Love and Glory

by GinnyWeasleyRocks

Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Hogwarts, where we lay our scene. Weasley and Malfoy are destined to come together. But for Rose and Scorpius, it isn't exactly love at first sight - or second, or third, or... you get the picture. It's going to take a lot longer for these crazy kids to get together. But trust me, it's worth the wait. Rated M for violence & dark themes

12. Memories

Disclaimer: Copyright JK Rowling

A.N: It's been a while, I know. In my defence, this chapter was a difficult one to get right, and I had exams. Because it's been a while, and the events of this chapter follow on directly from the events of the last one, I'll refresh your memories a bit:

Rose's mother got poisoned at a family wedding, and Andromeda Tonks, who was with her at the time, told Rose that it was Astoria Malfoy. Later, she was proven right when Astoria was arrested and found guilty by the Wizengamot. Draco Malfoy found a strange symbol in his house and went to a runologist's in Knockturn Alley to investigate, where he met Blaise Zabini. Hugo saw him go inside there, also spotted Zabini in his Animagus form, and told Rose. She, in turn, told Scorpius what Hugo saw when Scorpius discovered that his father was missing, because she started to see that all the strange stuff happening in Hogwarts wasn't his fault. They struck up a deal together, to go to Knockturn Alley and find answers about where Draco's gone and the poisoning at the wedding. Meanwhile, James and Cassie spotted Professor Nott, the Potions master, going into an old apothecary in Hogsmeade earlier that day, which James thought was quite suspicious. On their way back from Hogsmeade, the students' carriages were attacked by werewolves who were meant to be performing at the feast (in human form) and an Auror called Geoffrey Alderton, whose sister, Penny, is a friend of Rose's, saved Scorpius and his friends from certain death. James, Rose and Albus were trying to investigate the whole thing before Rose got distracted with going to Knockturn Alley.

---

Chapter 12: Memories

Pale, grimy daylight leaked in through the gaps of the shuttered windows, setting the dust motes shimmering in the upstairs parlour in Knockturn Alley. Draco Malfoy watched them absentmindedly from where he sat in the centre of the room, his hands bound behind him.

He did not look around when a smooth, satisfied voice came from nearby. "So you're willing to do it, then?"

"You haven't left me with much choice."

"But I have." Blaise Zabini rose from the soft armchair with a rustle of silken robes. "There's a very definite choice here, Draco. Help your wife, or don't help her - some Firewhiskey?"

Draco shook his head, his eyes flicking away from the dustmotes at last to regard the other wizard. "That's not a real choice. You know me, Blaise – you know which choice I will always make."

"Of course I do." Blaise's handsome face took on a mildly irritated expression as he summoned a dusty glass from nowhere, wiping it down with the sleeve of his robe. "You will help your wife – whom, if I may remind you, would not even be your wife if not for me. She was just a scrawny little fifth-year when we left Hogwarts. You wouldn't have looked twice at her if I hadn't…"

"I don't need to be reminded of that story," Draco said wearily, watching as the other wizard poured out half a bottle of Firewhiskey. "What I'm more curious about is this new Animagus form of yours. Tell me, when did you start transforming?"

"Careful, Draco," Blaise said lightly, swigging from the glass and then handing it to him despite his refusal, loosing one of his bindings with a casual gesture. "You're not exactly in a position to be curious, after all. But you should know, Draco, that everything that's been happening these past few months… has been happening for a reason. Things are beginning to change."

Draco barely touched the glass with his lips; the liquid tasted musty. He set it on the floor beside him and met the other wizard's gaze. "And you should know that I'm not afraid of you, Blaise. I will help you, but only to free Astoria from Azkaban. Whatever you and that fraud who calls herself Moribund want from that vault in Gringotts, whatever changes it will bring about, I don't care. It doesn't concern me."

"It should, though." Blaise took a step towards him, eyes fixed on the glass he had set down. "You see, Malfoy, it's because of these changes that your wife ended up in Azkaban in the first place. And that fraud… well, I'd be careful not to call her that again. She's more powerful than you think. One word from her, and Astoria could be lying in her cell with her throat slit within the next hour."

Draco was silent after that, staring down at the old wood panelling of the floor. He could feel those old instincts kicking in – the instincts that had been born that dark year in the Manor, when he and his parents had been watched every second of every day for the slightest sign of rebellion. Make yourself as small as possible. Don't speak unless you have to. Don't look him in the eye.

"I didn't want to say that," Blaise said at last, a hint of apology in his voice. "You know I care about Astoria very much. If not for me, they might have eliminated her already. But Draco – look at me." The other wizard complied. "This is much bigger than you realise. I need to know that we can trust you in this. That you won't say anything unwise around Moribund that might get your wife killed, or your son either. She's not as forgiving as I am. Can you promise me that?"

When Draco spoke, his voice was low. His grey eyes did not leave Blaise's. "What you're telling me is that if I do not help you, my family will be killed."

"Not exactly, no. It's in our interests to have Astoria freed from prison, more so than it is to kill her. And as for Scorpius – well, a death at Hogwarts would complicate the situation unnecessarily." The wizard crouched until his face was level with Draco's. "But remember; you were the one who sought us out. You keep saying the only reason you've involved yourself again is to help your family, but I can't help but think… that maybe you miss it."

"I don't," Draco said coldly. "I miss my wife. And you left me a message. You wanted me to find you."

"True." Blaise straightened up again, folding his hands behind his back. "Maybe I missed you, too, Draco. Just a bit. Still, we're getting side-tracked, I suppose. Time enough to think about the past - but right now, the present's our problem…"

---

"Mr Malfoy?" Nott's colourless face peered around the edge of the door to his office, sharp with wariness. "Was curfew not a half-hour ago?"

"It was, sir, but I'm a prefect." Scorpius stepped forward. At this time of evening, the dungeons were deserted, the torches burning in their brackets casting a cold glow over the stony corridors that did not reach all of the shadowy corners. "I'd like to ask you something."

Nott blinked at him through his glasses. There was reluctance in his eyes, but something like curiosity, too… as though Scorpius were some interesting specimen that he could not quite understand but enjoyed observing. So when he stood back from the door, sweeping his arm to indicate that Scorpius could enter, the latter was not particularly surprised.

"I need a potion, sir," he said, as soon as the dungeon door had closed behind them. The office was a narrow, cluttered space, parchments and empty glass vials strewn over every possible surface, a golden liquid bubbling merrily in a cauldron set haphazardly on Nott's desk. "A Memory Potion. I've been bothered with some unpleasant memories recently, ones that I wish to forget."

Professor Nott, waving his wand so that the liquid in the cauldron began to stir itself, did not so much as glance at Scorpius. A slight smirk curved his mouth. "Mr Malfoy," he said measuredly, "As you might have guessed, I am not in the habit of handing out potions from my store to anyone who request them. Particularly potions that might be used for dangerous purposes. I suggest you go to Madam Pomfrey if you have need of…"

"She wouldn't give me a Memory Potion. You will, though, sir."

"Will I? How interesting. What makes you think that?" Nott bent and scrawled something on a piece of parchment, then folded it and took one of the empty vials.

"Because I have something you want." Scorpius swung a canvas bag off his shoulder. The Potions master, carefully sealing the piece of parchment on the vial, still ignored him.

"And what would that be, Mr Malfoy?" With another flick of his wand, the vial had moved to the cauldron of its own accord and scooped up some of the brewing golden liquid. It shone translucently, filling the glass vial to the top.

"This." Reaching inside his bag, Scorpius drew out the ancient, gnarled hand and held it in the air. Nott glanced at it, breathed in sharply – and the glass vial promptly smashed on the floor, its golden contents spreading across the floor.

"Let me clean up that mess for you, professor." With his other hand, Scorpius drew his own wand and repaired the shattered glass, vanishing the golden liquid. Nott did not drag his eyes away from the Hand of Glory.

"Where did you get that?" he said at last, in a hushed voice. "Those things have been outlawed for centuries…"

"It was my father's. Didn't you ever see him use it?" Scorpius laid the Hand of Glory on the nearest worktable, clearing the space of vials; Nott's eyes followed it, almost hungrily. "I have no need of it now, professor. You're welcome to it."

Something in Nott's gaze hardened. "I don't make deals with students, Mr Malfoy."

"Don't think of it as a deal, professor." Scorpius gave a little shrug. "Think of the Hand of Glory as my father's gift to you. And the Memory Potion…"

Nott looked at him for a long time, then his mouth tightened and he turned away, robes rustling as he moved into the back room. The clinking of glass could be heard, then the Potions master emerged with a tiny vial in his hand, filled with a cloudy greyish solution.

"Whatever you might want to forget, it is not my concern," he said quietly. "But exercise caution, Malfoy. That is all I will say. This potion is not to be used lightly."

"Of course not, professor." Scorpius pocketed the vial. His hand was on the doorhandle when Nott spoke again.

"You're very like your father, you know."

Scorpius paused. Though he had heard it said countless times before, it surprised him to hear the words from Nott's lips – because they were uttered with unbridled admiration. Slowly, he turned, and saw that the professor was regarding him thoughtfully from beside his desk. The deliberate vagueness he had adopted before had left from his expression, and he looked at Scorpius calmly, as though he had known him for a long time.

"So I've been told, sir," he said eventually, his grip tightening on the doorhandle.

"We were never friends, your father and I," Nott continued, in a tone that seemed reserved more for himself than anyone else, as though he had forgotten Scorpius was there. "But we understood each other, I think. We respected each other. He knew how to work things to his advantage."

Scorpius nodded, unsure how to respond, and turned the door-handle. Behind him, Nott said, as more of an afterthought, "Give him my regards, will you?"

"I will, professor. Thank you."

Scorpius hastened down the darkening corridor, anxious to escape the uncomfortable feeling Nott's words had given him. He did not see James Potter where he stood concealed in one of the shadowy corners near the door to the office, a satisfied smirk on his face as he tucked a pair of Extendable Ears back in his pocket.

---

When Rose returned to the Gryffindor common room after her meeting with Malfoy, having made a slight detour to the library, nearly all the lamps had been extinguished. A fire was still blazing in the hearth. Chilled from the corridors, she went to it immediately, kneeling down and stretching out her hands to warm them.

"I've a few things to tell you," a voice came from nearby, and she nearly leapt out of her skin.

"Bloody Merlin, James! Can't you ever say hello?"

Her cousin unfolded himself from the armchair tucked into one of the corners of the room, and made his way over to her, his expression unusually sombre. "How was your prefect meeting?"

"Fine," she said grumpily. "What are you doing, lurking around here?"

"I was waiting for you." He leaned against the mantelpiece. "Albus said you ran off again. Were you planning on telling me what you found out earlier? In the library?"

Rose wrung her hands in her lap, chewing on her lower lip."I'm not sure if it was anything," she said at last. "But I'll need to get out of the castle to make sure. Go to Hogsmeade. Can you give me the password for one of your secret passages?"

James considered her for a moment, his brown eyes concerned. "It's too dangerous to go outside the castle after what happened tonight. I can go for you – just tell me what you need."

"I'm not planning on going tonight," she lied hastily. "When everything's quietened down, and it's safe to leave, I mean. And I have to go alone, James – I have to investigate it for myself."

Her cousin watched her closely, his eyes narrowed. "Not tonight? You promise?"

"Not tonight." She held his gaze, rising to her feet. "Please, James?"

After a moment, he nodded, drawing a sheet of parchment from his pocket and tapping it once with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. Right. Your best bet would be the passage on the third floor – it leads straight to Honeydukes' cellar. You know the statue of the one-eyed witch? The password's Dissendium."

"I'll try to remember that," Rose said, struggling to keep her voice normal, though her heart was beginning to pound with simultaneous fear and excitement.

"Remember…" Her cousin's face changed, and he looked past her, his eyes suddenly distant, then snapped his fingers. "Ah. What I meant to tell you about, Rosie; I was in the dungeons earlier, and I happened to overhear a conversation Nott was having - "

"Happened to? Were you spying on him again?"

"Yes. And good thing I was too. Do you want to guess who he was talking to?" When she did not comply, he continued, "Malfoy. They were making some kind of deal, I think. And – get this – Malfoy exchanged his dad's old Hand of Glory for a Memory Potion."

Rose had gone cold. "Did he say why?"

"Some bull about how he has some bad memories he wants to get rid of. But I think he might be planning to use it to make someone else forget something." His eyes met hers, glittering with interest. "The plot just keeps thickening, doesn't it?"

"You could say that again." Rose rubbed her forehead. She had been a fool to think she could trust Malfoy. "It surprises me that Nott would take such a risk; if he were caught harbouring a Dark object like that he'd be sacked on the spot."

"What did I tell you?" her cousin said, with more than a hint of smugness. "He's been crooked from the start."

"Still, there might be more to it than that…" she murmured, then her head snapped back to him, alarmed. "Are you going to - "

"No," he said, rather sharply. She did not miss the momentary tightening of his jaw at her assumption. "I'm not going to tell anyone else. Yet. For one thing, I've got no proof; Nott could just say I was lying. And for another, Hogwarts has had enough attention from the Prophet already, what with Goyle's arrest and the werewolves. I don't want to add to that, make Dad and the Aurors look even worse."

"Good." Rose could not suppress her relief. She took a step away from the fireplace reluctantly, unfastening her cloak and folding it over her arm.

"You can be sure I'll be keeping an eye on him, though," James added, following her across the common room as she made her way to the staircase. "See what else he gets up to."

"Of course." Cursing inwardly as she tied her red hair back in a ponytail, Rose placed a foot on the step. "Just – don't do anything too stupid, I suppose."

"Depends on what you classify as 'stupid'." James clapped her on the shoulder. "I'll keep you updated, coz."

---

"Are you waiting for someone, dear? It's very late."

Penny Alderton, who had been sitting quietly outside the entrance to the east wing of the castle, her hands folded in her lap, turned to see that an older witch had appeared around the corner. She was tall and imposing, with dark robes and grey-streaked black hair tied back in a bun, but there was a kindness in her weary eyes as she regarded the younger girl. "I'm Lesley Umfraville, the Head Auror here."

"Yes. I'm waiting for Geoffrey, my brother. I sent him a note earlier – I know he's off duty now…"

"He is. I'll let him know you're here." Umfraville passed into the wing, where the Aurors were being housed, shutting the door behind her. A few minutes later, Penny's brother emerged. He was bleary-eyed, his fair hair dishevelled with sleep. She felt a pang of guilt.

"I woke you up. I'm sorry. I just - I had to see you." She pressed forward and hugged him tightly, pressing her head against his shoulder. He patted her shoulder, somewhat awkwardly.

"I'm fine, Penny. There's no need to worry."

"You took on a fully-grown werewolf tonight! I wouldn't call that nothing."

"I wasn't alone," Geoffrey reminded her gently, disengaging himself from her embrace.

"We haven't gotten the chance to talk since it all happened," she said, looking up into his face as she pulled back. "I've been really worried, Geoff."

"There's been a lot to do. Come on, let's go somewhere quieter." He glanced around, then steered her towards one of the nearby classrooms. They entered, and he closed the door, turning to face her solemnly. "Look, Penny, I know it can't be easy seeing me around the school all the time and not being able to say anything. But you've got to remember: I'm here as an Auror, not as your brother."

"I know that." Penny lowered her gaze, struggling to keep her voice steady. "But you made a promise to Mum after the wedding, Geoff. You promised her you wouldn't take any unnecessary risks while you were here."

"That's right." Geoffrey was quiet for a moment, as though choosing his words carefully. At last, he spoke, his blue eyes serious. "It was as much as I could promise her, and you. Not to take unnecessary risks. But sometimes, like tonight, you've got to take the necessary risks. That's what being an Auror is about."

"It wasn't a necessary risk, though." She met his gaze, summoning her courage. "You volunteered. There were enough Aurors going already, they needed some to stay behind at the castle, but you volunteered to go."

"I – how do you know about that?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Because I overheard two Aurors talking about it." Sighing at his disapproving scowl, Penny moved closer. "You took a risk you didn't have to take, Geoff, and that was brave of you, but you could easily have died." She swallowed, dropping her eyes from his once more, and forced herself to continue. "And then you would have left me and Mum alone. After what happened to Dad… I think that's really selfish of you, Geoff."

There was a silence. Penny did not dare to look at her brother, feeling a twinge of regret for speaking so harshly. They had not spoken about their father for a long time; it was a subject that could never be broached at home without sending their mother into a fit of furious tears. She knew that Geoffrey still blamed himself for what had happened.

However, when he spoke at last, there was no hint of anger in his tone. Just sadness.

"Penny. Hey." He tipped up her chin instead, gently, so that she was looking at him again. "I'm sorry for upsetting you. You're right, really. I should have stayed at the castle. But I felt that they needed as many wands as they could manage. I made a judgement call. And I'm glad I did, because when I Stunned that werewolf, it was about to attack a carriage full of students. The other Aurors might not have gotten there on time."

"You still broke your promise," Penny said, in a very small voice. Her eyes had welled up with tears to the extent that she could barely see her brother anymore.

"I don't know about that. See, I made Mum another promise, too." Geoffrey's hand rested on her shoulder. "I promised her I'd do everything I could to protect you, Penny. And you were in those carriages. You could have been hurt."

"But I thought you said you were here as an Auror, not as my brother." She wiped her eyes and sniffed, in an attempt to distract herself.

"I did say that." Geoffrey gave a little smile. "But, to tell the truth, Penny, I'm here as both." He put his arms around her, and she hugged him back. "I care about you, sis. I know I mightn't always show it in the best way."

"You do, Geoff," she said softly, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "You do."

---

Scorpius sat in the windowseat of the Slytherin common room, scrolls of parchment spread across his lap. The green waters of the lake rippled through the glass to his left, and he caught some slight movement out of the corner of his eye.

Turning, he watched absentmindedly as the vague shape of a merperson passed by, head bowed as lengths of green hair floated around her face, making her almost indistinguishable from the forest of lakeweed surrounding her.

Once she had disappeared, he returned to his essay. Professor Harris had given him an 'E'. The comment she had written at the bottom read: Good effort, Scorpius, but I know you can do better. So go for the 'O'.

He scowled. So Charms was not high on his list of priorities at the moment. What was the point? It was one of his best subjects, and required nothing like the dedication of Transfiguration and Potions. Besides, there had been no major fault with that essay, despite the fact that he had rushed it. Professor Harris was just annoyed that he had refused to join Charms club.

She had approached him on a few more occasions after the start of year to encourage him to attend, and he had refused each time, albeit politely. Eventually she had given up, and he had noticed a new coolness in her voice when she addressed him in class. As well as that, the way she looked at him sometimes, after he handed up homework, made him feel that he had disappointed her. Which wasn't fair; he was still top of the class. Many of his classmates had given up extracurricular pursuits due to the pressures of sixth year. He simply did not have time for Charms club.

"Who soured your Butterbeer?" Nina had entered the common room, which was practically deserted; almost everyone was asleep in their dormitories by now, after the eventful night. She watched Scorpius as he straightened up in the windowseat, a strange expression on her face.

"Harris gave me an 'E'," he said shortly.

"Oh dear Merlin. What has wizardkind come to?" She came to a halt beside one of the carved armchairs. "Weasley's looking for you."

Scorpius tensed. "Is she outside the common room?"

"She is." Nina was still watching him. Avoiding her gaze, Scorpius stared down at the parchment for a few seconds more to collect himself. His eyes roved over Professor Harris's looped scrawl, without distinguishing a single word, his throat suddenly dry.

Then, shaking himself, he rolled up the parchment at last and placed it on the windowseat beside him. "I'd better go and see what she wants." He rose, making his way across the common room. Nina's eyes followed him as he went, but she did not say anything.

The instant he stepped out into the corridor and saw Weasley's face, he knew. She was clad in black robes, and her face was pale: pale but determined. Every feature of her face seemed to be clenched with apprehension. He wondered if she knew how obviously afraid she looked.

"Meet me on the third floor in ten minutes' time," she said tersely. "Beside the statue of the one-eyed witch. You know it?"

He nodded.

"Good. Be quick. Bring everything you need." She swung around and hurried away. Scorpius smirked; she could not quite carry off a mysterious aura, much as she seemed to be trying. No Gryffindor could, and certainly no Weasley.

Thankfully, his dormitory-mates were asleep by now, and none of them stirred as Scorpius entered the sixth-year dormitory. Working quietly but efficiently, he retrieved his canvas bag from under his bed, stashing the vial inside, as well as a Sneakoscope, a skin of water and a Chocolate Frog he found at the bottom of his trunk, still wrapped.

Slinging the bag over his shoulder, Scorpius fastened his travelling cloak around his neck, and looked thoughtfully at the handle of his broomstick, which was protruding from underneath his four-poster bed. Weasley had not said how they would be travelling. But a broomstick would be too conspicuous to carry.

As he was crossing the common room once more, Nina's voice stopped him. Turning, he saw that she had taken his place in the windowseat, and had his rolled-up parchment in her hand. "Where are you going?"

"Weasley and I have to take over Birchgrove and Kloves' patrol."

"You're lying." She said it calmly, without a hint of accusation in her voice, but the hurt in her dark eyes was unmistakable. Scorpius felt a surge of guilt. He knew Nina had felt out of the loop in their group recently. Orchid's dismissive words about her in Madam Puddifoot's that day still lingered in her mind. Merlin, she can't leave me alone, can she? I never met anyone so clingy.

"This has to do with what she said earlier about your dad, isn't it? Merlin's sake, Scorpius, you can't trust her."

"I know that," he said firmly. "It's just a patrol, Nina. And I'm going to be late."

"Whatever you say."

Scorpius left the common room quickly, frowning to himself. Nina would have to put up with being left out for a little longer. He could not worry about it right now.

Gunhilda of Gorsemoor's statue was wreathed in long shadows as Scorpius approached. Weasley stood beside it, pacing anxiously. The sun had just set outside the windows, and its last weak, grasping rays did not quite make it to the third-floor corridor.

"You took your time," she said sharply to Scorpius, who did not respond. "Did anyone see you?"

He shook his head. "Most people are gone to bed. Still, I'm sure it would not hurt to take precautions. Protect against others who might share your eavesdropping habit." Drawing his wand, he cast a shield around them. "So where are we departing from?"

"It's a secret passage to Honeydukes' cellar," she said, with an impatient movement of her hand towards the one-eyed witch. "A pretty well-known one, at that, but it's one of the few ones Filch and the Aurors haven't blocked. We're leaving through Hogsmeade. Dissendium."

The last was addressed to the one-eyed witch, her wand pointing at the bust of the statue. Scorpius watched with interest as it moved aside with the slightest of groans, revealing darkness. Weasley gestured for him to go in first, rolling her eyes when he did not move.

"Oh, Merlin's sake, we've wasted enough time already. Go, Malfoy."

He stepped inside slowly, poised to deflect any spell Weasley might cast at his back, and his feet were suddenly snatched out from him. He slid rapidly down stone, gritting his teeth. Coming to a halt where the floor levelled once more, Scorpius lit his wand, observing the narrow walls and low ceiling of the passage around him. The air was stuffy here, though he could feel a slight current of cold air from beyond, where the passage disappeared into darkness.

A swish of robes, and then Weasley was standing beside him, wand pointed to his temple. "All right, hand it over."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said coolly.

"The Memory Potion," she snapped. He could sense the fury curling around her words now, barely contained. She twisted the wand so that it was poking his skin. "You were going to wipe my memories, weren't you, Malfoy? So that I wouldn't remember whatever we found out in Knockturn Alley? Do you realise how messed up that is? I knew it was a bad sign when - "

"Weasley," Scorpius interrupted. "The Memory Potion is not for you."

"Right, and I'm supposed to believe that… "

"It's for my father." He bit down hard on his lower lip after saying that. How the hell had she known? "You clearly have an over-active imagination."

She was staring at him, eyes wide and disbelieving. "Your father? But why would you use a Memory Potion on your own father?"

Scorpius closed his eyes for a moment, still very conscious of the wand next to his temple. When he opened them, he breathed in deeply, then began to speak in a monotone.

"My father gets very bad nightmares. I don't think he's slept a whole night through for years. He's constantly reliving these… memories from his past. And he has asked my mother - " He paused. Weasley was motionless beside him. " – he has asked her before to remove some of them, so he can sleep in peace. She is – or was - an Obliviator; she could have done it without leaving any long-term damage… But she always refused."

"Why?" Weasley's voice was soft in the passageway, and he barely heard her. She still had not moved her wand. Scorpius sighed.

"Because it wasn't right, she said. Removing memories is like removing a piece of yourself. She said that if her work had taught her anything, it was that. But I… If I find my father tonight, I have the sense that this is one ordeal he will want to forget. And – I want him to have that option."

Silence. Then Weasley took away her wand. With a grimace, he got to his feet, brushing the dust from his robes. "Like I said, not everything involves you."

"I'm sorry." The words, spoken quickly and in a low, sincere voice, hovered in the air between them. Scorpius did not know how to respond to them. He had never told anyone else outside the family about his father's nightmares. Then again, Weasley had left him with little choice.

Without looking at her, he began to walk. She followed, matching his brisk pace. Their footsteps echoed on the stone, sounding impossibly loud.

"So, if I may ask, Weasley, how do you plan on travelling to Knockturn Alley?" Scorpius enquired after they had been walking for a few minutes, and he was beginning to feel normal again. "By broom?"

"No," she said curtly. "Too slow. Besides, I'm not great at flying."

"No need to remind me, I recall the first-year lessons," he said dryly. "So how, then? By Portkey?"

"In case you've forgotten, Malfoy, only wizards and witches who are of age can create Portkeys."

"The Department of Magical Transport doesn't tend to regulate their usage, regardless of the age of the caster," Scorpius informed her. "They're more concerned with the Floo Network."

"Even so, I'm not going to risk either method. Too connected to the Ministry." In the semi-darkness, he sensed her turning towards him, with a half-smile. "We'll be going by Thestral."

"Thestral?" He could not contain his surprise. "Are you out of your mind, Weasley? Travel by Thestral is illegal. Can you even see them?"

"No." The smugness in her voice was extremely irritating. "But if I'm not mistaken, you can, Malfoy. Besides, it's easy to attract them. You just need some…"

"Raw meat, I'm aware," he finished. "If you recall, I took Care of Magical Creatures for the O.W.L.s as well, Weasley."

"Then it's a good thing you're here, isn't it?" she deadpanned.

Just as Weasley could not manage to be mysterious, Scorpius reflected, she had not quite mastered sarcasm either.

---

Cassie Miller woke as a faint mewling reached her ears. Turning over with a groan, she gave a start as she beheld the pair of green eyes glowing in the darkness of the dormitory beside her bed. "Merlin."

Sitting up and reaching for her wand, she lit it and saw that Penny's tabby cat, Florian, was looking at her expectantly from the floor, tail curled around itself. "I hate when you do that," she muttered, letting out a breath. "Bloody freaky. What do you want, then?"

Jackie Saunders stirred in the adjacent bed and mumbled something. Cassie cast her wandlight over the other two beds, and saw, to her surprise, that they were empty. Florian mewled again, more petulantly than before. Maybe he wanted to get out for a walk. Did cats need to be walked? She'd only ever had a dog before. Sighing, Cassie threw back the blankets and got out of bed, pulling on her dressing-gown.

"Come on, then," she said in a low voice, so as not to wake Jackie. Wondering vaguely where Rose and Penny were at this time of the night, she pushed open the door of the dormitory. Florian streaked out before her, vanishing down the steps into the darkness. Cursing, she followed after. "Wait, will you?" Penny wouldn't be happy if the cat got out and started terrorising the owls in the other dormitories.

When Cassie reached the common room, in which a fire was flickering in the grate, she saw that Florian had reached the other side of the common room, and was waiting for her at the portrait hole. Lifting the cat roughly as she climbed through the hole, she dumped him unceremoniously on the floor of the corridor outside.

Turning back, she saw that the Fat Lady was dozing in her portrait. Cassie realised then how tired she was. Florian had already slinked off into the darkness, and she stood still for a moment, debating whether or not to follow. Surely he'd be able to find his own way back…

Rubbing her eyes, Cassie was about to re-enter the portrait hole and return to the comforting warmth of her dormitory when she heard voices echoing down the corridor. High-pitched, they sounded as though they were arguing.

Frowning, she proceeded in the direction of the sound. A moment later, her wandlight fell upon two Gryffindor boys standing in the middle of the corridor, both wearing cloaks over their pyjamas.

"What's wrong with you two?" she demanded. They both jumped, and exchanged glances. One of the boys, whom she recognised as a third-year, Mark Rokonski, made to flee; however, the other one grasped his friend's arm firmly.

"It's OK, Mark, she's not a prefect," he said in a low voice before turning to face the sixth-year. "What can you remember from tonight?"

"Kevin," the other boy said, looking uneasy, but his friend ignored him.

"Er - " Cassie raised an eyebrow at the two boys, thoroughly confused. Did they know what time of the night it was? "What can I remember? Well, we were attacked by werewolves in the carriages on our way back from Hogsmeade, and it turned out to be the Snarling Sons…"

"See?" the boy called Kevin said triumphantly, rounding on his friend. "I told you it was werewolves! That's what everyone said!"

"There weren't any werewolves," Mark insisted, his eyes meeting Cassie's for the first time. Something about him disconcerted her – the urgency in his expression, perhaps, or maybe it was what he was saying. "There weren't. I remember what happened – we were sitting in the carriages, then everyone started panicking for no reason and the Aurors arrived…"

"Because there were werewolves!" the other boy finished impatiently, turning to Cassie again. "He's been going on like this since we came from the kitchens, saying he remembers what really happened tonight, and we're all wrong - Hobspawn, and the professors, and everyone…"

Remember. The word struck deep into Cassie's mind, almost painfully, and she paused for a moment to gather herself. Then, summoning her best Rose Weasley voice, she said with authority, "You two need to get to bed. The Aurors won't be happy if they catch you in the corridors, nor will Filch. Like it or not, Rokonski, we were attacked tonight, and everyone's on edge."

"She's right," Kevin said to Mark after a moment, who still looked reluctant. "C'mon, I can't get another detention…" He dragged his friend away, back towards the portrait-hole. Cassie watched them go, then turned away again, facing into the darkness of the corridor before her.

Casting her mind back over the night's events, she found that they suddenly felt blurry, vague… She had been in the carriage with Rose and Albus, and it had jolted, or something – and then there had been howling, and people had started screaming… But she felt strangely detached from the memory now. What had happened then? The Aurors had arrived very quickly, and they had been escorted back to the castle, but before that... I remember, the boy had said with such conviction in his voice. So why couldn't she?

Cassie placed her head in her hands, suddenly feeling dizzy, and found the wall behind her, sliding down until she was seated on the cold stone floor. Was she going mad? Letting what some third-year had said mess with her mind? Squeezing her eyes shut, she struggled to clear her head…

"Miller?"

She lifted her hands away from her face with a start, and saw that James Potter had materialised in the corridor, and was staring at her. "Are you OK?"

"Fine." Cassie got to her feet with some effort – he reached out and steadied her with one arm, concern still written on his face. "I just… feel a bit strange."

"What are you doing out here?"

"I was just…" She gestured vaguely towards the direction in which Florian had disappeared, but could not summon the energy to explain. Taking a deep breath, she met James's eye. "I was just talking to these third-years – one of them says that he remembers what happened tonight, that there weren't any werewolves, and it just made me feel really weird, like I've been imagining things…"

James cursed under his breath. Regarding him, she saw, in the torchlight, that the colour had drained from his face.

"What? What is it?"

"You haven't been imagining things," he said at last, though he looked uncertain. "Or else we all have – but this third-year seemed quite sure?"

"He did," Cassie said, recalling the conviction in the boy's voice. "Why?"

James was silent for a moment, then his words came out in a rush. "Because on my way up from the dungeons, I've run into three different students out of bed, all saying the same thing. That they remember."

"What?" Cassie didn't even bother to ask what he had been doing in the dungeons, she only cared about what he had heard. "Are you serious?"

The Quidditch captain nodded grimly. "A Slytherin fourth-year, shouting at an Auror who was escorting her back to the common room that she remembered, a Hufflepuff boy who followed me all the way to the third floor and wouldn't stop saying the same thing, over and over, that he remembered, and a Ravenclaw girl who looked really sick… They all got out of bed and broke curfew, just to find someone who would believe them." He paused, then looked at Cassie. "This boy you met – was he a Gryffindor?"

She nodded, then her eyes widened. "One from each House. That's so weird."

"There might be more." James's eyes grew distant, as though he were thinking hard, then he shook himself. "You should go back to the dormitories. I have to check something."

"I'm not going anywhere until I know what's going on."

"Well, you can't come with me – two people will attract the Aurors' attention."

"I can cast a decent enough Disillusionment Charm." Cassie took a step closer as he deliberated a moment longer, staring him in the eye. "James, I feel like I'm going crazy. Like - " She hesitated, then voiced her fears for the first time, "- like my memory's been messed with or something. It's not a nice feeling, and I'm not going back until I know what's causing it."

James considered her for a moment, then sighed. "Fine. But if anyone catches you, you're on your own. I need to find out what's going on just as much you do."

"I know." Cassie drew her wand once more. "Let's go, then."

---

Ever since she had struck the deal with Malfoy, the sick feeling had not left Rose's stomach. It was not like the fluttering she always had before exams; more so the churning upheaval she felt whenever she had eaten too much. After the whole affair with the Memory Potion, it was worse. She hardly knew what to think anymore – was she wrong about everything these days?

She had tried not to let Malfoy notice her discomfiture, but that was proving a near impossible task – as they emerged into the damp dusk of Hogsmeade's high street, her stomach roiled more violently, a burning feeling entering her throat.

An indecisive rain was pelting them from above, and they hurried along in the direction of the station, ducking under the lit windows they passed. Rose's hand squeezed tightly on her wand as she led the way across the street, her hood sheltering most of her face from the rain, but the hard wood gave her no comfort.

She was not afraid of getting caught or apprehended. She was afraid of succeeding, of what lay in store for them in Knockturn Alley. What she would find out.

Freezing drops of water were winding their way down her neck, and Rose shivered. Hearing a faint sound of amusement, she turned to see that Malfoy had surrounded himself with an Impervius bubble, and moved in a completely dry sphere, his blond hair untouched by rain.

"A little wet never killed anyone, Malfoy." With a snort, Rose faced forward again; she did not trust herself to cast any spell at the moment, but he did not need to know that. "We're nearly here, anyway."

As they rounded a corner and came in view of the station, beyond the end of the street, running footsteps suddenly reached their ears.

Rose froze, pressing herself back against the wall of the nearest cottage and extinguishing the light of her wand. Malfoy followed suit, and they waited in breathless silence as the footsteps grew louder behind them – had they been seen?

A pair of Aurors splashed into view. They were scowling, Impervius shields rippling around their heads that appeared to be stronger than Malfoy's. "Time to get under shelter," one of them yelled to the other as the rain grew heavier around them, and they ran past Rose and Malfoy, disappearing into the station house.

Rose exhaled in relief. "Let's go, before anyone else comes," she said under her breath to her companion, who nodded. They returned to the street, keeping to the corners and bypassing the station until they had reached the large, dark barn behind it, set with large wooden doors.

"This is where the carriage Thestrals are kept during winter," Rose told Malfoy. "Go in and get us two."

"I don't take orders from you, Weasley," he said coldly, not moving. "How do you expect to get in and out of there without attracting attention? Those Thestrals have been spooked after tonight, and most of the Aurors will be able to see them – it's in their line of work to watch people dying. Do you really think we'll go unnoticed?"

Rose cast a dubious glance at the lit windows of the station house, then turned back to Malfoy, exasperated.

"We don't have much time," she hissed. "Listen, I'll cast a protective charm so that they don't hear. All you need to do is open those doors slightly, and take this - " She dug around in the satchel she was carrying, then produced a hunk of raw meat.

Fastidiously, he took hold of it. "So that explains the stench, Weasley," he mused. "I could hardly stand it in the passage. I thought it was just your natural odour."

Rose glared at him. "Just open those doors, will you?"

Smirking slightly, he moved away, holding out the raw meat. The scent of congealed blood and flesh made Rose's stomach turn over again, and she forced herself to breathe through her mouth. Turning to look at the windows of the station house, she waved her wand so that the creak of the wooden doors of the shed opening was muffled to outside ears.

She heard Malfoy made a soft noise in the back of his throat. There was the sound of crunching leaves as something moved within the shed in response. Rose could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Maybe brooms wouldn't have been such a bad idea after all.

She had taken a leaf from Hugo's book, borrowing from the stories their parents used to tell them… and the one where they had flown Thestrals to the Ministry to save Sirius Black had been one of her favourites. A part of her had always wanted to try it.

Something like an exhalation brushed the back of her hand, and Rose stiffened.

"There's one just behind you," Malfoy said, as he closed the shed door again. His hand was suspended in mid-air, gripping onto something, while the other still held the raw meat.

Tentatively, Rose reached back, hands groping. They touched something hard but slick. The coat of the Thestral. Suppressing a shiver, she felt her way up the surface until she felt the mane, and found a hold there.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Shit. Rose's head snapped up. The lights of the station house had flicked off, and one of the Aurors whom they had seen earlier had emerged from the door, light spilling from his wand. They were just beyond the range of his wandlight, though he was getting closer… which meant that he had not seen their faces yet.

"Let's go – now," she said to Malfoy out of the corner of her mouth. Tightening her hold on the Thestral's mane, Rose roamed the creature's slick sides with her other hand, searching for purchase. Straining her arms, she hoisted herself up, throwing a leg over the side of the Thestral clumsily. For one terrifying moment, she was slipping across its back, across nothingness; then she caught herself and regained her balance.

"Knockturn Alley," she said in a low, hesitant voice to the space beneath her where she thought her Thestral's head must be. A moment later, she felt the creature stir beneath her, and swallowed as her stomach gave another uncomfortable lurch.

"Stop there! Stop!" The Auror had broken into a run, black robes flying.

But Rose's Thestral was already trotting across the ground, away from the station house and the Auror's spell bounced off its side. Beside her, Malfoy was moving quickly too, seemingly through mid-air; he had mounted his Thestral with ease. A cottage loomed up before them, the walls impossibly close, and Rose's heart thumped so hard in her chest that it hurt.

One more shout from the Auror, and a cold rush of air struck her face, making her cry out; the Thestral's wings had begun to beat.

The next instant, they had risen into the air, clearing the roof of the cottage, and the ground was falling away beneath them at an alarming speed: the village, the Forbidden Forest, the castle, the mountains...

Rose felt a terrifying thrill go through her as she tightened her hands on the Thestral's mane and crouched low so that she was sheltered from the stinging wind. The Auror's shouts faded into the beating of wings as the two students hurtled into the vast, purpling sky on their invisible steeds.

---

"Nott's office? Really?"

James rolled his eyes. They had stopped in a shadowed corner in the dungeons, a little way down the corridor from the Potions master's office. "Keep your voice down. And think about it. We saw him going into that apothecary in Hogsmeade today – presumably to buy ingredients for some potion – and then all that werewolf stuff happened… And then I found out that he has a load of Memory Potion in stock, and people started remembering things by some coincidence…"

Cassie nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on the corridor ahead. "I will admit that's quite a bit of evidence, but…"

"But?"

"Why only one student from each House? Why would Nott give them Memory Potion… how would he have managed to give them Memory Potion? And why tamper with everyone else's memories in the first place?"

"Well, that's the mystery," James said, but she caught the flicker of doubt in his eyes. After a minute, he sighed. "Look, I know it doesn't make much sense. But whatever's happening now, Nott's at the heart of it somehow. I can just feel it."

"Another thing," Cassie said, barely listening as a thought struck her. "I may not be an expert, but isn't Memory Potion supposed to make you forget things, not remember?"

"There are different brews," James explained. "Some help you forget, some can improve your memories, depending on the ingredients, the quality, the concentration… OK, I'm bluffing a bit now, but I do recall Professor Vance saying something like that. Then again, maybe my memory's flawed."

"Very funny." Cassie allowed him a smirk, glancing around the corner again. "Looks like there are no Aurors on guard outside his office tonight."

James nodded briskly, folding a piece of parchment in his pocket. "I know. He's not in there, either. They must have pulled them out to patrol the castle – but that doesn't mean our slimy friend didn't put other precautions in place before he left."

Then, reaching into his pocket, he drew out a Dungbomb. Grimacing, Cassie drew her robes up over her nose as he tossed it – with a Chaser's aim – at the door of the office. It was deflected before hitting the wood of the door, having struck some invisible barrier, and landed some distance away. James nodded to himself. "Imperturbable Charm. Of course."

Drawing a wand, he screwed up his brow in concentration while Cassie watched, and moved it in a circle, muttering what sounded like some complicated counter-spell. He repeated the process three times, tossing a Dungbomb at the door after each incantation until the third one struck the door. Grinning in satisfaction, James advanced forward, and Cassie tried not to look impressed.

The smell was rancid outside the office door, but when they pushed inside, as quietly as possible, it did not follow them inside. Lighting her wand once more, Cassie cast it over the cluttered interior of the office. "So what are we looking for?"

"His stock of Memory Potion. It should be in here. Be careful of any intruder traps he might have set." James's voice faded as he moved into the backroom, and Cassie looked around her curiously. There was a cauldron filled with a translucent golden liquid on Nott's desk. A vial containing the same liquid that had been set beside the cauldron caught her gaze, and she seized it up, turning it over. There was a label, on which was written some complicated Latin name that she had never seen before.

James emerged from the backroom a moment later, brandishing a vial containing a cloudy greyish liquid. "This is the forgetting potion that I saw Malfoy with." Then he saw what Cassie was holding, and pressed forward, almost knocking over the cauldron on the desk in his eagerness. "That must be the other brew! The remembering brew."

He took the vial from her, read the label, then nodded to himself and uncapped it. He made it to raise it to his lips, and Cassie reached out to stop his hand, alarmed. "What the hell are you doing?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, looking mildly impatient. "I'm trying it out. How else will we know what its effects are?"

"That could be anything, James!" she insisted. "Nott might have labelled the wrong vial, it could be a really strong brew - you don't mess with that kind of potent stuff without any clue about the dosage."

James met her gaze and seemed thoughtful for a moment. It was then that she realised that she was still clutching his arm, and stepped back hastily, her face warming, trying not to think about how close together they had been standing… in the dimly-lit office…

"There's no other way," he said at last, as though he had not noticed anything. "We don't have much time before Nott gets back, and this forgetting brew might negate any strong effects it has. Besides, I'll only take a small bit." Raising the vial to his lips, he shook a single drop out and swallowed. And blinked.

"Well?"

James closed his eyes for a minute, and Cassie waited, staring at him worriedly. Then he sighed, eyes opening again. "Nothing. Nothing's changed, I mean, my memory's still the same." Before she could stop him, he took another mouthful, winced, but shook his head again, looking disappointed.

"You're mad," she said, with a disbelieving shake of her own head. "Come on then, give it here."

He looked at her in surprise. "You're going to try it?""

Cassie shrugged, more nonchalantly than she felt. "Well, since it didn't poison you, I reckon it must be safe enough." She held out her hand, and he placed the vial into it after a moment's hesitation.

"Be careful."

She rolled her eyes. There was not much left in the vial, so she only took a few drops, then capped it again. It tasted quite sour, like pumpkin juice. James was watching her closely, and his shoulders sagged in dismay when she shook her head again. "Nothing… no, wait - "

Cassie took another step backwards, shutting her eyes. The fog that had formed in her mind on hearing the third-year's words seemed to be clearing somewhat – until she could almost see herself sitting in the carriage with the others when it all happened… almost, but not quite. Something was still holding her back from seeing the events clearly – but what? It was frustrating.

"Something's happening," she said at last, meeting James's eager gaze. "I still can't quite remember, though."

He frowned. "Now, why would it work on you and not on me?" In the silence that followed, a high whistling reached their ears.

Glancing around, they saw that a large Sneakoscope was rotating rapidly on a nearby table, glinting with a silver light. Hurriedly, James dug in his pocket for the piece of parchment Cassie had noticed earlier, tapped it with his wand while muttering something, then swore loudly.

"Nott's on his way back – with a few Aurors. He's only a corridor away."

Rapidly, Cassie pocketed the vial, seized another empty one from nearby and dipped it in the golden liquid, capping it and replacing it where she had found the first one. Then she followed James out as they slipped out of the office, closed the door and ran for their lives.

---

The wind was deafening in Scorpius's ears. He was moving faster than he ever had on his Starsweeper, swooping above the clouds as stars lit in the sky above them: blurry beacons of light on a stretch of blue-black that made him feel cold just to look at.

His hands were wound in the Thestral's mane, but even so, he felt constantly unsteady, slipping backwards and forwards on the creature's silky back. Frequently as they flew, he had found himself asking the same silent questions over and over. Why did you set out on this mad journey? Why did you trust Weasley? Why did you agree to travel by Thestral?

"We're getting close now," he called to Weasley, raising his voice over the wind.

His companion nodded, shouting something back, but her words whipped past him. Far below, through the ragged clouds, the bright lights of London could be seen. His Thestral began to descend sharply.

After they had passed through the lowest layer of cloud (soaking him thoroughly), Scorpius could see an expanse of curved rooftops spread out below him, glowing with light.

His ears began to pop as they descended – rather too quickly for his liking – towards the stretch of narrow alleys and winding, cobbled streets that comprised Knockturn Alley, the ground of an overgrown back garden rising to meet them. Landing gracefully with a spray of mud, the Thestrals came to a halt.

"I hope no one heard that." Weasley was looking anxiously at the dark windows of the surrounding buildings, waving her wand so that the haze around her lifted. Her face was positively green, and Scorpius smirked.

"Travel by Thestral doesn't agree with you, Weasley? Pity, I'm sure a Portkey would have been more comfortable."

"Shut up," she said through gritted teeth. "You need to be discreet now."

"So, this is where the Thestrals led us." He cast a dubious glance around at the ramshackle houses.

"Hugo said he saw your father go into an abandoned shop across from Borgin and Burkes. That should be a few buildings along from here."

She set off, boots tramping over the dirt, and lifted her robes when she reached a low stone wall so that she would not trip over them, hoisting herself onto the other side, into another back garden. Thankfully, the rain had ceased, but the ground underfoot was a sinking mire of mud. Scorpius advanced cautiously behind her.

"What's that?" he hissed suddenly. Ready to snap at him, Weasley turned, and sucked in her breath. Etched over the back wall of the next building, above a window, was a strange symbol he had never seen before. The dark ink stood out against the greyish brick, forming what looked like a full moon: half black, half white.

"I don't know," she said in a low voice. "It looks strange."

"It feels strange, too," Scorpius said softly. There was a slight fluttering in his chest. He turned to regard the orange light that spilled out from one of the bottom-storey windows, over which curtains had been drawn. "I think this must be the place. Do you want to find out, Weasley?"

He had not meant to phrase it as a challenge, exactly, but that was the way it came out. And, he reflected, it was a challenge of sorts. This had been her idea; she had put together the entire plan. The responsibility was now hers to make a decision. But anyone or anything could be waiting for them inside those lit windows.

She straightened her shoulders, not even turning to look at him. "We've come this far," she said calmly. "I need to find out the truth, same as you do."

He did not reply, following as she made her way around to the front of the building.

Sure enough, Borgin and Burkes sprawled directly across the street from them, its shattered windows matching the general air of abandonment that pervaded all of the buildings in Knockturn Alley. Scorpius ignored the thumping of his heart, and watched as Weasley raised her closed fist.

She knocked, three times, on the faded door before them, over which letters were scratched: Moribund's. An awful silence followed.

Then, with a click, the door swung inwards by itself, revealing darkness within. Weasley cast a glance back at Scorpius before advancing inside, her lit wand held out in front of her. He stepped in after her, lighting his own wand, and the door slammed behind them.

The corridor they stood in smelled of damp and mothballs. What now? Scorpius thought. The fluttering in his chest had increased in intensity; his father must be here. He listened hard, but could discern no sound around them, except the creaking of the house around them and the pattering of rain against the rotting walls.

"There are stairs," Weasley hissed, moving her wand so that the light fell across an old, sagging set of steps that did not look as though it would support their weight.

"So climb them. I'll look around down here." He spoke sharply to conceal his own doubt. Wand still held in front of her, Weasley complied, placing one cautious foot before another on the rotting wood as she went, wincing at the dreadful creaking that ensued.

Scorpius magnified the light of his wand so that the whole corridor was illuminated. Peeling paint and splintered floorboards stretched away past the staircase. He pushed open the nearest door and entered slowly. The room resembled a workshop: it had long, jagged countertops and stools strewn about the hard floor. But what stood out were the countless pieces of parchment magically stuck to the walls.

He felt as though he were back in Professor Babbling's classroom; a dizzying array of runes and symbols surrounded him. There was still a faint smell of quills and ink. "Homenum Revelio," he said softly with a flick of his wand, in case anyone was concealed in the darker corners, but nothing happened.

The other rooms along the corridor – one with a battered desk, in which a lamp had been lit, casting the orange glow he had seen through the window outside, the other contained one wall lined with bookcases leaning drunkenly to one side – were also empty, and Scorpius was not surprised when Weasley came back down the staircase with a similar story. "No one seems to be around," she said, perplexed. Stating the obvious, as always.

"So we'll wait," he said curtly, though the thought filled him with dread. Wait, for whoever had stolen his father away to return. His father, who was a more powerful and experienced wizard than he was. Why had he agreed to come here again? It had been a stupid, Gryffindor sort of thing to do, dashing to his father's rescue without giving a second thought to the consequences.

Weasley was clearly not thrilled by the idea of waiting, either, and began to pace up and down the corridor, her footsteps creaking on the floorboards. "This place is so strange," she said in a hushed voice after they had been silent for a few minutes. "It must have been one of those old runologists' workshops – I remember reading that there was a huge craze for these sort of places after the War, when people wanted to get all sorts of talismans to ensure safety and good luck and all that."

"And you're still sure it's the right place?" Scorpius asked dryly, though the clenching feeling in his gut said that it was.

Weasley nodded. "Across from Borgin and Burkes, Hugo said. Though maybe - "

She froze as someone began knocking on the door through which they had entered. Scorpius took a hasty step back towards the staircase, holding his wand out, and Weasley copied him, staring at the door. "Should we hide?" she mouthed, eyes wide with panic, but before Scorpius could reply, the knocking ceased. Exchanging glances, they extinguished their wands, seconds before the door opened.

They could hear the rustle of robes, and heavy footfalls as whoever it was stepped forward, pushing the door closed behind them again with a loud exhalation. Then the person, whoever they were, said, "Lumos!", the corridor was once again flooded with bright light, and Scorpius and Weasley, pressed back against the staircase, did not lower their wands.

The person who had entered was a tall, formidable-looking old witch with long, grey-streaked hair and midnight-blue robes. She looked vaguely familiar, and her eyes widened when she saw them, grip tightening on her wand. Beside him, Scorpius heard Weasley make a choking sound of shock.

"Andromeda?"

---

"That was good thinking," James said to Cassie as soon as they had reached the safety of the Gryffindor common room, which appeared to be empty. "Replacing the vial like that. Nott will know someone broke into his office – but at least now, he won't know what's been taken."

Returning his satisfied grin, she dropped into an armchair beside the fire, inhaling deeply to get her breath back. Her pulse was still roaring in her ears – but racing back through the castle with James with the Aurors in hot pursuit had been as exhilarating as it was terrifying. She felt like laughing and dancing and singing all at once.

"So, theories?" she said at last, as James took the armchair across from hers.

"You first."

"All right." Cassie leaned forward in the armchair, propping her chin on her hands and facing James, doing her best to look alert despite her weariness.

"Someone has a vendetta against the Snarling Sons and is determined to ruin their chances of ever recording another album. This someone also wanted to make Hogwarts security look bad – so in order to kill two birds with one stone, devised an unnecessarily complicated plan to tamper with a few hundred people's memories so that they would think that they were being attacked by werewolves. But he was careless and missed a couple of students. Those were the ones we saw earlier. Nott happened to have a Memory Potion because he's the Potions master and just enjoys brewing it."

"You don't really believe that," James said sceptically. "Come on, the potion was in a cauldron on his desk. He had it all ready for today – he bought ingredients and all – it fits."

"What doesn't fit is his motive," Cassie argued. "Why would Nott want to make his own workplace look bad? And how could one wizard have tampered with so many people's memories?"

"A powerful enough wizard could," James said quietly. "A mass Obliviate charm cast on everyone in the vicinity of the carriages, tailored to make people remember things differently rather than forget… But Nott is nothing if not thorough. I don't think he could have just missed any of the students when he was casting the charm like you said. The ones we saw must have been slipped that Memory Potion by him, somehow…"

"Why would he do that, though?"

James shrugged. "Because he's sick? Crazy? Likes to experiment?"

"And the next little mystery," Cassie continued. "Why did that Memory Potion work on me and not you?"

James pursed his lips, sat deep in thought for a moment or so, and then shook his head. "I haven't the foggiest."

"Me neither." Cassie sighed.

"Maybe because he's a pure-blood, and you're a half-blood." They both jumped, as Albus Potter emerged from an armchair at the other side of the common room.

"Al!" James exclaimed, looking annoyed. "I knew I should have cast a Muffliato spell… What are you doing sneaking around here like that?"

"I was actually finishing off some homework when you two burst in," Albus said with dignity, straightening his glasses as he made his way over to the hearth. "I had a chat with Mark Rokonski earlier, after I deducted some points for breaking curfew, of course, and he was telling me how he can suddenly remember what really happened tonight. So naturally, I was very interested to hear about what you discovered."

"Not that much," Cassie said wearily, but James broke in, his jaw clenched,

"You had no right to eavesdrop like that, Al."

His brother regarded him calmly. "Actually, I think I had every right, James, since no one ever seems to tell me anything these days. Rose keeps running off to places without an explanation, and with all your nonsense about Nott these past few months -can you blame me for wanting to know what's actually going on? Especially when you're always hoarding the Map…"

"What map?" Cassie asked, confused.

"Don't you dare," James said through gritted teeth, but Albus ignored him, addressing Cassie with a smirk.

"Our dad gave James this map that shows the entire school, along with the people inside and all of its secret passages. Hence his mysterious, seemingly all-knowing aura."

"Ah, so that's how you knew Nott was coming." Cassie regarded the two brothers curiously. "But how is a map like that even possible?"

"It's a long story," James said at last, still scowling. "And I don't see what it has to do with anything. What were you saying about pure-bloods, Al?"

"Well, it's just a theory," Albus said modestly, "But some really old Memory Potions and charms are known to have different effects on people depending on their blood purity. And I know for a fact that Mark Rokonski is a Muggleborn."

The two took a minute to process his words. "So you're saying…"

"That there could be a connection between the small number of people who seem to remember, yes. The remembering potion might only work on Muggleborns."

Cassie rose to her feet. "Only one way to find out."

Jackie Saunders groaned, rolling over in bed and pressing a pillow over her head as Cassie switched on the light in their dormitory. Her voice emerged, muffled and sleepy. "What's wrong with you?"

Cassie scanned the other beds quickly. Penny had returned, and was curled up under the blankets, sleeping soundly, but Rose's bed was still empty. Frowning, she sat down on Jackie's bed. "I'm sorry about this, but I just need you to try something."

She brandished the vial. Her Muggleborn roommate pushed the pillow away and squinted at it. Her pixie-short hair was dishevelled, strands scattered across her forehead, and her eye-makeup smeared darkly over her cheeks. "Is this some kind of joke?" she said groggily.

"No, I promise you. Trust me, Jackie, it's OK to drink. Just take a little sip, and I'll let you get back to sleep."

Her dormitory-mate sighed, then took the vial and shook a few drops into her mouth. "You're so weird, Miller," she said, and then her eyes widened. "Whoa…"

But Cassie had already left the dormitory, and sprinted back down to tell Albus and James. The brothers exchanged satisfied nods, their earlier argument apparently forgotten. "So it works on Muggleborns."

"Of course, we still have no idea how or why it was used," Albus added, "But at least we know that much."

The three were silent for a moment, as the truth of what they had just discovered dawned on them. Albus was the first to speak.

"Maybe The Daily Prophet's right about one thing," he said uncomfortably, regarding the other two. "If our memories are being tampered with… Then Hogwarts isn't the safest place for us to be anymore."

"But it's our home," James said stubbornly. "It's Hogwarts. So we'll make it safe again." He turned to Cassie. "Wake Rose up and tell her about this, will you? She thought the werewolves were Animagi, which was a good enough guess, but…"

"She's not in the dormitory."

James blinked. "What?"

---

Andromeda Tonks was the first to speak. She did not lower her wand as she stared at Rose. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here? And with him…" She jerked her wand towards Malfoy without shifting her gaze. "If this is some kind of trick - "

"I'm no impostor, if that's what you're thinking," Rose said, finding her voice at last. "My name's Rose Lavender Weasley, the first time I met you was when I was five and you gave me a box of Bertie Bott's to keep me quiet. I came to meet you with Aunt Ginny the day after my mother was poisoned, in St Mungo's hospital."

Andromeda took a deep breath. Her face was unhealthily pale. "So it is you, Rose. You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you," she burst out. None of this made any sense - Andromeda Tonks, of all people, being here, of all places - it gave her a horrible feeling.

"Do you know where my father is?" Malfoy said sharply, and Andromeda turned in his direction, wand still raised.

"You're Draco's son? No, of course I don't know where he is. I'm here purely to conduct some business."

"Business?" Rose repeated shrilly. "Here, in an abandoned shop in Knockturn Alley? What's going on, Andromeda?"

The older witch did not reply. Her features was set like stone. She looked at Rose, then at Malfoy, then her grip on her wand tightened infinitesimally.

Both Malfoy and Rose reacted in the same instant. The wand flew out of Andromeda's hand just as her mouth was forming the word, "Obliviate." Rose seized her wand, feeling a chill run down her spine as she stared at the witch before her, who was becoming less and less familiar by the second.

"Did you really just try to wipe our memories?" she exclaimed.

"To protect you, yes," Andromeda said wearily. "You both need to get yourselves out of here, now. Trust me, you don't want to be here when they get back."

"When who gets back, exactly?" But the older witch ignored her, casting an anxious glance at the doorway and then taking a step towards them.

"Rose, give me back my wand. I need it. Give me back my wand and go."

"Why, so you can cast another Memory Charm on us?" Malfoy said, his voice harsh.

"I give you my word, I will not do that. My word, Rose."

"Don't listen to her, Weasley," Malfoy said sharply. "You can't trust her – give me the wand."

Rose shook her head slowly, still staring at Andromeda. Her mind felt like it was in a fog. "I'm not giving you your wand back until you tell me what's going on, Andromeda."

The three stood facing each other across the splintered floorboards, the light cast by Andromeda's wand much too bright around them. It was giving Rose a headache. She stared at the other witch, at the shadows cast on her face, stared until her eyes burned.

At length, Andromeda spoke, her voice resigned. "Tell me why you came here, Rose, and then I will tell you what you need to know."

"She's just buying time," Malfoy said, but Rose ignored him, taking a step forward with a creak of the floorboards and staring at Andromeda's face. She still could not look away.

"We came here for answers, Andromeda. I want to know who set Astoria Malfoy up to poison my mother at the wedding. And Malfoy wants to know… where his father has gone. Someone saw him going into this shop yesterday, so we followed him here."

"I can't help you, I'm afraid," Andromeda said, her eyes tight. "I told you everything I knew about your mother's poisoning already, Rose. And as I said before, I have no idea where Draco Malfoy is. How could I?"

"You know what I think?" Malfoy stepped forward, too, until he was level with Rose. He stared intensely at Andromeda. "I think you're lying. I think you know exactly where my father is, and who framed my mother – because she was framed. My mother never poisoned anyone."

"How dare you speak to me like that?" Andromeda said in a voice barely louder than a hiss, drawing herself up to her full, impressive height, her eyes glittering as she stared Malfoy down. "After everything your family has done to me - the misery they have put me through…"

"It's your family, too," Malfoy retorted, but Andromeda gave a short, bitter laugh.

"Oh, no. I have never been part of your family, boy. That was the one point on which my sisters and I always agreed."

"Andromeda, please," Rose said, her voice low and her eyes downcast. "Just tell us what's going on, and then we'll leave you alone. I promise."

There was a long, heavy silence. Something in Andromeda's eyes had changed at Rose's words – then she breathed in deeply, and her face was set in a pale mask of calm once more. At last, she spoke, in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

"You want to know who poisoned your mother, Rose? I poisoned her. Or at least, I helped."

The words hovered on the air – simple, terrible. Rose swallowed, and attempted to collect herself - to quell the scream of disbelief that was rising within her throat. "No," she heard herself saying, over and over, though she did not know if it was aloud or not. No, no, no…

Beside her, she could see that Malfoy had paled. He was staring at Andromeda, his eyes hard. "Why?"

"Why else? To protect my family."

"But – we're your family," Rose protested, in a very small voice. Tears were beginning to blur her vision, and she could feel her face twisting with them. "Not just Mum and Dad, but me too… We've always been – even before Teddy married Victoire."

Andromeda shook her head sadly. "You've all been very good to me, Rose, and I'm grateful to you for that. But you're no more my family than he is." She pointed to Malfoy.

That hurt – more than Rose could ever have expected - and a flicker of anger followed quickly. Clenching her fists, she started forward, but felt a hand on her arm, restraining her. Turning, furious, she saw that it was Malfoy. "Just wait," he said in a low voice, but she shook him off roughly.

"This isn't you, Andromeda," she repeated angrily, marching forward. "I've heard all the stories – how you ran away from your family and married a Muggleborn against their wishes, how you let the Order hide in your house during the War. You're brave and loyal and good, I know you are! Just like Teddy is."

At the mention of her grandson, Andromeda's mask of calm seemed to slip, and her shoulders sagged. Rose came to a halt directly before the witch, realisation dawning on her, as she saw the guilt clenching Andromeda's every feature for the first time.

"But this is about him, isn't it?" she said quietly. The words Andromeda had spoken to her before returned to her mind. After everything that happened in the war – with Ted, and Nymphadora, and Remus… Merlin knows I've lost enough family already. "He's the family you had to protect."

"They had a wand on Teddy at his wedding," Andromeda said, her voice trembling with emotion now. Her eyes, wide and sorrowful, fixed on Rose. "One of the Aurors. If I hadn't done what I was supposed to - "

"They would have killed him?" Rose's mouth was dry with horror as she remembered the black-robed figures at the wedding. "Which Auror had a wand on him?"

"The boy…" Andromeda shook her head then, twisting her face away. "I can't tell you, Rose, I'm sorry."

"Why not?" she cried. "Why can't you trust me, Andromeda? Why couldn't you trust us then? Why did you have to lie about it afterwards – testify against Astoria Malfoy to the entire Wizengamot – why?"

Andromeda's lip curled, and there was a flash of something in her eyes. She edged closer to Rose. "Because these people are powerful. More powerful than your parents, than anyone in your family. They're always watching. Teddy wasn't out of danger when he left that wedding. He hasn't been out of danger since."

"But what was it," Malfoy's cautious voice interrupted, "that you were supposed to do, in order to protect your grandson?"

Andromeda looked at him guardedly. "Alter Hermione Granger's memories, so that she thought the Malfoy woman had come to our table. Lie about what I myself had seen. And…"

"Slip poison into my mother's drink while nobody was looking?" Rose said suddenly. Andromeda turned to face her.

"Yes. But it was never intended to kill her. I told you – don't you remember? – I told you when we were in the hospital that she would wake up - "

"You didn't know that." Rose stared at her, still unable to believe what she was hearing. This was madness. Utter madness. "Nobody did. What's more, you sent an innocent witch to Azkaban. You let us all believe that she was guilty."

"I had to," Andromeda said sharply. "Have you not been listening? They're everywhere, Rose, and they're always watching. If they wanted Teddy dead, they'd have him killed, just like that."

"So you traded a life for a life," Malfoy broke in once more, his voice like ice. "But by condemning my mother, you condemned me and my father too. They spent years trying to rebuild a life after the War, and you destroyed it."

"Don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing," Andromeda challenged, her eyes locking on his. "You're a Malfoy, and Malfoys always look out for their own. If your parents were threatened by someone, wouldn't you do whatever you could to save them? Even if that meant condemning someone else?"

"You don't know anything about me, or my family," he snapped.

"Oh, I know you all too well," Andromeda said, with another bitter half-laugh. "My sister married one of you, years ago. That was the right marriage, but I made the wrong one, you see. And my entire family abandoned me because of it. Do you have any idea how that feels?"

Malfoy opened his mouth once more to make a cold retort, but Rose, still staring at Andromeda, had stopped listening. The briefest of memories had returned to her, of the day after the wedding, when she had sat in her mother's hospital ward, gripping her limp hand. I swear I'm going to find out who did this to you, she said. And… they're going to be sorry.

Now she had found out. She stood a few inches away from the woman who had poisoned her mother. Her wand was in her pocket. But it wasn't some faceless stranger who had poisoned her mother, whom she could attack without a second thought. It was Andromeda.

"I may not know how it feels to be abandoned by family," Malfoy said coldly. "But I know how it feels to be abandoned by the world. I've felt it all my life, but it hasn't driven me to condemn innocent people."

His words stretched through the silence, and Rose was not even sure if Andromeda still heard them. Though she still held herself upright, she was crying silently, the tears flowing freely down her lined face. There was something defeated about her now, and she knew Malfoy saw it too; he stood poised beside her, his hand still clenched on his wand.

"They're coming," Andromeda said at last, through her tears, and her words made Rose feel even colder than before. "It's too late now, for all of us. They're coming."

"Then let's go," Rose said quickly. She caught Malfoy's accusing gaze, and shook her head. "She doesn't know where your father is, Malfoy. I think she was telling the truth about that." Stepping forward tentatively, though she heard him protest, she placed a hand on the older witch's arm.

"Come on, Andromeda. I'll get us out of here, back to my family's shop in Diagon Alley. Once we're there, we'll be safe."

"Are you mad, Weasley?" Malfoy demanded.

Rose swung around to glare at him. "It's the only plan we've got. We'll get her to the shop, and tell my parents everything she's told us – then your mum's name will be cleared, and they can track down your father."

"I can't…" Andromeda said softly. She was still crying silently, though, and Rose was able to tug her along quite easily, away from the door.

"Come on, we'll go through the back. We'll get you out – come on…"

They were halfway across the hallway, Malfoy following behind, when a mewling sound echoed from the street outside, causing them all to stop dead.

"They're here," Andromeda said quietly, then, as the front door opened, "I'm so sorry, Rose. You have to believe that I am."

Slowly, they turned, and beheld a large black cat winding its way in through the door. The Animagus that Hugo had described. In her shock, Rose let go of Andromeda's arm.

She watched, wide-eyed, as the cat stretched lazily, and its sinewy limbs began to lengthen and contort before their eyes, until a wizard stood in its place, in flowing purple robes, his glittering brown eyes fixed on them. She had only ever seen newspaper photographs of him, but Rose recognised him instantly, and felt a shiver of fear strike through her. Beside her, she heard Malfoy's sharp intake of breath.

"Well, I must say, it's an unexpected pleasure," Blaise Zabini said cordially. "If I'd known you were visiting, I'd have cleaned up this place a bit."

"Where is my father?" Malfoy demanded.

"Your father?" Zabini smiled widely. "Oh, is that why you're here? Well, no need to worry, Scorpius, your father's in good hands. He has very kindly agreed to perform an important task for us – more than that, I cannot say."

"I thought you were out of the country," Malfoy muttered.

"As you can see, I am not." Blaise Zabini sketched a bow, then his eyes alighted on Andromeda for the first time. "Ah, so you've been having a nice chat with our lovely Andromeda. I don't know what we would have done without her. She's invaluable, really."

"She didn't tell us anything!" Rose said quickly, sensing the hunting gleam in Zabini's eyes. But she might as well have been invisible. He did not so much as glance at her.

To her shame, Rose found herself shrinking back against the wall as Zabini strode towards Andromeda, making herself as small as possible. All those years of listening to her parents' stories, and she had never seen a proper Death Eater before – and now that she had, it was more terrifying than she had ever imagined.

Andromeda stood, straight-backed, and stared Zabini in the eye as he approached her. "I told them nothing," she said, her voice level. "Nothing, Zabini."

The wizard's face did not change as he grasped her by the shoulders.

Before Rose could react, or scream, or utter an incantation – before she even knew what was happening – Blaise Zabini had seized Andromeda Tonks's neck and snapped it with a sickening crack in one swift, deft movement.

The world seemed to slow as Rose watched the witch's body twist in the air and tumble to the ground, broken.

Broken…

She heard herself screaming, but it made no sound.

She felt the ground meet her knees as they buckled.

She felt her heartbeat pulsing through her ears, muffling every other sound.

She heard Zabini's careless words to Malfoy, as though they were being spoken underwater, "It's important not to rely too much on wand magic."

She felt herself surge forward, still on her knees, with the vague, savage intention of launching herself at him, making him pay for what he had done.

What he had done…

Almost lazily, he raised a hand that sent her flying backwards. Rose hit something with a thud and felt herself slide down, red hair falling over her face and obscuring her vision. She tasted blood, and then she saw black.

"What did you just do?" Scorpius was exclaiming over and over in a strangled voice, his eyes fixed on Zabini, because he could think of nothing else to say. "What did you just do?"

Blaise Zabini cast a glance backwards at the door through which he had entered, then back at Scorpius. "She's on her way," he said, as casually as though they were at a dinner party. "I'd advise you to get yourself and your blood traitor girlfriend out of here before she arrives, because she won't be happy."

Scorpius didn't plan on obeying, but suddenly he was moving, away from Zabini, towards where Weasley was slumped. He didn't ask who she was, because he didn't want to know. He didn't need to know. The single syllable filled him with more dread than any name could have.

"Weasley. Weasley. Rose."

Someone was saying her name, over and over. Rose blinked as light flooded her eyelids once more, and then she saw Scorpius Malfoy kneeling before her. His grey eyes were wide and glassy with shock, and his face drained of all colour. "Rose." There he was, saying her name again. How strange it sounded. "We need to go. Now. Rose."

She nodded at last as his words sunk in, and attempted to stand. He helped her, letting her clutch his arm for support, and then they were running, further down the splintered floorboards of the corridor, a window looming up before them – they smashed through, and Rose barely registered the pain of the shards of glass sticking to her skin, because all she could see was Andromeda's stricken face, and all she could taste was blood, in her mouth, rushing in her ears…

The Thestrals were there before them when they reached the back garden – a dim part of Rose's mind reasoned that they must have been attracted by the smell of her blood… while another dim part of her mind was dancing around the terrible fact that she could see them now – dark, skeletal creatures, framed against the night…

Her hands knotted in the nearest Thestral's mane, and then she had to hoist herself up onto its silken back without Malfoy's help, for he had gone to his own Thestral. She fell forward, her face buried in the comforting warmth of the creature's mane. "Hogwarts," she said, over and over again. She begged, "Hogwarts."

(***)

Later, Rose would not remember any of the details of their flight: the rush of cold air on her face as they soared into the gold-tipped clouds that heralded dawn, the spray of water as the Thestrals swooped down over the Black Lake. She would not remember the splash of their footsteps on the damp stone as they made their discreet way into the castle by way of the boathouse, the cold air of the Entrance Hall around them, the terrible silence of Gryffindor Tower as she entered it alone, and trudged up to her dormitory.

All she would remember was that feeling of terrible numbness, surrounding her body like a cocoon as she climbed into bed fully clothed, and watched Andromeda fall and twist through the air again and again.

---

James Potter stared at the Marauder's Map from where he sat cross-legged on his four-poster bed. It was barely dawn, and his dormitory-mates lay snoring around him, but he was fully awake. He had watched Scorpius Malfoy and Rose Weasley's dots appear on the map, and followed them with his eyes through the castle to their respective dormitories.

Where had they been together? And why had she lied?

Only when Rose Weasley's dot had ceased its movement did James fold the map once more, tapping it once.

"Mischief managed."