Ch. 12- You Don't Succeed

Albus Severus Potter was many things. He was a talented flier. He was exceedingly good at charms. He never broke a promise, he was the spitting image of his father, he was the only person of this generation with Weasly blood who didn't have the signature red hair… and as anyone would say, he rarely ever got upset. He always had a cheery smile and a kind word to say, and despite his visual similarity to his father Albus was most similar in that he had no desire to be famous at all. A lot of people thought that meant he should have gone to Hufflepuff with his little sister Lily.

They thought he was too meek to be a Gryffindor, but those people were wrong. Albus Potter did get mad, like anyone else. He just needed a very good reason; like James's abhorrent behavior over the summer and absolute refusal to apologize for what he had done to Scorpius. That was a very good reason.

Unfortunately, such good reasons only came very rarely and that meant Albus wasn't particularly good at understanding how to act angry or when he should stop.

Albus felt a twinge of guilt at Rose's disappointment when he once more stopped talking the instant James came to the table, before he set his jaw. He was not going to be the one to break their stalemate; he had given in too many times in the past.

Silence had never really been his thing, though, so he got up and left the table.

He wandered to the library, deciding to look for the one member of the clan that never bothered to delve into anyone's emotional drama. He found Lysander at his usual corner in the back, and was shocked to find the introvert had company.

The girl next to him shimmering gold hair and was sitting over an essay, biting her lip with concentration. The extreme hair identified her as the only person in the castle to sport such a style.

"...Zoethia Malam?"

Her head jerked up in response and she met his gaze with eyes that were even greener than his own. She smiled at him and said casually "Actually, most people just call me Zoey."

Lysander grunted and turned a page in his book.

"Right, er, Zoey…" Albus scratched his head nervously, eventually saying "Good to see you again." He hadn't seen her at all, actually, which was a total surprise. He was used to classmates borderline-stalking him for autographs if he ever so much as said 'hi'.

"...'Again'?" She repeated and tilted her head while Lysander unsuccessfully hid his amused snicker. "We met before? I'm sorry, I'm pretty horrible with names. Or faces. Or putting them both together. I have enough trouble learning how to get anywhere without a guide, let alone remember who's who in a sea of hundreds of students. Unless I should remember you... oh no, are you the boy I ran over the other day? I am so sorry that was a total accident I swear, it's a terrible habit..."

Zeoy didn't just walk with her mouth, she talked with her entire body. Her head bobbed, her hands were in constant motion, her face never held an expression longer than a second, and Albus hadn't known it was possible to raise and lower shoulders between words. It looked exhausting.

Albus's own mouth fell open in shock from her first statement and stayed there as she continued talking, seemingly without any kind of filter between mind and mouth. Eventually he got the muscles to start working again and say "No, no I'm not the boy you ran over. I'm Albus Potter."

Zoey blinked a few times, her head still tilted as she asked "Sorry, am I supposed to know that name?"

Albus tried to look at Lysander for help, but didn't even get eye contact. He cleared his throat. "Um, son of Harry Potter." Still no response. "Harry James Potter, The Chosen One? Conqueror of Death? Boy Who Liv-"

"Oh!" Zelina snapped her fingers and pointed at him in the same motion. "I've heard of him before! The guy who survived being a boy!"

Lysander lost it, devolving into hooting laughter reminiscent of his twin but rarely ever made it past his own throat. Albus's lips twitched into a smile as he sat down, looking at the girl in amazement. "Something like that."

Zoey turned to Lysander with her own open grin. "What? What did I do this time?"

In a different section of the library, three Slytherin boys sat among old, thick tomes of research. They'd been there as soon as class let out, and were now sacrificing dinner time for a noseful of dust with every page they turned.

"We're getting nowhere."

Malfoy looked up at Zambini's growl of frustration and raised his own eyebrow. "We're reading, not racing."

"You know what I meant," He scowled and pushed his book of genealogy away from him, careful to keep his voice down in the library.

"Of course he did," Nott said as he took the book and picked up their notes where the other boy had left off. "He was just giving you the opportunity to find a decent excuse for yapping instead of working."

Malfoy was very pleased with the way Nott had chosen to phrase that, and decided it didn't need further embellishment.

"What are you, a Professor?" Zambini scowled, put-out that he was apparently facing a united front. "We haven't found anything at all."

"It's been weeks."

"And? What's your point, Nott?"

Malfoy's eyes went to the ceiling, desperately wanting to remind his colleague that people had been studying the history of magical lineages and their fluctuations for decades, but decided that Nott would probably explain it better.

"Zambini, this is going to take longer than a few weeks. People have been studying the fluctuations of magical lineages for centuries."

…apparently all he had needed to add, Scorpius mused with a small smile, was a personal appeal and then a bit of hyperbole.

"He didn't make it sound that way." Zambini accused and jerked a finger at Malfoy's silent figure.

"I didn't?" He flipped a page in his book slowly, both for effect and so he could continue reading The Theory of Great Magic: A Pureblood's Guide. "I seem to recall mentioning we'd still be doing this during winter holidays."

Nott scoffed and put his notes down with a sigh, also needing a break despite telling Zambini off for the same. "Malfoy, even you know this is going to take longer than three months."

"I never said this year's hols, did I? It could be next, or in sixth year." Dispassionate grey eyes looked up to smile at Zambini's frustration. It was always fun to watch.

This time he pulled at his hair and sat back in his seat, the fourteen-year-old throwing a tantrum like a little kid as he kicked his legs and unaware of how amusing the sight was. He eventually calmed down enough to say "We need to help Melissa."

"We are." Malfoy declared as the atmosphere at the table grew serious and heavy. He sighed and closed his book as well. "But this is enough for today; we get any more cross-eyed we'll be seeing double. Lets get dinner"

With a glee that resembled the end of detention, the three boys left the towers of research material where they sat. On their way out, they heard a burst of noise in the otherwise quiet library.

They turned to find a few of the Legacies at a table, laughing uproariously. Zoey Malam was shining with happiness- and her golden hair was shining a good deal as well- as Albus Potter sat next to her.

"See? I called it." Nott sighed and turned away. "All they way back at the ceremony I called it, didn't I?"

"Call what?" Scorpius asked mildly without taking his eyes off the new Ravenclaw Student.

He gestured a vague hand toward the scene. "Bosom buddies with the Legacies. Am I right or am I right?"

Scorpius Malfoy felt his brows draw together a touch, and didn't move. He missed the glance his friends shared behind his back before Zambini cleared his throat. "C'mon mate, what were you saying earlier? Stupid, shallow witches?"

His completely unrelated reference was silenced with a look from their blond leader, and the conversation was dropped. Scorpius looked over his shoulder one last time just to see even James Potter looking at the scene as well.

Scorpius Malfoy left the library in a considerably worse mood.

Jonovan, standing before the tallest, most imposing building at the corner of Diagon and Knockturn Alleys, formed an opinion. Goblins must have something to compensate for.

Gringotts Bank was, as it always had been, run by goblins. But it had become… modernized, after Second Wizarding War. They had implanted more security measures, though they had publicly claimed that 'Mister Potter's success was facilitated by their lowered security in the vaults of Death Eaters". Wizards were required to leave their wands at the entrance when visiting, the higher security vaults changed locations, and now they were escorted by two goblins at a time. Rumor was maximum security required patrons and goblins alike answer random security questions before entering.

All of which let anyone with half a brain know full well that the 'facilitated' break in had shaken the goblins from their century-long reputation and the goblins were desperate to reobtain it.

Jonovan was seeing a goblin, but he wasn't seeing one in the Wizarding Bank. Instead he pulled up his hood and wandered down Knockturn Alley, stepping with a confidence in his stride that dared anyone question why someone so young was in the dark alley with a horklump on his shoulder.

With the ease of not practice but capability, Jonovan found the small door tucked past Borgin and Burkes. He had to stoop his tall frame into the entrance, but once inside the room was like any other and the young man was able to stand straight.

A short, stout figure was sitting on a small chair perfectly sized for him. He had long fingers and equally long toes and he glared at the wizard that had just entered his abode. "You again?" Griphook the goblin said in a rather nasty tone.

"Me again." Jonovan nodded as Rasputin sniffed at a rather suspicious slice of cheese.

The goblin threw an empty firewhiskey bottle at the rat-like creature, his throat raspy. "Want something, eh? Damn wizards always want something."

Rasputin dodged the shards and his quills puffed out as he hissed at his attacker.

"Just a quick repair this time." Jonovan was quick to sooth both irritable creatures. "Another link, if you would."

Long fingers flexed in anticipation of the task. "For?"

"The usual." A bag of coins was placed on the table, as well as a bottle of vintage firewhiskey from the 1970s. "Plus a perk. I'd like some extras."

Griphoook took it with his perpetual scowl and checked the payment was increased accordingly, then waved Jonovan out of his abode. He wouldn't deal with a wizard's presence any longer than necessary.

Rose Weasley was having a mild panic attack.

Her skin was pale in a way that made her freckles pop, she was breathing through her mouth instead of her nose, and her hair was frizzing out more than usual. She even stumbled on nothing a few times she was so distracted, and the person walking by her side wasn't helping her nervous state.

Scorpius Malfoy was obviously finding his rival's state of disarray exceedingly entertaining. "What's the matter, Weasley? Never been called to the headmaster's office before?"

"Of- of course I have." Rose tried her best to slow her racing heart without success. "But never for being in trouble!"

He raised a blond eyebrow, speaking calmly as though explaining to a child. "May I remind you, the note only told us to leave class." And got them out of History of Magic, which was no longer nap time thanks to Assistant Orion but was just as annoying to Scorpius for different reasons.

"Yes! Me and you- when has that ever meant anything but trouble?"

He huffed a breath of air out of his nose and matched her presentation. "Fair point. But this is also you we're talking about- when had you ever been anything but adored by faculty?"

Was he calling her a teacher's pet? Rose glared at him, her mind thinking of the possible explanations for her life to take such a drastic turn. "Or- or maybe it was one of your Sneaker pals, trying to ruin my reputation."

She missed the way his eyes darkened from quicksilver to a brooding storm at her slander against his friends. "And why would I be here, if that were the case?"

"Damning evidence." She said securely, knowing that there was little other than Scorpius that had ever gotten her anywhere close to serving detention. "Is this all just a barb in at James?"

There was a bitter taste in his mouth as he turned away. "Guess you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?"

She scowled at him, her pale face finally regaining color as her Weasley temper reared its head. They were almost to the statue entrance to the Headmistress's office when she made a realization that stopped her in her tracks.

Scorpius stopped and half-turned to look at her, his face a cold mask of indifference that showed his impatience for the sole purpose of not having to voice it.

"Were you…" Rose's voice was soft and airy in the empty hallway, incredulous. "Were you… trying to comfort me?"

She had no clue what she would say if she was right. If he had been, and she'd responded by insulting his friends in such a cutting way…

"Don't flatter yourself, Thorn." Malfoy turned and resumed walking, not bothering to check if she was coming.

Rose Weasley bristled, deciding that someday she was going to follow her mother's footsteps and punch a Malfoy right in the face.

Three students sat before Headmistress McGonagall, and Scorpius wasn't sure what the other two were thinking but he, certainly, thought the old woman was finally going senile.

He cleared his throat, speaking before the others caught their wits. "Excuse me, Headmistress, but, I must have heard you wrong. I could have sworn you said 'the both of us'."

"You heard me right, Mister Malfoy. You and Miss Weasley both shall tutor Miss Malam." She nodded at each girl in turn, neither of whom had spoken.

Zoey, who had already been in the office when they'd arrived, had yet to look up from the ground. Rose, obviously, had been petrified by the idea of being in trouble, and now by the prospect of working together with Scorpius on, well, anything.

The Gryffindor soon gathered herself to ask "If I may, ma'am… why us?"

"The two of you are at the tops of your year, Miss Weasley, I would think the answer to be obvious."

"I know that but- what I meant is- the real issue here, is-"

"How do you expect us to work together?" Scorpius smoothly finished Rose's stuttering question.

The Headmistress barely narrowed her gaze, though her voice held unbridled authority in one word. "Flawlessly."

Half an hour later, after they'd been dismissed, Zoey finally said her first words. "I'm sorry." Her hands twisted the end of her brown hair- Jonovan had turned it orange this morning, but it had faded back to its natural brown color- as they stopped to face her.

Scorpius spoke first, in an emotionless voice that could easily be labeled bored. "For what?"

She gulped and looked out the window, fleetingly wondering at the team flying in the pitch. "For McGonagall forcing you into this."

'Force' wasn't quite the word Scorpius would have used. McGonagall knew that happy workers were more efficient than reluctant ones, and was rewarding them accordingly. The Weaslette was getting unrestricted access to the Restricted Section of the library, to help her tutor Zoey in all the theoretical subjects.

Scorpius, who would be helping Zoey learn all practical aspects of magic, would be allowed to request whatever equipment he deemed necessary and be allowed to use the room they trained in for himself as well. He considered it well worth an hour or two of his week.

Before he could say anything more Rose's temper snapped in the famous Weasley fashion. From her terror at potential detention to the anger at Malfoy's meanness to the mixed emotions of working with Scorpius for a year, the Weasley had a lot of negative emotions rolling through her and an easy target. "Then why are you so stupid?"

Zoey flinched as though struck, but lifted her chin. "I'm not. I'm just behind."

"You're in bloody beginners classes! How can you be doing worse than Hugo?" At the base of her frustrations was honest bewilderment; she'd seen Zoey's control with her own eyes and wondered how it could be possible for the girl to be so far behind the Headmistress herself stepped in to intervene.

"That's not a very nice thing to say about you brother." Zoey chided immediately, and winced when it sent the girl to another level of anger.

Rose's face turned a brighter red than her hair and she ranted loud enough that her voice echoed down the hall, telling her how valuable her time was and how she already had tests and now Quidditch practice to worry about, she didn't need to drag someone else's grades out of the mud. In a addition she didn't need Zoey being a role model as well as a bloody idiot and reminding her that it was none of her business to mess with my family and finishing with the accusation "-are you even trying, or do you want us to do the hard work for you?"

"What- no! I mean yes, of course I'm trying! But that's not enough- I know when I need help."

Rose's nose scrunched in disbelief. "This is entirely your fault that I have to work with- with him!" Her voice cracked with panic on the last word.

Scorpius mildly raised an eyebrow at the finger pointed at him, having wondered when they'd remember his presence. Yet his anger cracked like a whip at the fact Rose was distasteful of working with him, Scorpius Malfoy, and set her straight. "I'm not exactly thrilled about tutoring her either, Thorn."

At his words the last of Zoey's protests died down and her shoulders drooped, though her newly-assigned tutors were too busy glaring at eachother to properly notice. She set her jaw and looked up, her gaze and face a mask of seriousness that neither had seen her wear before. And still, neither saw it because they were too engrossed in the other. "Like it or not, I will be learning from you two. If that's too tough to manage, find someone who can do your job better than you. Otherwise, I'll see you on Friday."

With a strong stride and without a backwards glance at the rivals engaged in a staring contest, she left.

Any decent gossip will tell that there different kinds of rumors. There was talk about what people feared, like a pop quiz in Astromony on Tuesday. Or what people hoped, like Binns finally getting fired next summer and Assistant Orion taking his position. And of course there were the fun romances, the 'she-likes-him-but-he-likes-a-different-her's, the couples gossip about break-ups and get togethers and the ever scandalous speculations on if anyone was shagging yet.

In addition to those there was the general topics of news and events- like the strange Sorting Ceremony, though that was old news. Though that was nothing to worry about, as there was always plenty of new news to find.

Cristine Creevy was more than a good gossip- she was the secret publisher of School Scandals, an editorial piece, and she never missed a scoop. A whisper of a story in her rumor mills and she would be off to the scene of the crime with her camera, catching cheating boys and girls in the act.

She was making such a run now, though this was an-old-but-back-again kind of story. Filtch had bragged about finally banishing Peeves at the Faculty Table during breakfast, and though she wasn't particularly hopeful that it would become any more than a side anecdote to whatever her main article became, Cristine figured that was still worth a look.

It turned out to be well worth it- she arrived to find the old Caretaker hanging from a torch, flailing around. "Peeves! I'll get the Baron! Mark my words, you'll leave Hogwarts if it's the last thing I do!" Filtch cried as he swung his broom like a bat at Peeves like a drunk trying to hit a piniata from the wrong side of the room. Mrs. Norris was yowling and jumping as best as her old limbs would allow, but could reach neither her owner nor the culprit that had put him there.

The blue poltergeist just cackled and pelted him with walking sticks. "Too late, too late! Tried and failed, gone and done- now he's free to have his fun!"

Christine stifled her amusement as she snapped a few photos from the safety of the crowd that had gathered, anonymous in the numbers. News smooz, this picture alone would circulate with how universally disliked the old man was.

There was a change in the tone of conversations around her, and everyone looked in shock to watch someone actually approach the scene. It was a Ravenclaw, and based on height likely a second or third year.

Whoever it was was wearing the hood of their robe up as she walked, completely unaware of her surrounding until Filtch's broom slipped from his grasp and landed at her feet.

Peeves whirled and was about to attack this new target too but, to the gasped surprise of the audience, stopped his assault before it even started. "Itle-wittlle baby-bwue?" He asked in a voice none had heard before, though to be fair none had heard Peeves do anything except taunt or insult.

"Oh, hi Peeves. What are you up to?"

The centuries-old poltergeist hid the walking sticks behind his back and, in the manner of a toddler caught doing something he knew was wrong, mumbled "Nothins."

"I see. Hope that's not too boring for you." The girl caught sight of the upset cat that was still trying to jump up to her owner. She looked up, revealing a lock of brown hair, and blinked. "Oh my god- how did you get up there?"

Filtch's face was still red and splotched from his anger, but he though he opened and closed his mouth a few times nothing came out. It seemed that the angle of his clothes was now choking him in addition to holding him off the ground.

"He really seems like he's in trouble, doesn't he?" Zoey picked up the hated, spiteful Mrs. Norris as though the latter were an agreeable kitten. "Peeves, do you think you can help him? He's too high for me to reach."

Filtch's eyes practically bulged out of their sockets, and he struggled some more as Peeves approached, but the poltergeist meekly picked him up to set him on the ground. The girl returned the grateful cat to her owner, tapping her pink nose. "Take better care of him next time, kay?"

Mrs. Norris mewed happily and rubbed into her hand.

The girl looked up at the caretaker in an obviously expectant way, and when the man said nothing else she folded her arms. "You know, it's considerably rude not to say 'thank you' when someone does you a favor."

Filtch's face bulged and twisted some more, but he said no such thing.

Eventually the girl in question scoffed- scoffed at Caretaker Filtch- and resumed her walk out of the hallway, though now she had a companion.

"Baby-bwue do what?"

"I'm exploring, Peeves. Do you want to join me?"

In answer the poltergeist cackled and flipped over in the air, dropping the walking sticks all over the hallway.

"Wonderful. You're going to pick that up first, right?" The girl stopped and looked up at Peeves, who again acted in the manner of a chided child and quickly gathered each one, stuffing them out of sight with magic.

"Thanks Peeves." There was a smile in her voice and she walked some more. "And I'm sorry he didn't thank you too- it really is considerably rude of him."

The odd pair turned the corner, and there was resounding silence for a few minutes. Then there was one person who dared whisper, then two, and soon everyone was speaking in hushed whispers more suited to a funeral procession than a hallway.

Cristine cursed as she realized she'd forgotten to snap a single photo of the unknown girl or her actions, and raised it once more just as a soft thump went through the hallway. Somebody shouted:

"Someone get the Healer- Filtch feinted!"

Sorry it's been a while! I do have ful intent to continue this story, just be patient as life takes me to different ! As always, read & review if you can take a minute!

~E