Disclaimer: Copyright J.K. Rowling
"Rose! How lovely to see you. Please, sit."
"Thank you, professor." Nervously, Rose Weasley assumed her seat, a soft chintz armchair, and glanced around at the office.
It was cosy and homely; the latticed windows were hung with light blue curtains, a mahogany desk was pushed back against the far wall, and the line of bookshelves next to it held broad-spined histories detailing the establishment of the Statute of Secrecy, the burning of witches in the Middle Ages, and more bold, modern titles like The Best of Both Worlds: How to Be a Magical Muggle and Charity Burbage: A Martyr for Muggles.
"Feel free to borrow any books you want," Lara Stebbins said generously. A thick-set witch somewhere in her forties, with brown, shoulder-length hair and milky white skin, she had the kind of unremarkable face one would pass on the street and barely notice - except for her eyes. A startling orange, they stared out of her otherwise plain face behind her reading spectacles, almost as a reminder to anyone who encountered her to look twice.
She occupied a similar armchair, situated across from Rose's own, and on the part of wall directly above her, a plain white poster hung, bearing the simple message in red: Muggles are not Monsters!
"Thank you, professor," Rose repeated, and now she felt distinctly uncomfortable.
Her palms were sweating; she wiped them discreetly on her robes and made a pretence of scanning the remaining titles on the shelf.
She did not think she had ever held a conversation with Professor Stebbins before; there had been no need to take her subject in third year, as Hermione Granger had been conscientiously educating her children (and, to a lesser extent, her own husband) on all Muggle matters since they had been born. Perhaps if she had taken the subject, though, the prefect now reflected, she would be more prepared for the current scrutiny of those unsettling orange eyes.
"At these meetings, you may call me by my first name," the Muggle Studies professor said graciously. "In fact, I would prefer it. Here, I'm just a listener."
Rose blinked at her in confusion. "Er – thank you, prof - I mean… Lara."
"Not at all. So, Rose. What are you hoping to accomplish in these sessions?" Lara Stebbins leaned back slightly in her chair and regarded her intently.
I'm not hoping to accomplish anything. I'm only here because Hobspawn and my dad (how could he have agreed to this?) forced me. And I really would much prefer to call you 'professor'. "To deal with the trauma of my mother's attack?" she said instead, primly, and it was difficult to keep the tone of sarcasm out of her voice.
Stebbins did not seem to notice, nodding slowly. "And how do you think you will achieve that?"
Her eyes darted to the clock above the desk, once, twice, disbelievingly – they still had a half-hour to go. Get me out of here. "By learning to handle my emotions in a non-violent manner?"
This time, the lines in Stebbins's forehead deepened as she frowned. There was an uncomfortable silence that seemed to stretch and stretch, then the Muggle Studies professor straightened up in her chair, orange eyes blinking through her spectacles. "Is that what you think this is about, Rose? Do you think I agreed to these sessions so that I could keep tabs on you for the Headmaster? So I could make sure you don't pose a threat to the other students?"
"That is what I was given to understand by Professor Hobspawn, prof – Lara," Rose said, mentally wincing at the unnatural taste of using a professor's first name.
"Well, then I must tell you that you're mistaken, Rose," Stebbins said calmly, though she still looked surprised, and even a little indignant. "These sessions are for you. You and your family are going through a difficult time, and your father thought that talking over your problems on a weekly basis might be some comfort to you. I'm sure the Headmaster agrees. But my only part in this is to listen, Rose. To listen and give advice. Nothing we say here leaves this room. Nothing."
"So… I'm just here to tell you about my problems?" Rose tapped her fingers on her knee nervously. I have plenty of those. Still, she found it difficult to believe that these sessions would not serve the extra purpose of relieving Hobspawn's fears about her stability.
The witch nodded. "Whatever problems you may have – school, friends, family… That is, if you're willing to share them."
"And if I'm not?" Rose said carefully.
"Then we have several options," Professor Stebbins said soberly. "We could sit here in silence for the full half-hour, staring at each other, if you feel that would help, or…" She stood, went to the desk and pulled out one of the drawers, producing a round, floral-patterned tin. " – we could pass the time by finishing off these ginger newts and talk about whatever you want. Which sounds preferable to you?"
"I do like ginger newts," Rose said, smiling despite herself. "We can just talk about anything?"
"Anything at all." The professor held the tin out, and she plucked a little round biscuit from it, then returned to her seat. "And you can ask me questions too, if you like. If you're coming here every week, you ought to know a bit about me."
The sixth-year bit into her ginger newt, feeling more at ease. Looking around the office once more, she caught sight of a framed photograph propped up on the desk, from which two little fair-haired girls waved merrily from a grey beach, and blurted, "Are you married?"
"I was," Stebbins said, inclining her head. "My husband passed away a few years ago, but we had no children. I live with my sister now."
"Oh - I'm sorry." Though the professor's orange eyes were calm, Rose could sense the sadness in them, and it made her awkward. Hastily, she changed the subject, swallowing the last of the biscuit. "Professor Hobspawn said you were a qualified counsellor as well as a Muggle Studies professor. Why – I mean - "
"Why did I end up here instead of writing advice columns for Witch Weekly?" the older witch finished, looking slightly amused. "Incidentally, I did do that for a while, but to answer your question… You see, to be seriously considered for the Muggle Studies post in Hogwarts, which has been quite sought after since the end of the war, it's necessary to spend a certain amount of time without magic, incorporating yourself fully into the Muggle world. In my case, it was a year; I lived in Dorset and took classes in Muggle psychology."
"Was it difficult?" Rose asked disbelievingly. She could not imagine spending a week without magic, much less a year.
Professor Stebbins nodded, placing the biscuit tin down where she could reach it. "Very. But the classes I took during the year meant that when I returned to our world to study wizarding psychology, I had an advantage over the other candidates. After all, the way Muggles think isn't all that different from the way we think."
"Of course not." Her mother had always held to that conviction. "That's… interesting." Silence reigned once more, and Rose stared down at the stretch of the carpet between their chairs, the open biscuit tin standing in the centre. She could sense the counsellor's orange-eyed gaze, and it made her face burn. She could not think of anything else to ask. The minutes ticked on as they sat.
At last, Professor Stebbins spoke up. "May I ask you a simple question, Rose?"
"Y-yes." Anything to break this horrid silence.
"Why did you agree to continue patrolling with Scorpius Malfoy, despite what happened between him and your brother?"
Rose's head dropped, and she did not meet the other witch's gaze. That's not a simple question. "Because I didn't want to make more hassle for the Headmaster by demanding to switch patrols."
"But Professor Hobspawn would have been perfectly willing to do that." The Muggle Studies professor regarded her thoughtfully. "Is that the real reason, Rose?"
"Yes," she said firmly, looking up finally. "Besides, it's only a patrol. I reckon it could be a lot worse."
"You have your first patrol with him tomorrow night, is that right? How are you feeling about it?"
Rose smiled wanly. "Brilliant. Just brilliant."
There was no doubt that James Sirius Potter shared quite a few traits with his two namesakes, as well as his own father. One of them was, undoubtedly, his penchant for wandering the corridors of Hogwarts alone at night.
Perhaps it was in his blood, or perhaps having the Marauder's Map in his possession made it simply irresistible. Either way, there was nothing that he enjoyed more.
Wandering through the dark, unfrequented corners of the vast building with the map in his pocket, he could sometimes imagine that the whole castle belonged to him, that he knew every nook and cranny, every lovers' meeting spot, every concealed passageway, every place for hidden things… Which was impossible, of course - even a wizard with James's sizeable amount of self-assurance knew that if he wandered Hogwarts every day for the rest of his life, he still would not uncover all of the castle's mysteries. But still, it was nice to imagine once in a while.
On this particular Sunday night, however, James's wanderings had a specific aim. At a quarter to midnight, he left the Gryffindor common room (which was empty apart from, predictably, his studious cousin Rose, who had not attempted to prevent his departure due to a timely Disillusionment Charm) and crept down the main staircase, past sleeping portraits and through numerous shortcuts and narrow passageways that bypassed the patrolling Aurors, an inconvenient heightening of the school's security that, nevertheless, he had been forced to adapt to this year.
Predictably, the Entrance Hall held a couple of alert wizards and witches on guard.
James hung back in the darkness of the marble staircase for a moment, just out of their line of vision. It was times like these, he reflected mournfully, that his father's Cloak would really have come in handy. His Disillusionment Charms could only do so much. But of course, the head of the Auror Office's need was greater than his.
When the footsteps of the patrolling Aurors grew fainter for a moment as they moved towards the Great Hall doors, James slipped to the base of the staircase, keeping to the shadows, and, taking a deep breath, darted out onto the bare strip of floor, his back to the wall as he flitted across to the other side of the Entrance hall. He was at the dungeon entrance when one of the Aurors said to the other, "Did you hear that?"
He spoke in a low hiss, but it carried, and James pressed himself back against the stone of the door, trying his very best to be invisible. He could see the slowly advancing figures now, their shadows flickering on the floor – had they seen him yet? The war memorial was probably still blocking their vision… but either way, it was time for extreme measures.
Gritting his teeth, the Quidditch captain reached inside his pockets, drawing out a small, black horned object and dropping it to the floor, where it scuttled off into the darkness. A moment later, instead of an explosion, there came the sound of loudly echoing footsteps, moving past the memorial and away from the hidden student.
Turning, the Aurors followed the sound, and James wasted no time in drawing open the heavy dungeon door and ducking inside. As he descended the staircase, a satisfied smirk crossed his features briefly. Decoy Detonators had grown become more sophisticated in recent years; that latest model had not even been released officially yet.
The torches burned dimly on the walls; he moved between the dark spaces at a quick, quiet pace, glancing around each corner before turning it. When he reached the Potions corridor, noting that a bored-looking Auror was standing guard outside Nott's office, he came to a halt, stepping into a niche in the wall and pulling out the Marauder's Map from his pocket.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he whispered, tapping it with his wand. An intricate, minutely detailed blueprint of the castle appeared before him, and he smiled again when he saw. In the time he had taken to get down here, Professor Nott had left his quarters.
"Now, why would he do that?" James murmured to himself. Quickly scanning the map again, he located the dot labelled Theodore Nott in seconds; it was in a disused storage room near the Slytherin dungeon, with another dot whose name was vaguely familiar: Lesley Umfraville. Following the map's directions, he moved down the dark corridor once more, until he stood outside the correct door.
As he bent towards the keyhole, he could hear no voices emanating from the room inside, just a ringing noise in his ear. Damn it. They had taken precautions; of course they had. Well, so had he. He produced a pair of Extendable Ears, tossing one end under the gap at the bottom of the door, and pressed the other to his ear.
Suddenly, he could hear Nott's low, fluid voice as though the professor were standing next to him. He sounded agitated.
"... realise the threat my office is under. A break-in during the first week of school? Do you count that as normal? Students are already hostile towards me, because of my past – after this matter with Goyle, it will grow even worse."
"We cannot help that," said the other voice, a witch's. "Potter can't spare any more than a dozen of us for the school; we have to share out the number around the castle. The dungeons already holds four Aurors every night. Your office is only a tiny part of Hogwarts; we must - "
"My office holds some of the most dangerous substances in the castle," Nott interrupted. "If handled by anyone other than me, they could pose a huge threat to us all! It has already happened once – and what do you think the consequences might have been if someone worse than that Weasley boy had got their hands on a Polyjuice Potion?"
There was a pause. With a prickle of disappointment, James remembered why he had recognised the name; Umfraville was one of the seasoned Aurors his father had sent to Hogwarts. She had more influence than the others, which was why Nott must have requested a private meeting with her to discuss his security – nothing as clandestine as what he had been imagining. The witch spoke again, her voice sharp with suspicion. "And who is this worse party that you have in mind, Professor Nott?"
"No one in particular," Nott said shortly. "With the recent matter of Gregory Goyle, though, Umfraville, you must admit that Hogwarts is under threat from the inside as well as the outside. There are trusted individuals in this school who, perhaps, should not be quite as trusted as they are."
"Goyle has been taken to the Ministry for his trial," the Auror said calmly. "We kept it quiet, but news will spread by tomorrow morning. He is unlikely to return; the evidence against him is strong. The student who broke into your stores has also left, Nott; you have no cause to fear any more than anyone else in Hogwarts."
"But I do." Nott sounded forceful now. "Draco Malfoy's wife was arrested last week, his old schoolfriend this week. Who do you think is most likely to be next?"
"I don't know what you're implying, Professor Nott," Umfraville said, a hint of danger to her tone. "Both of these people you mentioned have and will be given fair trial; their connection is no more than a coincidence. I would advise you to refrain from speaking any more about it; in case anyone were to take your interest in this matter as… suspicious."
Nott started to say something else, but the triumphant James was suddenly distracted from the enlightening conversation by the sound of shuffling footsteps down the corridor. Cursing under his breath, he tugged the Extendable Ears back under the door, stuffing them in his pocket with the Map, and glanced backwards once, at the looming, hunched shadow of Argus Filch on the wall.
The ancient caretaker may not be as much of a threat to night-wanderers as he once was, his efficiency at patrolling the school corridors having been greatly reduced by the death of his cat, the irreplaceable Mrs Norris, but every student still knew better than to let themselves be cornered by him. As he slipped away from the door into the darkness, James allowed himself a final satisfied grin with his night's work. He had learnt more than he expected – now, there was nothing else for it but to run.
As Lesley Umfraville had predicted, the news of Gregory Goyle's arrest did indeed spread on Monday morning, to the extent that by mid-afternoon, it had dominated the conversation of almost every group of students in the school.
"I don't know how Hagrid's going to manage, with his rheumatism," Rose said at lunch, sighing.
As it was a particularly sunny autumn afternoon, its hazy warmth carrying a pleasing memory of summer heat that made them sweat in their thick robes, they had seated themselves at the edge of the courtyard – her, Cassie, Albus and Rory – watching the other students mill around. The girls sprawled on the grass while the boys leaned back against the stone balustrades behind them. "You should have seen him the other day, Al, his fingers are so swollen he could barely lift the cups to make us tea."
"They'll have to get him a new assistant, and soon," Albus agreed, his voice grim. The news had affected them worse than others due to their sympathy for Hagrid; most of the students were less than dismayed at the removal of a former Death Eater associate from the staff.
"But where are they going to find someone else like Goyle?" Cassie said. "Hagrid's been training him for years, and he's strong, able-bodied and fairly young. Do you think many other people will be lining up eagerly for the job after everything that happened last week? The Daily Prophet's already done a piece on Hogwarts having security problems – next thing you know, people will be dropping out of school."
"It's not quite as bad as that," Rory amended, stretching his back as he leaned against the balustrade.
"Yet. Let's just wait and see what this week throws at us," Rose said ominously. "Assassination attempts, student attacks, arrests; I reckon we've had it easy so far."
"Since when did you get so jaded?" Cassie demanded.
"Since my mum got poisoned."
"Oh, yeah." But, bizarrely, the redhead had started to giggle. Her friend turned to look at her in shock from where she sat in the grass, eyebrows raised. "Er… Rose?"
"I… don't know," Rose gasped between giggles, pressing her hands to her forehead.
The next moment, both girls were clutching each other and laughing, so loudly and wildly that several students nearby turned in alarm to look at them distrustfully, including the group of sixth-year Slytherins who were standing by the entrance to the cloisters. There was something hysterical in their laughter that made the others who heard it both curious and uncertain.
Albus and Rory exchanged mystified, and more than slightly embarassed, looks. "R-right," the former said after a moment, once Rose was wiping her eyes and Cassie gave a last snort, still shaking silently. "Back to – er – the matter at hand, this whole thing is going to make Hagrid look bad, too. And Merlin knows he's had enough suspicion in his life."
"But the baby Manticore came from outside the school. It's obvious Hagrid had nothing to do with it." Rose turned in the grass to glance at her cousin, her face serious once more.
"To us, yeah, and most sane people. But others will say he should have been keeping an eye on Goyle, that he should have known there was something funny going on."
"Hagrid's got good friends," Rory said sensibly. "He'll be fine."
They were all silent for a moment, then Cassie said, lowering her voice and glancing around to make none of the other groups were eavesdropping, "D'you think he really did it? Goyle?"
Albus frowned. A shaft of sunlight played across his face from the tree at the centre of the courtyard, reflecting off his glasses. "The Aurors must have arrested him for good reason, so I suppose I do. They're sometimes wrong, of course, but…"
"He can't have been more than a lackey, though," Rory said, looking around at the others. "Goyle's too thick to think of doing it himself, even if he had a motive. So that means that whoever put him up to it is still out there."
Cassie and Albus both sucked in their breaths. Rose, tearing a blade of grass carefully down the centre, did not say that she had come to the same painful conclusion two days before. Instead she said, abruptly, "Goyle didn't do it."
The others looked at her in surprise. Having torn the blade of grass, she twisted the two halves together, tightly, and did not return their gazes.
"How do you know that, Rosie?" Albus said at last, his voice gentle.
"I just do." This time she looked at him, her blue eyes resolute. "It doesn't feel right – any of it." Shaking her head, she plucked another blade of grass and added it to her pattern. "Maybe I'm wrong, though. I've been wrong before."
"Really? I didn't think you could be wrong about anything, Weasley," Rory quipped.
"Very funny." Looking around as her friends smirked at her expense, Rose saw that the groups in the courtyard were beginning to disperse. "I'd best be heading off now, actually." She stood from the grass, swinging her bookbag up over her shoulder.
Cassie looked up at her, shading her eyes from the sun. "Where are you going? It's free period next."
"I've got Alchemy. It's in the Astronomy Tower, so I'd better hurry. Wish me luck!"
"She's mad," Albus said affectionately as his cousin hurried away across the lawn.
The classroom at the bottom of the Astronomy Tower had not been used for years, its door concealed behind a thick, faded curtain. As Rose stepped inside, she was greeted by a waft of thick, musty air.
Gathering her books to her chest, her gaze ran around the old-fashioned desks that cluttered the high-ceilinged room; nearly empty, except for Malfoy and his Slytherin friend, Sharpwood, who were working to open the stiff windows, five Ravenclaws, and Nina Meyer, who sat alone at the very front.
Professor Nott moved his gaze slowly to her from where he stood, before a desk lined with various curious-looking vials set within wooden frames. "Sit, Miss Weasley. I was just about to begin."
Advancing quickly, before she could change her mind, Rose laid her books on Nina Meyer's desk and dropped into the free seat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Slytherin girl turning to look at her, and sensed her frustration, but fixed her gaze ahead stubbornly.
"For some reason or another, Alchemy has never been a popular subject at Hogwarts," Nott began as Malfoy and Sharpwood resumed their seats. "Though my predecessor, Professor Vance, was also qualified to teach it, I am informed that the last group to express an interest in pursuing Alchemy were the sixth-years of five years past. Students simply cannot find the dedication to continue it, along with the pressures of looming N.E.W.T.s. You may be an unusually diligent group, but - " His bespectacled gaze swept the meagre gathering of students, " – I can assure you that at least half of your number will give up before the end of the year. Yes?"
Scorpius Malfoy had raised his hand. "I was wondering, sir," he said, "If we would touching on the topic of spagyric at all in our course." His voice was serious, and he did not look away from the professor, but Rose thought she saw the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. She thought of that manuscript she had tried to snatch from him in the library, and gritted her teeth.
It means that I'll be seeing you Monday night, at the Head Offices, for our patrol.
Nott, however, looked surprised and slightly impressed, if mildly irritated by the interruption. Straightening his glasses, he said, "Yes, Mr Malfoy. We will devote a small part of our course to studying spagyric, as it is a lesser-known and more complex branch of Alchemy. However, our classes here will be largely theoretical, focusing on the four basic elements and the transmutation of substances.
'Alchemists in centuries gone by centred their studies on the discovery of a universal solvent, and a perfect remedy that would cure all diseases and grant eternal life, known as panacea. Which leads me to our first task today…" Moving about the room, he set a vial between each pair of students, then stood back once more, crossing his arms to face them.
"I have given each of you a known ingredient of this supposed perfect remedy, panacea, which was never completed. I wish you to study the properties of each of these alchemical substances, and, by the end of class, have identified them. You may begin."
Rose seized up the vial he had placed before them, which contained a yellowish-brown liquid, and stared at it curiously. "Well, it's an impure sample," she murmured to Meyer, as a low murmur of talk began among the other students. "But that much is obvious…"
"Weasley," the Slytherin girl said in a low voice. "What are you doing here?"
"I realise I'm the only Gryffindor – it must look strange." Reaching inside her robes, Rose produced her wand, and let it trail around in a sweeping motion. "I just thought Alchemy would be fascinating, though… It always seemed to me like a combination of Transfiguration and Potions, which are two of my favourite subjects – "
"No," Meyer interrupted, starting as an empty glass vial appeared out of thin air beside the other. "I mean, what are you doing here? Why are you sitting beside me?"
"Everyone else was paired up," Rose said innocently. "Aguamenti!" A stream of water gushed from the tip of her wand into the vial, filling it to the brim.
Some of it splashed across the scratched wooden surface of the desk, and the other witch wiped the drops away with her sleeve. The other witch wiped the drops away with her sleeve. "Nott didn't ask us to pair up," she persisted.
"But I wanted to." Rose capped the second vial. "I'm going to check if the substance dissolves in water."
Without a word, the Slytherin prefect drew out a shallow half-cauldron from her bag, and held out her hand for the vials. "That's not an answer, Weasley," she said as she poured the water in, following it quickly with the yellowish-brown liquid. They were both silent for a moment, watching the liquid dissolve until it was clear, and then Meyer gave a satisfied nod. "Well, there's our first property."
"See? We work well together. That's why I'm sitting next to you."
"Again, not an answer." Nina Meyer emptied most of the liquid back into the vial. "I know none of your Gryffindor mates are here, but that still doesn't explain why you didn't just sit next to a Ravenclaw." Reaching back, she tightened her long, black ponytail as Nott passed them by, glancing at their vials and murmuring his approval.
"This is just like Potions, isn't it?" Rose said happily.
"Weasley."
"Fine." The red-haired Gryffindor set the vial down and turned to her companion. "I haven't forgotten what you said to me the other day, all right, Meyer?"
Something in the other witch's face changed, and she quickly dropped her gaze, looking distinctly uncomfortable. After a moment, she said quietly, "So because of that, you've decided we have to be Alchemy partners."
"Well, who else would you like to be sit with?" Rose raised an eyebrow. "Kloves? Pratt? Davies? The only other Slytherins here are sitting together."
"I'd prefer to sit alone, actually," Nina Meyer said impatiently.
"But then you wouldn't identify the properties half as quickly, would you? Look, we're wasting enough time as it is." Flicking her wand, Rose set a flame under the cauldron. "Now, let's see how it reacts under heat."
Rippling sunlight spilled in the windows of the Gryffindor common room, dancing across the carpeted floor. All was silent except for the scratching of quills and the turning of pages; a couple of other sixth-years were studying there, including Albus, Jackie and Rory. Cassie stared at the rogue beam of light wistfully, her quill coming to an abrupt halt over the scroll of parchment on which she was meant to be writing a Charms composition. It had been a half-hour, and she had written precisely two lines.
All she could think about was the lush green of the grounds outside the castle, the sparkling blue of the lake, how the warm, silky breeze would feel on her face if she were flying, how she could rise above the white clouds and pretend she lived in another world…
Cassie stood abruptly, tucking her unfinished (barely started) essay into her bag, and muttered an excuse to the others, swinging out of the room. A smile crossed her face as she descended the steps two by two, ignoring the portraits' admonitions that she should be in class. She didn't care anymore – she just knew, deep down, she felt that need. It had been two weeks since she'd flown. Two weeks since her parents had confiscated her broom.
The wind beat her face as she stepped out of the castle doors. The grounds were deserted at this time of day, though she could see a knot of students making their way over to the Forest in the distance, presumably for a Care of Magical Creatures outing. They'd had those all the time in third year – she missed them, too. Those were the only classes she'd ever really enjoyed; out in the open air. But now it was all essays and exams and stuffy classrooms. All the subjects had melded into one in that respect.
Cassie pulled her robes over her head as she entered the broomshed; she was wearing Muggle clothes underneath. Her gloves were still in the pockets of her robes. She fastened them on her wrists, eyes adjusting to the dark, grubby interior. Various dusty models of broomsticks were propped haphazardly against the wooden walls – she saw countless Nimbuses, some old, bent Comets and even an ancient Cleansweep Five that had begun to rot.
After some deliberation, she reached for a battered Nimbus 2500. It had been years since she had flown any of the school-brooms… most of them could barely raise someone off the ground. Wistfully, she thought of her Starsweeper Fifteen back at home, the way it had responded to her slightest touch.
"I wouldn't choose that one, if I were you."
Cassie nearly jumped out of her skin. Turning, she saw James Potter leaning up against the doorway of the broomshed, watching her. "A Slytherin first-year crashed it in tryouts last week," he continued casually. "So it won't fly that well. Some stupid prank set up by Santini, no doubt."
"It's the newest model here," she contradicted. "Which isn't saying much. I'll just have to make do."
Holding the broom in one hand, she pushed past him and into the pitch, sunlight dazzling her eyes once more. Unperturbed, he followed behind, shading his eyes with a hand. "What are you doing here, anyway, Miller? Shouldn't you be in class?"
"I don't think that's any of your business." Cassie threw one leg over the broom; it bucked beneath her weight, and she over-balanced for a moment before righting herself.
"What did I tell you?" James said placidly from behind her, while she glowered straight ahead, slowing the broom's movement with her hands and readjusting it beneath her. "That Slytherin kid messed it up."
"It's fine," she said stolidly. "Now sod off, Potter."
He sighed, rather theatrically. "Didn't Rose give you the chocolate?"
"She did, yeah." Cassie focused on making her tone as cold as possible. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it." James moved around until he was in her line of vision. "Now, I'm curious, Miller. Why are you trying out one of the school's terrible brooms? Could this mean, perhaps, that your parents have reconsidered their decision to ban you from Quidditch?"
"No," she said shortly. "They still have my broom. But I'm not going to let myself get out of shape." The broom had ceased its bucking. She mounted it a second time, and this time, it did not move.
"A wise decision." James sounded thoughtful. "Getting on that broom, however, isn't…"
"I've been on worse. Anyway, it's the flyer, not the broom. Isn't that what you always say, Potter?" Cassie turned to meet his gaze for the first time, coolly. He arched an eyebrow and was silent for a moment, regarding her.
"It is, actually, Miller. Good to know I've been listened to. Well, if that thing chucks you to your death, don't say I didn't warn you." He strolled away, whistling complacently.
Shaking her head, Cassie steered the broom into the air cautiously. A slow grin spread across her face as it lifted off the ground and she felt that familiar weightless feeling. James's figure grew smaller beneath her, dwarfed by the green of the pitch. She was flying – jerkily, yes – but flying.
Nothing could possibly be better.
"Remember to put in your orders to Flourish and Blotts as soon as possible," Professor Nott called after his Alchemy students as they left the classroom. "Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science by Argo Pyrites!"
Rose caught up with Nina Meyer as they left the Astronomy Tower and descended a spiral staircase, the other Alchemy students following behind. "Well, that was quite impressive."
"You were the one who guessed it was impure," the Slytherin prefect muttered.
"But it was you who seized on the name first. I'd never have guessed it was something as ordinary as sal ammoniac." Reaching the bottom of the staircase, she continued into Meyer's stony silence, "So what did you think of Alchemy? D'you reckon you'll keep it up?"
"Probably, yeah." Nina Meyer sped up her pace as they reached the second-floor corridor, joining larger flocks of students coming from other classes; Rose matched it.
"Why did you choose it in the first place, if you don't mind me asking? Is Potions your favourite subject too?"
The other girl opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, Malfoy and Sharpwood overtook them in the corridor. They were talking eagerly amongst themselves about the lesson, but the former cast back a brief glance at them. His grey eyes slid over to Rose and then to Meyer, whose face visibly darkened.
"Leave me alone, Weasley, would you?" she snapped, after the pair had moved away.
"Why?" Rose said innocently. "Because your friends don't like me?"
Nina Meyer rounded on her, forcing them both to halt in the crowded corridor. Ignoring the passing students' stares, she placed her hands on her hips, eyes flashing with anger. "I don't like you, Weasley. I thought I made that fairly clear. You're arrogant and self-important and incredibly vain. Yes, I'll admit you're intelligent, too, and we do make a good team. But that's as far as it goes."
"Oh, don't pretend," the Gryffindor retorted impatiently. "You don't want to be seen talking with me because of them. Because you're a Slytherin. Haven't you ever listened to Hobspawn's speeches about the importance of friendship between the Houses?"
"And how many friends do you have outside your House, exactly?" Meyer demanded "What about family?" At Rose's frown, she raised her eyebrows. "I thought not. Don't follow me any more, Weasley. Outside class, we don't speak."
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she strode off after her friends, who had disappeared down the next staircase.
Albus Potter sighed, tucking his quill and parchment back into his satchel as he left the Gryffindor tower behind. He had just about managed to finish that Defence essay during study period, despite some wearisome interruptions. However, he hadn't written a line for Transfiguration, and that was due tomorrow. It was only the first full week of classes, and his head already felt fit to explode.
He took a familiar shortcut to Professor Cattermole's classroom on the first floor, ducking under a tapestry and descending a narrow staircase, and, rounding a corner, barrelled straight into Summer Birchgrove.
"Damn it, I'm so sorry – I wasn't looking where I was going – here…" Handing her books back, which would have tumbled to the floor had he not caught them, he mether eye, and faltered. Her blonde hair was dishevelled, unadorned by the usual flower, and she was breathing heavily, as though she had been running.
Wild-eyed, she seemed to barely see him, tucking the books under her arm once more. "It's fine, I wasn't looking where I was going either." She made to hurry past him – some mad instinct, however, drove him to reach out and catch her arm. When she met his gaze, surprised, he hastily dropped his hand again.
"Sorry – I just – is something wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing." The Hufflepuff prefect was moving again, ascending the stairs rapidly. Her voice was panicked. "I just – need to find Professor Hobspawn…"
"Summer." Without a second thought for the Defence Against the Dark Arts class he would be late for, Albus followed her, back onto the third floor. He knew what Rory would say - that it looked desperate, to run after a girl when she clearly didn't want him around - but suddenly, he didn't care. Planting himself in front of her as they reached the top of the steps, he said decisively, "Summer, wait. What's happened?"
"I just…" She ran her hands through her hair feverishly. "There isn't anything you can do to help."
"Try me." Where was this sudden bravery coming from? He didn't care about that either. All he cared about was that his heart was suddenly pounding, as it always did these days in her presence, and the bright, agitated flush of her cheek, the way her perfect teeth were gnawing on her soft lower lip, which was quite distracting… Albus shook himself. All he cared about was that Summer was in trouble.
"OK." She took a deep breath, and spoke the next few words haltingly, as though they were painful to her. "The Aurors are going to have that baby Manticore killed."
Whatever words Albus had been expecting her to say next, they had not been remotely to that effect. He blinked, then straightened his glasses, and said slowly, "Er… Really?" And this is bad… how?
"Yes!" Summer exclaimed. "I was taking a walk across the grounds after lunch because it was such a lovely day… and I ran into Hagrid and he seemed really upset. I thought it must be about Goyle being arrested so I asked him but it wasn't just that – he told me they're going to kill that Manticore because he's too much of a threat to the students! A baby Manticore! Have you ever heard anything so cruel?"
"I… er, well..." Albus scratched his head. "Didn't it try to attack you, though? I mean, weren't you scared?"
"Of course I was scared – but so was the poor Manticore!" the Hufflepuff said passionately. "How do you think you'd react, if someone stole you and put you in an environment you'd never encountered before?"
"I – I suppose I'd be scared, yeah, and angry…"
"Exactly! And isn't it just heartless of them to upset Hagrid even more, after everything that's happened with Goyle?"
"That is heartless," Albus said, with more certainty this time – because he honestly hadn't seen it that way until she said it.
Summer sighed, an unbearable sadness in that sweet little exhalation. "I knew you'd understand. But they don't. All they see is a vicious monster. And that's why I have to go and talk to Professor Hobspawn." Her jaw set stubbornly, she stepped past him again, and he turned to watch as she hurried away, her blonde hair tumbling down her back, catching a glimpse of a bare, tanned ankle beneath the hem of her robes.
"Didn't you know Summer loves animals?" Jackie Saunders questioned with a chuckle as they sat in Defence ten minutes later, while the rest of the class was handing up their essays. "It's not exactly a secret. She wants to be a Magizoologist."
"You should see her in Care of Magical Creatures," Cassie supplied, leaning over the adjacent desk on her way back from the front of the class. "Grubbly-Plank has to physically restrain her from handfeeding a Salamander today."
"But that thing nearly killed her! I don't understand it."
"Baby Manticores aren't that deadly anyway," Jackie quoted with a smirk, then nudged him apologetically. "Seriously, though, does she think she's going to change Hobspawn's mind? He can't order the Aurors around, that's…"
"…my dad's job," her classmate finished wonderingly. His eyes widened.
"What?" Jackie said, but most of the class had returned to their seats and Professor Cattermole, a young, petite witch with honey-coloured hair, was clapping her hands together for silence.
Albus stared down at his textbook as she began to speak, which was open on the page detailing the history of the Imperius Curse. He'd had an idea.
"So what did Weasley want earlier, after Alchemy?" Scorpius asked curiously, just as the steak-and-kidney pie appeared on their plates. "I saw her talking to you." All attention at their corner of the Slytherin table turned to Nina, who flushed.
"Nothing," she said shortly, cutting a piece of pie with her knife. "She was just asking me about homework."
"You seemed awfully chummy with her in Potions the other day," Orchid commented, after exchanging a glance with Torrance, who sat on her other side. The two had made up their argument, rather noisily, the previous night, and Santini, Jem and Scorpius had found themselves unusually united in wishing they hadn't.
"Nott paired us up – what was I meant to do about it?" Nina defended without looking at her friend. Promptly, she lifted a forkful into her mouth so that she could not be asked anything else.
"It's been a strange day," Jem narrated after a few minutes' eating in uncomfortable silence, listening to the eager chatter of the younger years down the table. "What with the arrest and everything… I must say, I wasn't expecting it."
"Me neither," Santini said with a shrug, "But Goyle had a history of associating with Death Eaters. It figures that he'd try to attack a Weasley."
He did not look at him, but Scorpius caught the full sting of his words, and clenched his fist under the table. That familiar image returned – of his mother clad in grey, thin and pale and wasting away in her prison cell. Classes and Quidditch had proved sufficient distractions before today; it had been easy to feign normality, just as his parents wanted. But since news of Goyle's arrest had gotten out, there had been little else he could think about.
"I think there's something fishy about it all," Nina said, swallowing. She seemed relieved that the conversation had moved on.
"What are you talking about?" Orchid said sharply.
"I agree," Torrance broke in, without looking at his girlfriend. "The school doesn't seem to be making a big deal about it – as if members of staff get arrested every other week. And those Aurors don't seem to be doing their job very well, either. How many disasters have they prevented so far?"
"I don't mean that, exactly." Nina shook her head. "I mean – first Astoria Malfoy - " She brandished her fork at Scorpius, bluntly wading into the taboo subject the rest of them had been carefully avoiding. " – and now Gregory Goyle. Both arrested for attempts on a Weasley's life. Do the rest of you not see the connection, or are you just ignoring it?"
"We see it, Nina," Orchid said, her voice icy. "But the difference is, we know better than to bring it up with Scorpius sitting right here."
"I don't mind," Scorpius interjected before Nina could reply. Five pairs of surprised eyes turned to him. "She's got a point. There is something strange going on."
"And there are questions that need to be asked," Jem added. "Like - "
"Look, it's Toby!" Santini interrupted, so loudly that several Hufflepuffs at the next table swerved around. The chubby, dark-skinned first-year had appeared out of nowhere at Scorpius's side, clutching a rolled-up piece of parchment.
He grinned as Torrance reached across the table and clapped him heartily on the back, while Orchid rolled her eyes. "How are you doing, Greengrass? Did you give that Gryffindor scarf back yet?"
"No way," the first-year said emphatically. "I might need it again."
"Tobias," Scorpius interrupted, turning around in his chair just as the chocolate pudding materialised on the gleaming plates before them. "What are you doing here?"
Somewhat reluctantly, his cousin held out a rolled-up piece of parchment. "I'm supposed to give this to you. It's from one of the professors – I don't know her name, the fat one with frizzy hair…"
"Professor Harris." Scorpius took the parchment, nodding a thanks to his cousin. As he was unrolling it, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Torrance leaning over and handing Tobias something.
"Thanks!" the first-year said eagerly, pocketing whatever it was hastily.
"We're supposed to confiscate those," Nina said immediately. She had been watching the exchange silently. "Here, Greengrass, give that back."
"Better run," Torrance said to Tobias, a slight smile on his lips. "You don't want Meyer to deduct points, do you?"
Obediently, the first-year scampered off to the other side of the table, where the Bloody Baron was floating lugubriously, in earnest conversation with his friends. Scorpius frowned, then glanced up from his parchment. "What did you give him?"
"A screaming yo-yo, if I'm not mistaken," Nina said, glowering at Torrance. "Those things are strictly off limits, ever since Peeves got a hold of a pile of them in fourth-year, do you remember? My ears wouldn't stop ringing for a month after."
"Ah, let him have his fun, Nina," Santini said mildly.
"What did Harris want?" Jem asked once Scorpius had rolled up the piece of parchment, tucking it into his pocket once more. "Was it about Charms club?" His regret instantly showed on his face as his friend shot him a furious glance, while the rest of the group reacted to this surprising piece of news.
"Charms club?" Torrance repeated incredulously. "You're going to join Charms club?"
"Professor Harris wanted me to," Scorpius said quietly. "I don't think I'll have time, though, with Quidditch and everything."
"Damn right you won't!" Santini exclaimed. "Malfoy, if you end up skipping training to go to this…"
"I'm not going to skip training," Scorpius snapped. There was a beat of tense silence as he raised his eyes to glare at the Slytherin captain. Why was it that these days, he had to constantly repress the urge to hex Santini?
"I think it's a good idea." Nina was looking at Scorpius thoughtfully. "Charms club's meant to be very rewarding."
Santini snorted. "Yeah, if you're a Hufflepuff girl."
"Miller. Hey, Miller!"
Cassie turned as she was crossing the entrance hall with Jackie after dinner, to see James Potter striding up to them. He was clad in Quidditch gear, and looked serious as he came to a brief halt before the two girls.
"I've something to show you," he said shortly. "Follow me."
He strode away without waiting for a response. Cassie exchanged glances with Jackie. "It could be more chocolate," the latter suggested. "Maybe even better chocolate."
"Well, that settles it," Cassie said dryly, and made her way over to the castle doors through which James had disappeared.
They had been thrown open to let in the evening air, which was warm and breezy. Light clouds scudded across the pale blue sky like spilt milk, cast with faint pink streaks that foretold sunset. The thick, spicy smell of pines drifted towards her from the Forbidden Forest as she stepped outside, along with the scent of freshly-cut grass and lakewater.
She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing it all in, then set off across the sloping grounds after Potter's retreating figure, curious despite herself.
"I knew you'd come," he said, turning with a grin as they reached the Quidditch pitch. A couple of Gryffindors were jogging across the green to warm up for training, and Cassie swallowed rapidly as a lump rose in her throat. She saw Rory, who raised his eyebrows at her curiously. "You still haven't got out of the habit of following the captain's orders, have you?"
"Potter, if you're trying to get me to train or something…" Cassie began uncertainly, but he shook his head.
"I know, your folks won't let you, I got that much from our last talk. Here." He came to a halt outside the broomshed. "You first."
"Do you realise how dodgy this looks?" Cassie remarked as she stepped inside.
"Don't worry, Miller, I don't snog my cousin's mates," James retorted as he followed her into the broomshed, ducking his head under the low entrance. "Or sixth-years in general. Well, for the most part - though I might make an exception for the lovely Miss Birchgrove."
"That's not creepy at all. And I'm still angry at you."
"I did apologise." James frowned. "Well, kind of. And I got you chocolate. Did you even eat it?"
Cassie sighed. "Why are we here, Potter?"
The Quidditch captain moved a few paces to the left, until he was standing before the line of broomsticks. There was one that had not been there before; he made an elaborate, sweeping gesture towards it with one hand. "May I present… the newest model in Hogwarts."
Cassie blinked, then moved forward. Her dark fringe fell over her eyes as she took the long, smooth broomstick in her hands, brushing off the thin layer of dust over the handle. The golden registration number was written there, and below it, in spidery, shiny writing: Firebolt Four. She breathed in sharply, then ran her hand lightly over the glossy wood. It responded to her touch, the neat twigs slicing cleanly through the air until the broom was horizontal in the air before her.
"Go on, take it for a test flight," James said from behind her, and she jumped; she had forgotten he was there. Slowly, she turned to face him, keeping one hand on the gently hovering broomstick.
"Where did you find this? It's new."
"Not new." James grinned. "Just very well-kept. That model's at least three years old."
"It's a Firebolt, though. No one donates Firebolts to the school, they're too rare." Cassie stared at him. "Is this your old broom? You always fly on a Thunderbolt…"
"Nah - Lily's. She's flown it since she made Seeker, but Mum ordered her the latest Starsweeper for her birthday last month. It finally arrived this morning, so this broom is now ownerless. Lily was going to send it home, but I persuaded her to donate it to the team instead."
"You…" Cassie looked back at the broomstick, and felt something tug sharply within her. She wanted it, she wanted it so badly that the next words hurt. "I can't take this."
"Why not?"
"Because it's your sister's, and it's a great model, and if you sold it you'd make hundreds of Galleons. And - " Frowning, she forced herself to keep going. "I'm not allowed to fly anymore."
"So you're really going to let your parents dictate everything you do? Didn't you say earlier - "
"No!" She was talking more loudly now. "Of course I'm not! Borrowing schoolbrooms is different, but taking this… I still can't play Quidditch, James, I can't go against them that much."
"I didn't think you would." James folded his arms. His voice was direct and authoritative now, the kind of voice he reserved for pep-talks before matches. "But if your folks decide at any point this year to stop being prats and to actually let you do what you love… Well, like you said earlier, it's important to stay in shape. And it would suit the team better. Which is why it would be a lot easier for all of us if you just took this broom out every once in a while."
Cassie was silent for a moment, turning towards the broom again and mulling over his words. Then, hesitantly, "All right."
"Good." He sounded relieved. "I've got to get to training. You should probably take the Firebolt with you than rather than leaving it here in the shed for more first-years to vandalise."
He was ducking under the door again when Cassie said, her voice quiet, "Thank you."
James Potter did not turn, but simply lifted a hand in acknowledgement.
"Any time, Miller."
"So, do you think you'll go to Charms club?" Jem said in a undertone. The library was packed with students who had returned from dinner to get started on their homework, and Madam Pince was busy, hushing here and glaring there, rising from her desk every so often to guard the bookshelves and survey the desks.
"I don't know," Scorpius said, raising his eyes from Complex Runology to meet his friend's gaze. Nina, who was sitting across from the two boys, shot an annoyed glance at a group of giggling Hufflepuff girls loitering by the Herbology section nearby and leaned over the table, curious. "My patrol isn't till ten tonight, and I don't have Quidditch training or anything, so I could easily make it."
"I can't believe they're still making you patrol with Weasley, after everything that happened," Jem said loyally.
"Yeah." Scorpius had not told his friends what had happened in the Headmaster's office. He knew they would not understand why his pride had compelled him to convince Hobspawn to change his mind about the patrols – to be perfectly honest, he barely understood himself. Frowning, he looked at Nina. "What were you talking about with her earlier?"
The Slytherin prefect shrugged, looking away. "Nothing much. She was just asking me if I liked Alchemy."
"She must be up to something," Jem said, with a glance at Scorpius. "Maybe she's trying to get at you through your mates."
"Maybe," Scorpius said grimly.
Nina, however, looked uncertain. "I don't think that's why she talked to me – I think it's because I - " Abruptly, she shut her mouth, and the two boys exchanged looks.
"Because you what?"
"Nothing, it doesn't matter." Seeing their sceptical expressions, she sighed. "I'm quite sure Weasley was just being friendly. OK?"
"Just being friendly?" Jem repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You, Nina Meyer, are one of the most suspicious people I know. You're telling me you don't think Weasley had an ulterior motive in talking to you?"
"No, I don't," Nina said after a moment, shaking her head. "You want to know what I think? I think you're asking the wrong questions, Jem. Noticing the wrong things. Both of you are."
"And what are we meant to be noticing, exactly?" Scorpius interrupted, feeling a surge of impatience, but before his classmate could reply, a fourth voice cut into their conversation, jarringly close by.
"The library is closing soon!" Madam Pince materialised from behind the shelves, causing several blameless students at their desks to promptly leap out of their skins. Her expression as she gleefully wielded her authority as timekeeper was almost a match for Filch's. "Pack up your things!"
"Merlin, it's ten to eight already," Nina swore, getting to her feet. "I'd better get to Gobstones." Gathering her books together, she hurried out as the rest of the library were beginning to reluctantly stir from their seats, followed by the two boys at a slower pace.
Once Jem had taken his leave, too – heading up to the Owlery to post a letter – Scorpius was left alone in the corridor as students issued from the closing library all around him, thinking hard. He took out the piece of parchment which had been burning a hole in his pocket since dinner, and read it for what must have been the tenth time.
Dear Mr Malfoy,
The first session of Charms club will take place tonight at 8 p.m. If I'm not mistaken, the Slytherin Quidditch team do not hold training on Mondays.
Belinda Harris
He knew what his father would say. It was a waste of time, self-indulgent, a needless distraction from study. His mother might be more supportive (she usually was) but would she think joining Charms club was a good idea? Probably not.
Slowly, Scorpius began to walk along the corridor, still thinking. That other day, though, in Charms, when he had made the glass bowl dance in the air, he had felt something more than triumph. He had felt… like himself. Like when he was flying.
Surely that had to count for something, regardless of what Santini or Torrance or his parents thought.
He had reached the doorway of the Charms classroom and was standing there uncertainly when he heard a familiar voice behind him.
"Scorpius?" It was Diana Turpin, the petite, brown-haired Ravenclaw witch with whom he'd had a brief relationship in fifth year. She did not look bothered in the least to see him; on the contrary, she looked vaguely amused. "Are you joining Charms club?"
Scorpius opened his mouth to respond in the affirmative, then closed it again as the group of Hufflepuff girls who had been making noise in the library tripped past, giggling amongst themselves and casting furtive glances at the Slytherin as they entered the classroom. Santini's derisive words echoed in his mind, and he found himself shaking his head.
"No," he said in a monotone. "No, I was just taking a shortcut."
"Oh." The witch smiled. "Right, I was wondering. I'm just handing in some overdue work to Professor Harris." She stepped into the classroom, and Scorpius turned on his heel, walking briskly away before he could change his mind. Only one word kept resounding in his mind as he descended the stairs to the dungeons.
Coward.
"I wasn't expecting to see anyone here this late."
Rose's head lifted from the parchment, startled, to see Albus entering the Owlery. The sun had set a few hours ago, and the vast tower-room was now shrouded in dusk, lit dimly by a couple of tiny suspended lanterns.
"I'm on my way to patrols," she explained. "Thought I might as well send an order to Flourish and Blotts for our Alchemy textbook before I forget."
"Oh, yeah, Alchemy. How was that?"
"Good. Nina Meyer's a bitch, though." Rose sealed the parchment, fastened it to Duke's leg and held her arm out to let him flap to the nearest window. They both watched him plunge into the growing darkness, then she turned. "Who are you writing to at this hour?"
Albus tried to look nonchalant, and did not quite succeed. "My dad."
"Nothing serious, I hope?"
"Not really. Well…" He appeared to be mulling something over. "I know he isn't happy with the way things are happening recently. Lily got a letter from Mum a few days ago, and… the Aurors here have been making a few decisions without consulting him, apparently. Arresting Goyle was one of them, but when the evidence seemed to be against him, Dad had to allow it to continue. And, well - I heard today that they're planning to kill the baby Manticore, and…"
"Who told you that?"
Her cousin paused, then, reluctantly, "Summer."
"Ah. I see." Rose smiled knowingly.
"Listen, it's not like that." Albus ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not just thinking of her, I'm thinking of Hagrid too. You told me how much he loves that… that thing, and knowing everything that happened with the Hippogriff when our parents were at school, well – I reckon he's gone through enough with his pets. You know?"
"Absolutely." With a Herculean effort, Rose straightened her face. "And you think your dad will put a stop to it?"
"Having that Manticore killed doesn't seem like the kind of decision he would have made." Albus whistled, and his eagle owl descended from the high perches to rest on his shoulder. "But I could be wrong."
(***)
Rose was used to being early for most things, and being forced to wait an inordinate amount of time until the other party arrived. As she stood outside the Head Offices, however, tapping her foot on the carpet, and the clock ticked to five past ten, she began to wonder whether Malfoy had been attacked again. If so, how wonderfully convenient for him,she mused. Perhaps the whole affair with her brother had been elaborately staged, just to avoid patrolling with her.
It was a bizarre thought, and she found herself smiling at it. Then, at the sound of approaching footsteps, she straightened up, to see Scorpius Malfoy emerging from the dimness of the corridor. With his prefect's badge glinting in the wandlight, his cold grey eyes, luminously pale skin and white blond hair, he looked like he ought to be made of ice.
"You're late," she said shortly.
"And you have a talent for noting the obvious," Malfoy replied calmly. "Will we move to the North Tower?"
"Of course."
The winding corridors were dark and almost empty, except for a few patrolling Aurors, who nodded to them as they passed. Some of the portraits expostulated admiringly on the diligence of prefects, while others called out friendly greetings to Rose, recognising her as a Weasley. Otherwise, the tense silence between the two prefects went unbroken, as they walked briskly with their lit wands held aloft.
"What vile cowards are these, that skulk in the cover of night!" came a furious shout from one of the portraits as they reached the seventh-floor corridor. "Come, ye knaves, and fight me like men!"
"Hello, Sir Cadogan," Rose said cordially, raising her wand so that its light fell upon a knight riding a fat pony, brandishing an oversized sword madly. He blinked, then sank into a deep bow when he saw her.
"My lady. Forgive my lack of chivalry. I expected… others." His eyes alighted on her companion. "Ah. Two lovers on a moonlit stroll – forgive me, forgive me. Have ye need of Sir Cadogan's sword?"
"Not today, thank you," Rose said hastily, and walked on, Malfoy following behind. When they were out of earshot of the knight, who was still shouting, the Slytherin prefect spoke for the first time.
"Is that a habit of yours, Weasley? Talking to the portraits?" His voice was light, but laced with sarcasm.
"Well, I think it's important to treat them as people," Rose responded, trying not to show her confusion.
"How kind of you. Was it out of that same friendly spirit that you cornered one of my friends after Alchemy today?"
"Meyer?" Rose snorted. "Oh, yes, of course. I noticed you looked worried. Well, I was just being friendly."
"That's what she thought too. Some of us, however, see it rather differently." He paused as they reached the bottom of the stairwell that led to the Divination classroom. As he turned to face her, she saw that his grey eyes were flashing dangerously. "I warned you about involving my friends, Weasley. They have nothing to do with this."
"Your precious friends are already involved in whatever this is, like it or not," Rose said sharply, as she set foot on the bottom step of the stairwell. "Bole and Ottelby threatened me in Potions that day just the same as you did - "
"That was out of loyalty to me," Malfoy interrupted coldly, holding his wand before him to light the dark steps as he began to ascend them. She followed suit, moving on his right up the stairwell. "Keep them out of it."
"Deny it all you want, Malfoy, but I know they're up to something. Whatever you're planning, they're in on it too – it's obvious!"
She expected him to make a furious retort at the accusation, or glare at her again in cold anger. But, as Rose had been learning recently, Scorpius Malfoy's reactions were not always easy to predict. Softly, he began to chuckle, his eyes fixed straight ahead, and she swivelled around to stare at him.
"How can you be so short-sighted?" the Slytherin marvelled. "In spite of the plain, obvious truth staring you in the face, you keep on clinging to the obvious - because you can't bear to consider the alternative."
Rose's hand snaked out and grasped his arm, tightly, so that he was forced to stop. He did not try to wriggle out of her grip – instead, he turned slowly, raising his pale eyebrows in mocking derision as he looked at her. "Feeling violent, Weasley? Remember your promise to Hobspawn."
"You say I cling to the obvious," she said sharply. "But I think that's what you do, Malfoy. You don't know me, or my family, and yet you assume that this is the way we think."
Her grip tightened on his arm, and still he did not try to force her hand away, his grey eyes locked on hers. "You assume that I don't know we're still in danger – that I don't know something else is going on. But I do. And I know that whoever arranged that Manticore attack in Herbology, it wasn't Gregory Goyle. Does that surprise you?"
Malfoy was resolutely silent. When Rose released his arm, he brushed fastidiously at the part of his robes she had touched, in a movement as casual as though he were stepping out of a Floo fireplace. But she had caught the momentary flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as she spoke, and it was enough to send a surge of cold triumph through her.
"So," she resumed lightly, continuing up the steps. "One thing you can take from this. Don't assume that I haven't spent every waking moment for the last two weeks puzzling over what happened to my mother. Don't assume that I haven't spent my whole life before that in fear that something like this would happen – that my parents' past would eventually catch up with them. And, most of all, don't underestimate me, Malfoy. It's what everyone else does, and it's so dreadfully obvious."
The Slytherin prefect opened his mouth to reply. Whatever intelligent response he had been about to make, however, was never articulated. A chorus of distant screams sounded from the corridors below, echoing eerily in the narrow stairwell of the North Tower. Both students froze.
"The ghosts?" Rose suggested. "Or Peeves? Or – " But her fellow prefect was already sprinting down the steps they had just ascended, robes billowing behind him. She followed hastily, ignoring the indignant shouts of the portraits as they pounded noisily through the sleeping corridors, the light of their wands bouncing off the walls.
Whoever it was screamed again – only a few corridors away. They tore through tapestries, stumbled down more steps, and came to a panting halt in the east wing: a vast hall lined with suits of armour that gleamed in the milky moonlight spilling in from the windows. There was a long, heavy silence as they caught their breath, then the scream sounded again, right in their ears, as though the victim were standing at the other side of the hall. Rose frowned; something was not quite right about the sound.
Malfoy swore, suddenly and loudly. "Tobias? Is that you?"
"Who's Tobias?" she hissed, but he hushed her with an impatient movement, raising his wand so that its light fell across the rest of the hall, which was empty, though the far door stood ajar. Calling the unfamiliar name a few more times, Malfoy strode across the hall, stooped and picked something up. He returned, holding up a garishly-coloured circular object, suspended on a length of string, his expression grim.
"That's not…"
"… a screaming yo-yo," her Slytherin companion finished dryly. "One of the finer products of your family's business. They really have enriched the wizarding world with their creations."
Rose stared at it for a moment, then shook her head, confused. "This… Tobias. Who is he?"
"My cousin," Malfoy replied calmly. "I assume this was some prank of his." Then, catching her glance, "But of course, assuming is a dangerous business with you, is it not?"
"It is," she said carefully. "However, I think one thing that can safely be assumed is that half the castle was woken by that racket. We'll have a delegation of Aurors bearing down on us soon – they won't be happy when they hear the explanation."
Sure enough, running footsteps could be heard outside the far door to the east wing, causing the suits of armour to rattle. Malfoy sighed, seeming to half-forget that Rose was there as he muttered to himself, "I've got a few things to say to Tobias."
It had been a thoroughly exhausting… and wonderful day. The wonderful, of course, had not come until rather later. But that golden hour, of skimming the clouds on her new broomstick, feeling it glide and move elegantly beneath her, watching the landscape spread out far, far below, all soft and blurry like a watercolour painting, had cast something of its glowing quality over the preceding hours – like an exquisite veil cast over a plain face - so that when she looked back in the future, that rather mundane Monday stood out like a single, shining Galleon among bronze Knuts.
These were Cassie Miller's vague reflections as she lay stretched on her four-poster bed in blissful weariness, listening to the gentle snores of her fellow roommates. Her Firebolt Four (it gave her a thrill just to think that name) had been gently tucked in a nook beneath her bed, wrapped in protective paper, and she had been checking on it every few minutes since she had retired to the sixth-year dormitory, just to make sure that she was not dreaming.
Now, the night was growing old, her eyelids were growing heavy, her thoughts more indistinct and illogical, and Cassie resolved to herself to check under the bed one more time – just one more time – before extinguishing the light of her wand and allowing herself to finally sleep. Sitting up with a rustle of bedsheets, she leaned out, pushing aside the soft red curtains, and peeked underneath one more time.
Her wandlight fell on the oblong, bulky object of her search first. Then it fell on something else, a slab of Honeydukes' finest. She frowned for a moment, then remembered; she had kicked it angrily there a few days before.
Did you even eat it?
Cassie smiled, and, reaching down, she picked up the chocolate.
"Greengrass."
The Slytherin common room was empty as Tobias slid in, except for Torrance Bole, who sat regally in one of the carved armchairs that faced the entrance. Behind him, a low fire crackled. There was no friendly smile on the sixth-year's broad face; he was all business now, looking at the younger boy expectantly.
"I did it," Tobias said shortly, trying to keep his voice monotonous as the other's, though he could not suppress a swell of pride. "And I didn't get caught either."
"I knew you wouldn't. You're too clever."
Torrance held out his hand. When the first-year did not move, he frowned. "Where's the yo-yo?"
Tobias cursed; loudly, colourfully. "I must have dropped it! I'll go back now."
"No, stay here." Torrance let his hand drop. Though his face had momentarily creased with amusement at the first-year's cursing, it was serious once more. "The Aurors will just think it was a prank. But be more careful next time, Greengrass."
"Next time?" Tobias could not swallow his surprise. "There's going to be a next time?"
"Of course," Torrance said nonchalantly. "You're good at this, Greengrass. We've been needing someone to deliver our messages for a while now."
"But when do I - " The first-year shuffled his feet, then tried again. "When do I - "
"See your father?" the older wizard finished, understanding in his eyes. "Soon, I promise. We'll arrange it, Greengrass."
Tobias allowed himself a smile – just a little smile – but it was short-lived. The next instant, the door to the common room opened, and his cousin entered at a quick stride. His mouth set in a firm line when he saw the first-year, and he straightened his tie.
"I thought I'd find you here. Now, will you explain to me why you set this off in the middle of the night? Did someone dare you, or something?"
Scorpius held the yo-yo in his hand, and was looking down at him, his grey eyes stern. Tobias turned to look behind him, but the armchair Torrance had been occupying moments before was empty. He groaned inwardly. Now he had to endure his cousin's scolding by himself.
"I could have told the Aurors, Tobias," Scorpius continued sharply. "But I didn't. If you don't tell me what's going on, though, I will. And I'll write to Aunt Daphne, too."
"Don't," Tobias pleaded, meeting the prefect's gaze again. "I promise it won't happen again, Scorpius – please. It was just a dare."
"Are you sure about that?"
There was a silence. The common room was empty. He could say it – he could tell him that one of his own friends had made him do it. After all, Torrance hadn't exactly said it was a secret – and he didn't even know what the symbol he had scrawled into the wall in invisible ink had meant. Tobias opened his mouth, then closed it again.
My father. If I keep this up, I might get to see him again.
"Yes," he said shortly, staring Scorpius right in the eye, before turning and sloping off, towards the first-year dormitories.
A.N: Apologies for the delay in posting! I had exams. For those of you who might be getting frustrated with the slow-moving events, I guarantee you that much progress will be made in the poisoning plot in the next couple of chapters. Reviews would be great!