salve, magister. Albus Potter est nomen meum." Albus greeted the teacher.

"Scorpius Malfoy est nomen meum, Professor." Scorpius gave Horowitz a nod.

"And this, dominarum et iudices (ladies and gentlemen) is what we aspire to in this class. I fear you may be rather advanced for Elementary Latin! I assume you have studied the language tua priorem scholae?"

"No sir, but all of our professors taught some portion of our lectures in the language," Albus replied.

"My mother began my instruction when I was very young."

"Impressive! Bene, ut sedes vestras. (well, take your seats)." He gestured to two empty desks.

As the dean had indicated, the class was indeed small. There were only about twelve students present. Among them, Scorpius and Albus recognized Bella's boyfriend, Tucker. Albus found himself in the adjacent seat.

"Do you two do everything together?" Tucker whispered.

"Of course not." Albus gave him a wary look.

"Bella was awfully disappointed that you didn't come out to the boathouse last night. You do know that she's taken."

"Okay." Albus shrugged.

"Just so you know." Tucker gave him a pointed look. Albus looked away, hoping that he wasn't about to find himself in the same situation with his peers as he had at Hogwarts.

"Gentlemen. Listening lab has begun." Mr. Horowitz handed Albus a set of headphones. In the next row, Scorpius held his in confusion. "You'll find a port under your desktop on the right hand side."

Albus gestured to Scorpius and demonstrated how to plug the devices in and place the headphones over their ears. Scorpius was surprised to hear a voice reciting phrases. The class passed with little fanfare as both boys were already familiar with the terms and vocabulary taught. The bell rang and they gathered their belongings with the rest of the class.

"That was easy," Albus announced as they stepped into the hall. He looked at his schedule. "I've got physical education next. What about you?"

"Symphonic Orchestra—shit!" he suddenly exclaimed.

"It can't be that bad. You've had lessons with your father before haven't you?" Albus asked. They found their lockers and Albus showed Scorpius how to work the combination lock.

"It'd be easier just to use Alohomora." Scorpius pointed out in a low voice. "Anyway, I'm not worried about the class. I put my violin into my rucksack!"

"So?"

"I put my violin into my rucksack." Scorpius repeated emphatically, holding up the satchel. Albus immediately comprehended that the book bag was not quite large enough to accommodate a violin case, and his lips parted with the realization.

"Extension charm!" he exclaimed. Scorpius nodded, a worried expression on his face. "Just find a lavatory and take it out before you go to class." They looked at the map of the campus they'd been given. "There's one, just outside of the music building."

Scorpius sighed with relief. They closed their lockers and set off in opposite directions. The bell sounded, just as Albus entered the gymnasium. He followed a group of boys into the locker room where he found the soccer coach, a young man, built like a Quidditch Beater, named Garcia.

"You need to dress out, bro. Find an empty locker to put your stuff in."

"I don't have a strip, sir," said Albus."

"A what?"

"Erm, a kit? Proper clothing for class?" he pointed to the uniforms that the other students were changing into.

"Oh, a uniform! That's what we call them here. C'mon." he led Albus to a closet where he handed him a jersey, shorts, socks and shin pads, all in the school colors. "You can wear these for today. The school store sells uniforms for P.E. You can get everything you need there. . I hope you at least have cleats. We don't supply those." Albus nodded.

"Well, hurry and get changed." Coach Garcia gave him a light push back into the locker room. "On the field in five!" he called out.

Albus quickly changed, and looked down at his shoes. He didn't have cleats and he knew that the casual brogues he wore would not work. Coach Garcia blew his whistle and Albus made a decision. He dashed into the nearest bathroom stall and drew his wand from his pocket.

"Please, please, please work!" he whispered, closing his eyes and pointing his wand at his feet. "Sutorem Veteramentarium!" His toes felt as if they'd been placed into a vise for a few seconds. He opened his eyes and looked down, exhaling a breath when he saw a pair of soccer cleats on his feet. Albus exited the toilets and hastened to follow the last student out to the pitch.

"Òrale!" Garcia blew his whistle, waving the class to the touchline. "Huddle up, guys! We got a new student—what's your name, kid?"

"Oh, I'm Albus Potter."

"Right. This is Potter." The coach shoved a scrimmage vest into Albus' hands. "We're doing full scrimmage this morning, people. Potter, you can play goalie for the yellow squad. Let's go!"

Albus pulled on the vest and followed the other players on his squad out to the pitch, trying to remember what to do.

"Let's go, Potter!" one of the boys yelled, pointing to the penalty area and goal. Albus breathed a sigh of relief, and ran to stand near the net.

He remembered from watching Eliza play, that, like Quidditch, his primary function was to prevent the opposing team from scoring. Fortunately, his squad seemed to be the superior of the two, scoring three goals before the ball made its way towards him. It was then that he saw two players on the opposing team aggressively moving the ball in his direction, avoiding his squad's efforts to dispossess them. Hunter passed the ball to Tucker, who grinned maliciously as he closed in for a goal shot. He kicked the ball hard, and it flew into the air.

"Ascendio Modicum! " Albus thought to himself, as he leapt, stretching out his arms. The charm lifted him into the air, and the ball hit him squarely in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. He landed ungracefully on his side. Albus scrambled to his feet in embarrassment, to see the players on both squads staring at him in amazement.

"Daaayum!" exclaimed one boy, a slightly stocky Black kid with short dreadlocks. "How you do that?"

"Holy shit! How did he get that high? …and he blocked it with his chest! …Thibaut Cortois can't even do that!" The players muttered among themselves. Coach Garcia ran down the pitch with a whoop.

"What was that?" he cried.

"I-I've never actually played football," Albus apologized. "I-is that against the rules?" he nervously asked, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

"Yo, coach! You gotta put him on varsity!" the boy with the dreadlocks insisted.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Tucker protested. "What about Magoro?"

"C'mon, man! Magoro couldn't stop the ball if it was duct-taped to his hands!" the other boy argued.

"Oye! That's just one goal, fellas. I had an inspiration that maybe we could finish this match before the end of the period. Then we can see how you really play, huh? Alright, let's go! Restart!"

Scorpius placed his foot against the commode and balanced his backpack on his knee, pulling his violin from the extended depths of the bag, before hurrying to the music wing. He slipped into the orchestra studio and scanned the room. A traditional arced seating arrangement, with the large percussion instruments arranged at the rear nearest the door, faced the conductor's podium and a low stage at the front of the room. Several students were taking seats and assembling or warming up instruments. Others were entering and exiting through a second doorway on the side of the room. Lilac waved to him from there, and he made his way over.

"Hello!" he smiled as he approached.

"Hey." She returned his smile. "You can pick a cubby in here and put your things in it." She pointed over her shoulder with her piccolo, and he looked into the anteroom, filled with cubbies of various sizes, where other students storing book bags and instrument cases in the small room.

"Thanks." She winked and went to her seat. Scorpius spied an empty cubby and opened his case. He carefully removed his violin and bow, stowing his belongings away, and went back out into the other room where he took a seat in the first row of the violin section, nearest the conductor's podium.

"Uh, no. I don't think so!" Scorpius heard someone scoff, and he looked up. "I sincerely doubt you're good enough for this position," she haughtily informed him.

"Erm, I thought that placement auditions hadn't been held as yet," Scorpius replied.

"What's your point?" She placed a hand on her hip. "You look like an underclassman, and plebes never make concertmaster, so—"

"Dude!" A boy with a large afro approached them. "Is that the Strad Sellière?"

"Erm…yes?"

"What?" The girl looked at the other boy, and then back to Scorpius.

"No wonder you barely passed music history, Annabeth. It was on our final last year. That is the Sellière, isn't it?" A small crowd began to gather around them.

"He's got a real Strad! …did I just hear Marcus say it's the Sellière? …no way! …Didn't Dr. Meyers say that it hadn't been seen since like 1937? …supposedly it was sold to a private collector…"

Draco peered through the window of the door that led into the studio. He saw the violinists crowded around Scorpius, who appeared to be nervous, clutching his antique violin tightly. Draco took a breath and turned the knob. He could not be seen giving his son preferential treatment, so rather than address the situation, he pushed open the door, closing it firmly behind him with authority. The students scrambled to their seats. Scorpius took a seat at the back of the first violin section.

"In the future, I expect all students to be seated and tuning at the bell," he said as he strode to the podium and adjusted his music stand. "I am told that this orchestra is highly renowned, therefore I expect nothing but the highest standard of performance at all times." He set his folio down and silently gazed around the room.

Draco was impressed to see a full orchestra with what appeared to be close to eighty musicians, including two harpists. The students sat at attention, nervous gazes upon most of their faces as they waited for him to continue.

"Music is not a collection of notes and sounds. It is a living, breathing thing," he said. "It is capable of expressing strong emotion—passion, fear, love! It speaks many languages, and has a soul which it pours out, each time it speaks. I am Professor Malfoy, you may call me Maestro, or Professor. Who are you?" Draco removed his roster from his folio and began to take roll, carefully committing faces and instruments to memory.

"Marcus Belton..." The boy with the afro, responded in the affirmative. "...Carrie Coopersmith…William Riley…Melissa Rowan…Amanda Sloane…Lilac Sn—" Draco paused, looking up suddenly. "Snape? Lilac Snape?"

"Present." Draco gawked at the dark-haired girl in the woodwind section. She stared back at him curiously. "Sir?" Draco shook off his stupor.

"Forgive me. I was caught a bit off guard by your surname. It just happens to be the same as someone I once knew." He heaved a deep breath. "Let us continue, Derrick Stroud…" Draco forced himself to focus as he completed the roster and commenced with his class.

"Now then, I understand that your previous instructor departed before principals were assigned. Therefore, auditions will take place beginning a week from Monday—that is yesterday. In order to ensure fairness, this will be a blind adjudication. You may pick up audition pieces from the stage at the end of the lesson. Next, I am sure you are aware of the Grey's Valley Solo and Ensemble Competition, which is six weeks away. All students planning to participate should submit their chosen compositions and if competing as an ensemble, the names of all participants in your group, no later than Friday. Are there any questions?" No one raised their hands. Draco turned to the violinist in the first chair to his left.

"Miss…"

"Massey. Annabeth Massey," she offered, sitting up primly.

"Right. Miss Massey, please proceed with tuning."

"Yes, Maestro."

Draco opened his folio and began to page through his music as the girl stood. Annabeth lifted her violin to her chin and played an A. Draco looked up sharply, watching her gesture to the violin and viola sections.

"What is she doing?" Scorpius muttered to himself.

"Looking stupid as hell," Marcus quietly replied with a snicker. Scorpius snorted.

"Just a moment." Draco raised his hand to stop her. "May I assume, young lady, that you are not the concertmaster?"

"No, Maestro, I—"

"Be seated." He cut her off. "Young man." He pointed to the last row. Scorpius blushed, and surreptitiously pointed to himself. "You, with the Pressenda." Marcus pointed to himself. Scorpius sighed with relief." Mr. Belton, is it?"

"Yes, Maestro."

"Perhaps you can tell us what orchestral protocol demands for tuning?"

"Yes, Maestro. The principal oboe plays three A's as called for by the concertmaster, who proceeds with tuning first the brass, followed by woodwinds, low strings, and finally violin and viola, which tunes to the concertmaster's A."

"Very good. Kindly step forward and commence tuning."

"Mm-hmm!" Marcus hummed under his breath. He held out a hand to Scorpius, who remembered that Albus had explained touching palms was a gesture of solidarity. He lightly placed his hand on Marcus' before the other boy stood and moved to the front of the group.

He raised three fingers and nodded at a girl in the woodwind section. She adjusted a tuner and played an A. Draco carefully observed the process, making notes about each section.

"Thank you, Mr. Belton. You may be seated." Marcus turned back to his seat. "No. There." Draco pointed to the seat that Annabeth occupied. She gawked at him with an affronted expression. Draco raised a brow, and she let out a huff, leaving her seat. Annabeth glared at him as she dropped into the empty seat beside Scorpius. "Very good. I would like to observe your bowing." Marcus sat, and Draco opened his folio. "The Nutcracker Suite. Let us begin with the Danse Chinoise. He raised his baton and the students immediately moved to the ready position. He counted the tempo, and the music began. At the flute solo, Draco stopped them, tapping his baton on the stand.

"What is your name?" he asked the girl.

"Caroline Beatty."

"Miss Beatty, please play that phrase once more." The girl replayed the first three bars of the selection once again. Draco pursed his lips. "Right. Right. Mr. Malfoy, what is the time signature for this dance?"

"Common time, Maestro." Scorpius quickly responded.

"And the tempo, Miss Snape?"

"That would be allegro moderato, sir."

"Which is typically defined as quick-paced and bright, yet slightly slower than allegro, yes, Miss Beatty?"

"Yes, Maestro."

"Did you not hear the bassoons?"

"Yes, sir."

"I am fairly confident that they set the tempo at a brisk 118 beats per minute."

"Yes, sir."

"Why then, are you playing the clearly indicated sixteenth notes as eighths? It is called 'Tea', not 'oversteeped tea bag'." Light laughter floated up around the room. Caroline's face was pink with embarrassment. Draco raised a brow. "Be not discomfited, my dear girl. At some point in this school term, every one of your classmates shall have his or her moment of shame." He curled his lips in a slightly menacing smile as his eyes moved across the ensemble. "For the moment at least...Miss Snape, do you think you can demonstrate the proper tempo here?"

"Yes, Maestro," Lilac replied with a bit more confidence than she felt. She exchanged her piccolo for her flute.

"Shall we begin again?" The bassoons played the introduction, and Lilac came in, sliding up the run of sixteenth notes, and ending the first phrase with a clear trill."

"Lovely!" Draco commented over the music as they continued.

Draco conducted the rehearsal with exacting detail, analyzing and correcting every element of the music, from bowing to embouchure and stick control.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it would serve you well to remember my comments today, as you prepare for principal auditions. If you are not practicing at least one hour daily, consider it a serious breach of commitment to your craft. Failure to observe proper orchestral etiquette is the highest insult to your colleagues, and demonstrates that you are not giving your art the respect it deserves." He looked at the clock. "That is all."

Albus exited the locker room in a daze. Coach Garcia had invited him to join the soccer team as a substitute goalkeeper. He couldn't believe it. After all, he'd had no idea what he was doing. Whenever his squad went on the offense, he watched the opposing team's keeper, memorizing his tactics. When the ball came towards him, Albus tried to employ what he'd learned, sometimes with the help of a well-placed charm or spell. He stopped in the middle of the corridor, causing a girl behind him to plow into his back.

"Watch where you're going!" she growled.

"Sorry." He automatically apologized, his head still swirling with and amazing revelation.

After transfiguring his shoes, Albus had carefully tucked his wand into the pocket of his slacks. He hadn't been in possession of it at all, the entire time he was on the pitch!

"I did wandless magic!" he whispered to himself. "Merlin's wand!"

"Fucking asshole!" Annabeth whispered to herself as she snatched up her sheet music and joined the students swarming to the anteroom to pack up.

"Man! That was intense!" Marcus exclaimed, grabbing his case from a cubby above Scorpius'. "Hey, your name is Malfoy, right? Are you Maestro's son?"

"Erm…yes, I am. I-I'm Scorpius." He offered his hand. Marcus shook it.

"Interesting name. I'm Marcus."

"Right." Scorpius carefully laid his violin on the velvet padding of the polished wood case.

"So, is he always like that?" Marcus asked, packing away his own instrument.

"No," Scorpius replied, latching his case. "Sometimes, he frowns." Scorpius smiled. Marcus laughed, lightly punching his shoulder.

"Well, I think he's awesome. I haven't had a rehearsal that intense since I spent the summer at Interlochen two years ago!" he declared as they exited the studio.

"Well, I think he's a pretentious egomaniac," Annabeth complained. A few nearby students gasped.

"Girl, you're like Kanye at the symphony."

"I beg your pardon?" She tossed her hair, giving him a disdainful look.

"No class!" several students chorused, breaking up with laughter. Scorpius smiled. Annabeth stormed off.

"She has no orchestra etiquette." Lilac joined them.

"I swear she's just in it to have something impressive on her college applications," said Marcus. "Well, I'm off to Calculus! Hey, later, Scorpius Malfoy. Welcome to Prep!" he called as he departed.

"Hey, what's your next class?" Lilac asked as they headed back to the main building.

"Ermmm…" Scorpius checked his schedule. "English. Professor Coleman."

"Oh, that's Honors. I'm in that class too." She gestured for him to follow her up a staircase. "I can't believe you are so in there!" Lilac exclaimed with a hint of derision.

"I don't get it."

"Like, the popular kids dig you."

"Dig me? Oh, you mean they like me?"

"Uh, yeah!" Lilac thumbed over her shoulder as they walked. "Marcus is on the tennis team, and crew, of course. He's on the Student Senate, and he's the president of the Trident Society."

"What's the Trident Society?" Scorpius asked.

"It's like a fraternity, except not exclusively male. You have to be invited to be a member. Almost all of them are on the sailing team or crew. Most of them are rich—so they either live on the lake or in the old Greyswood garden district.

"So Marcus is wealthy?"

"Are you kidding? Belton Boatworks is like the largest producers of racing shells this side of the Mississippi. They're one of the few companies that still build wooden sculls."

"Oh." He followed her into the classroom, where Albus was standing at the teacher's desk.

Mrs. Coleman issued them each textbooks and copies of the syllabus before pointing out their seats. Alphabetically, Scorpius sat in front of Albus. Lilac was seated behind them.

"How was football?" Scorpius asked as they took their seats. "Was it as fun as Quidditch?"

"What did you say?" Lilac looked at him strangely.

"What?"

"Hm?" Albus and Scorpius looked at her, feigning nonplussed expressions.

"I thought—"

"Hi, Albus!" Bella perched on the desktop beside him. "Missed you last night."

"Said the spider to the fly," Lilac muttered under her breath.

"This is an A and B conversation." Bella narrowed her eyes at Lilac.

"Well feel free to see your way to your own seat." Bella was pushed off the desktop by the girl behind her. Albus and Scorpius suppressed grins, while Lilac snickered. The bell rang.

"Miss Cain, please take your seat," said Mrs. Coleman.

Bella gave the girl a malicious glare and started for the front of the room. She was halfway up the aisle, when her legs suddenly began to tremble, and she stumbled, falling ungracefully to the floor. Several students laughed. Scorpius turned and gave Albus an incredulous look. Albus vigorously shook his head in confusion.

"I don't know!" he mouthed.

"Hey!" the girl whispered, leaning towards Scorpius. "You're Maestro Malfoy's son, right?" Scorpius nodded shyly.

"I'm Saheli. Saheli Prakash. I play cello."

"Hi," whispered Scorpius. "This is Albus."

"Hey."

"Hi."

"Are you guys brothers?" she asked.

"No. We used to attend school together in England," said Albus.

"I hate to interrupt, what I am sure is an engaging conversation, with my instruction, but this material might actually become useful to you people, come exam time." Mrs. Coleman gave them a reproachful look.

The Pomona Organic Nursery was situated in a small, ivy-covered gothic cottage in the Greyswood historic district, where the high street met the homes of the garden district. An arch of wisteria vine framed the end of the flagstone walk that wound its way through a colorful and abundant English garden. A bright red door marked the entrance, and a cheerful bell sounded when the door was opened.

"Hello?" the woman called out.

"Be with you in a tick!"

The woman slowly browsed the shop while she waited. On one side of the showroom, tall, galvanized vases displayed bright cuts of gladiolus, cymbidium, hydrangea, and other colorful flowers and potted plants on tiered wooden stands. At the center of the space, a large antique table showed off elegant arrangements of Phalaenopsis orchids. Opposite the floral displays, traditional floral coolers displayed an array of cut roses and flower arrangements. Behind the counter, a breakfront apothecary display held shelves displaying bar soaps, phials of essential oils, and handmade candles, along with dozens of glass jars in a variety of sizes, containing dried leaves, powders, and seeds. Harry Potter emerged through an open doorway framed by narrow French doors at the end of the L-shaped counter.

"Hello! Welcome to the Pomona Nursery." He smiled. "We've met, yes? At the Cain's do?"

"Right! Melissa Parris." She held out her hand, and Harry shook it. "What a quaint little place you have!" she said. "I was expecting some utilitarian greenhouse and an uninspired yard with rows of plants in dull black pots." She chuckled.

"Well, we do have a greenhouse, but it isn't quite that dull. I thought something magical would be more inviting. Let me show you around."

"There's more?"

"Mm-hm! Follow me."

Melissa gasped as they stepped through the doorway and into a lush, circular garden. At the center of the space, water spilled over the surface of a large copper cauldron into a base of stones, as delicate blue water lilies floated on the surface. A path of yellow slate random flagstone wound its way through the center of the garden, while a narrower path of gravel meandered around the edge of the space.

"This is the physic garden. All of the flowers and herbs grown here have beneficial properties. The apothecary garden was the natural precursor to our modern chemist shop," Harry explained.

"Chemist shop? Oh, you mean a pharmacy!"

"Yes." He pointed to the flowers that surrounded the water feature. Right there we have thyme and chamomile, which have been shown to alleviate inflammation, gastric disorders and sore throat." He indicated the common pear trees that bordered the garden. "Did you know that pears stimulate the kidneys and also aid in weight loss?"

"Really?" Melissa pulled an impressed expression.

"We also have lemon verbena there, fennel, bay leaf, and wormwood."

"What are these box hedges?" Melissa asked, pointing to the trimmed green towers at the far edge of the garden.

"That's English yew. It contains a taxane alkaloid that has proven useful in the treatment of cancer, but I wouldn't recommend using yew as anything more than an ornamental plant, as its leaves and bark are highly toxic."

They passed through an arch of espaliered common hops over a short path to the greenhouse.

"This is amazing!" Melissa exclaimed.

The windows of the glasshouse were set between timber structural beams fashioned into branches supporting the glass roof system and giving an overall atmosphere of walking through a grove of trees. Hanging bouquets of herbs and flowers hung from the branches beneath a section of roof with tinted glass. There were ground beds on one side of the space, where tomatoes, cucumber plants, peppers and peas grew. On the opposite side, a variety of potted plants and vegetables flourished on tiered stages.

"I never would have expected all of this! I only came to order some flower arrangements for the church!"

"Well, I've got some lovely arrangements in the cooler, or I can make something custom for you. What exactly did you have in mind?" Harry asked, as they strolled back to the front of the shop.

"I suppose, nothing too over the top. We prefer a certain level of austerity at Second Salem. Something conservative perhaps?"

"Hmm." Harry walked slowly among the flowers on display, tapping his lips. "How about a nice round basket of waterlily, yellow star and dinner plate dahlias? I can arrange them in a simple low-lying dome. Add a few asparagus fronds for greenery, and you have a cheerful display." Harry chose a bowl-shaped basket and led her over to his selection of the Mexican flowers.

"Dahlias? That's kind of exotic, don't you think? Is it really suitable for church?"

"Well, dahlias represent kindness, grace, purity, inner strength, commitment, and truth," he explained.

"Really?" Melissa nodded in fascination.

"All flowers have their own language and symbolism," he said. "When we choose to display them, or give them to others, we are expressing what is in our hearts."

"Amazing! Simply amazing! May I order them today, and pick them up this weekend?"

"Oh, sure. I can have them ready for you on Saturday afternoon."

"You know, I would like to invite you and your family to attend a service. Second Salem is a wonderful church. We are serious about the purification of our bodies, souls and communities." Melissa's expression morphed into something that Harry couldn't quite put his finger on. There was a particular gleam in her eye as she spoke.

"Really?"

"Oh, yes! There is just so much…evil in the world right now!" she declared. "Nefarious influences are testing the very fabric of our communities, and our nation!"

"Oh?"

"You disagree?" she asked, an indignant edge to her voice.

"Well, I wouldn't necessarily say that," Harry hedged. "But haven't we always existed, on some level, in perilous times?" Melissa gasped, grapping his arm.

"Yes! That's exactly it! That is why Brother Frank reminds us that it is our mission to expose the scourge that is infiltrating our ranks, right under our very noses!"

"Right." Harry struggled to school his expression, and moved behind the counter. "Well, let me just write this order up for you." He quickly filled out an invoice and accepted her payment, promising to have the arrangements ready when she returned.

Melissa purchased a few scented candles and departed. As soon as the door swung closed behind her, he flicked his wand to lock it, and blew out a long sigh. He was definitely on the right track, and thought to himself, now what?

This chapter has proven exceptionally long, as I wanted to establish a few more key characters and settings. I hadn't completed it, but I wanted to give you something to whet your appetite. Will Albus and Scorpius fit in at Lakeshore Prep? And who cast the jelly-legs jinx on Bella?