Disclaimer: Copyright JK Rowling
A.N: Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all! A huge thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, this one's extra long in spirit of the season (though not really, it just turned out that way). Also, a beloved canon character makes an appearance! Enjoy and do leave plenty of reviews.
"It's not your fault."
"It is, though."
"Rosie…"
"I should have listened to you. Talked to him properly, seen what was wrong."
"No – I mean, yeah, you should have, but…" Lily sighed. "You might have been right too. Maybe talking to him would have been pointless – maybe he would have done it anyway, no matter what you said to him."
"I still should have tried." Rose stared down dully at the floor beneath them, dry-eyed. They stood in the empty seventh-floor corridor, outside the gargoyle blocking the entrance to the Headmaster's office. It was early in the morning, and most of the students in the castle were still enjoying their Saturday sleep-in. "Mum warned me too, you know. In her letter. I knew there was something up with him – ever since it happened. I just didn't want to worry about it."
"Don't beat yourself up about it, Rosie." Her cousin slipped her hand into hers, squeezed it tightly. "You're still in shock from what happened at the wedding, remember."
"He might be expelled," she said, barely listening. "They might take away his wand."
"For shooting a Stinging Hex at someone and then knocking them out? He'll get a lot of detentions, sure, but…"
"He didn't just do that. He stole Polyjuice Potion and impersonated another student. Professor Hobspawn has to deal with it severely or it will look like Hogwarts doesn't protect its students. And Hogwarts has a duty to protect its students, even the ones whose parents are in Azkaban." Rose shook her head, unable to stop the terrible thoughts. "When The Daily Prophet gets wind of what happened, it'll look bad for everyone. For your dad, and the Aurors he sent to protect the school for not doing their job right – especially after what happened with the Manticore. And - "
"My mum has influence in the Prophet," Lily reminded her. "She can make sure they keep it quiet."
"That's even worse!" Rose pulled her hand away, turning to stare at her cousin. "It'll look like our family's covering it up, then! Like we were all involved in it!"
Lily blinked at her for a moment, surprised, then folded her arms, giving her a surprisingly stern look. "You're overthinking this. That's what you always do when you're upset. Have you had any breakfast yet?"
"No. I didn't sleep much either." Rose rubbed her head wearily. "How could I? I've known what happened since Malfoy didn't come to patrols last night. I was waiting by the prefect offices for ages, and then Lucy came along and told me he was in the hospital wing… and that Hugo had put him there. Only she and Robbins were told by the Headmaster about it – no one else knows, not even the professors. Yet."
There was a pause, then her cousin asked quietly, casting a glance towards the gargoyle, "How much longer d'you reckon they'll be?"
"I don't know." Rose looked at her cousin. The younger girl was paler than usual, and her eyelids were still heavy with sleep. "Listen, Lily. It's still early - go back to bed. You'll need your energy for tryouts later, after all."
"But I – "
"Go on. I'll be all right alone." She pressed her cousin's hand, smiling a little. "And thanks, Lily. Remember not to mention this to anyone."
"I won't." The other girl made her way down the corridor, her steps echoing in the emptiness before fading away. Rose leaned back against the wall and stared up at the gargoyle. The stone was battered in several places, as it always had been. Trying to distract herself, she wondered if they had deliberately left it like that after the Battle of Hogwarts, as a memorial, or if it had been impossible to repair by any magic.
Exhaling softly, Rose combed her hands through her hair. She felt just like she had in St Mungo's a week ago, waiting for fate's verdict. Waiting to see if things would ever be the same again.
When Scorpius awoke, his face felt normal. Cautiously, he brought his hands up to feel for any swelling, but there was none. Lifting his head off the pillow a bit, he did not feel any pain where he had struck it off the bedside table. Madam Pomfrey had healed that, too, then.
"You're looking better." Glancing across, he saw Torrance seated on the bed across from him, grinning. "I was worried we'd never see your pretty face again."
"What happened?" Scorpius sat up, blinking through a rush of vertigo. "After I was knocked out, I mean? I just remember being here, and Madam Pomfrey telling me the swelling would go down overnight…"
"Well, Weasley shot you with a Stinging Hex, then Stupefied you and tried to run away. Luckily, I was just outside the dormitory – so I disarmed him, called Professor Nott for help. Then they brought you down to the hospital wing and gave you Sleeping Draught for… shock, or whatever." His friend shrugged. "Want some water?"
"What about Jem? Is he all right?" Scorpius asked, taking the offered glass and draining it.
"Yeah, Weasley put a full Body-Bind on him and hid him in a cupboard. Madam Pomfrey had him brought in for a while, but he's in the dormitories now."
"Right." Scorpius put the glass down, and looked at Torrance earnestly. "And does anyone else know?"
"Apart from us and Santini, no. No one's really up yet." He smirked. "But you can bet everyone will know before long. I'll tell them, and we'll see how smug that Weasley bitch is then, when everyone in the school knows that her brother's a lunatic."
"You think that's what I want?" Scorpius said sharply, feeling a surge of anger at the other boy's words. "For everyone in the school to know I was attacked by one of the Weasleys, in my own dormitory? They already stare at me everywhere I go – how much worse will it get if they find that out? Do you think I like being a bloody zoo exhibit?"
Torrance looked at him for a moment, startled.
"I didn't think of it that way," he said at last. "But you know people will find out, all the same."
"I know that," Scorpius said coolly. "It's Hogwarts; rumours will fly. But I'd still prefer if my own friends weren't going around perpetuating them."
"Well, I haven't said a word to anyone yet, except Orchid."
"Right. You can tell Nina, too, or she might feel left out." Scorpius grinned, and his friend matched it, looking relieved that his anger had faded.
"Oh, I forgot – this mightn't be the best time, but Santini told me to tell you: you made Seeker."
"That's - good." Scorpius took a moment to savour the news, then his eyes widened, and he swore. "Has anyone told my dad?"
Torrance looked confused. "About you making Seeker?"
"No, about me being attacked," Scorpius said. "Oh, Merlin, I hope they haven't told him – he'll make such a big deal about it… Scorpius, I told you to stay away from the Weasleys… this means war…" He had almost forgotten who he was talking to, painfully envisioning his father's wrath, and was surprised to see that the sombre expression on Torrance's face as he watched him.
"It does mean war," he said quietly. "They've have taken a step too far this time."
Scorpius frowned. "They haven't done anything to you, Torrance. I was the one who was attacked. My mother was put in prison…"
"But we're mates. If the Weasleys target you, they target us, too." His friend leaned forward, looking him in the eye. "They think they own the wizarding world because they helped to save it. And it's getting worse. I've said it before: someone needs to stand up to them. Show them they're wrong."
"Right, and your idea of standing up to them is taunting Rose Weasley in Potions, is it?"
Something like impatience flickered in his companion's eyes, but before he could reply, Madam Pomfrey bustled into the ward. "Visiting time's over," she told Torrance, then scrutinised Scorpius for a moment. "Very good. The swelling's gone down completely. How do you feel?"
"I'm fine," Scorpius said quickly. "Can I go now?"
The elderly, greying witch took another moment to examine her patient, then nodded. "Yes, you may go, Malfoy. Oh, and Professor Hobspawn has sent me a message – he wishes to meet you in his office at ten."
"Did he say why?" She shook her head, moving away again. Scorpius sighed.
"It's probably just a prefect thing," Torrance pointed out. "They can't still make you patrol with Weasley, after what happened."
"No. That's true, they can't."
Rose had been waiting alone for a full half-hour when the gargoyle slid to one side with a grinding noise, the door behind it opening at last to reveal her father and Hugo. They stepped out quietly, the latter avoiding his sister's gaze.
"He wants to see you now, Rosie," Ron Weasley said. He looked shaken and weary. The grey in his red hair was more prominent, and there was a spray of lines between his eyebrows that she had never noticed before. Professor Longbottom had sent for him earlier that morning; he had then woken Rose up and brought her to meet her father when he arrived, before he had gone into the office with Hugo.
"What's going to happen?" Rose asked, her eyes fixed on his face. "Dad?"
"Professor Hobspawn thinks it'd be a good idea to take Hugo out of school for a while, a month or two, until... things improve. I agreed with him, and I know your mum will, too. I didn't tell her about all this yet, didn't want to worry her." Her father slung an arm over her brother's shoulders in an attempt to seem cheerful. "But I'm sure Hugo won't mind being stuck with me in the house for a month or so. Might bring him to work in the shop a bit – George and I have been needing an extra hand for a while now - "
"You're talking about me as if I'm not even here," Hugo said, in a low voice. Glancing at him, Rose saw the tears hovering on his eyelashes, and knew she should feel sympathy, or pity, or sadness or something… but she didn't. She just felt angry. Really angry.
"What else do you expect, after what you did?" she snapped. "You're lucky Hobspawn went so light on you – I thought you'd be expelled for sure."
"Rosie," her father admonished. The tips of his ears had gone red. "Don't speak to your brother like that. You know he didn't mean what happened – you know why - "
"I saw everything that happened at the wedding, Dad," she interrupted hotly. "More than he did. I had to watch Mum like that – but you don't see me running around the school, breaking into professor's stores and hexing other students, do you?"
She knew, in the instant after she had finished, as her words hung on the air, that she had gone too far. A dull flush had come to Hugo's cheeks, and he was staring at the ground. Her father was glaring at her, his blue eyes filled with anger. Roughly, he took hold of her arm and dragged her away, out of her brother's earshot.
"Bloody hell, Rosie," he hissed, his voice sharp as a whip. "Hugo made a mistake. Merlin knows I've made a lot of mistakes, too, but everyone always stood by me, no matter how much of an idiot I was. He's your brother. Just because you can deal with more than he can doesn't mean you can talk to him like that. OK?"
Rose opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out. Sour guilt was rising in the pit of her stomach. After glaring at her for a moment, her father strode back to the gargoyle. "C'mon, Hugo, we'll get your stuff and go before everyone wakes up."
"Dad…" She moved after them as they headed down the corridor. "Dad, wait, I - "
"Professor Hobspawn's waiting for you, Rosie," her father said without turning. His arm was slung over Hugo's shoulders once more, and her vision was blurred with tears as she watched them heading down the corridor.
"I'm sorry," she said in a choked voice, not sure to whom she was apologising, but if her father or brother heard her, they did not look around.
(***)
Professor Hobspawn was standing by the window when Rose entered his office. The grey morning light flooded in, falling across the sleeping headmasters and headmistresses in their portraits, the bare, carpeted floor and the silver basin of the Pensieve visible through the half-open black cabinet in the corner. She cleared her throat, and he turned, the corners of his mouth lifting in what seemed like more of a grimace than a smile.
"Miss Weasley. Sit down, please."
She obeyed silently, and he occupied the cushioned chair opposite hers, behind the desk. He sat at the very edge, as though readying himself to jump up at any moment, and regarded her with small, green-grey eyes. Up close, the disfiguring effects of the long, vertical scar slicing the left side of his face were more obvious; she could see how his eyelid had been slightly stretched, and one corner of his mouth was creased in a permanent pucker. The scar itself was an angry red line, impossibly straight. Rose wondered what curse had caused it.
"Your father informed you of Hugo's temporary suspension from Hogwarts?"
Not in those words, exactly. "Yes, sir."
"Did he tell you anything else?"
Rose struggled to drag her eyes away from his scar and meet his gaze. "No, sir."
Professor Hobspawn sighed. "Of course not. Well, your father and I agreed that after what Hugo has experienced in the past fortnight, it would be wise to provide him with some counselling in his time away from the school. And as you have experienced the same shock as your brother, I think it only wise that you, too - "
"You want me to see a Worry-Witch?" Rose said incredulously.
Hobspawn frowned at her. "Miss Weasley, I don't like being interrupted. And this is no Daily Prophet fraud I am referring to. One of our staff, Lara Stebbins, is also a qualified students' counsellor."
"The Muggle Studies professor? Really?"
"Yes. She has kindly agreed to meet with you on a regular basis, in order to discuss any frustrations or angers you may have, to avoid - ah… "
"Me attacking another student?" she finished, raising her eyebrows. Indignation rose within her. "Professor, there's no need for that. I'm perfectly fine after what happened. Well, not perfectly fine, but I'm not about to attack anyone! Just because Hugo - besides, I don't have enough time to go to counselling, I've got extra subjects and prefect duties."
"You'll only have one half-hour session a week, every Sunday, starting next week," Hobspawn said shortly. "And I think you, of all students, can manage to stay on top of your classes in any case. Miss Weasley, your father has agreed to this. You will attend these sessions every week until our counsellor decides you are dealing with the shock of your mother's attack in a non-violent manner."
"Non-violent manner?" Rose repeated. She leaned forward in her seat, looking earnestly at the middle-aged wizard across from her. "Professor, I've never even got a detention in five years at school. I could count on my fingers the number of times any professor's deducted points from me! Out of everyone in our year, I'm the least likely to ever get in a fight with someone, you know that, sir - "
"What about the incident in your Potions class the other day?" The headmaster raised his dark eyebrows. "Your hostility towards Mr Malfoy?"
"I – professor, that's not fair, he raised his wand to me first - "
"That's enough." Hobspawn held up his hand, looking impatient. "I don't have all day to argue with you, Miss Weasley. But, speaking of Scorpius Malfoy, there is one more thing I would like to discuss."
"You don't want me patrolling with him now, sir? Is that it?"
"After last night," the headmaster said, his voice quieter, "And your brother's suspension, it seems to me that it would be rather too much to ask of you to patrol regularly with Mr Malfoy. You may find it difficult to restrain yourself from – ah – taking certain defensive measures."
Rose bit her lip. This was what she had wanted. Since the train journey, she had been viciously opposing the prospect of patrolling with Malfoy. She had lain awake wondering how she could possibly get out of it. But there was something about the wariness in Hobspawn's eyes as he looked at her now – as though she were a wild animal, unable to control herself and impossible to predict – that made her positively bristle…
"Professor," she said, in clipped tones, "I see no reason to go to the trouble of assigning us with different partners."
Hobspawn looked surprised. "Miss Weasley, are you telling me that you would like to patrol with Scorpius Malfoy?"
"I certainly wouldn't enjoy it," Rose said carefully, trying not to show her annoyance. "But I would have no trouble restraining myself, sir. I promise you. I have no desire to be suspended; I take my responsibilities as a prefect very seriously."
"I know you do. However, the safety of my students comes above all else, Miss Weasley, and I find it hard to believe that you and Malfoy will be able to cooperate peacefully after everything that has happened between your families."
"Isn't that the whole purpose of the patrols, though, sir? I mean, isn't it all about getting members of different Houses to work together, despite the challenges?"
"Yes." Hobspawn frowned, stumped for a moment. Then he sighed again. "Yes, but – Mr Malfoy may feel threatened at the prospect of patrolling with you after his attack, and I must respect his wishes. I'm sure you understand."
"I do." Rose got to her feet, unable to prevent the coldness from seeping into her voice. "I do, sir. And I won't keep you any longer."
(***)
When she returned to the common room, passing a couple of Aurors standing guard at the Fat Lady's portrait, a few early-rising Gryffindors were beginning to stir from their beds and descend the staircases in search of breakfast. As she walked past the window, which was facing out over the bright, wet grounds, someone hailed her from behind.
Turning, Rose saw that James had slid through the portrait hole and was walking briskly to catch up with her. "What are you doing up so early?" she asked suspiciously, hoping fervently that he had not heard what happened yet - she could not deal with more questions.
"Had a few errands to run. Tryouts today, you know." James swung off his damp cloak and draped it over his arm. "Is Cassie up yet?"
"No." Rose glared at him as she remembered. "She told me about yesterday, though. What you said to her."
"I was – a bit harsh, maybe." He swept the rain from his messy hair with one hand. "It's just – I don't like losing good players. It's my last year as captain, and I want it to be the best one yet."
"Right," his cousin said sceptically. "So you had to make her feel even worse."
He stepped forward as she began to turn away, catching her arm. "Rosie, wait – I want to apologise to her. Would you tell her to come down?"
"She won't. Why should she?" Rose folded her arms, cocking one eyebrow at James. He sighed.
"No, I suppose not. Well, I can't wait, I've got to set up tryouts – give this to her, will you? As a kind of – apology?" He fished around the pockets of his cloak, then handed her a huge slab of Honeydukes chocolate, wrapped in purple foil. Rose stared down at it, then up at her cousin.
"This is the really expensive kind. You'd have to go to Hogsmeade to buy one of these; they don't mail them. Have you started using the Hogsmeade passages already?"
James widened his eyes enigmatically. "Hogwarts holds many secrets," he said in a high, reedy voice like that of one of the ghosts, and Rose pursed her lips to stop herself laughing.
"Right. Well, I'll give this to her, but I can't guarantee she won't throw it away on sight."
The seventh year shrugged. "Ah, well. It's the thought that counts, right?"
"Right." Rose watched him walk towards the stairs to the boys' dormitories for a moment, half-amused, half-annoyed, then called after him grudgingly, "Good luck with tryouts, James."
Her cousin saluted in response, and, smiling to herself, Rose ascended the staircase to the girls' dormitories.
"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?"
"I did, Mr Malfoy. Take a seat." Professor Hobspawn watched him closely as Scorpius sat in the cushioned chair across from him at the desk. The clock had just struck ten, and the headmasters and headmistresses in the portraits hanging the walls were blinking groggily as they awoke. "How are you?"
"Very well, professor," Scorpius said cordially. "Madam Pomfrey only kept me overnight for the shock, she fixed everything else in a minute."
The Headmaster nodded. "Good. I'm glad to hear that. I brought you here, Mr Malfoy, to inform you of a few things – firstly, that Hugo Weasley has been suspended from the school for some months until he is deemed well enough to return. In addition, the security around Professor Nott's office has been increased. You need not have any worries about being attacked again."
"Oh." Scorpius knew he should feel relieved, but there was another worry nagging at him. "You haven't contacted my father, sir, have you?"
"Not yet." Hobspawn regarded him thoughtfully. "Do you wish me to?"
"No, sir," he said quickly. "There's no need, I don't want to worry him."
"Well, we must adhere to your wishes." There was no irony in his tone, though the words were strange to Scorpius's ears. Perhaps because they were not the kind he was used to hearing from figures of authority.
"Thank you, professor."
"Secondly," Hobspawn went on, shuffling some pieces of parchment at his desk, "You will not be patrolling with Rose Weasley anymore. I will summon the Head Students tonight to discuss a swapping of partners – it will be difficult to rearrange the pairings, but necessary. I understand that it would be very uncomfortable… perhaps even frightening, for you to continue patrolling with Miss Weasley after what happened."
There was a brief silence. Scorpius stared down at the polished wooden surface of the desk, vaguely registering the curious murmurs of some of the portraits as he absorbed the Headmaster's words. Then he looked up again, his jaw clenched. "Sir, I'm certainly not frightened of her."
"Are you sure? Her brother may have hurt you badly last night – do you not fear that she may retaliate after his suspension, perhaps during one of your patrols?"
"If she did, professor," Scorpius said, trying to keep the sharpness out of his tone, "I could handle it. Rose Weasley is no threat to me."
"Well, I'm afraid that does not exactly reassure me." The Headmaster set the parchment down and looked at him seriously. "The fact of the matter is, Mr Malfoy, that I must protect my students. I cannot place you in any danger of being attacked once again. Do you understand?"
"I do, but…" Scorpius couldn't believe this. He couldn't believe he was actually arguing - when the Headmaster was trying to set him free of his patrols with Weasley. But all he could hear was Torrance's voice echoing in his head. You can bet everyone will know before long. They would, too – and the rumours of his attack would be confirmed by the fact that he was no longer patrolling with Weasley. Then they would all look at him the way Hobspawn was looking at him now, with that unbearable pity in their eyes. He felt that would be even worse than the open distrust, the irrational hostility he was used to.
"Professor," he said, forcing himself to speak. "I understand, but I'm sure that – that her brother's suspension will only discourage Weasley from any outward aggression, in case the same happens to her." He was not sure of that at all, but he wanted Hobspawn to stop looking at him that way.
"Hmm." The Headmaster looked thoughtful. "Strangely enough, Mr Malfoy, Rose Weasley assured me of the very same thing earlier today. But I'm afraid it is still too much of a risk."
"Sir, I can protect myself," Scorpius insisted, feeling a surge of impatience. What was he, a first-year Hufflepuff? "There is no risk."
Hobspawn was silent for a few moments, his fingers tracing a smaller scar that sliced across his left wrist. Then nodded, looking up at the Slytherin student across from him. "Very well, Mr Malfoy. If you wish to continue your patrols as normal, I will cancel my meeting with the Head Students tonight."
"I do." Scorpius stood. "Thank you, professor."
After the door had closed, Professor Hobspawn remained at his desk, staring at the door for a moment or two. Then, the slightest hint of a smile spread across his features, and he stretched his arms behind his neck, leaning back in his chair.
"There you are," he said smugly over his shoulder to the portraits. "I believe we just witnessed a stellar example of inter-House cooperation. The very quality I have been trying to instill in my students. As well as that, I have one less thing to worry about - those Merlin-damned patrol programmes took days to put together."
"Very well done indeed, Godfrey," Albus Dumbledore said warmly, a twinkle in his blue eyes as he clapped lightly. "Convincing two warring students to work together for the good of the school… well, I could not have done better myself." The other headmasters and headmistresses murmured in amused agreement, and even Severus Snape gave a curt nod of approval to the present Headmaster.
"All in a day's work," Godfrey Hobspawn said humbly, rising from his desk. "Well, I think it's safe to say that this year has started with a bang. No pun intended." He drew a clear vial from his pocket, then summoning a glass, poured some brandy into it, and raised it to the portraits in a toast. "Here's hoping, for the sake of my reputation as Headmaster, that it continues in a thoroughly mundane and utterly dull fashion."
"Cassie. Cassie."
Yanked from her comfortable sleep to the harsh reality of the Gryffindor sixth-year girls' dormitory, Cassie scowled up at Rose, her face half-covered by the duvet. She had never really been a morning person.
Her friend simply smiled apologetically and seated herself on the bed. "I've got something for you." She held up a bar of chocolate. "Honeydukes' finest. It's from James. He's sorry for what he said."
Cassie did not respond, simply knocking the chocolate from her friend's hand and rolling over in bed. It fell with an audible thump to the floor, and the inhabitant of the next bed over raised her brown head, shooting them a bleary-eyed glare.
"Sorry, Jackie," Rose hissed, then smiled ruefully at Cassie. "I thought as much. Anyway, I'm heading off to the library soon. Do you want to join me?"
"Why'd I want to do that?"
The other girl looked uncertain. "Well… I need to catch up on some homework and I thought you might, too, seeing as – you know…"
"Seeing as my parents seem to think I need serious help in school?"
Cassie regretted her sharp tone instantly; the hurt surprise on Rose's face was plain to see. She stood slowly from the bed, and said in a low voice, "You know that's not what I meant, Cass."
She knew. Of course she did. But all the same, Cassie remained silent until her friend had left, before burrowing down under the duvet again.
When she next awoke, the light filtering into the dormitory was brighter, and the other beds were empty. Rising from bed, she was struck with a brief dizziness as her eyes adjusted. She rubbed them, then moved across the room to the radio, switching on the W.W.N, and let an old Sirens classic blare out while she dressed. The sun was spilling in the windows, bright and clear, and her mood lifted. For a while, she forgot all about Rose and tryouts and Quidditch and her parents.
"Oh carry me in your arms," she belted along enthusiastically to the catchy chorus as she applied her makeup, tying up her hair and taking a cursory glance in the mirror. "And summon me with your cha-arms... Kiss me like a Dementor – baby you're my worst torme-e-ntor…" On her way out of the dormitory, Cassie almost tripped over something on the floor. Looking down, she saw it was the Honeydukes' chocolate, and kicked it under the bed with the heel of her shoe, grimacing.
The only occupant of the common room downstairs was Albus Potter, who sat before the pile of dying ashes in the hearth, reading The Daily Prophet. He glanced up as she passed. "Where are you off to?"
"Breakfast," she said brightly.
"It's around noon," Albus said apologetically. "Breakfast's long over."
Cassie came to a halt, folding her arms over her T-shirt. "I suppose I'll just wait for lunch, then. You're not going to tryouts?"
"Quidditch isn't really my thing."
"I don't believe that for one second. I've seen you fly." She propped herself up on the arm of a chair with her elbows, and watched him as he returned to his newspaper. "Is it because of your brother? Him being the captain, and all."
Albus shook his head, but his eyes did not leave the print on the page. Scowling, his companion rose to her feet. "Fine. Don't tell me. But let's do something, seeing as we're the only ones here. C'mon."
"Well… I've got a deck of cards with me. Feel like some Exploding Snap?"
"Now you're talking."
An unusual hush dominated the sprawling castle on that Saturday morning, due to the fact that a large proportion of the students had headed to the Quidditch pitch to witness the annual event of Gryffindor tryouts, which never failed to bring excitement and drama to their otherwise ordinary lives. Last year, several of the broomsticks had been jinxed by anonymous ill-wishers (presumed by most to be bitter Slytherins) which had made for quite a spectacle. The players had struggled desperately with their wildly bucking brooms in the pouring rain, resulting in several hair-raising saves, an irate James Potter and a multitude of trips to the hospital wing.
The library seemed to have suffered most of all from the students' desertion; when Scorpius Malfoy entered on his way back from the Headmaster's office, the row of bookcases stretched away from him, not a student in sight. He could sense Madam Pince's wary gaze on his back as he moved to the Potions section – as though it were impossible to believe that any student could resist the lure of Potter's tryouts.
Scorpius flitted between the bookshelves, deeper and deeper into the vast library, and revelled in the tranquil, surrounding silence, the smell of old, rotting parchment, the clouds of dust that rose when he tugged a thin volume from the shelf. The almost-faded letters on the inside page read Spagyric, and as he scanned the pages, a smile crossed his face. A book detailing an obscure form of plant alchemy – just the thing to bring him ahead of the other students in their first lesson with Nott on Monday.
He had come close to the heart of the vast room when he became aware of a quiet, persistent sound nearby: scratch, scratch.
Someone was writing with a quill. Peering through a gap in the bookshelves, he saw, with a sinking feeling, that the desk at the end of the next row of books was occupied by none other than Rose Weasley. She sat with her head bent over a long scroll, her hair tied back loosely and her freckled face creased in a frown, as her right hand glided across the parchment, inking each letter with obsessive care.
Scorpius was instantly reminded of what exactly he had agreed to with Professor Hobspawn – and wondered, not for the first time, what had possessed him. He'd had the chance to escape those dreaded patrols; he should have taken it, regardless of his pride. Well, there was nothing for it now. He was not going to hide from her; this was his library too. Stubbornly, he moved on to the next row, and watched as she lifted her head to look at him. The shadow that passed across her features gave him some satisfaction.
"Malfoy," she said quietly. She was not glaring at him, simply looking, but that made him uncomfortable enough. Leaning back against the back of a bookcase, he returned her gaze calmly, and answered,
"Weasley."
She watched him for a moment more, then her gaze fell on the manuscript he was holding, and her curiosity was visibly piqued.
"What's that?"
"Nothing that concerns you," he replied.
Ignoring him, Weasley stood from her chair, almost sending the inkwell flying. "I've seen that before… I was looking for it the other day. Spagyric. It was written almost a thousand years ago, and that's the only remaining copy!" In her eagerness, she seemed to have forgotten whom she was talking to. Scorpius found that even more unsettling.
"How interesting," he said in a monotone, taking a step backwards as she advanced towards him, reaching unconsciously for the manuscript. "But if you don't mind, Weasley…"
She seemed to snap out of her reverie then, and halted abruptly, her hand still outstretched. Her eyes flicked to his, suspicious. "Why do you want it?"
"To engineer my masterplan against your family, of course," Scorpius said with a sneer. "Why else?"
"Oh, very funny. Here – at least let me have a look at it!"
"And why would I do that?" Scorpius moved the manuscript higher so that she could not reach it; he was a few inches taller than her. It was almost amusing, to see the surprised indignation that filled her blue eyes, as though he should not dare to refuse her anything. Of course, she must be used to having things her own way.
Weasley withdrew her hand and resorted to glaring at him instead. "Why are you reading it?" she demanded once again, then sighed. "Of course. Of course. You signed up for Alchemy too, didn't you?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did." Scorpius raised his eyebrows. "Is that a problem for you, Weasley?"
"Not at all," she replied with hasty nonchalance, but he saw her eyes dart to the manuscript once more. "I didn't know many other people had signed up, though. Only Ravenclaws, I would have thought."
Scorpius was about to mention that Jem had signed up too, then caught himself. Was he contemplating having an actual conversation with her? He folded his arms resolutely, and a vastly uncomfortable silence followed, during which the two students stood facing each other, with no sound other than the distant rustling of Madam Pince prowling among the bookshelves.
"Well, this has been interesting," Weasley said at last in a falsely bright voice. She resumed her seat and bent her head over her scrolls once more, though her eyes remained fixed on one point of the parchment. Scorpius remained where he was.
"Is that all, Weasley?" he heard himself say. "No apology?"
She raised her head slowly to regard him from the desk, her mouth tightening. "I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," she said coldly.
"Yes, you do." Scorpius knew he had fallen into the trap again; he could hear his father in his mind, telling him to keep his damn head down, to stay away from them, but he could not help himself – he needed to see that self-righteous hauteur of hers thoroughly deflated. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Weasley. I'm talking about your brother, and how he stole Polyjuice Potion, attacked one of my friends, tried his very best to hurt me as much as he could – and all he got for it was a little suspension. Does that seem a bit of a light sentence to you, or are you accustomed to your family pulling strings to escape the consequences of their actions?"
This time, when Weasley rose from the desk, the inkwell did go flying. It spattered her robes and poured the rest of its contents over the scroll of parchment she had been writing on. She did not even move to right it, her eyes fixed on Scorpius. "Shut up, Malfoy," she hissed. Two spots of colour had appeared in her cheeks.
"Funny. Your brother said the same thing to me yesterday." Scorpius smiled humourlessly, leaning back against the bookshelf once more. "I was under the impression that you weren't quite as violently unstable as he is, but maybe I was wrong."
Her face twisting with anger, Weasley started forward, her hand moving towards her wand pocket, then made a visible effort to stop herself. "The only unstable person around here," she said in a voice of forced calm, "is you, Malfoy."
"What an original response." Scorpius lowered his voice as Madam Pince's prowling footsteps drew nearer. "Between you and me, though, I think you'd better watch that temper of yours."
"Is that a threat?" Weasley said, and she was smirking now, that airy confidence returning to her features. Flicking her wand casually, she siphoned the spilled ink off her scroll, and blew it clean. Her anger seemed to have faded as quickly as it had seized her, though maybe she was hiding it well.
"Think of it more as as advice." Scorpius tucked the manuscript under his arm, savouring the hungry way her eyes followed it one more time. "After all, you and I are going to have to learn to cooperate peacefully, aren't we?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.
"It means that I'll be seeing you Monday night, at the Head Offices, for our patrol," Scorpius said coolly. "Nothing has changed."
Weasley stared at him. "But – how - "
Before she could articulate her stammerings, Madam Pince hobbled around the corner, her expression furious. "Careless girl, spilling ink on my desks! How dare you?"
"I can clean it up in a second, miss, it's all right - "
Smoothly, Scorpius stepped back among the bookshelves before the librarian could round on him. As he made his way back through the front of the library, Madam Pince's raised voice grew fainter, and he shook his head, smiling to himself.
Penny Alderton was most alarmed when she returned early from the Gryffindor tryouts, having mislaid her Gryffindor scarf, to find Rose Weasley seated at the base of the phoenix memorial in the quiet Entrance hall, wearing a murderous expression.
"Um… Rose? Is everything all right?"
The redhead looked up at her, with a slight sheepishness. "Oh, Merlin. You always seem to find me like this, don't you, Penny?"
"I don't mind." The blonde witch took a seat next to her, glancing up at the familiar line of names carved into the granite, of those who had died in the Battle of Hogwarts. Vincent Crabbe, Colin Creevey… "What happened?"
"I got thrown out of the library," Rose said furiously. "Just for spilling a bit of ink! And I was planning to spend the whole day there, to get all my work done… I've never been thrown out before!"
"Madam Pince can be very unfair," Penny sympathised. "But weren't you going to go to tryouts at all?"
"I dunno. My cousin Lily's trying out for Seeker, and I'd like to see her but – I don't really feel like being around a lot of people right now, you know?" She sighed.
"Yeah. I – I heard what happened last night."
Rose rounded on her, alarmed. "No one's supposed to know about that!"
"My brother told me, he wanted me to make sure I was careful. He made me promise not to tell anyone, though, don't worry. I'm sorry, Rose." The door to the entrance hall rattled with a phantom wind, and Penny noticed for the first time how cold the stone they were sitting on was; she could feel it seeping into her bones.
Rose was silent for a long moment, staring straight ahead. "It's really been… the worst week," she said at last, in a very small voice. Her head drooped, and Penny bit her lip.
Over the years, Rose Weasley's bossy manner had often intimidated her; she always seemed so sure of herself – but now, seeing her so sad and defeated… Well, it lended a strange boldness to Penny herself, that she was not accustomed to feeling in the red-haired prefect's presence. Slipping an arm around Rose's shoulders, she said kindly, "It's only the first week. You've had to go through a lot, I know, but things will get better. No one knows about last night apart from me, I'm sure of it."
"It's not just that." Rose's head drooped further down, and Penny suspected that she was hiding tears. "It's – I was furious with Hugo this morning. I said some things and I think… I think I really hurt him. And now he's gone. But I was so angry - I'm still angry, I don't know if I can forgive him for doing something so stupid…"
Penny sighed, thinking for a moment. Then she said quietly, "You know what I'd do, if my brother had done something like that?"
The prefect shook her head, and Penny squeezed her shoulders. "I'd forgive him, Rose. No matter what. And I know he'd do the same for me. Because we're family. It's harder for friends to forgive, but family… family's stronger."
The other girl said nothing, and Penny continued, "So write to him, Rose. Apologise for what you said. He'll understand why you were upset, and it'll mean the world to him, to know he still has you."
Rose straightened up at last and turned to her, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. She looked surprised. "You're good at giving advice - I never realised."
"I keep it quiet." The blonde witch smiled, and rose from the floor.
"Wait a minute." Rose wiped her nose discreetly on her robe-sleeve and stood with her. "Are you going back to tryouts?"
"Probably, yeah. It was a bit boring but I've nothing else to do, really. Why?"
"Well, I was going to head over to Hagrid's in a bit – my mum wanted me to pay him a visit and I won't get the chance again for a while, things have been so busy. Would you like to come with me?"
Without hesitation, Penny nodded. She did not say that how long it had been since anyone had invited her anywhere, and attempted to control the startled smile leaping to her features. "Yeah. Yeah, I would."
"Oooh… carry in your arms," Cassie crooned absent-mindedly under her breath, watching as her bishop moved across the board at her command. "And summon me with your cha-a-arms…"
Albus groaned loudly, and not just because his knight had just gotten whacked over the head with unnecessary violence. "Not that song…"
"What's wrong with it?"
They lay sprawled on their stomachs on the carpet of the common room, the chessboard between them. After Cassie winning ten rounds of Exploding Snap in a row, Albus had insisted they switch to wizard chess, a game he infinitely preferred to cards. The windows were cranked open to let the balmy autumn air in, and every now and then they heard a distant roar of the crowd from the Quidditch pitch, though neither of them acknowledged the sound.
"It's so cheesy," Albus grumbled. "And it makes a Dementor's Kiss out to be something romantic. The most horrifying fate a wizard can receive, worked into an upbeat love song? It just doesn't work."
Cassie shook her head. "You're such a swot. Two squares to the left." The last was addressed to her other bishop, who promptly obeyed. "OK, I'll admit that the lyrics aren't exactly a masterpiece, but…"
"You don't say." Albus raised his eyebrows sceptically. "C'mon, rhyming 'Dementor' with 'tormentor'? But I wouldn't expect much from the Sirens anyway. They're easily the worst band out there - one square forward."
"Rubbish." She swore as her last knight was knocked out and swept off the board. "Who would you count as the best, then?"
"Phoenix Tears," he said immediately, and now it was Cassie's turn to groan.
"Of course."
"What? They're fantastic!"
Cassie shrugged. "Five diagonal squares to the right," she told her queen, who nodded briskly. "Too mainstream for me. And their last album was just pretentious."
"It was experimental!" Albus winced as his rook was thrown to the side of the board by the gleeful queen.
"Right. So I suppose you'll be going to their concert in February?"
"You bet I am," he said enthusiastically. "The tickets sold out in less than a day, but my mum knows their manager – she managed to get us VIP seating and everything."
"Lucky." More cheering floated through the windows from the pitch, and they both stiffened. "I might just go and close those," Cassie said, with a glance towards her companion, who gave a quick nod.
When she returned to the board, he was staring downwards. "So… shall we play on?" she said, after a moment's silence.
Without looking up, her companion said, very quietly, "You wanted to know the real reason why I never go to tryouts, didn't you?"
Cassie nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on him. "Er - yeah. Sure."
His brow creased, and still he did not look up. "You were right. It's because of James."
There was a pause. Cassie frowned. "Well, I suppose that's understandable – I mean, it can't be easy to play on a team when your brother's the captain."
"Lily's played Seeker since first year and she manages fine." He looked up, past her, towards the window, his eyes distant through his glasses. "Besides, James has only been captain for two years. It started long before that."
"What started?"
"Everything." Albus shrugged, and then the words began pouring out of him. "James and I don't always get on, everyone knows that. When we were little, Mum and Dad had to put us in separate rooms because we fought so much. He was always playing pranks and making fun and stuff - but that was just the way he was, you know? I didn't mind too much. When I joined the team in second year, though, it got a whole lot worse. Maybe he thought that teasing me would help me feel accepted, or whatever, but… it didn't."
"I noticed that when I joined, too," Cassie said thoughtfully. "That James never seemed to leave you alone, I mean – but I always thought it was just a brotherly thing."
"Me too. And it was… it still is. Kind of." His green eyes met hers, anxious. "I don't resent James or anything - I mean, he's my brother, and we're really close - but sometimes he can just be…"
"A prat?" Cassie finished dryly, her own recent experience with the eldest Potter fresh in her mind.
"Yeah. He just takes over, you know?" Albus looked down at the abandoned chessboard again. "When I made Chaser, he'd always be showing me the right way to do everything – his way. I mean, he's brilliant and everything - but that was partly it, too. Some of the stunts he'd pull could just make me seem bloody… inadequate next to him."
"Hmm. I know how that feels." At his curious glance, the corners of her mouth quirked. "Being best friends with an academic genius can have its ups and downs. But Al, you're every bit as good a flier as James is."
She saw Albus smile but not quite meet her gaze. "That's nice of you to say. But it's not the truth, and we both know it."
They sat in semi-uncomfortable silence for a few moments, then Cassie cleared her throat.
"So – er – what made you quit? After second year?"
He hesitated. "Well, do you remember the last match we played, just before the summer holidays?"
Cassie screwed up her face for a moment, then grinned. "Ah. Gryffindor-Ravenclaw. Two hours of good, solid play and they didn't score a single goal against us. I remember it well."
"And… d'you remember who scored our last goal? Just before Holby caught the Snitch?"
"It was James, wasn't it? You didn't much of a look-in that match, as far as I can remember."
Albus shook his head, his eyes growing distant again as he remembered. "No. That was partly my own fault, but anyway… I finally managed to get possession of the Quaffle towards the end, and I was lining up in front of the goalposts with it, ready to take a shot – I had the right angle and everything, I just knew I was going to get it - and James came up below me, yelling at me to pass to him."
He looked at Cassie, swallowing hard, and for the first time, she could see how much the memory pained him. "You were defending at the other side of the pitch, so you wouldn't have noticed. Nobody did, really. The transfer was really quick – I had to pass it to him, because the Ravenclaw Chasers had surrounded me at that stage, and I couldn't take the shot."
"So he scored, and brought us up to a hundred-ten points," Cassie finished softly. "I remember it now. Even if Ravenclaw had caught the Snitch, we would've won anyway - because of that goal. Everyone was chanting James's name, we lifted him up onto our shoulders. Oh, Al, I had no idea…"
"No, it wasn't so much that." He sighed. "He deserved all the cheering; he'd scored loads during the match. But I dunno... he just couldn't trust me enough to take that one goal. He thought I'd miss. It was kind of the straw that broke the Thestral's back, I suppose. After that, I just couldn't do it anymore. So I told James I wanted to focus on studying. He was annoyed all summer, kept trying to change my mind, but I wouldn't let him. And I reckon… it was one of the best things I ever did."
They sat for a while, in the silence of the common room, then Cassie's queen started impatiently pounding the chessboard with her sceptre. "We'd better get back to the game," Albus said, jerked out of his reverie. "I… please, don't tell anyone what I told you. I don't want people to think I'm bitter, or anything. I got over it a long time ago. It's just that - "
"Hey." Cassie reached out, resting her hand on his shoulder, and looked him in the eye. "I can keep a secret. And I understand better than you might think."
Rose raised her hand and rapped smartly on the door to the hut. A moment later, it swung open and Rubeus Hagrid was towering above them, beaming all over his grey-bearded, wrinkled face when he saw who it was. "Rosie! So good of yeh ter visit – and yeh've brought – er - "
"I'm Penny," the witch beside Rose said nervously. "I share Rose's dormitory. "
"Well, come in, both of yeh! I'll make some tea – have something ter eat while yeh're waiting."
He waved them in cheerfully, and they stepped into the cramped hut, dim and smoky. Penny ducked under an overhanging string of sausages and took a seat next to Rose by the small table, while Hagrid bustled around, large joints creaking loudly as he bent to place a huge copper kettle over the fire. Before them stood a plate piled with rock buns; Rose smiled at the familiar sight and reached for one, suppressing an anticipatory wince as she sank her teeth into it. They were not as hard to chew as usual, however, and she cast a curious glance over at their host.
"Did you make these, Hagrid?"
"They're lovely," Penny supplied politely, as the gamekeeper trudged back to the table, seating himself across from them with another creak of joints.
"Nah, Goyle brought 'em over this mornin'," he said, taking one for himself. "Not as good as mine used ter be, I know, but it's been harder ter make 'em recently – yeh know." He held up his huge left hand up for them to see. A couple of the fingers were wrapped in makeshift bandages, and looked painfully swollen. Rose frowned in concern.
"Have you been to see Madam Pomfrey, Hagrid? Your rheumatism seems to have gotten worse."
Hagrid chuckled, setting the rock bun down on his plate again. "Just like yer mother, Rosie. Yeh'll make a great Healer someday. No, don' worry, it's jus' old age setting in – I can' avoid it forever. Good thing Goyle's around to help, anyway – I had me doubts abou' him fer a long time, but he's really got a way with the creatures. Maybe someday he'll make professor like I did, give poor old Grubbly-Plank a rest."
Rose refrained from saying that the day Gregory Goyle taught Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts would be the day that trolls developed negotiation skills, and merely took another bite of her surprisingly pleasant rock bun. Hagrid rose as the kettle began to whistle and lifted three cups from the shelf with some difficulty to fill them with tea.
"Are you sure you don't want any help?" Rose asked, but he waved her away, setting the steaming cups before them and resuming his seat.
"Don' worry, I can manage. So how's Albus been? An' James, an' Lily?"
"They're great. James is holding Quidditch tryouts today, and… I don't know where Albus is." She frowned for a moment, wondering if she should have invited him too.
"I visited yer mum a few days ago, just before the start o' school," Hagrid said quietly, his small black eyes suddenly solemn. "She's doin' well. It must ha' been a shock, though. Have you and Hugo been all righ'?"
"Yeah, we're OK." Rose felt Penny's gaze on her, and took a deep breath. "Er… have you heard anything about Hugo?"
Hagrid frowned, causing several new wrinkles to appear around his eyes. "No, I can' say as I have… Did summat happen?"
"Well, he got a bit upset last night and ended up hexing another student," Rose said in a rush, trying the ignore the pain of speaking the words out loud. "So he's going to take a bit of a break from school for a few months. I thought I'd better tell you, before you heard it from someone else."
"Wha'?" The gamekeeper nearly spilled his tea. "Hugo? Hex someone? He wouldn' hurt a fly!"
"I know," Rose said quietly. "But he hasn't been himself since it happened, Hagrid. I think - he wanted to help Mum in some way, or something."
"Blimey," Hagrid said, staring at her, his forgotten cup of tea before him. "I don' believe it. Who did he hex?"
"Scorpius Malfoy." She saw his face darken at the name, and he drained the last of his tea, setting the cup down with unnecessary force.
"O' course he did. Yeh can bet Draco Malfoy'll be down on us like a swooping Dementor when he finds out, too. They've always been a rotten bunch, them Malfoys. I never thought they'd go so far as to do… wha' they did to your mum, but after that - well, I reckon that Scorpius had it coming."
In the grim silence that followed, an insistent chittering could be heard from behind the back door of the hut, which stood ajar. Hagrid leapt to his feet so suddenly that he nearly toppled the table. "O' course, Nipper! Be back in a mo'."
He hurried out the back door, and Rose and Penny exchanged apprehensive glances. Their alarm increased a few minutes later when they heard a soft, gurgling sound issuing from the backyard, like that of a baby. "Er, Hagrid?" Rose called, trying to keep her voice nonchalant. "What have you got back there?"
The gamekeeper's face appeared in the crack of the back door, and he glared at her, pressing a finger to his lips. "Not so loud! I'm trying ter feed him!" He disappeared again. Rose looked at Penny, who had gone pale and was clearly regretting this visit, and mouthed 'sorry'.
Then, cautiously, she stood from the table and made her way to the back door, peering out. In the yard before the pumpkin patch stood a small crate made of willow branches strung together, over which Hagrid bent, dangling a piece of raw meat and cooing. A small, hairy creature, rather like an oversized cat except for its coiling stinger, leapt up from the crate, snapping its jaws together over the meat… its human jaws.
Rose clapped a hand over her mouth, and stepped back into the hut again, closing the door behind her. Penny had risen from the table, eyes wide. "What is it?"
"He's got the Manticore back there!" Rose hissed. "I didn't know he was still looking after it…"
"Oh, Merlin." All remaining colour drained from Penny's face, and she began to back towards the front door. "Do you think it's safe to run? Or will it see me?"
Before Rose could reply, the back door swung open again and Hagrid trudged in.
"Sorry abou' that," he said cheerfully. "Nipper was getting' hungry. He's a greedy little one. I haven't had Manticores fer years, getting hold of him was a stroke o' luck." Then, noticing the two girls' horror-struck expressions for the first time, he pulled short. "Wha's wrong?"
"Hagrid," Rose said tentatively, "Don't you think it's a bit dangerous to keep that Manticore in your back garden? I mean, he nearly killed some of us in Herbology the other day…"
"Codswallop," the gamekeeper said briskly, dropping back into his seat. "Nipper's just a baby! He couldn'ta killed anyone if he tried. Besides, Professor Hobspawn told me ter keep him nice and healthy until the Aurors sort it all out." Seeing that Penny was still standing, frozen, by the front window, he flapped his hand at her. "Ah, don' worry abou' it. Go on, sit down again. Nipper's busy eating, he'll stay out the back fer a while – though if yeh want ter take a look at him - "
"That's all right," Penny said quickly, her voice an octave higher than normal. "Thank you, though. I might go soon – I have to – get back to tryouts…"
"Wait just a minute, Penny," Rose pleaded, then turned back to Hagrid. "I've been meaning to ask – do you have any idea how, er, Nipper ended up in that Fire Seed Bush in our Herbology class?"
Hagrid's eyes lit with indignation. "I don'. But he didn' crawl in himself, anyway. Poor thing was shaking when they handed him over to me, didn' know where he was. Tha's why he jumped out at yeh – he was just so scared."
"Did he come from the Forbidden Forest, then?" Rose suggested, aware that Penny was still edging towards the front door, step by step.
"Maybe." The gamekeeper shook his head, enormous beard swaying to and fro as he did so. "But I don' think so, Rosie. I've never seen no signs of a Manticore colony in the Forbidden Forest, in all me years here. They prefer hot climates anyway, yeh know. Remember yer Care of Magical Creatures. Hobspawn said someone musta brought Nipper into the school, someone who didn' know a thing abou' his kind, or - " He abruptly shut his mouth, looking from Rose to Penny contritely. "I shouldn'ta said that."
"It was definitely someone in the school who put the Manticore there, then?" Rose said eagerly. "A student, or a member of staff?" With an effort, she pushed James's horrible suspicion from her mind.
"Blimey, Rosie, I don' know that! I shouldn'ta told yeh anything at all!" Hagrid stood up from the table again, running his fingers through his beard anxiously. "Look, yeh'd best be heading off anyway, yer friend wants ter go - "
"All right," Rose said reluctantly, rising to her feet. "Thanks for the tea. Penny?" She looked at her roommate, who was staring out of the window. "What's up?"
"It's – it's my brother," Penny said in a strange voice, pointing. Rose came to stand beside her, and, sure enough, through the grubby glass, she could see Geoffrey Alderton was striding across the lawn towards the hut, accompanied by two other Aurors. "But what's he doing here?"
"Yeh'd best be going," Hagrid said from behind them, a sudden apprehension in his voice. He practically pushed them out of the front door just as the Aurors were coming to a halt before the hut. They blinked in the sudden sunlight, eyes struggling to adjust. Penny stared at her brother as he passed them at a quick stride. The tall, fair-haired young wizard returned her gaze only briefly before turning towards the gamekeeper, who stood framed in the doorway.
"We'd like a word with you, Mr Hagrid. Is your assistant here?"
"Goyle's up at the castle," Hagrid said shortly. "Why?"
"This concerns him," the Auror to Geoffrey's left said, her face grim.
"Righ'. Come in then, come in." Rose and Penny heard Hagrid's gruff voice fading as the door of the hut closed behind them.
"Not bad," James Potter muttered to himself, running a hand through his spiky hair for what must have the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes. He stood in the centre of the pitch in his Quidditch gear, muddy from last night's rain, and watched Rory Finnigan release the Quaffle into one of the golden hoops. "Next!"
The swarm of students in the stands – which comprised most of the school – let out a whoop as the twelfth try-out for Chaser drew his broom down to land; his had been the most exciting throw yet. James sent a glower in their general direction. The only purpose they served was to distract the players, and delay the tryouts even further. As well as that, he suspected strongly that among them were spies from the other House teams, planted cunningly to report back to their captains about what they had observed of his own team-picking strategy.
"What time is it?" he asked his sister, who was standing nearby, broom tucked under her arm and red hair tied back in a high ponytail; she had already tried out for Seeker and was now performing her usual duty of aiding the captain in whatever he needed as he judged the various players.
Lily checked her watch. "Almost two. Should we break for lunch soon?"
"Merlin, yes." James sighed. "Oi, you! I can tell you're not in Gryffindor!" he added, raising his voice to an unfamiliar boy who had just mounted his broom, donning a red-and-gold striped scarf. "Whoever you borrowed that from, give it back to them and clear out of here." The boy scuttled away, and the Quidditch captain swore. "Bloody time-wasters. Next!"
Ten minutes later, the crowd of spectators trooped back through the muddy grounds to the school in a frenzy of wild chatter and shouts of laughter as they recounted the events of the tryouts. James lagged behind with two of his friends from seventh year, Philip Creevey and Lawrence Belby.
"I don't think we've ever had as many before," he said tiredly. "It'll be dinnertime before we get through them all, at least. Why am I captain again?"
"Dunno how you do it, mate," Philip said, clapping him on the shoulder. He was a boy with a close-cut crop of blond hair. "But we'll celebrate tonight, yeah? We can sneak into Hogsmeade again with that map of yours. How about it?"
"Sounds like a plan," James said earnestly, and Lawrence cleared his throat beside them. Tall and wiry, he had a quizzical way of raising an eyebrow that even James could not match.
"Have you two forgotten that we have about ten essays for Monday?" Seeing their sceptical expressions, his shoulders slumped. "Of course not."
"Ah, live a little, Belby. It's only one night anyway." The Quidditch captain came to a halt as they reached the castle doors, catching sight of his cousin and another girl emerging, both of whom wore extremely ominous expressions. "Oi, Rose!"
His cousin marched right up to him, grabbing his arm and dragging him away from his friends, a few paces across the lawn. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" she said sharply. She looked angry about something… then again, she always was these days.
James spread his hands. "You already are, coz. Listen, if this is about Cassie - "
"It's nothing to do with her," Rose interrupted. "When we were in the common room yesterday, talking about what happened with the Manticore – do you remember? You very nearly expressed a suspicion about who was responsible?"
"I… think so?"
"Did you tell anyone else?" she said urgently. "About your suspicion?"
"My rather reasonable suspicion about who might have been responsible for trying to kill you with that Manticore?" he clarified. "Well, it makes quite a bit of sense if you think about it – he used to be a crony of Draco Malfoy's, so who's to say - "
"Yes or no, James?"
"I may have mentioned something to one of the Aurors."
Rose visibly sagged in dismay; she looked like she might cry. "Why would you do that, James? Why?"
The seventh-year glanced around at his friends, who still stood waiting, and gestured to them to go on without him. Then he looked back at his cousin, and his voice was gentler when he spoke again. "I thought it might be worth considering. OK? Now what's the matter, Rosie? What's happened?"
"They've gone to question him," she said, regaining her composure enough to inject an accusing note into her voice. "Goyle. They came to Hagrid's hut when we were leaving to find out where he was, then went back to his quarters in the castle. Penny and I just overheard one of them."
"Oh." James frowned. "Well, it mightn't come to anything, Rosie. And if it does, well, the Aurors would have come to the conclusion without my help. That's their job. Why are you so upset about it?"
"Because it's not right!" his cousin exclaimed, actually stamping her foot on the grass in her agitation. "They're rounding him up as a suspect just because he used to associate with Death Eaters – it's too simple, too obvious! Almost like someone's set it up! Besides, Goyle doesn't have a shred of intelligence; how could he have thought of using a Manticore like that?"
"He might have just been a lackey, then. Following orders." James met her gaze. "But still involved. Apart from Hagrid, he's the most likely person to have had access to a Manticore in the castle. You have to admit it makes sense. And don't look at me like that, Rose."
"I'm not," she said with an effort, biting her lip. "I know you did what you thought was best, but – can't you see how wrong it all is?"
"No, Rose, I can't," James said impatiently. "It all connects up. Astoria Malfoy, then Gregory Goyle; both trace back to the same person. Draco Malfoy, who's always had a grudge against our family."
"Whose life your dad saved!"
"That doesn't change the fact that he hates Dad's guts! Maybe he's sick of being indebted to him."
She folded her arms. "Maybe you're clutching at straws."
"Or maybe you are. I'm going to lunch, Rose."
Grimacing, he sloped off, leaving his cousin standing still, intent on wiping away the sour taste in his mouth that her news had given him. He was not guilty. It was not his fault.
"Are you coming?" Penny said after James had gone inside; she had been standing some distance away during their conversation and stepped forward tentatively. Rose shook her head.
"You can go on without me. I need to think."
Her mind in turmoil, she wandered away from the castle, avoiding the path a few stragglers from the tryouts were returning on, and making her way down to the lake instead. The grass beneath her was damp; it stirred against her ankles with the breeze, and she felt moisture seep into the thin flats she was wearing under her robes. Beside the dark treetops of the Forbidden Forest, she could see a thin pillar of smoke rising from Hagrid's hut, and something tightened within her.
She had not been able to explain to James why it all felt so wrong. She did not think she knew herself. Nor could she help hearing the same words in her head, spoken over and over in that calm, cool voice.
Are you accustomed to your family pulling strings to escape the consequences of their actions?
Go on then, Weasley. Do what you do best. Ruin people's lives.
Shaking herself, Rose descended a sharp slope and stepped onto a rocky outcrop that faced out over a broad bowl of water. The lake stretched endlessly before her, grey and calm and still. She tried to be like it – to let its peace flood into her as she sat, slipping off her flats to dip her feet in, and closing her eyes. The events of the last two weeks fluttered madly in her head like wild birds – the wedding, Astoria Malfoy's sentence, the Manticore attack, Hugo hexing Malfoy, and now Goyle's questioning. James was right. They did all connect up. But not in the way he thought.
She was not sure where it had come from, this sudden doubt… whether she'd had it from the start, when she had stood watching her mother choke and clutch her throat, or if something someone had said triggered it within her, throwing previous assumptions she had made into sharp confusion. Growing up with the constant, underlying threat of danger to herself and her family, Rose had learned to trust her instincts. Her instincts were what had told her who was responsible for her mother's poisoning, and they had been proven right. But they had also told her that Scorpius Malfoy and his friends had stolen the Polyjuice Potion, and then it had turned out to be her own brother.
And now… now, as she sat before the lake, wiggling her foot around in the water, feeling it run over her skin like cool silk, they were telling her, insistently and earnestly, that Gregory Goyle was not responsible for planting that Manticore in her Herbology class.
Could she trust them?
Scorpius had settled himself in his favourite armchair in the Slytherin common room after lunch, which was nearly empty (most of his House had gone to Gryffindor tryouts, including Santini, though he had attended mainly to wrangle information about Potter's strategy) and set about writing an extraordinarily complex essay Professor Cattermole had assigned them on defensive wandless magic when Jeremy Sharpwood emerged from the dormitory. He wore plain Muggle clothes and held a thick-spined book open at arm's length, squinting at it through his glasses.
"Were you asleep all this time?" Scorpius asked, glancing up at his friend as he plonked down into an adjacent armchair.
"No, I was reading." Jem chewed on his lower lip, as he always did when he was thoughtful. "Bertrand de Pensées-Profondes had some fascinating ideas about necromancy. Makes one reconsider the very nature of death itself."
"Sounds… interesting." Scorpius never quite knew what to say when his friend was in one of his philosophical moods. It was made worse by the fact that he had not seen him properly since Potions the previous day. "So. How have you - er - been?"
"You mean since I was put under the Full Body-Bind, stripped of my own robes and glasses and crammed in a stuffy cupboard for two hours?" Jem said dryly, turning a page in his book. "Surprisingly well. PityI didn't get to see you prove Santini wrong at tryouts though. I was a bit… tied up at the time."
There was a pause, then Scorpius turned slowly to look at Jem, putting down his quill. "Did you actually just make a terrible pun about your traumatic experience?"
"Yes – yes, I suppose I did."
After a brief silence, both boys started to laugh. Their flood of mirth went uninterrupted for a solid minute, until Nina Meyer poked her head over the back of an armchair by the window to glare at them. "Would you two mind holding your heartwarming reunion a little more quietly? Some of us have work to do."
She moved out of sight again, and the two friends exchanged grins, then sobered up with an effort. It didn't matter – whatever tension had been in the air before had dissolved, and they were able to return to their respective projects in companionable silence.
The common room began to fill up once more as the evening drew in; the day's entertainment had at last come to an end since James Potter had chosen the last member of his team, and students were forced to resign themselves to the inevitability of completing their hitherto blissfully forgotten homework assignments.
A burst of familiar, deep-throated laughter made Scorpius glance up from his completed essay, which he was now proof-reading for any mistakes, to see Carlos Santini entering the common room. Then, with some surprise, he saw that Torrance was following behind, his arm slung over the shoulders of a smaller boy - Tobias Greengrass.
"Your cousin's a real terror, Malfoy," Santini said with a condescending chuckle as they dropped into the elaborately-carved armchairs. "Tell him what you did at the tryouts, Toby."
Toby? Scorpius thought disbelievingly. Since when was Carlos Santini on nickname terms with his family members?
He glanced at his cousin, who standing beside Torrance's armchair, looking exceptionally pleased with himself, and suspiciously ruddy in the face. Before the first-year could say a word, however, Torrance had reached over, ruffling his hair, and embarked on an explanation himself, grinning widely. "He – get this, Scorpius – he stole a Gryffindor's scarf and tried out for the team – not just once, but a few times, and ended up – get this – crashing one of the school brooms into the stands!"
"Potter wasn't happy," Tobias said proudly, then hiccuped.
"He's a terror!" Santini repeated, still sniggering. "A chip off the old block …"
Scorpius stiffened in his seat, his eyes shifting from his cousin to the Slytherin captain, but before he could demand just what exactly Santini thought he knew about Tobias's father, Jem broke in. He had put down his book when they arrived and was watching their antics with detached interest. "Are you two drunk, by any chance?"
"A bit tipsy," Torrance said cheerfully. "Saul Burke had a crate of Firewhiskey sent from home that he shared out with us on the way back. Seventh-years are so generous. We would've saved some for you two, but – y'know…"
Tobias gave another hiccup, and Scorpius's eyes returned to him, incredulous. "Don't tell me you gave him some too? He's only eleven, Merlin's sake."
"You're no fun, Malfoy," Santini said with a loud sigh. "It was just a sip. Besides, Toby deserved it for besting Potter like that!"
"My name's not Toby," the first-year said, sticking out his lower lip stubbornly. "Nobody calls me that."
Scorpius would have smirked at Santini's irritated expression if he had not felt so oddly discomfited by the entire situation.
"You should go back to your friends," he ordered his cousin, gesturing to the other first-year boys across the common room, who were casting curious glances at their friend. "Go on."
"But I'm having fun..."
"Yeah, Malfoy! Let him stay!" The two intoxicated sixth-year boys raised their voices in protest, but Scorpius ignored them.
"Tobias," he said firmly, "I can deduct points from you for stealing that Gryffindor's scarf, remember. Go."
"That was a joke," Tobias grumbled, but he went anyway, dragging his feet and glaring back at his older cousin as he wandered back to his fellow classmates.
"See you soon, Greengrass!" Torrance called after him, then looked at the Slytherin prefect in mock accusation. "Why did you never tell us your cousin was so cool?"
"I wasn't aware it would interest you," Scorpius said, with a bemused glance at Jem. Anxious to change the subject for reasons he did not fully understand, he continued, "Where's Orchid?"
Torrance shrugged, leaning back in his armchair and tilting his face towards the ceiling. "I dunno, she left tryouts early."
"Did you row?" Jem asked.
"What? No, no. She's just off doing her own thing."
While Torrance Bole had told a lie (he and his girlfriend had, in fact, held a heated argument the previous day, some of which Rose Weasley had overheard – this was partly the reason he had been all the more eager to consume Saul Burke's Firewhiskey), his last speculation was correct. Orchid Ottelby was indeed 'off doing her own thing'. At the precise moment Jem inquired about her absence, she was standing outside a door in a deserted corridor of the castle, along which shadows were lengthening with the onset of dusk.
"I know you're in there," she said quietly. There was no answer through the thick wood of the stubborn old door, but she continued nevertheless, inching closer. "And I'm not leaving until you answer my questions. I'm sick of being kept in the dark."
Silence. Orchid gritted her teeth, then bent, pressing her lips to the keyhole so she could be better heard. "I've risked everything for this. For you. So now it's time to tell me where I stand."
More silence. It went on for a few minutes. Then, in growing desperation, she pressed her forehead against the wood, then hissed, "I can be useful to you. You know that. Just let me in, and I'll do whatever else it takes. Whatever you need me to do. I can help."
Silence. Then quick, quiet footsteps from within. Orchid straightened up once more as the door slid open before her.
Rose stood in the empty Owlery, poised with a piece of parchment in her hand. Their family owl, Duke, beat down to her with a blur of tawny wings from a perch in the stone walls far, far above – where the wind whistled through the high, narrow space at the top of the tower. He landed on her shoulder and dug his talons into her shoulder with an expectant hoot, but she did not move, lost in her thoughts.
She thought about her father, and the slumped, defeated way he had held his shoulders as he walked out of the Headmaster's office that morning.
She thought about the stories he and their mother had always told them growing up – exciting, thrilling tales of their countless adventures at school. One of the popular favourites: how three plucky second-year Gryffindors had managed to raid ingredients from Snape's personal stores, brew Polyjuice Potion all by themselves, and use the disguises to sneak into the Slytherin dungeon and question Draco Malfoy.
And then she thought of Hugo, sneaking into Nott's office and raiding his personal stores. Putting the full Body-Bind on Sharpwood and locking him in a cupboard. Stealing one of his hairs and dropping it in the Potion, taking a swig. Pulling on the unfamiliar robes and glasses and making his way down to the Slytherin dormitory. Cornering Malfoy and taking his wand to question him.
The parallels were unmistakeable. There was no doubt that Hugo had drawn inspiration from their parents' stories to carry out his little plan. It was fairly straightforward, yet the realisation sickened her to the core. Because it was so unlike anything she had ever imagined her brother doing that it made her wonder... if perhaps what she had said to Lily before was true.
If someone could live in the same house with someone else for years and never truly know them at all.
Dear Hugo,
I'm sorry for what I said to you this morning. I'm still angry about what you did, but I think I can understand it a bit more now.
The truth is, I haven't been coping with what happened any better than you have. I can't stop worrying about Mum, and I haven't slept properly in days. Sometimes I feel like hurting someone too.
Wherever you are right now, whether it's the Burrow or Shell Cottage or our own farmhouse, I hope you're doing all right. I hope you're safe. I hope you know that I love you, and I'll try to be there for you more in the future.
Rose
But she couldn't send it. Not when she was still trembling with anger at the thought of what Hugo had done - everything he had risked. Tightening her fist around the parchment, she crumpled the short, forgiving letter in her hand.
"Sorry, Duke," she said quietly. Shaking her head, she lifted the tawny owl off her shoulder to let him flap disgruntledly back to his high, cold perch, and walked out of the Owlery.