Death's True Hallows

by Ensis96

She had electric blue hair and emerald green eyes that twinkled with mirth at their surprise, but what put her even more out of place was her clothing. She had no robe or House emblem, nothing Wizardly about her at all. The halfblood beamed at the Poltergeist of Hogwarts and brightly spoke words that had never once been said: "Hi Peeves, it's nice to meet you!" (A Next-Gen fanfic)

25. Ch 25 Now You See

Ch 25- Now You See

---

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy had an air of undeniable satisfaction as he walked back to the Slytherin Common Room, one which Thomas Nott couldn't help but be frustrated with. They walked side by side, their steps even. Though Malfoy might look smaller at a glance the blond was actually the same height; Nott knew it was his shoulder-width and muscle that made Malfoy seem smaller.

Their group had separated, Rose leaving first. Then Priscilla- whom Nott felt was disappointed by his goading- had left as well. Melissa had immediately followed, still nervous about leaving the older girl's side. So- of course- Zambini had offered an awkward excuse and hurried off after them. Nott was waiting for the day those two finally got together, the puppy love between them was almost sickening.

If he had noticed it, Malfoy had undoubtedly as well and likely had a few plausible scenarios about how to get the pair together. If the blond ever stooped so low as to play matchmaker. The phrase 'when hell freezes over' went through Nott's mind.

"You're doing it again." Malfoy said without looking up.

With a grimace Nott stopped the compulsive snapping of his fingers. When upset or thinking most people tapped their foot, rolled their fingers, tugged on hair, bit their lip- for Thomas Nott, it was snapping. He was talented at it, he could snap his ring, middle, and index fingers in a single cascade, but a nervous tic was a nervous tic so Nott was trying to break the persistent habit.

Stretching out his fingers, the bulky Slytherin continued deciphering his craftier friend's plan. "It always amazes me, how well you keep your composure around the people you hate."

"I do not 'hate' Rose Granger-Weasley."

Nott tried to digest the statement before continuing. Malfoy did not hate very often, he was very stingy with his efforts and focus. Few things made the list- and even fewer stayed on it for long. He'd seen Scorpius Malfoy take a very active approach toward eliminating the things he hated from his life.

He had been mostly certain that the Legacies were the only persistent thing that Malfoy had decided to hate. Just as he was equally confident that he was on the equally selective list of things to trust. Very few things reached that level of esteem for Malfoy- even his friends. The only thing Nott was sure Malfoy trusted was his own wand.

Which was why it was even more vexing for Nott to see Thorn swing so easily from standing as an enemy into their inner circle. He growled under his breath "We should be ratting out the Legacies."

Scorpius didn't respond, waiting as usual for Nott to continue. He always waited to hear his companions finish their thoughts before responding with his own reasoning on the matter.

"We know Rose broke into Ravenclaw Tower. I don't know why we bothered inviting her to the Library instead of just reporting it." He popped his knuckles as he shared the crux of his problems with Scorpius's current plan. "We're making fine progress with the research on our on, and an opportunity like this won't last forever. You need to weed the Devil's Snare while there is still sunlight."

"You're pleased with the progress?" Scorpius immediately stopped, a theatrical display Nott knew was only ever done for the effect. Inevitably accompanied by raising a blond eyebrow.

"I'm not displeased."

"Very well, I will not press the issue." He resumed walking, "For now we still need her to get access to the Restricted Section. Unless you want sneak back in without a Feast to cover our late-night escapades?"

"Point taken," Nott agreed, relaxing as he realised there was purpose to the sudden shift in Rose's standing. A means to an end. "But I thought she only had access to the Restricted Section because she was tutoring Malam? Didn't she quit?"

"Why do you think I said 'for now'?" the teasing undertone was amused. "McGonagall might give me the pass when she finds out about Thorn's resignation, or she may not. All the more reason to capitalize on the time we have left."

Nott grunted, glad that Scorpius was still thinking analytically. He would be glad when they could kick the girl out of their group again- four years of classes and she didn't know him and Zambini apart.

Scorpius put the binder with his library information away, setting an analytical gaze on his larger friend. "I take it you said something to her?"

"Just poked the lion a bit, nothing more. She doesn't know that we know about her breaking the rules." Nott shook his head in disbelief, reluctant but admitting that he'd been unable to replicate his friend's train of thought by asking more openly "Remind me again why we're not planning to lynch her for writing that article?"

"Because she knows the library better than any of us and she's conceited enough not to ask why we're asking," the young Malfoy answered in a tone that made Nott feel like a child even though they were the same age. "Plus, she didn't 'write' it- Scandals is too flowery and not enough of an essay to be her style. As I said yesterday she likely just facilitated it."

"But sneaking into another house and thieving- Malfoy, that is Gold." Nott stressed, still shocked Scorpius was discarding a rare chance to show that the Legacies were not as righteous as Hogwarts made them out to be.

In another superior mannerism Malfoy shook his head lightly and patted his friend's shoulder. "We won't need to tip our hand in this one. There's so many other players it will all come to light soon enough."

"Rose might slip if we rattle her- it's easy enough," he offered his idea, remembering how simple it had been to rile her at the table. That girl would crack under even a smidgen of pressure.

"Sure, but not enough to actually change her mind. Those Weasleys are a stubborn lot, and Granger in particular doesn't admit to being wrong. There's no point in trying to change someone like that."

Nott felt his eyes narrowing in contemplation at something that bothered him about the statement. "Who said anything about changing her?"

The blond's next step was slowed- subtlely, but slowed all the same.

Nott knew that subtlety meant sincerity from his lean friend. He felt a thrill of success as he pressed his advantage. "So you've considered trying to change Thorn before?"

Malfoy walked on for a moment, then his shoulders relaxed slightly as he admitted with a trace of annoyance around his apathy. "Rose has potential- but she's such a child."

Deciding to employ one of Maloy's tactics Nott bit his tongue to hold back his reply. The silence dragged on as he digested the statement. He had never considered Thorn's capabilities as anything other than hindrances.

"If a Malfoy puts time and effort into any action Nott, it is to produce results." Malfoy stretched his neck and looked forward again. "We could talk to her till we're blue in the face and maybe two words would penetrate her Legacy mindset."

"Can't deny that," The dark haired boy agreed and moved off the subject, knowing a lost cause when he heard one. The person he was referencing wasn't Thorn anymore- Malfoy lived by a rigid set of not morals but personal standards that had been polished by his pureblood upbringing. Any reminder of his own last name and Nott had seen Malfoy set aside any personal strife to pull himself back into the productive, confident demeanor he was known for. Something that only he and Priscilla shared in their group. Nott was envious of that. "But that still doesn't explain why you want me to sit across from that brat and act like we're bosom buddies. Do you want her and Priscilla to share tea and crumpets next?"

"If it gets us what we need, then yes. She knows the library better than anyone and until we know every plausible book we need to learn about…" his eyes looked around subtly but efficiently, "squib and sorcery, I need you to not drive her away."

In other words, Malfoy was trusting him not to mess up. Nott knew he was the only person in their group that had been told about Rose Granger-Weasley's possible tie to the Scandals author, someone they'd been after for years. The author had done much against Slytherin that had to be accounted for, things that made even their refined blood boil and while they both knew that Priscilla was the better strategist the older girl would have started investigating solo.

Nott knew that on some level this was a test to determine the limits of his own temper. A sign of trust that had been four years in the making. He squared his shoulders in acceptance of the challenge before him. He still didn't completely see the larger picture that Malfoy was painting, but Malfoy had never steered Nott wrong before. "I'll do my best."

Scorpius Malfoy examined his friend for a moment and then nodded. "It won't be for much longer- that Devil's Snare will weed itself. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about."

---

Scorpius Malfoy had no idea what he was talking about, James Sirius Potter scowled in the early-morning hours of the day. None at all. The Slytherin's words had been going through his head for days now, with no end in sight. Keeping him from a proper night's rest and distracting him at the most inopportune times. He'd even snapped at Albus again.

You're usually much more 'respectable' Potter.

Scorpius Malfoy, however, wasn't the reason he was up before the sun. No this was actually a normal rising for the eldest child of Harry Potter, sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room and awaiting for his early edition of the papers. He sipped a cup of tea as he waited. The rest of the school would have to wait until breakfast to discover the news of the day, but James paid extra to have a copy of the papers delivered to him a few hours early, by private owl and direct to his Common Room.

He would read the news and know all about the newest gossip by the time he walked into the Great Hall, as he did every morning, and he would go to all his classes, as he did every day, and his Professors would all adore him- as they all always did.

If just one piece falls, the rest will follow.

James scowled, pouring himself another cup of tea. Since when was did that snake fancy himself a tactician anyways? Scorpius Malfoy was just a bigoted carbon-copy of his jobless father that attempted to continue a reign of torment against all of Gryffindor. He just said all that stuff to make himself sound smart- had no idea what he was talking about. Besides, even in the miniscule, incomprehensibly slight possibility that something did go wrong James had more support than Malfoy could even dream of.

…You've overstretched your influence, Potter. With a critical mistake…

The young Death Eater was just trying to rattle him, James decided. He was probably lying about not knowing that Ravenclaw too. The one that-

-got to you, didn't he?-

-one that had been in Ravenclaw Tower instead of the Halloween Feast. The weirdo.

A tapping at the window brought him out of his musings, and he got up to lift the latch for the owl that delivered his morning papers just as the stars started to fade.

Once glance at the paper's headline made his worries about Scorpius Malfoy fade and a feirce grin rise to his face. His shoulders straightened from their slump as he read the headline article with a frenzy, skipping over words in his haste to absorb everything but his spirits soaring at the news.

When he finished he settled back and stewed over his tea for a few minutes, letting the steam clear his nostrils. Then James read it a second time to memorize all the information before heading up the stairs back up to his dorm to change into his robes, humming merrily.

Lorcan Scamander sat up from his four poster bed, his hair jutting out in all directions. The twin cast a bleary eye out the window- where the sun was just starting to rise- and asked "What's got you so chipper?"

Smiling, James tossed the paper in his friend's lap before pulling out his robes, freshly pressed without a single crease. "See for yourself."

"Really?" Lorcan grabbed the paper, curiosity piqued. James Potter was proud of his early Prophet deliveries and rarely shared the news, instead waiting and watching everyone else catch up as they read about events at the normal time. Lorcan didn't think he'd ever shared before.

"Go on. It's worth it." The eldest Potter promised as he went to his mirror, running his fingers through his dark locks in an attempt to style his hair. Much like Albus and his Father, James's hair was stubbornly resistant to hair product and combs. Unlike the other male members of his family who lived with perpetual bedhead, James's hair would fall straight to his ears if he didn't take the time to energize the boring style in the mornings.

When he turned back around, Lorcan was openly gaping at the paper, reading aloud "Muggles in Malfoy Manor?" and waking their other dormmates.

"Oh yes."

"What, were they kidnapped?" Lorcan asked him, thinking of no other reason their magicless counterparts would we found in the home of a Death Eater.

"Why don't you just read it?" Abrams, their roommate, said groggily even as he started getting up.

Scanning with a speed almost worthy of his twin, Lorcan quoted aloud 'when reporters got to the scene, no less than twenty-four muggles were gathered on the grounds of Malfoy Estate. All were baffled by the large mansion that they thought had been built overnight'…"

James snorted. Muggles, really. As if that was possible without magic.

"What, so they weren't actually in the Manor? That's misleading…" Lorcan grumbled as he continued scanning, then his eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Investigations suggest that there was a break in on the night in question, during the course of which the protective barrier hiding the century-old Estate was broken-'!?"

"Merlin's beard," Abrams swore, thoroughly interested now and going to read over Lorcan's shoulder. "How accurate is this?"

Wizards had grown weary of trusting casual articles since the Prophet had been corrupted during the Second Wizarding War. But Lorcan tapped a name and shared "Lee Jordan's the author."

Humming his approval of the source, he asked "Do they know who it was?"

"Hold on- hold on… no. 'Reporters have limited access to avoid attracting more Muggles and contaminating evidence... Draco Malfoy has not yet entered a report of theft… Aunt Hermione's not gonna like that…" As a Wizengamot Lawyer she was infamously strict on paperwork. Uncle Harry complained about it often.

"She's already there." James flipped the page and tapped a picture of the entrance that had been swarmed by curious spectators. In the corner Hermione's signature hair was talking to Muggles with a few Aurors at her side.

They made noises of continued interest and kept reading in silence.

He put round glasses on his face, tilting the frame to the side before walking out the dorm to go to the Great Hall. James didn't want to miss Malfoy's face when he saw the morning paper.

---

Albus Potter was running his hands through his hair again, though at this point he was beyond worrying about its frumpy mop and more about Lily's Plan. He was pacing in front of the barrel entrance to Hufflepuff House, too nervous to go to the Great Hall on his own this morning. Things were still awkward with Rose, and James… Albus snorted. James wasn't even an option, so that left his yellow-robed cousins.

He got quite a few strange looks from leaving Hufflepuffs. Albus belatedly realized that most students didn't want other Houses knowing where their Common Rooms were. It was an old thing about Hogwarts, even though his Father had managed to visit all the House Commons except this one by the time he'd graduated.

Albus had always believed that was because Hufflepuffs practiced more common sense than the rest of Hogwarts.

Finally one of the barrels opened and Lily crawled out the tunnel behind it, Hugo right behind her. The two were halfway through dusting themselves off when they realized they had a visitor.

"Albus?" Hugo blinked at his older cousin. "What are you doing here?"

The Potter boy shifted his weight nervously. "I just- you know- wanted to walk to breakfast together and, well… yeah. Family time, 's all..."

The blessing and curse of a close family is knowing when each other is lying, and knowing when they know that someone's hiding something. This was one of those times, as the two Hufflepuffs easily saw through Al's bumbling and Albus, horribly aware of his inability to lie, hoped against hope that they'd been hit by a confusion charm or something because that was the only way they hadn't seen straight through him.

"Really? That's it?"

"Yup." Al's voice cracked with adolescence on the word, and he scowled when he saw Hugo's amusement. He silently swore to tease him back when puberty hit his younger cousin a few years down the road.

Lily though came to her brother's rescue and reminded Hugo about the awaiting food- a topic that always distracted him. Hugo Granger-Weasley was as endlessly hungry as his father.

While the tall First Year led the way with eager strides Lily hung back to talk to Albus, having a good idea why he had been waiting for her this particular day. "I thought you were going to talk to Zoey at breakfast?"

"I- I am! Of course!"

"Then why aren't you at the Great Hall?"

"Because- I-" he wrung his hands together. "What am I supposed to do? Just walk up to Ravenclaw Table in the middle of the school, where everyone can see me go?"

"Yes." Lily said simply. She absently wondered why that part bothered him when he did it often enough already.

"And- and just start talking?"

"Yes."

"Then- then just go 'oh by the way, that Hogsmeade thing weeks ago was a de-ate?" His last word cracked with nerves or puberty, even Albus wasn't sure which.

"Yes."

"That- it'll be so awkward though…"

"Yes."

"...are you even listening to me anymore?"

"No." Lily teased, smiling broadly. "Just relax, Al. Trust me- you're nervous because you don't know where you stand with her. You thought she knew it was a date, but now you don't know if she knew, which is making you nervous. She doesn't know what you think of the article, so she's gonna be nervous. And Merlin knows you haven't properly talked to each other since you almost- quite unnecessarily- started a fight with Slytherin over her Halloween costume and she- quite justifiably- told you you were being a sod."

Albus winced. Not his finest moment, he admitted. But the idea of someone being so cruel to someone as sweet as Zoey had made him see red like never before. And Slytherin had been the obvious suspects.

"It's a miscommunication." she summarized. "So just communicate."

"You make it sound so simple," he muttered and hung his head with a sigh. Lily was always so good with words, sometimes it made him jealous. He perked up as he was struck with an idea. "Or- or!- you could tell her for me?"

His hope was dashed as she gave him a withering look of disapproval. Albus dropped his head again, watching his feet.

"If you don't hurry, Al, they'll be out of bacon." Hugo chided, waiting impatiently at the end of the hall. "Why is there never enough bacon?"

"He's hurrying." Lily grabbed Albus's elbow to pull him forward, despite his larger size and protests.

And so, this was the scene the three Legacies presented when they turned the corner. A tall, obviously impatient redhead tapping his foot while a tiny third year ginger forcibly dragged her older brother along, who was attempting to brace his heels before him in the theatrical manner of a toddler.

"Ahem- Excuse me."

They all started guiltily and turned to the Ravenclaw student that had cleared his throat, looking obviously amused by their banter. Lily hurriedly composed her appearance, the sudden release making Albus tumble to the ground with a "Waaa-" and a crash of books.

Hugo rushed over to help him put himself together as Lily obviously struggled to maintain a straight face while talking to the Ravenclaw. "Sorry, I don't think I recognise you."

"We've never met," he smiled without teeth and held out a hand to shake. "I was hoping- well, it's just- you know Lysander, right? The Scamander Prefect?"

Lily frowned lightly, somehow feeling like such stutters didn't suit this boy they way they did her brother. "We do."

"Oh good." His shoulders dropped. "I wanted to ask you something…"

---

Neville Longbottom was enjoying Friday morning breakfast. As he sat in the Deputy Head chair and watched the Houses trickle in to their respective tables, he could see the head of practically every student in every House and had a fair idea of what they were doing.

It made him admire all the more how easy Fred and George Weasley had made their shenanigans seem. Not that he could admit that anymore. Being a Professor, Gryffindor Head of House and Deputy Head of Hogwarts meant that he was no longer working against school authority. Still, walking the halls of Hogwarts during the year he was constantly reminded of his time as a student. As a child he'd never expected to be leading the DA that Harry Potter had started in their fifth year- and nobody expected of him either. He had been Neville Longbottom, the boy who frequently lost his toad and barely managed to keep up in class. But when push came to shove Neville had found himself not only helping but leading the student rebels against the Death Eaters who'd overtaken Hogwarts in his final year.

And again he'd never have imagined becoming Hogwarts Faculty himself. It had taken years for him to adjust to the title, and hearing McGonagall call him 'Professor Longbottom' instead of 'Mister Longbottom' still had him reeling from time to time.

"Mornin' Neville." Hagrid intoned deeply, his seat at the table causing his chair to groan in protest even with its magical strength. Having never been one for formality, the half-giant had never bothered calling his old student by anything else.

Neville greeted him before returning to his tea, nostalgia warming him as much as the beverage and relaxed his vigil. With a second professor in the hall, he allowed himself to enjoy his meal while only occasionally scanning the student body. He had grown increasingly fond of Hagrid as they worked together over the years, recognizing a kindred spirit over magical flora and fauna that had been allowed to grow once they became co-workers. Hagrid had even been one of the strong advocates of Neville's appointment to Gryffindor Head of House when the predecessor stepped down from that post due to age, then again for the Deputy Head position after Professor Sprout's retirement a few years later. Neville chuckled at the memory, his mind wandering between past and present.

Students these days didn't even know that the Dark Arts Professorship had once been cursed with a high turnover. Neville had been the professor to break the streak of yearly replacements, teaching the defensive class for a decade before a position in his true passion- Herbology- had opened. While he'd been sad to see Professor Sprout go- didn't matter how long she'd been retired she'd always be his professor- he had also been shocked by his candidacy for Deputy Head of Hogwarts. Him, Neville Longbottom, toad-losing extraordinaire, working as Mcgonagall's right hand man?

Some days he still couldn't believe he'd won.

Needless to say it had been a hectic time. Not only was he helping Professor Sybil take over his old position but he'd been following his own curriculum and starting Dumbledore's Dueling Club while gaining new responsibilities.

A flash of purple caught his eye in the present, and he gave a start as he saw Professor Orion's pet climb onto the faculty table before propping itself on its haunches to gain a better view of the entrance to the Great Hall. Hagrid cooed appreciatively the creature and tempted him with a slice of bacon from one seat over, heedless of the bristled spikes. It had taken weeks and many bloody needlings before Hagrid had gained the murtlap's trust. The persistence had paid off, and a bond had formed. Now the few minutes between the arrival of familiar and its master were filled with bacon munching and chin scratches, to the delight of both parties involved.

Punctually, Jonovan Orion's tall frame slid into the seat between Neville and Hagrid, eyes searching for the carafe of coffee he had convinced the kitchens to add to the menu for morning meals. His pet promptly left a slightly dejected Hagrid to move next to his master's plate expectantly.

Neville knew it was fruitless to strike up a conversation with the young Assistant before the caffeine gave life to his veins, so he left the man to his cream and sugar with a polite nod before again scanning the Hall.

Yellow and red lined robes pulled his gaze as he watched them moving toward the Ravenclaw tables. His curiosity was piqued for a moment, until he recognized Lily, Hugo, and Albus sitting with Lysander Scamander. It was tough remaining an independent authority figure when many of the students considered him an uncle since infancy. He had been to the Burrow many times during the breaks and always enjoyed the experience. Being a Hogwarts Faculty member came with challenges, as the students and school faculty became his family for half the year.

It was nice to go visit friends during the breaks, to step out of the responsible role and just enjoy a meal or two with eyes only for his plate and neighbors at the table instead of keeping a half mind on supervising.

A contented sigh to his right announced the first sip of coffee of the day for young Orion. The man smiled for a moment before saying "Good morning Professor Longbottom."

Neville smiled, "Assistant Orion"

The dark haired man loaded his plate, passing his pet a few slices of bacon which were eagerly devoured despite Hagrid's earlier bribes. For such a slender man he had a voracious appetite, Neville reflected with a grin. They'd had an extended conversation on whether it was related to his metamorphmagi skills, as Teddy Lupin- the only other metamorphmagi whose eating habits he'd observed- had been infamous as a bottomless pit as well.

The topic had carried them through three meals and couldn't reach a definitive conclusion. Neville had grown to appreciate Orion's incredible capacity as a conversationalist over the semester and recognized a thirst for knowledge that rivaled that of his students. Once or twice a week the newest Faculty addition would offer a new finding from his time pouring through the Library, and this morning was no exception.

"I have a question for you today Professor" he said, the familiar opening inviting a new conversation that Neville eagerly nodded to accept.

"It's two pronged; first is about the division of subject matter between classes, the other about categorization of magical life." Neville nodded for him to continue, and the young man took a bite of egg while gathering his thoughts.

"I was reading about the inhabitants of magical forests, and came across an entry on bowtruckles- the magical tree spirits? Fascinating, and yet I was perplexed as to where the students would learn about them. As both creature and plant, I can see them being taught in both Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures."

At the mention of his class, Hagrid turned a massive ear toward the conversation.

"And yet upon inspection of school records, I see that in the past a large portion of Defense Against the Dark Arts has been spent teaching about avoiding magical creatures, and even bowtruckles specifically." The young man tapped his fork thoughtfully on his plate, eyes drifting ahead of him as he contemplated the issue. "Additionally, their bark has amazing potential as a potion ingredient. What is the proper place for them to be taught?"

"Herbology."

"Care o' Magical Creatures o' course!"

Neville's gaze caught Hagrid's as they answered in unison, and the conversation grew to include the grey maned teacher and address his input. "Care of Magical Creatures? As clearly plant based life, Herbology is their natural place. What's next, mandrakes?"

"We could! You don't take care of 'em right, poor thin's need someone ter read 'em bedtime stories, and make sure they're tucked in righ' in the winter…"

"Hagrid I put blankets over all of my plants, even the ones in the greenhouses."

"Green'ouses." Hagrid scoffed, fingers daintily holding the utensils that were too small for him. "Fancy words for cages."

"Hagrid-" Neville groaned over the old arguement

"Professors, please" The Assistant interrupted, "I didn't mean to spark an old feud. Quite the contrary, this ties into my second question." He paused to make sure he had both Professor's full attention before continuing.

Rasputin's quills clicked against eachother and he snuck another piece of bacon off Jon's plate as the conversation drew its eager participants' attention in close.

"Hear me out. In my examination of the school records, I saw little to no evidence of collaboration between the classes when it comes to overlapping subject matters like these. The correlation between plants and potions is incredibly strong, as is the overlap between Care of Magical Creatures and Defense Against the Dark Arts. My question is; has there ever been any cross-subject collaboration, and if not would you two be interested in pioneering one in this smaller area of overlap between your subjects as a test of concept?"

Neville's gaze met Hagrid's again, both of them struck by the possibility. After it sank in for a moment, Neville spoke. "I've never thought about that before. If we were going to do something like that, it would have to be after the winter holiday."

"I woul' need ter bait some creatures in. Bowtruckles, Mandrakes… Think der was a dryad nest in the Forbidden Fores' las' spring, they'd be nestin' again abou' now."

"Dryads?" Jonovan asked, spurring the conversation further.

"Oh yes" Neville responded "They're actually a subspecies of Bowtruckle. And those aren't all we could teach. There is some interesting possibility to test different manures with plants in a lab type setting with this overlap…"

"Need ter be a Tuesday."

"I've got N.E.W.T. students in the morning…"

Jonovan leaned back in his seat as the two professors grew more animated in the possibility, and allowed himself a small smile as he listened, ears still in the conversation but eyes elsewhere. Rasputin purred over his breakfast, feeling his masters satisfaction as both he and the Assistant watched their dear bright haired Ravenclaw leave her bench and move decisively across the hall to the Gryffindor table.

---

Somehow Zoey's feet had found their way out from under Ravenclaw Table, crossing the Great Hall seemingly on their own. They found their way through the crowd and stood her behind a recognizable set of red hair. And then they stopped, their job done, leaving Zoey standing at the Gryffindor table, end nearest the door.

A Gryffindor girl sitting beside Lorcan across the table- Zoey didn't have any classes with her so she didn't know her name- saw her first and quieted, the neighbors following her gaze and silencing as well.

Still her feet refused to move, still her heart was pounding in her ears as she stood as immobile as a statue while her mind spun in her head.

"Hey Lysander," Lily had asked, "Why did you take Rosie into Ravenclaw Tower Halloween night?"

"Huh?" Zoey remembered being confused by the statement, which had inspired Albus to chime in.

"Some student said he saw you and Rose in the tower during the Feast. Wanted to know if Prefects could allow other Houses to enter, or if you'd been breaking a rule." The three Legacies had paused to look at the twin and await his answer.

"I didn't." Sandy replied in his simplistic relating of facts, but Zoey's mind had already started running. She blinked rapidly as her mind swarmed with a dozen rapid-fire shots, like a machine-gun of revelations ripping through what had been a pleasant morning.

Someone had seen Lysander and Rose in Ravenclaw Tower on Halloween Night. But Sandy hadn't been in Ravenclaw Tower. Sandy had been right here, with her, at the Feast. So someone had seen someone else that looked like Sandy… He had a twin brother, Zoey remembered, distantly aware that Albus was talking to her but not hearing a word of it. A twin brother in Gryffindor… same House as Rose.

That was when her feet had started moving, Albus commenting that Zoey looked a bit sick and she maybe she answered that she just needed a minute.

Rose was unmistakable in Hogwarts, her family fame assured that. So why would Rose be in Ravenclaw Tower? Gryffindors had their own Tower, and a very nice one at that. Rose must have needed something specific. But what…?

Rose had been acting cold to her. Now that she thought about it, Rose's interactions had gone beyond frustrated tutor a while ago, but after Halloween night… Lots had changed. The bullying had started. People looked her differently. Rose- the studious, diligent, persevering Rose- had quit, stormed out of her tutoring responsibility.

...after taking her insult about the Scandals creators to heart. Perhaps- personally? Rose hadn't looked her in the eye once since Halloween Night. Why not? Zoey had the uncomfortable feeling that she now knew the answer. The picture. In the article. The last time she'd seen it had been in the Tower Halloween night.

The Gryffindors in front of her had quieted, but Zoey didn't say a word to them. She kept staring at the head of auburn-red curls, watching it turn to reveal Rose's ear. Cheek. Nose. And finally, her eyes.

As soon as she caught that green gaze in her own Zoey held it, a tendril of her magic rising up to aid her powers of observation. And so she saw all the little tells, the mundane things. Part of her was applauding her memory of detective interrogation skills, and the rest was cursing Jon's obsession with his favorite documentary. She didn't want to know what it meant when she saw the corner of Rose's eye twitch in not a blink but a flinch at the sight of her, saw Rose's eyes instinctively dip down and to the left for a moment… Zoey even saw the pupils of Rose's eyes constrict a bit.

"It's you?"

Rose's mouth snapped shut and her throat bobbed, then she pulled herself up straight and snapped "Of course I'm me, who else would I be?"

Zoey blinked a few more times before she realized the two words had come out of her own mouth. Like it had broken the dam she suddenly found herself moving, breathing, and talking again. "It was you." she declared, pieces coming together in her mind like a horrible jigsaw whose image should have long ago been apparent. Jon was right, Zoey realized. She really was naive.

These words held far more accusation in them, and a few conversations quieted down as a result. Students from all Houses saw them as they entered the Hall and slowed, many stopping to gather and watch.

Rose flinched- again- then glanced around before standing slowly. "What are you talking about, transfer?"

Zoey felt her magic churn, loose because of her subtle use of it a second ago. Since when had Rose been calling her that? "You wrote the article about me. Didn't you?"

Half the Gryffindor's stopped to stare at the accusation, though it was quietly delivered. The casual observers from other Houses leaned in with peaked interest. The Scandal author was unknown but the commonly held theory was that he or she was Gryffindor due to the frequent articles against Slytherin. Rose's eyes narrowed as she asked "What article?"

"Wrong." Zoey said, her voice moving to detached and analytical. "I realize that you are trying to act innocent, but your response should have first been 'I didn't write anything about you'... And then you could seek knowledge about which of the… let's see, grand total of two smear pieces I've been featured in?"

Vaguely aware of dropping jaws, Rose straightened the ends of her sleeves. "No. I was just asking you to be specific with your accusations against me."

"I can be specific. You, Rose Granger-Weasley, snuck into Ravenclaw Tower during the Halloween Feast. You snuck in with Lorcan," hers and dozens of other gazes shifted for a moment to look at the Gryffindor that was frozen with a piece of toast halfway into his mouth, "Who disguised himself as his Ravenclaw twin, Lysander Scamander. You were seen, but because he had assumed the guise of a Prefect your trespass went unreported."

Rose started stammering a protest, her face deepening a few shades of red.

She spoke over her former tutor without shouting, her voice projecting as flawlessly as a professional speaker. "When did this start? We were friends on the train. You hugged me at the Sorting Ceremony." Zoey gestured to the doorway a couple of paces away, her hurt and confusion apparent. "What changed? I thought we were friends."

It was such a cliche line that it made a few people chuckle humorlessly.

Their amusement bolstered Rose's confidence, and she folded her arms. "And I thought you were intelligent. You're in Ravenclaw, Malam, I don't know why I've had to tutor you all semester. Yeah that's right," she raised her voice to agree with the murmurs of surprise. "I've been helping this ungrateful- idjit all semester, and this is the thanks I get?"

"Zoey." she corrected tersely, some rather bitter comments about the supposed 'help' coming to mind but she pushed them aside. She needed to stay focused and controlled, a feat that was hard in the wake of rising emotions and fraying power. "And considering that you quit on me, I don't think you were all that committed to begin with. Tell me again, Rose- why did you leave? Was it because of me… or because you realized what was happening because of an article you wrote?"

"I-" she was still obviously flustered. "I didn't write anything about you! Or anyone! I don't know why you can stand here claiming to be all innocent and sparkle sunshine when everyone saw it! That picture you kept in your diary is proof that you've been hiding something! You waltzed into Hogwarts and started strutting around like you own the place. Worming your way into every group, making them think you can do no wrong! What are you planning? Why are you late to Hogwarts, huh? Where were you the past four years? Well go on! You wanted to talk so let's talk!"

The transfer paused a moment to see if Rose had anything else to say, then she flexed her jaw and then her neck. Her green eyes flashed as she looked at Rose, and despite being a good few inches shorter her bearing made them seem evenly sized to the casual observer. Zoey demanded "Say that again."

"Which part?" Rose huffed, lifting her own chin.

"The part," Zoey's fingers flexed and crackled as purple sparks twitched from the ends of them, "Where you knew that picture was in my diary."

Silence reigned for a few moments, until one of the Slytherin spectators breathed "Oh dear."

Before her eyes, Zoey saw a rare sight. As red and indignant as Rose had been, she was growing equally pale. Fear. That's what Zoey saw in the Legacy's eyes now, and a primal part of her magic flared in response to that, to the guilt, an instinctive fight that was long overdue with the amount of flight she'd been pushing herself through for the past week.

Zoey took a moment to pull herself back together, until she was struck by a terrifying thought. "How did you know it was a diary?" She asked, her voice lined with a thread of panic over the book she'd yet to find. She'd written it in her mother's code, no one should be able to read it.

Her panic lost her the advantage- Rose ran with the new conversation path. "Why did you keep a picture of the Assistant in your diary, idjit? Why kiss him- someone who's what, twelve years older than you?"

She again raised her voice for the spectators, who murmured agreeing sounds of disgust.

"I've already told you," Zoey all but growled, her tentative grip on her magic loosing. Winds whirled around her, freeing her hair from its tie and billowing her robes like a cape. It was suitably dramatic, and Zoey let it happen because all things considered it was a benign way for her magic to release its steam. "He's family."

"Oh sure right, you're adopted. Doesn't seem to have stopped you Transfer-"

"Zoethia Malam." Zoey cut her off, her temper spiking as she jabbed her own chest in emphasis of her name. "Jonovan Malam Orion. As someone named Granger-Weasley, you'd think you'd have figured out what that meant!"

"I- it means-"

"His mother and my father were siblings!" Zoey shouted, then paused and reached up to redo her hairtie, her tone calming. "My aunt and uncle adopted me when I was five, and him thirteen. We are cousins. That picture is five years old, us and his folks vacationing at Disneyland. Who do you think took the picture!?"

"But…" Rose stammered, the last of her defenses shattering to pieces. Her last protest, the final straw that had held the story together, had snapped. The guilt and stress and the horrible realization of how wrong she had been slammed down into her with the weight of a horcrux, and her green eyes started to water. "How was I supposed to know?"

"You could have asked!" the words were hissed as more sparks snapped off of Zoey's fingers, strands of hair escaping to swirl in the chill winds that were speeding up around her. "Anytime! Any of you!"

Spectators leaned back at the sudden inclusion, many- especially her previous bullies- ducking their faces away in shame.

"All this obsession with the Second War and here you all are, letting a- a piece of paper decide your beliefs! What happened to your individuality? Thinking for yourselves! Your parents fought so hard to give you that chance and- and here you are, worshiping the words of an unnamed stranger as unmitigated truth!" Zoey took a breath. "Couldn't even ask a question. So much for Gryffindor bravery."

Rose straightened. "That was uncalled for. I know you're mad at me but that's no reason to fault my House!"

"I'm not 'faulting' your House. Just noting some pervasive traits of the people in it. All of Hogwarts actually. Like you," Zoey suddenly pointed to a Gryffindor boy down the table. "You hexed me a few days after the second article came out. From behind a suit of armor." she rolled her eyes. "Quite bravely."

A few chuckles at her sarcasm arose from Slytherin bystanders.

"I assume that's because you think it was right about me being a squid." Nobody called her out on the mispronunciation. Zoey crooked a finger and the roll on his plate hand flew through the air and into her hand, where she bounced it a few time as though preparing to toss it back. "What do you think now?"

The boy, mortified to be so publicly chastised, ducked behind a friend, who glared at Zoey but couldn't say a word in his defense.

Rose's mouth dropped at the casual magic. Zoey's sparks could be done by anyone emotional- such bursts of uncontrolled magic were not unheard of, and even expected of unschooled wizards until their powers grew. That summoning though was controlled and flawless, and it suddenly reminded her of something she'd forgotten. Of how casually Zoey had done wandless transfiguration magic in the first week, to show off to Hugo. "How are you doing that?" she asked, remembering the forgotten curiosity of the incident. "How can you do that without a wand?"

"Just because I haven't been at Hogwarts the past four years doesn't mean I'm untrained."

"You were holding back?" Rose accused in disbelief, her pride pricked by the fact she hadn't noticed sooner. "The whole semester, you've been hiding this? How many times have we tutored you-"

"-You weren't supposed to teach me how to use magic. Or did you forget? McGonagall only wanted you to help me out with the written tests." Zoey snorted in contempt, sparks dancing over the roll in her hand. After a moment she released her magic and like a hound on a hunt it rushed forth in a purple flame, spectators jumping in shock as it cindered the bread in seconds.

Rose's eyes widened in fear and awe, her expression mirrored by many in their audience. The boy Zoey had pointed to gasped, then ducked his head again. Zoey saw his shame and remembered the tales of her infancy, of brave standing against the odds to do what was right. "How the mighty lions have fallen."

Quite a few students took offense to that, red robed and otherwise. Gryffindor was idolized, and nobody said the things this transfer was uttering.

Rose swelled with animosity at the insults. "What's your problem with Gryffindor? Or did that Slytherin mum of yours- ahh-"

Zoey had cut her words off with a raised hand in a covering motion, and a purple shadow extending from it to shut Rose's mouth. "Do not finish that statement. Ever."

"Oi!" Lorcan jumped up at the aggressive motion, grabbing his wand. "Leave her alone! If you want to blame someone blame me- it was my idea, I'm the one that snuck us in-"

"I am not talking with you. I do not care what you have to say." Zoey turned her gaze on Lysander's look-alike, snapping and pointing to his vacated seat in a smooth motion. "So sit down. And shut up."

To everyone's shock, he did. His muscles seized and forced him back into his seat, wand hand pinned firmly to the table. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly. It was obvious Lorcan was trying to shout- scream even- but not a sound escaped him.

"What did you do!?" Roxanne cried, running to his side.

Zoey blinked a few times, also surprised by what had happened to the Gryffindor. Her gaze fell on the hand she still had pointed at Rose's throat, widening when she saw her own nails. They were sharpening into claws.

She yanked her hand back as though the gaze had burned it, hiding it in the folds of her still billowing robes. Actually- she realized- the winds were getting bigger, lifting her hair in a personal torrent that touched nothing but herself. For now.

No. This was- this was what Jon's magic did, not hers. Wasn't it…?

Rose put a hand over her released mouth, her expression crumbling. Her chest heaved in a sob, and then tears started to fall. "I- I really didn't know, I'm- sorry, so so sorry. I just- I just wanted to-"

"You 'didn't know'?" her tone was softly incredulous, realizing that she had the momentum and that this moment of vulnerability might be her only chance to get the truth from Rose. "Explain yourself."

Zoey saw Rose's eyes flicker to look at someone before she answered, but she couldn't tell who with the sea of people that were watching them. "I- you just- you're so frustrating-" Rose uttered, and the horrid part of it was that it was the truth, that a reason so small was the cause of something so bad. She cried at her own confession, her words breaking between heaves for air. "I d-didn't want to- I wrote nothing!" She suddenly shouted, grasping at the small kernel of innocence before growing soft with shame again. "I only- I only got the picture. I just thought- thought people should know- I didn't want this to happen to you, I'm sorry- I didn't know… "

The sympathy of the crowd swayed toward the weeping girl, whose regret and pained guilt were obvious. Zoey saw them as well, but while she was empathetic to the plight she could offer no sympathy.

"You have no idea what the past week has been like for me." The Ravenclaw declared. "I have been assaulted. Pelted. Bombarded by Howlers in my own common room... And you're the one crying? What gives you the right? You're a sneak. A thief…" Her tone turned cruel and harsh as her voice threatened to break into tears of her own, "And a betrayer."

Rose's eyes darted around as though they could find the words that would fix this, some magical combination of sounds and letters, but none came and all she managed was to repeat "Sorry" over and over again.

Zoey raised a curled hand by her head, poised to scratch the Gryffindor with the claws it had grown. The action brought attention to the other features on her that had changed. Her cheekbones were more square and the entire face was more angled, rising up to ears that had grown slightly pointed. Slitted eyes narrowed as they looked over the cowering girl, seeing her reflection in them, and then in a blur Zoey's hand moved forward and grabbed her other wrist, yanking the spare hair tie that she'd been wearing as a bracelet.

"Saying a word doesn't make it true," Zoey's voice was slightly shaky as it became her turn to avoid Rose's eyes, avoid all of them. She set to work redoing her high ponytail yet again, the ethereal qualities of her countenance gone as though never existed. "You have to prove it."

"Anything," Rose promised through her sobs, holding her stomach as she heaved.

"Never enter Ravenclaw Tower again."

"Never." She readily agreed, done with sneaking for life after this.

"And give it back."

There was a heavy pause. "What back?"

"My diary." Zoey held out a hand, her fingernails normal though purple sparks still emerged and faded like crackles off a bonfire. "Right now."

"I- I-" Rose dry swallowed. "I can't, I don't have it anymore, it's-"

Gone. Zoey's eyes widened and panic sliced through her. She'd had that diary her whole life, it was one of the few things her mother had given her- and if someone read it, read about the last four years-

She didn't mean to do it, she really didn't. But Zoey's magic fed on her fears and- already fueled by the anger and betrayal that churned inside her- blasted out of her, no longer a chill wind but a bottled blizzard that ripped around her like a whirlpool. Electric blue hair crackled in her line of sight as it broke from its bindings, framing the image of student and Legacy alike cowering before the sheer power she emitted.

Zoey couldn't deny- It. Felt. Good.

And that terrified her.

Silverware tumbled to the stone floor in echoing crashes and tore through the windows of the Great Hall like they were paper. Shouts of surprise and fear were overrun by a rising sound like the scream of a banshee, one that continued from one heartbeat into two until-

The Deputy Head's voice boomed through the hall, "What is going on here?"

---

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy would never be comfortable waiting outside the Headmaster's Office. He knew full well that he wasn't due for a reprimand with this visit… probably… but the uncertainty was bound to keep him wary.

He was well acquainted with McGonagall's Office. Scorpius had been here a number of times as a result of clashes with the Legacy brats, and the Headmistress's stern demeanor always overshadowed any pleasure he got from Headmaster Snape's snide comments about the many failures of the Potter dynasty.

He brought his mind back to the present. This time it was not his own doing that brought him here, but Malam and Thorn.

Considering the spectacle and crowd that had gathered around the pair- himself admittedly included- he was surprised that the faculty hadn't noticed sooner. It hadn't been until Malam's magic… well, exploded was the only word that came to mind, insufficient as it was to describe the swell of power that had surrounded her. It hadn't been until Malam's magic had created such a ruckus that Professor Longbottom had arrived, his face swelled in a rare show of anger. Nobody dared run from the scene, certain they'd be hunted down like rabbits.

It hadn't looked good. Students, hiding behind each other and under tables. Rose, near hysterics with her tears and crumpled where she'd fallen back against the bench. Malam, her hair billowing around her with the magic she was emitting, still sending the stray fork or spoon careening away from her.

The obvious conclusion of such a scene was, of course, exactly what had been assumed. Longbottom took a protective stance in front of Rose, turning his gaze to Zoey. "Stop this. Now."

Zoey had taken a gulping breath, gripping one wrist in the other. As suddenly as it had arisen the magic around her vanished, her blue hair falling in light waves around her face. Lorcan gasped and fell forward as the magic over him suddenly released its hold, gripping Roxanne to steady himself.

Glancing at the student and only just realizing that the boy had been bespelled Longbottom's gaze had turned even darker. The Professor had a notoriously low tolerance for misused petrifying charms.

Scorpius Malfoy remembered his father once confessing to being a likely cause of that animosity, something about school bullying. He'd never believed it- the idea of anyone, even his father, getting a drop on even a young Professor Longbottom was unfathomable. The man was as much of a living legend as Harry Potter himself, only the scar on his face had been earned by his own heroism and not a curse in infancy.

"What happened here?" Longbottom had asked again, displeased with the lack of answer. "Why have you attacked Miss Granger-Weasley?"

"I would hardly call this an attack, Professor." Assistant Orion stepped in, surveying the scene himself. Rasputin was shifting uncomfortably on his shoulder.

"Oh? What would you call it, then?"

He spun slowly in place, and Scorpius had recognized the showmanship of an action meant to direct spectator attentions. "A catfight, I do believe. With a bit of magic."

The crowd chuckled slightly in shy amusement, still wary of inciting the wrath of their Deputy Head.

"This is worse than a 'catfight', Orion. The elves will be hours cleaning this, not to mention the windows-"

"Damage, yes…" he was quick to agree. "But I don't see anybody hurt."

Everyone turned to themselves and then their neighbors, shocked to find that the Assistant was right. Despite the flying dishes and goblets and other projectiles nobody had been struck, not one person had even a bruise.

"Nobody was hurt." he had repeated, but this time much softer and looking Zoey in the eye.

The blue haired Ravenclaw released the breath she'd apparently been holding, relaxing her shoulders.

"It- it's my fault-" Rose stammered unconvincingly, shakily getting to her feet as her tears fell. "I- this is-"

Her attempt to diffuse the situation had only backfired. Her tears made it seem she was trying to cover up for Zoey rather than explain, and her 'uncle' Longbottom was suitably worried at the sight of them falling down her round cheeks. He turned to Zoey and declared "This behavior unacceptable."

"Quite right Professor." Orion agreed. "To the Headmasters Office with this?"

Spectator jaws dropped at the declaration from what they now knew was Zoey's cousin, her own flesh-and-blood, suggesting the harshest juror on Hogwarts Faculty.

The Deputy Head nodded agreement. "Daniel, take her." Neville watched the Gryffindor Head Boy readily stepped in to escort her, the pair leaving the Great Hall.

"What about miss Granger-Weasley?" Orion had asked thoughtfully, Rasputin jumping from his shoulder and wandering off.

"I'll get her to the Hospital Wing for a bit of chocolate-"

"I meant her punishment."

Rose had sobbed reflexively at the realization she was likely about to receive the first detention of her life.

"I can make an educated guess as to the cause of their argument, having been looking into the underlying issue for some time now. I'm honestly surprised it took this long for such a conflict to occur, and expected that was what they were arguing about when I saw the crowd gathering."

"And you didn't stop it?" Longbottom had chastised, eyes narrowed in accusation.

"At the time there was no need, the issue didn't escalate until just before you intervened." the Assistant deflected calmly. "Besides, you're focusing on the wrong point. The source of this argument is as important if not more so than the argument itself. Flashy as it was."

The gathered students listened to his words with bated breath as the realization of what Jonovan had said sank in. Jonovan Malam Orion had, obviously, been a key part of the Scandals article. However as part of the faculty and quite frankly rather intimidating Orion had been untouchable, so Zoey alone had been target by wannabe judge and jurors… But now that the school knew they were cousins, they wondered how much of her situation he knew.

Neville broke the silence, "If you have something to say Assistant Orion, let's have out with it. No more theatrics."

"Very well." Jonovan turned to Rose. "Miss Granger-Weasley, why did you infiltrate Ravenclaw Tower the night of the Halloween Feast to steal another student's personal property, while accompanied by Misters Lorcan Scamander and James Potter?"

Rose blushed under the scrutiny of the hall, barely keeping back the tears. "How… How did you know James was there?"

"Oh dear." Priscilla had said a second time, the polite words barely hiding a note of glee.

"You just told me."

There was a resounding thud as Roxanne Weasley smashed her forehead on the table in obvious frustration with her cousin's poor instincts. Lorcan hurriedly covered the sound by banging his hands on the table and getting to his feet in the same motion. "It was my idea, honest. Don't blame Rose, I strongarmed her into it."

Scorpius remembered scoffing at the declaration. He'd never known Rose to be forced into anything.

Rose gave a hiccup of gratitude as she swiped a fresh round of tears off her cheeks. There was a moment of silence before Jonovan nodded and pointed out "But you don't deny Mister Potter's involvement either."

The Gryffindor boy fidgeted for a moment under the scrutiny of the hall, the dark haired Assistant, and the Deputy Head, but stood firm "I do deny it. Rose was just flustered."

"Mm." Orion's eyes flashed for a moment, before turning to Professor Longbottom. "Either way, I think this issue is beyond us. In order to prevent partiality in judgment, I think taking this up with the Headmaster is our best course of action. Wouldn't you agree?"

Scorpius had heard the sly tactic in the innocent-toned question. If Professor Longbottom refused, it would call his judgment into question due to his near familial relationship with the accused Legacies.

Professor Longbottom heard the implication as well, but appreciated the truth in the statement if not the tactic. "Very well. Ms. Granger Weasley, Mr. Scamander, you will join Assistant Orion and myself to the Headmaster's office. Professor Hagrid, mind the hall if you would?"

As soon as they'd left, the room was abuzz with speculation. The punishments to be dished out, the repercussions of breaking into another House's dorm, if this was the end of the Scandals articles. When Malfoy sat at Slytherin table, Nott had shot him a sly wink that had left him feeling quite content with the morning until the Head Boy had returned from escorting Zoey, saying McGonagall wanted to see him. Apparently, it couldn't wait until after the morning owls had arrived.

And so Scorpius now stood outside the eagle statue to the Headmasters Office. It would seem he was expected to wait until after whatever dramatic punishment inside had been doled out. If it were not unbecoming of a Malfoy he would be tapping his foot with impatience. Malfoys did not waste time, and Scorpius Hyperion did not enjoy being forced to do so.

Surely the subject of Rose quitting could have waited, Scorpius scowled to himself and clasped his hands behind his back. In the wake of such a spectacle he'd have expected the issue of tutoring and Library restrictions to be put on a backburner, but apparently he didn't have quite the understanding of McGonagall's priorities that he'd thought he'd had.

When the door opened he released the breath of air he'd been holding, turning in preparation to go inside. He stopped though when he realized it wasn't a professor but Rose who was descending the stairs, tears still running down her face.

She froze guiltily at the sight of him. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for McGonagall," he said, looking behind her and tilting his head when nobody else seemed to be coming.

"Just me," she said when she realized what he was waiting for. "I- it seems my presence is 'upsetting' so they had me leave while Zoey told her side of it."

"Hm." Scorpius intoned and went back to leaning against the hall, content to wait in silence. After a moment though he asked "But Lorcan was allowed to stay?"

She sniffled, looking like she was about to cry again. Rose Granger-Weasley was a mess, her eyes red and puffy and her loose hair tangled like a rat's nest. "Yes."

Interesting. But not enough to warrant conversation.

Rose paused for a moment, then moved next to him and leaned against the wall herself.

She didn't seem to realize how strange and unnecessary the proximity was. Scorpius raised an eyebrow at her, looking pointedly at the scant inches between them.

Strangely she took it as an invitation to talk. "I wonder how she found out…"

"Does it matter?" he snorted.

"No. I suppose not." She shrunk even further into herself. "I just… I really didn't know…"

She winced when he snorted again. "You keep saying that."

"Because it's true!" Rose protested. "I didn't- why would people do that to her? With the sand and the howlers and- and any of it!"

"Because they could." Scorpius Malfoy declared, feeling his mood darken.

"But… but they shouldn't." Rose protested weakly. "They've never done so before."

"Merlin, what world have you been living in?" He asked, honestly incredulous that she'd been so unaware of what happened around her. "What did you think would happen?"

"I thought- I just thought she'd get expelled, or at least investigated!"

Scorpius froze, his gaze narrowing. "You want her expelled?" He asked, his tone low and dangerous as his grey eyes darkened into twin storms.

"No! Well- I did. Kind of…" Rose trailed off, scratching her own nose. "But- but only if the rumors were true! Student-teacher romances are forbidden!"

"Then you should have taken your suspicions to McGonagall. What did you think a Scandals would accomplish, anyways?"

"I- it wasn't my idea, it was Jam-" Rose cut herself off with a hurried blush.

"James Potter. Of course." Malfoy scoffed, looking away from her. "The Legacy who'd do anything for half as much limelight as his dear ol' da, Hero of the Wizarding World."

"Hey, Uncle Harry never wanted to be famous. It just- happened. Voldemort… made sure of that."

"I am aware of the course of events." Scorpius blandly ended the tangential subject, uneager to hear a Legacy regalement of their claim to fame. He moved back to the topic at hand. "Fine- I believe you when you say you didn't know what you were getting into."

Rose sighed with relief, sagging against the wall. She didn't want Malfoy to hate her, she didn't think she could take that on top of everything else.

"So what about the past week?"

"What about it?"

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "It's been seven days since the release of that article. For at least the past four of them, you were told exactly what Malam was going through. You saw her at tutoring."

She shifted uncomfortably, her defenses going back up. "So?"

"So," he repeated curtly, "What's your excuse for that part?"

Rose started shrinking into the wall again.

The mighty lions had fallen, indeed. Scorpius silently agreed, pressing on "You were running. You quit tutoring because you couldn't face Malam anymore, but you still didn't do anything about it. What did you do Thorn, bury yourself in the library all week?"

"Restricted Section," she admitted after a moment," Nobody could bother me there. I just… wanted it to be over already. I'm glad it is."

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy blinked at the statement, then he laughed. It was dry and humorless, with a current of pitying condensation coursing through it.

Rose flushed, straightening. "What? What's so funny?"

"You think this is over?" Scorpius repeated, amusement vanishing as quickly as it had surfaced. "Thorn, your little tete-a-tete with Malam has stirred tensions that nobody's dared touch for a looong time. The rumor mills are going to be flying with this by noon. Everyone will know what you did, but they'll also know every word she said. What do you think your precious fans will think of her driving you to tears?"

"I don't have fans," Rose bristled, wiping some of said tears away. "And it's none of their business."

He chuckled, an echo of the laughter before with even less warmth. "Of course it isn't," the unspoken but that won't matter hanging between them. After she'd reflected on that Malfoy continued "And even if you don't have fans, how do you think the Ravenclaws will feel about you breaking into their Tower?"

"I…" she didn't know what to say to that. Rose felt tears falling yet again. "I don't even know how this happened."

Scorpius saw them and looked away, unrepentant. Unlike the last time he'd seen her crying he felt no sympathy, no incessant need to do something about the emotions that were obviously tearing her apart. "You are self-absorbed." The young Malfoy said instead, answering Thorn with the truth. "Self-centered. And self-entitled. That's how."

Rose cried harder, sliding against the wall. She only stopped when her shoulder bumped against his, burying her face in her hands and howling so loud the portraits started shifting away uncomfortably.

When one glared at him Scorpius glared right back, uncowed by the disapproval of a dead man that had been recreated in ink and oil. He wanted to step away from Rose, force her to stand on her own through this, but some instinct warned against it. A suspicion that if he did she would merely crumple and never get up again.

He chose not to analyse why that was an adverse outcome.

So they stayed exactly where they were until the Headmaster's Office opened again, the procession Scorpius had previously anticipated dispersing into the hallway. Professor Longbottom was the first out, then Orion who was closely followed by Malam.

Scorpius did a double-take at her, realizing she was crying as well. But instead of being a mess of tears and snot and caterwauling like an injured beast Malam was just… crying. She didn't seem to notice that tears were leaking down her face, and although she looked him in the eye she quickly averted her gaze when Rose tried to step forward.

Rose sobbed again at the silent rejection, a loud sound that echoed in the hallway.

Scorpius didn't miss the flash of contempt on Assistant Orion's face as he looked at the noisy Gryffindor, before his gaze shifted to him and softened.

The expression set him on edge- Orion was not a soft man, and Scorpius wanted to know what had caused such a display. Subtle as it was.

"The Headmaster will see you in a moment, Malfoy." Professor Longbottom said, patting him on the shoulder. "Brace yourself."

Even more warnings went off in his mind; this was not a normal display from the Herbology Professor either. Was he perhaps blamed for Rose quitting? It was a plausible explanation…

Longbottom lifted his hand and put it on Rose's head, gently suggesting something with familial worry. Scorpius was fairly certain he'd heard the word 'chocolate', and Rose wandered off.

Zoey relaxed visibly at her departure, and revealed that she did know her tears by wiping at them in frustrated motions. The Faculty members moved off to the side to have a sharp, whispered conversation, leaving the two students to themselves. After a moment Zoey broke the silence. "Are you here to- to tell McGonagall how my sessions with her went?"

"I don't believe so," Scorpius said carefully, knowing the 'her' was undoubtedly Thorn and understanding why she would assume his presence was related to their fight.

She relaxed a bit more, one hand twisting her still-loose hair. It seemed that she'd run out of hair ties and so it fell about her shoulders in soft gold waves. Brown or blue complimented her better, Scorpius thought absentmindedly. "What're you here for, then?"

"Tell you later."

"Oh." she said softly and deflated, turning to walk off without a goodbye.

Scorpius raised both eyebrows at the reaction. He'd expected at least a question, maybe two. Not that he would have told her anyways, he doubted she'd want to be reminded about Rose quitting as it would also remind her about the newly-discovered reason why. Zoey didn't look back, and Scorpius couldn't think of a response before she rounded the corner. It left him feeling oddly unbalanced, and he chalked it up to her unprecedented response.

"If you find the time later this afternoon," Orion suddenly said to Malfoy without preamble, Longbottom walking away down the other corridor. "I would like you to join me for tea in my Office. There is something I would like to discuss."

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy turned a gray gaze on the man he'd instantly sensed as a fellow tactician. His display today had been carefully controlled and swayed an irate Longbottom into leaving punishments to a calmer mind, a feat he suspected few others would have managed. Orion, he reluctantly admitted, was a wild card in Faculty interactions that he had underestimated. Something he planned rectify. "I'll be there."

The moving stairs opened again, and Lorcan descended with a frown on his face. The Gryffindor didn't look at any of them as he walked off, grumbling something about his detentions.

Orion watched him go with a near imperceptible smile of satisfaction, then turned back to Malfoy. "I believe McGonagall is ready for you, Mister Scorpius. I'll speak with you after lunch."

"See you then." he agreed before passing the eagle statue.

---

The stupid tears wouldn't stop. Zoey kept wiping at them as she walked up Ravenclaw Tower, but like a burst faucet they kept dripping in the aftermath of the explosion. McGonagall's office had been a blur, voices floating meaningless through the air. It hadn't been until Jon gripped her shoulder and sorted out her magic that she'd been able to think straight.

Jon had calmed her magic. That had never happened before, and her stomach heaved at the implications. Her magic tried to roll up with it, but Zoey managed to settle it herself before answering the eagle's riddle, opening the door to her House. She stopped immediately, surprised by the amount of sheer noise that was emanating from the normally quiet commons.

"Order!" Wilkes called, gaining their attention. "Now, I know this is upsetting. But we need to keep our composure and start from the top. First things first- how many believe that Rose Granger-Weasley and Lorcan Scamander did indeed break into our Tower?"

There was a rare amount of emotion in her query, one that was matched by her blue-robed peers. "She confessed to it!"

"They both did!"

"What was your brother thinking?" someone suddenly asked Lysander, who was sitting in his usual spot with a book. Zoey took a moment to marvel at his composure.

"Don't ask me." He said and flipped a page. "Despite contrary accounts, we are not the same person."

Wilkes nodded curtly. "Acknowledged. That notion is what enabled the deception in the first place. In addition, by impersonating not only one of us but a Prefect, they have undermined the very rules of Hogwarts itself."

There were rising murmurs of disquiet, and Zoey slipped off her shoes before she made her way around the edge of the room, listening at the masses going back and forth on who to blame. Some people faulted just the culprits, others attested that their actions were indicative of a larger issue between Ravenclaw and the Legacies or even the entirety of Gryffindor. The room stayed firmly divided on the subject, Sam and other DDC members vocally protesting the treatment against Zoey and pointing out that they'd been right about the unjust bullying she'd suffered.

For once Wilkes was unable to bring the group to a unanimous conclusion. She looked upset by that- as Head Girl, more often than not her word was law.

Lysander looked up. "Zoey." He put his book away.

"Hey Sandy," Zoey answered, blinking in surprise. Usually she was the one to start conversations with him. In fact she doubted that he'd ever noticed her presence before she interrupted his reading by speaking to him. Her eyes caught a glint of gold and she looked down to see a coin in his hands. It shimmered strangely and she blinked again. "What is that? It's not a galleon, is it? Why do you have a fake coin?"

He jerked out of his thoughts in surprise. "How do you know it's fake?"

"You never carry money around." Zoey stated, keeping the unusual glint of the coin to herself. She doubted most people would notice it anyways. "And if you do it's only ever for the bookshop in Hogsmeade, but this week's trip was moved for the Gryffindor-Slytherin Scrimmage Sunday."

He nodded once in confirmation of her sound reasoning, holding up the coin for her inspection. "My mom used one of these during the Second War to secretly communicate with her allies. Aunt Hermione made new ones for our generation- bit more advanced, now we can respond easier. All the Legacies have one."

"Your mom Luna Scamander?" Zoey asked absentmindedly, holding the gold gently. It was warm to the touch, but she chalked that off to being held recently.

"She was Luna Lovegood in those days." Sandy smiled at an old memory, "She was so pleased when I made it into her House- didn't matter if no-one else understood, she said, as long as I was where I wanted to be. Lorcan and I hated being in separate Houses. It took a while for me to get used to it. Being on my own, I mean. Everyone I'd grown up with became Gryffindor or Hufflepuff."

Zoey looked up from the coin, her eyes wide. This was the most she'd ever heard him talk.

"It has offered me a unique perspective of Hogwarts. Many times people forget that I'm a Legacy same as my brother, however I am not an average student either. I see and hear more honest opinions than most."

She looked at the ongoing debate and back again. "Is that what you're doing now? I always wondered why you decide to read here. If you really didn't want to be disturbed you'd go in your room, or spend more time in the library like-"

Rose.

She'd cut herself off before saying it, biting her lip as though in rebuke for preparing to utter the name of someone who'd so casually hurt her. Lysander tapped his fingers on the armchair, then said "Zoey, Lorcan is my brother. Rose may not be our family by blood but she is family. I will not take sides in this."

Zoey nodded, cringing as she remembered that she'd bespelled his twin. "I- I need to find time to talk to Lorcan, I was just… I dunno. That wasn't planned, it just happened."

He held up a hand. "Let me finish."

She settled back. Lysander rarely had something to say, so when he did she always gave her undivided attention. And this seemed rather important to him.

"In a few days, the Legacies will all gather to have a discussion much like Ravenclaw is. While I don't normally partake in said meetings I suspect that I will be asked to give an opinion this time, likely because I am close to you. However, in order to make any headway with my words I will have to be as neutral as possible in the time leading up to it. To ensure that, I will not speak to Lorcan or Rose. Nor you."

Zoey felt like she'd been punched in the gut, and it took her a moment to remember how to breath. "O-okay, sure. But- but how is that fair? She'll be at the meeting, but I doubt that I'll be invited to defend myself. Unless you could…?"

"You can't come." he swiftly cut her hope off before it could grow anymore. "I don't have that authority. And- depending what happens, Zoey, it may be more than a few days."

Cold abandonment coiled in her stomach, threatening the return of tears that had only barely been checked. "That- that's not fair, Sandy. Ro- she has loads of people. You… you're my best friend. My only friend in the whole House." The only person who'd stayed by her while the rest had accused and debated her 'questionable character'. Who'd stepped in and stopped the Howlers when the rest had just watched the spectacle it presented.

"I'm sorry." he said, once again sounding truly remorseful but Zoey couldn't hear it. She was sick of that word. Sick of sorries for a lifetime.

She stood and dropped his coin in the hand he'd reached out to- what, comfort her? She couldn't tell why he bothered. "Best get to it, then." she choked out, leaving the Tower.

He didn't follow.

Her tears did. Zoey continued swiping them angrily, ignoring the bell that signaled the start of classes as she rushed to Jon's office instead. She'd avoided coming here since the article came out, not wanting casual observers to add more 'evidence' to their false accusations.

But it didn't matter now- she needed him. She needed to bury herself in a safe place, be welcomed and wanted and unjudged. As she opened the door to his office her magic blasted forward to reveal the hidden entrance to his room, Zoey barely around the desk before she properly looked at it.

Looked at it- and saw the lock it now featured. Just like the ones he'd sent her. Magic-proof locks guaranteed to secure privacy. Jon was using his own immediately.

Zoey had forgotten he'd written her that. Her cousin, the paranoid genius. She probably would have realized what he meant if she hadn't been distracted by the Howlers.

First Rose betrayed her, then Scorpius and Sandy pushed her away and now even Jon… the weight of how alone she was crashed down like a tidal wave, drowning her. Zoey didn't even try to open the lock, if Jon had enchanted it she didn't have a chance to break it. Instead she turned on her heel and left.

Her gut was clenching with silent sobs, as though her body couldn't decide if she was sad or sick. Zoey gave up trying to plug her tears and felt sparks on her fingertips again as she moved. Her magic hummed small suggestions of this way, that way which she followed since her instincts never led her wrong before. She didn't realize where she was going this time until she reached it, and then she wondered how she could have expected anywhere else.

An OUT OF ORDER sign tapped against the door as she opened it, stepping inside. Her light footsteps echoed on the white tile as she called out to the empty room "Hello Myrtle? I- I don't mean to disturb, but- my name is Zoey Malam. And… I hear this is a place people come to cry."

---

Life as a poltergeist was many things. Amusing. Boring. Exhausting. And busy. Peeves always felt that there were dozens of places he needed to be by some unspoken urge. Eternity was boring, and the joys of being a poltergeist had come at a cost. The gift of limited touch in the real world made him less stable than ghosts, barring him from their enduring memory of life and rationality.

The poetic thought ended in a chuckle as he finished piling owl pellets into in front of Professor Sybble's desk. With a cackle, Peeves soared out of the empty classroom and into the attics of the castle. A forgotten formula was on the blackboard and so he paused for a moment, reading it. That wasn't right, it was supposed to be-

-be like this! His mindset changed abruptly and he tossed paint at the cracked board, cackling again and phasing through the wall before the caretaker showed up.

The thrill of speedy flight and mischief were the world to him now, the only things left that helped him fill an eternity of broken trains of thought.

Peeves flew out the window, and with a hoot went screaming through the Owlery, sending owls of all sizes and colors panicking from their perches and chasing them through the air for a little while. His flight careened around the grounds, bringing him to rest atop one of the hoops of the quidditch pitch. No. Too sunny.

More flight! Peeves was brought to rest in the greenhouse to gather his thoughts! Much better- Darker- And filled with the smell of fresh manure.

Nope, soaring again, cracking a glass panel in the roof as he rocketed away- Back into the castle, skimming past the magics of the halls he had inhabited for unknown years, past the dreary lives of interchangeable mortal faces.

The Poltergeist cackled endlessly. It had been a long time since he had faced mortality. After so long, the labyrinthian school had become familiar as his own coat. Even the unique magics of the students he passed all felt the same.

-Except that student!

Peeves came to a breaking halt in the corridor, reaching out to feel for the source of Bwue's magic. Bwue's bubble had never been this big before, but he still recognized it. A mirror lake in the sea of churning magics Hogwarts' housed. He eased into it with the care and caution of a mortal approaching something hot. It wasn't as steady as usual, but at the same time the calming effect was more potent. Like a warm bath after getting caught in a hailstorm.

Peeves found a pipe in the wall, and followed it to the source. He came out of the pipe expecting to find Bwue. He found Myrtle instead. Floating near the ceiling of the room

A ghost. A constant in eternity.

Mischief piped in - and fun to tease!

Instinctively, Peeves opened his mouth to recite a poetic jibe- because those were the only kinds that really mattered- but stopped when he saw the purple rat. It had pushed open the door to the bathroom - hey, they were in a bathroom!- and was making its way towards the stalls.

Towards Bwue.

Peeves remembered his purpose, and drew close to Myrtle to get the lay of the room.

Bwue was gold today, laying against a wall. She had her arms firmly wrapped around herself, her knees against her chest as her face scrunched.

Peeves thought Bwue wooked swick. A long forgotten emotion of- caring came into his mind. He moved forward, but his action was beaten by the purple rat.

It scurried up to Bwue and nudged her a few times, working for attention. When she did notice him she scooped the pet into her arms despite its prickly nature as her expression wandered between pain, sadness and plain exhaustion. The rodent was doing its best to smooth it's quills, but she still held it so tight small drops of blood mixed with her silent flowing tears.

Tears? Peeves dropped a couple inches through the air before remembering that he was floating. His mind, fragmented by centuries of overlapping memories, tried to process this. Tears? Tears. What helped tears…?

Laughter, something answered, and Peeves had an idea. He could make a waterfight! He was already halfway into the wall to explode the plumbing when reason piped in that a crying girl wouldn't want sewage water spraying over her. Frustrated, the blue poltergeist hit the wall with a walking stick as he tried to get reason to tell him what he should do instead.

Bwue hiccuped loudly in response to the sound, and Myrtle instantly flew up to Peeves and pulled him across the wall and into the empty hallway. "Peeves!" She hissed, only trembling slightly in the presence of the immortal being who'd tormented her for most of her ghostly life. "Don't you dare make a ruckus! Leave her alone."

"Peeves doesn't wants to leaves. Peeves wants to stay, he does." He didn't like leaving the circle of Bwue's magic. Besides, Bwue was crying. A gentleman should never leave a girl in tears.

…The poltergeist pointedly ignored- or perhaps forgot- that he hadn't been considered a gentleman in a long time.

Both spirits folded their arms and glared at the other for a moment, then Myrtle, quite the expert on crying, declared "Nobody needs a- a peeve when they're upset, Peeves! She needs some time to cry and feel better!"

Instead of mocking her or leaving he perked up at the words, nodding slowly. Then Peeves asked in his usual loud manner "What else?"

"Eh?" Myrtle blinked behind her ghostly glasses. "What else what?"

"What else does helps Bwue get better? Peeves doesn't like her being a fretter…" he frowned at his own grammar, and for the first time disapproved of rhyming, something he'd been quite fond of for the past… century or so? Peeves thinks? Times was hard to hold on to.

"De-aiii-uhhh… pets?" Something fluffy to cuddle was always nice when people were crying.

"Okay!" The poltergeist flipped over with excitement, going toward a window. He would get Bwue a pet! That would fix her! Wait… no… she already had a pet with her. The purple rat. Peeves came to a screeching stop, spinning back to Myrtle and asking urgently "What else?"

Myrtle was floored. In her near-century of ghostly existence, she had never even heard of Peeves listening to reason. The closest he'd ever come had been his salute to the infamous Weasley twins twenty five years ago, and even that had merely been a promise for mayhem. Her chest puffed with pride over being the first to reason with Peeves. She huffed slightly- it was to be expected of course. As a Ravenclaw she could make anyone see reason.

She eventually realized Peeves was chanting his query almost desperately, tugging at the ends of his maroon coat. "What else, what else, what else, what-"

What else indeed? Myrtle had never before had the option to help the people who cried in her bathroom. All she could do was offer them quiet privacy. It wasn't like she had the option to hug them or bring them anything. She couldn't do anything because she was- dead. She reflexively sniffled at the thought that used to send her into hysterics, now only saddened.

It was about time she got over her life, Myrtle knew that. She shouldn't have sulked for eighty years, but in those many years of crying and well, 'moaning', there was one comfort she'd always missed. "Ice cream," she said softly, the longing clear in her voice. "Chocolate Ice Cream."

"Okay!" The poltergeist flipped in the air again, going back toward the window. He would get Bwue some ice cream! That would fix her! Peeves paused for a moment this time to make sure she didn't already have ice cream, then flew away.

Flying! Soaring! He managed to hold on to his focus along the way- only tipping over ten suits of armor on his flight- before bursting up through the bottom of the kitchen. "Peeves needs-" In his eagerness Peeves mistimed his materialization and knocked a table with his head, his momentum flipping it and all its food across the ceiling. Wait, no, the ceiling he'd come through was now the floor. Peeves had trouble remembering the difference as he no longer used them.

The house elves cried out in horror as their hard work on Slytherin's lunch went to waste, scrambling around to both clean and hurriedly cook more. There was a wave of finger snaps and pops as they frantically tried to use their magic to clean the mess and set pots and pans heating once again.

A line of them tried to make a wall between the poltergeist and their work, determinedly brandishing small brooms like spears. The house elves had fought with Peeves many a time over the past few centuries, but this time he would not ruin their work!

"Peeves needs- needs-" he frowned at the distracting noises, grabbing the ends of his coat again. He had come for something, he was sure of it.

One of the house elves, in her haste, slipped on a pile of mashed potatoes. The clean trays that she'd carried clattered from her hands and fell, their sound echoing in silence as all eyes turned to watch.

Mischief bubbled up inside him. This was the perfect setting for a- "Foodfight!" Peeves cackled with glee, easily floating past the 'guards' who blocked his way and scooped up a handful of peas. "Catch!"

They weren't very good at this- they ducked to the side instead of staying to catch. Maybe they needed something bigger. He picked up a goblet and threw it next, the item making a solid 'clunk' as one elf ducked only for it to hit another that had been behind him. The struck elf fell over in a feint, and the rest swarmed forward in determination to make the poltergeist leave.

Peeves cackled and flipped over in the air, avoiding their spells with ease and returning any projectile he could get a ghostly hand on, be it food, goblet, or utensil. He missed the magical workers more often then he hit, but soon discovered that they'd take any blow if it meant protecting the three tables of unblemished lunch.

Cackling with glee at his discovered trick, Peeves started actively targeting the perfectly-set meals knowing that an elf or two always leaped forward to take the blow instead. Running out of small projectiles, he started grabbing large pots and pans from the kitchens. Some of them were hot- scalding even- but the poltergeist had no concept of temperature and therefore wasn't bothered, though the elves seemed to be. One apparated out of the way of thrown soup, then wailed and broke down in tears when he saw a stain on the tablecloth.

The blue spirit floated over to the dessert table, picking up a beautifully crafted two tiered cake. As it flew through the air Peeves cried "Have your cakes and eats it too!"

There were echoing screams from the throats the small house-elves before there was a crack of old magic and the cake stopped it's dreaded journey towards demise. One of the oldest house-elves of Hogwarts, Winky, stepped back into the kitchens. She had aging bags under her eyes and her tomato-sized nose was drooping as well, but her bat-like ears were attentive as she floated the prized dessert to safety.

He frowned. Well that was no fun! He picked up something new to throw instead, vaguely aware of the cold temperature when someone else entered behind Winky.

"Peeves!" The Gryffindor ghost cried as he floated inside the kitchens, looking properly cross. "What is the meaning of this?"

Furtively hiding his next projectile behind his back, Peeves blinked as he remembered he'd come for a reason other than foodfights- fun!- but still important. "Peeves needs- Peeves needs-" what did he need?

"You'll get your moldy bread at the end of the day, like your contract says." Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington quoted the 1876 contract between the poltergeist and Hogwarts staff. "Now put that back before I get the Baron."

Baron- Bloody Baron! He hurriedly shook his head, not wanting to attract the ire of the scary Slytherin ghost. He fumbled in his haste to put the ice cream back on the table. Hey- Ice cream! Bwue! He picked up the tub and held it to his chest protectively. Bwue needed this ice cream.

Nick sighed in frustration. "Peeves there's no time for this- Rose Weasley is bawling her eyes out in my tower, and I need to make sure she's properly attended."

Crying? Another crying? Peeves tilted his head, the recently remembered emotion of caring coming back despite his lack of association with the young Weezle. "Why?"

"It seems she and another girl got into quite the row in the Great Hall this morning. I don't know why this Zoey girl had a problem with Rose, but they've both been issued detentions until Christmas Break. She's near hysterics imaging what her parents will say- I remember Hermione, bright girl. Never would have gotten in trouble like this."

"Double trouble," Peeves mumbled, realizing the girls had made eachother cry. Weezle had made Bwue cry. He frowned at the idea.

"From what I hear seems it was an honest mistake-" Nick was babbling, obviously trying to make sense of what he'd heard and thinking that nobody in the room was interested in the topic. "Rose accidentally started a rumor about Zoey, and…"

At that point Peeves did lose interest, hearing nothing else the nobleman ghost had to say. Rose had intentionally made Bwue sad. Rose had hurt Bwue. Rose was the reason Bwue was crying. Rose, Rose, Rose… he chanted in his mind as he flew away from the kitchens, rushing back to the Second Floor bathroom. The return trip took longer because he couldn't float the pilfered item through the wall, but he stubbornly held on to his thoughts the whole way.

He proudly presented the tub of ice cream to Myrtle- who gave her approval for him to carry it inside to the crying Bwue- and dropped it in front of the girl, nervously watching and waiting for it to fix her. It made a heavy thump on the ground.

Zoey jumped at the sound and Rasputin hissed in distaste when the sudden motion made her prick herself deeper on his quills, the purple murtlap glaring at the poltergeist.

"Ice for Bwue," Peeves mumbled, taking his hat off as a show of respect.

She sniffed a few times, looking at the five-gallon jug of pumpkin ice cream that had been placed at her feet. "Thanks." Zoey eventually said in a wavering voice, rubbing her face dry.

The poltergeist looked between her and his gift, now wringing his hat in his hands as he waited for it to work. The hat had been made by Bonhabille, he suddenly remembered. A name that had been lost to Peeves for a long while now.

"Um, Peeves…" Zoey interrupted his thoughts, looking up at him with green eyes. "Did- did you bring a bowl? Or a spoon?"

His eyes went comically wide before his expression fell. She was going to eat the ice- that's how it would fix her! And he'd messed up! Bwue would never get better now…

Amazingly Peeves heard a giggle, then a snort, and Zoey put a hand over her twitching mouth. "You're a real sweetie pie Peeves, has anyone ever told you that?"

Air literally blasted from the poltergeist's ears with the force of his embarrassment and Peeves dashed around a few times, nearly as frantic as the kitchen elves had been. Nobody- nobody had ever called him that! Had they…? He had a distant notion that someone might have once upon a time, but in any case it had been so so long ago that he had no memory of how to react. He lost hold of his magic and was buried in a mountain of walking sticks, putting some away only for more to slip out and bop him on the head.

Myrtle's bathroom echoed with smothered giggles again, and Zoey tried to hold in her rising laughter at his antics. It had been a long day though and her emotions were far from stable, and soon she lost the fight. Her laughter started ringing for a few blessed moments as she looked between him and the thoughtful gift, which would undoubtedly melt and make a mess without her ever having a bite. Unless she stuck her head in the tub and stuffed her face, but Zoey wasn't that fond of pumpkin flavor anyways and she was just so happy that someone had gone out of their way for her. Right now she'd take any silver lining she could get.

Peeves continued flitting around in confusion before smiling impossibly wide. Laughter helped tears! The ice had worked! He settled down a few inches above the floor- ceiling- floor, he firmly remembered, and managed not to panic when her laughter mixed with tears again.

He had helped Bwue, Peeves thought in triumph, but not enough. Someone had made Bwue cry, and that was not allowed. That wasn't right. While his mind was still calmed in the presence of Bwue's magic he tried to cement the thought and memory, not wanting to forget again when they separated.

Rose Weezle… Rose Weasley… Rose. Weasley.

---

Phew! Made it! Now, it's my birthday week, so- *imitates Madam Hootch* -I want a nice, LONG review! From all of you!

... actually don't need it to be nice just want it to be honest. I am open to Rose-bashing and any other possible complaints ;)

-E

ps- also, if there's any other ff authors out there who can suggest a good way to break sections mid chapter I'd apprectiate it. FFic is disappearing my lines for some reason...