Disclaimer: Copyright J.K. Rowling

Chapter 30: Children

Away with us he's going,

The solemn-eyed:

He'll hear no more the lowing

Of the calves on the warm hillside

Or the kettle on the hob

Sing peace into his breast,

Or see the brown mice bob

Round and round the oatmeal chest.

For he comes, the human child,

To the waters and the wild

With a faery, hand in hand,

For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.

- W.B. Yeats, "The Stolen Child"

The second of May was a date that had been fixed in the minds of witches and wizards since Harry Potter had defeated Lord Voldemort for the final time. Every year, representatives of wizarding communities from all over the globe flocked to Britain to pay their respects to the Ministry of Magic. Nationwide, a day of rest was observed, and while oblivious Muggles went about their business, a great quiet descended on their magical neighbours. Graves were visited, old pictures and letters taken out of storage and caressed, notes of sympathy sent from friend to friend, an extra place laid at table as the family ate.

But there was one event in the country around which everything revolved that day, and that was the anniversary ceremony at Hogwarts. In past years, it had been held in the grounds of the castle; rows upon rows of white seats set up on the green of the lawn, fronted with a podium where a number of speeches were given, ordinarily by the Headmaster, the Minister, and some representative of the Order of the Phoenix.

This year, however, things were a little different.

For one, the Headmaster could not give a speech, as there was, at present, no Headmaster, and for another, the ceremony was to be held in the Entrance Hall in order to unveil the repaired phoenix monument.

And for another, Scorpius Malfoy was to be one of the speakers.

"You know, you're being very distracting," he said to Rose the evening before the anniversary, as the last light of day was filtering through the lakewater outside his dormitory window. He sat with his back to the headboard of his bed, parchment propped on his lap, while she was stretched out like a cat before him, reading some Muggle novel.

"What am I doing?" she demanded, raising her eyes from the pages of her book. She was wearing one of his Slytherin jumpers, and it came to her knees. Scorpius laughed at her bewildered expression.

"Nothing. That's exactly the point. I can't concentrate with you here."

"Then maybe I should go," she suggested, rolling over onto her back and shutting her book. As she stretched her arms towards the ceiling of the four-poster bed, "So that you can finish writing your speech."

"No." Scorpius caught hold of her arms, tugged her towards him. "Stay."

"And distract you?" she pointed out, though not resisting. The book fell from her hand and landed on the floor with a thump. She caught hold of his collar with one hand and leaned in to kiss him.

"No," Carlos Santini said as he marched into the dormitory, wiping sweat from his brow. Rose and Scorpius looked around, the latter rolling his eyes.

"Quick flight, Santini?"

"It started to rain," Carlos said mutinously.

"Never stopped you before."

"Yeah, well, there's not much point in flying when you can't see a damn thing. She - " the Slytherin captain pointed at Rose with one hand through the open door of the bathroom, " - shouldn't be in here."

Rose regarded him, unfazed. "Say, Santini, is it true you owe Scorpius a pair of dress robes?"

Involuntarily, Scorpius snorted. Carlos Santini stared, then blinked, shaking his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, Weasley."

"He told me you made a bet," Rose went on, ignoring her boyfriend's shake of the head, gently indicating that she should give it a rest. "At the start of the year, you know, that Slytherin would take the Cup. Well, since we all know how that ended..."

"I don't remember ever making a bet like that," Carlos snapped.

"Of course you don't," Scorpius said serenely, and Rose sighed, lifting her shoulders, as though to say Well, I tried. "And who would have guessed that Ravenclaw would end up winning the Cup?" He gave Rose a smile, and she returned it, a warmth spreading inside her at the memory of that day, now almost a month ago.

Carlos clattered around in the bathroom for a minute before emerging again, his hair standing on one end, to ask, "Is it true you were asked to make a speech about Toby tomorrow?"

Anxiously, Rose looked at Scorpius; however, his face did not change as he regarded Santini serenely. "That's right."

"For the record, his cousin's name was Tobias," Rose interjected, and Scorpius gave her another look.

"What, so nicknames aren't allowed now?" Santini demanded. "I always called him Toby." A pause, then, "He was a good chap."

"And he was fond of you," Scorpius said. Both Rose and Santini turned to look at him in surprise at the lack of irony in his tone. At length, the Quidditch captain muttered something and, taking his bag, hurried out of the room.

"Well, that scared him off," Rose remarked, but turning back to her boyfriend, she saw that his face was serious. Silence reigned in the dormitory for a minute or two, until she said gently, "Do you want to read me some of it, then?"

Scorpius glanced at her, a look in his eyes as though he had just woken from a reverie, and then nodded. "Yeah. If you wouldn't mind."

"Of course not," Rose said, and then, "I didn't think you'd agree to it, you know."

"It was an honour to be asked."

"Yes, but... it's a hard thing to do. To talk about someone you've lost." Rose tilted her head at him, her gaze suddenly assessing, and Scorpius mimicked the movement. "What?"

She shrugged. "I'm proud of you, that's all."

His grey eyes, that she had once thought of as so cold, lit with a warm gladness at her words, so that his whole face seemed radiantly transformed. "Come here."

Entranced, Rose began towards him, then stopped. "Maybe you should read me your speech first."

"Oh, yeah. Probably wise." The grin he sent her thrilled right through her core. Then he cleared his throat. "Right. Well, I've been having trouble with the last part. Can you tell me if this is too sentimental?"

Stifling a smile at the idea that Scorpius could be overly sentimental, Rose nodded solemnly and gestured at him to start. That, after all, she reflected, was love.

Since weather was not a consideration for this year's ceremony, no one was particularly bothered when the next morning dawned wet and miserable. Indeed, it seemed to suit the mood of the day; sunshine would have almost seemed irreverent.

Rose listened to the W.W.N. as she got ready in her dormitory, and the crackling of the wireless against the sound of rain tapping against the glass of her windows made her feel very cosy. She dug into the bottom of her trunk and pulled out a set of black dress robes that she had not worn in over a year, magically de-creasing them with her wand and then stepping into them.

"You look nice." Cassie Miller emerged from the bathroom in a towel, yawning. "Do you think I should wear dress robes too?"

"I dunno," Rose said as she brushed out her hair. "Whatever you feel like."

"Hair up or down?"

The broadcaster on the W.W.N., having gone through the other news items, began to talk about the anniversary.

"Today is the day not just to honour those who fought for us in the Battle of Hogwarts, but also those who are absent in our lives, those who have left us, for whatever reason. It's time to think about the mark they left on us and our lives..."

Both Rose and Cassie found themselves looking at Penny's empty bed in the dormitory. "But she's not dead," Cassie said. "That's silly."

"Yeah," Rose said, with a shrug. "I suppose. Hair up, I would say."

Nodding sagely, her roommate seized her clothes and returned to the bathroom.

The Entrance Hall had been expanded to fit the numbers, but even so, James could not help but feel a little hemmed in as he squeezed into the front row. Before them was the podium, and to its left, the new monument was draped with cloth. The doors to the Great Hall stood open, and students were herded through from that direction, taking their seats behind the Potters. Most of the front row was devoted to members of the Order of the Phoenix, except for Professor Broadmoor, Raymond Bletchley, who had now chief editor of the Daily Prophet, and the new Minister for Magic. Directly behind them were lined various members of the Wizengamot.

Smiling to him, Ginny Potter patted James's arm as he took a seat next to her, and on her other side, his father raised his eyebrows in greeting. James could see that he was tense as a coiled spring, a tension that was explained when he noted the presence of a pair of Auror guards directly to the left of the podium; if anyone was going to try to assassinate Harry Potter, today would be the day to do it, after all.

James winced at his own thought, and turned to his brother, anxious for distraction. "Who's first up?" A few places down from Albus, he could see Rose and her family; Hermione Granger had a similar expression on her face to that of his father's, and he wondered if the presence of so many Ministry officials was having its effect on her. Directly behind her sat Cassie, who very determinedly did not look at him.

"The Minister, I think," Albus murmured, just as the buzz of conversation around them began to die down, but as both brothers looked around to see who was ascending to the podium first, they observed a wizard with a symbol of gold emblazoned on his chest: a gold phoenix over a flag of red, white and blue. "Oh, no, it's MACUSA."

Vaguely interested, James tilted his head to listen as the American wizard began talking, but on hearing the words international stability and worldwide fraternity repeated several times, he found his attention beginning to wander. He noticed that Rose was tapping her foot to a frantic rhythm on the floor. He noticed Scorpius, a few rows behind, studying a piece of parchment intently, while someone next to him whom he assumed to be his mother, Astoria Greengrass, wore an expression of vague distaste on her face at whatever the MACUSA representative was saying. One of the Aurors to the left of the podium appeared to be listening very intently to the speech, nodding at various intervals. Then, as James looked harder, he noticed that the witch bore an earpiece.

"... and promote a spirit of integrity amongst magical people all over the world," the wizard concluded, and then people were clapping, and James looked around at them, a little baffled, before joining in the applause. The Auror with the earpiece moved fluidly from the podium to his father's side, bent and whispered something to him. James felt his mother stiffen in the seat beside him as without a word, Harry Potter stood, and, accompanied by the two Aurors, left the Entrance Hall.

General confusion rumbled through the assembly, so that when Hershia Potts stepped up to the podium, her first few words were drowned out by the noise. A small, dumpy witch, she struggled to raise her voice above the din without magical aid, her face reddening with the effort.

"This ceremony is the highlight of the wizarding year, and today I intend to give it the credit it deserves... Er, that is..."

At last, as the Aurors returned to the room and resumed their former places, the room quieted once more. James tried to catch his mother's eye, but she was staring down at her lap, where shreds of the anniversary programme were scattered.

Where was his father? The thought echoed in the wide halls of his mind, incessantly. And as Hershia Potts stood up there, spitting out her speech with little more charisma than a Blast-Ended Skrewt, James knew what he had to do.

A Decoy Detonator. Whether it was foresight or just plain force of habit, he always carried at least one of them with him. He reached into his pocket and let it slip out of his hand and scuttle away under the chairs, the little, black horned creature.

A minute passed, and then there was an explosion of smoke about halfway down the aisle behind James. Someone jumped up, screaming, and suddenly everyone was moving, pushing and shoving to get out. In the confusion, James slipped away from his family, pushing his way through the crowds and dropping the Invisibility Cloak over himself.

As soon as he reached the quieter environs of the marble staircase, he tugged out his Map and tapped it with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." What was going on? As the blueprint of the castle emerged before his eyes, the colour drained from James's face.

He could not see his father's name anywhere, but what he did see was a dot labelled Theodore Nott, winding its way along the seventh-floor corridor. It couldn't be. Nott was in custody. Unless he had escaped... was that why his father had been called away? James stared at the dot, hard, and then it disappeared completely. He blinked.

Had he been seeing things? But no, some spots in the castle were Unplottable, he recalled. If Nott had entered one of those spots... Like the Room of Requirement -

James felt his stomach turn over, whether in horror or excitement, or some mixture of both, he did not know. All he knew was that if Nott was in the castle, something was very wrong.

And if he knew about the passageway from the Room of Requirement...

Then there was no time to lose.

"Everyone settle down, please," Professor Broadmoor called, his voice magically magnified over the din. "There is no call for alarm. A mere prank." He held up a black horned object in his hand demonstratively, and Rose leaned across to Albus as people settled back into their seats. "Isn't that one of James's?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, and they both looked to the empty seat beside him. "Where's he gone?"

"We will now hear from one of our students, who kindly agreed to say a few words today. Please welcome Mr. Malfoy to the podium."

There was a smattering of distracted applause, and Rose forgot about James, feeling butterflies in her stomach as she watched Scorpius make his way up to the podium, the piece of folded parchment still clutched in his hand. As he turned to face the audience, she was glad to see that he did not look in the least bit nervous; his face was just a fraction paler than normal.

"Tobias Greengrass was my cousin," he began, his voice quiet but carrying, "And he was a holy terror."

A ripple of uncertain laughter; Scorpius did not react. His grey eyes roaming over the audience, he went on, "When Tobias started school this year, he wasn't what you'd call a model student. He didn't believe in following the rules - or rather, he thought there was one rule for him and a different one for everyone else..."

James stepped into the darkness of the passageway, the Room of Hidden Things dwindling behind him until it was no more. He could hear his own footsteps on the uneven floor. They sounded far too loud in his ears. Keeping a little light with his wand, he held the Map up to his eyes as he walked, watching to see if Nott's name appeared again. It didn't.

Sometimes he thought he heard footsteps ahead, but when he stopped, pressing back into the shadows, he could hear nothing but his own pounding heart.

The passageway narrowed as he neared the village, and James started to hear things he knew were not just in his imagination: voices, their words indistinct through the wall, tramping footsteps overhead as he passed what he reckoned to be the main street, and, at one point, the distant hooting of owls. Finally, he saw light up ahead, and extinguished his own wand, placing his feet now very carefully as he approached the entrance to the Hog's Head cellar, listening.

A woman was talking fast, and James heard her at first without comprehension; as he inched closer, however, he began to discern some of her words. "... only a matter of time. We have to get you out of here, before the Aurors give chase."

"I appreciate your concern, Daphne," replied the soft voice of Theodore Nott, "but it is not over yet."

"Let's go on, then," the witch whom James now surmised to be Daphne Greengrass. "Quickly."

There came the sound of their feet ascending the cellar steps, and James followed on behind under his Cloak. Just outside the tavern, they cast Disillusionment Charms over themselves, and then it was harder to spot them. Sometimes, their shapes would flicker into view for a moment in the hissing rain, and James would hurry to keep them in view, but then they would flit down main street and out of sight once more. Finally, he caught sight of one of their figures just outside Gladrags, and then he thought he might have an idea where they were going.

That day in Hogsmeade, with Cassie, so long ago... He had seen Nott visit an apothecary's cottage. And now as he followed them down that very same alley, he felt a rush of excitement at the thought that at last, at long last, he would know what Theodore Nott's game was.

Getting inside the cottage without detection would present its own difficulties, however, and James hesitated at the creaking gate that still stood ajar, watching as the witch and wizard knocked on the door, then were whisked inside so swiftly that he did not see whoever had answered. A minute or so passed as he stood there with the rain sluicing down his back, wondering if it would be best to wait until they emerged again. Then one of the grimy windows lit up as though by a bolt of lightning.

James was decided. He pressed forward, past the gate and right to the door, placing his hand on the doorknob. But before he had even turned it, it was opened again, and Theodore Nott stood there framed in the doorway, looking right through him. His face was a good deal thinner and flatter than when last James had seen him, which gave a disconcerting illusion of largeness to his eyes. Beyond him, James could see a cauldron boiling over with steam that crackled and shot bolts of light through the room at random intervals.

"It would appear," Nott said, addressing his words over his shoulder to the Greengrass witch, who was hovering uncertainly by the doorway, "that we have a visitor."

James began to inch backwards, but Nott snaked out a hand and caught hold of his arm, tugging him over the threshold with such force that the Cloak slipped off his shoulders. Too surprised that he had been detected James did not pull himself free until the door of the cottage had been shut behind him, his wand had been yanked out of his hand, and both Nott and Greengrass had drawn their own.

"How did you know I was - "

"I learned from the best. My predecessor was a great Legilimens."

"Your predecessor..." James stopped short, then frowned. "Severus Snape?"

"The very same. I used to take lessons with him when I was in school. He was a reluctant teacher, but even Snape knew better than to refuse a direct order from the Dark Lord."

"Voldemort?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter." Theodore Nott looked almost proud. "He had great plans for me at one time, you know. My father was a great disappointment, but the Dark Lord saw potential in me. He sought a replacement for Snape, once he had outlived his usefulness. But, of course, you know the rest of the story."

"Theodore," Daphne Greengrass said, and both wizards looked over to where she stood by the cauldron. For the first time, James noticed the woman standing in the corner of the room. Tall and pale, so faded-looking that she blended into her surroundings. Her eyes were fixed on the steam above the cauldron, and every time the light crackled, she flinched. "Anthea says it is nearly time."

"Very well." With an elegant flick of his wand, Nott produced some magical ropes that wound their way around James's arms and legs, forcing him back into a chair that stood against the wall. "You may watch if you wish, Mr. Potter. It makes no difference to me."

"What are you doing?" James sputtered, as the air in the cottage grew thick with black smoke, spewing spontaneously from the cauldron.

"Anthea..." Nott gestured to the woman, who stepped forward, her eyes wide as she stared at the cauldron, and James realised that whatever potion was in there was of her own creation. Frantically, he thought back on everything he had learned about Nott over the year - all of the bits and pieces, clues and hints that had led to nothing. There had been those Memory Potions, back at Hallowe'en: the ones that had only worked on Muggleborns. And then...

He stared as the woman held up her palm to reveal a familiar symbol etched into the skin there. "You are working for the Truthseekers."

"We are not," Daphne Greengrass spat before Nott could make a reply. "That symbol was in existence long before Carlotta Pinkstone adopted it for her own."

"And she failed in her aim," Nott supplied. "While we plan on succeeding."

"So you're going to restore the Muggles' memories?"

"No," Nott said, with a slight smile. "We're going to give them magic."

"My cousin may have been a handful at times, but he was also extremely bright for his age - one of the brightest kids I ever knew. I was proud of him. I think he would have gone far." Scorpius paused as another ripple of uncertainty passed through the crowd, for Harry Potter had reappeared, hurrying up to the front row to take his place by his wife once more.

"Where were you?" she hissed as Scorpius resumed his speech. "What happened?"

Harry passed a hand over his jaw. "Tobias Greengrass is still alive."

His wife's eyes widened. Straining to hear on her other side, beside James' empty seat, Albus stopped dead.

"There was a security error," his father went on in an undertone, his green eyes flicking around in constant alertness behind his glasses. "In the holding cells beneath the Ministry. A guard has been slipping Polyjuice Potion into one of the prisoners' food."

"Which prisoner?"

"Theodore Nott. Or so we thought." Harry Potter leaned back in his seat, jaw clenched. "Turns out it was the Greengrass boy, disguised. Which means Nott could be anywhere." Then he gave a start, as though he had noticed the empty seat beside his wife for the first time. "Where's James?"

"We don't know," Ginny said jerkily, with a glance at Albus. "Didn't he follow you out?"

Harry shook his head.

Down the aisle, tears stood in Rose's eyes as she listened to Scorpius speak, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

"I wish things could have been different. My cousin's life had barely started when he was taken away from us. It wasn't fair, what happened to him. But all we can do now, I suppose, is cherish the memories that we still have, and the people who are still with us." His eyes alighted on Rose for a moment, and she felt her throat catch. Then Albus touched her arm.

"Do you know where James is?" he whispered.

She looked back at him blankly, barely registering his words. Scorpius started speaking again, a concluding note in his voice, and she turned back to listen, but Albus kept a grip on her arm, insistent. Looking past him, Rose saw the stricken faces of her aunt and uncle, and the restless stance of the Aurors by the left of the podium.

"I don't know," she whispered back finally, and Albus let go of her arm, but she kept her eyes fixed on his face, even as faraway applause sounded around them.

"What's happened?" Cassie leaned forward to whisper from the row behind them, and Albus turned to consult with her.

"We can't find James. And Dad just found out that Nott's on the loose..."

"What if Nott's here?" Rose breathed. Another part of her aware of Scorpius descending from the podium, passing them, and rejoining his mother a few rows behind them. "In the castle? What if James went after him?"

She and her cousin stared at each other, and then Cassie cleared her throat and said, "I might have an idea where he's gone."

"That's not possible!" James exclaimed. "You can't just give people magic."

"I beg to differ. You noticed that mark on Anthea's hand, yes? It does not just have the power to drain magic, but also to imbue with magic. Once it has been sufficiently charged, that is - and that is the purpose of this spell." Nott indicated Daphne beside him. "My fair companion contrived to have a certain potion added to the students' breakfast this morning - a potion containing Basilisk venom. Does that sound familiar?"

"And this potion..." James said in a low voice, "It's going to take away everyone's magic?"

"Not everyone." Theodore Nott smiled, and then James understood.

"Just Muggleborns."

"Exactly. And operating on the same principle, we will restore this magic to its rightful owners; therefore, not all Muggles, but just those with magical parents. Like our friend Anthea here."

"She's a Squib?" James stared at the woman, whose luminous eyes gazed right back at him.

"And once that part is done..." Theodore went on, but then the woman spoke.

"I want his magic."

There was a pause. James felt a prickle on the hairs of his neck as the Squib pointed to him. Meanwhile, Nott watched him thoughtfully.

"Absolutely out of the question," Daphne Greengrass pronounced. "For one thing, we don't have time. And for another - "

"It is possible," Nott mused. "Though Mr. Potter is not a Muggleborn, he has Muggle blood, only two generations back. It is possible."

"For another," Daphne interrupted, intent on being heard, "He's Harry Potter's son!"

"Which makes the idea even more attractive, does it not?"

Daphne stepped right up to him, taking Nott's arm and bringing him a little distance from the cauldron, though James could still hear every word uttered. "If we do this, Theodore, there's no coming back from it."

Nott was silent; during which pause James looked desperately around the room for some means of escape. His gaze landed on the nearest window, but it was tiny and firmly shut; he would not fit through even if by some means he managed to get it open. No, his only hope was to get his wand - to trick Nott somehow, or at least delay long enough till someone came.

His thoughts went to his family, sitting there in the crowded Entrance Hall, and suddenly James realised that they were not coming. No one was coming for him, because he had not told anyone where he was going, and he had the Map stowed away in his pocket.

"I'm an idiot," he said, unconscious that he had spoken the words aloud until Nott nodded in agreement.

"Yes, quite."

James winced as Daphne Greengrass leaned over him, etching the truth symbol into the skin of his palm. The pain was agonising, like a white-hot brand touching his skin, but he did not want to give any of them the satisfaction of his cries. All the while, the Squib woman watched him, alert, and James's quick mind worked as he observed this.

"Why me?" he asked of her. "Why do you want to take my magic?"

"Anthea has her own reasons," Nott said, but the woman interrupted, holding up a hand.

"I will tell the boy, if he wishes to know." Her voice was quiet, with a rasping quality to it as though it were not used very often. She held her head at an angle as she looked at him, like a bird. "You know my friend?"

"Er... I'm not sure that I..."

"Carlotta. Carlotta Pinkstone."

"Oh. That friend."

"We were very close, once." Anthea's eyes were distant, even as she continued to look at him. "And I still honour that, James Potter. My friend wanted to help Muggles. She wanted to show them the truth. You stopped her."

"I stopped her because - " James began to argue, then realised there wasn't much point, since he was in a considerably compromising position and no one was really listening to him anyway. "All right, fair enough." He looked at Daphne Greengrass as she straightened up, having finished with the symbol. "And you? Why are you doing this?"

She gave him a look of pure contempt, then turned to Nott. "Ready."

"Wonderful." Nott raised his own wand, in unison with Daphne's, and both pointed it to the cauldron. Anthea began to approach James in his chair. Now was the time to escape. Now was the time to come up with some brilliant plan. Now, when he still had a few seconds... So why wasn't anything surfacing? Why was his mind so utterly, infuriatingly blank? He began to struggle in his bonds, but they simply tightened around his limbs even more, as he had known they would - he cast a desperate glance at the window, and then Anthea had reached and pressed her palm onto his, seizing his arm with surprising strength.

It all happened so quickly that James was still struggling in his chair a moment later. A flash of light, a dagger of excruciating pain slicing its way down his back and across his chest, ten times worse than the pain he had experienced at the symbol being etched onto his skin, and a ripple in the air... and then it was over.

He felt as though he were asleep, his senses groggy, and colder, somehow, too, as though he had lost a layer of skin... The bonds around his limbs had come loose. James stared down at them, and then at his own hands. When he looked up, he started, for around him stood only the derelict ruins of an old cottage. The very chair on which he was sitting was now little more than a pile of rotten wood. His three companions had disappeared, but he saw his wand lying on the ground nearby. Throwing himself forward, he grabbed hold of it and pointed, but felt no answering thrill through his veins. The wood felt heavy and useless in his hands.

Falling to his knees, James heard a voice behind him. "So it's worked, Mr. Potter." Turning, he saw Nott standing in the gap where the doorway had been. "Tell me, what does it feel like? I'm curious."

"You... you..."

"Oh, of course. Do forgive me." Nott waved his wand, and the cottage formed again around James, Daphne and Anthea appearing beside him. "I've lifted the protection spell so that you may see us."

James did not speak; he could not think of anything to say. In the ensuing silence, a strange whizzing sound could be heard. He saw a glass spinning top whirring in the windowsill, and suddenly Daphne Greengrass was moving, grabbing her cloak. "They know where we are. We need to go, Theodore. We can finish this another time. Wipe his memories and let's go." She took Anthea's arm, but the Squib woman shook her off, glaring. "You need to go, too."

"Calm yourself, Daphne," Nott said. He placed his hands on the witch's shoulders, and she gazed up into his face, and even to James's numbed mind suddenly occurred a possible reason for Daphne Greengrass's involvement in this scheme. "Get yourself to our hidden place. I will follow."

"You'd better," she said shakily, and with a final glance at James, swept out the back door of the cottage.

Anthea was bundling up some belongings in what looked to be a ragged coat, and slinging them over her back. She knelt and lifted a threadbare carpet off the stone floor, beneath which was a door. Pulling it open, she nodded to Nott, and he wrested the wand out of James's grip easily, handing it to her. It sparked a little as it passed into her hand.

"I recommend you purchase a wand of your own," Nott said, "as this will not work as well for you. But it will do for the moment."

Anthea nodded, pocketed the wand and descended into the darkness. Nott closed the cellar door behind her, and James flinched at the crashing sound it made against the stone floor.

"You bastard," he said, as Nott gracefully rose and made his way back over to where James was still kneeling. "You pretend to be on the Muggles' side, but you're going to wipe my memories now, aren't you?"

"You'll find, Mr. Potter, that people are full of contradictions. I myself am no exception to that rule." Theodore Nott tilted his head. "You've been following me all year, haven't you, Mr. Potter? I haven't forgotten how you spoke against my appointment, at the start-of-term feast."

"With good reason," James said. He curled and uncurled his wand hand, trying to feel anything, trying to persuade himself that Nott's spell had only been temporary, that soon he would feel it again - that spark of himself...

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Either way, I'm afraid you're mistaken, Mr. Potter."

"What?" James was still staring at his hand.

"I'm not going to wipe your memories." Theodore Nott planted himself before him, and raised his wand, pointing it at his temple. He smiled as his lips formed the words of the incantation.

"It's here." Cassie Miller drew to a halt, pointed to the cottage, and the two Aurors and Harry Potter broke into a run, their wands out. She followed after, breathing heavily.

The memorial ceremony was still going on, but as soon as Albus had told his father that she knew where James was, she had been whisked out of the place by Harry Potter. They had taken a carriage to the village, enchanted to travel faster than Cassie had ever known them to go before. But she had not time to feel sick, or nauseous, or even intimidated by being in such close quarters with the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One... All her thoughts were for James, James, whom she had not spoken to in over a month, whom she had convinced herself that she hated.

Following behind the Aurors, she watched as they forced the door of the cottage open - and came upon a startled witch and wizard having their tea.

"Wrong one," Harry said in a low voice, directing his Aurors out once more.

"I'm sorry!" Cassie said, putting a hand to her head. "I was so sure it was that one... but it was a while ago..."

"We'll keep trying," Harry said briskly. Motioning to the Aurors, "You two, split up. Cassie, you stay with me." He strode on to the next cottage over without waiting for her response, and she hurried after him.

As the crowds from the ceremony began to disperse, Scorpius pushed his way to the front row, where he could see several members of the Order of the Phoenix in deep conference with each other. Behind them towered the new monument, a phoenix of white marble that matched the staircase, but no one had paid it much mind when it was unveiled.

"What's happening?" he asked Rose. She looked at him in a desperate, panicked kind of way.

"Oh, Scorpius..."

"What? What is it?" His voice was rough with apprehension. "Who set off that Decoy Detonator during the Minister's speech? Was it your cousin?" He looked around. "Where is James?"

"That's just it. We don't know." Rose blinked at him, tears suddenly in her eyes. "But Scorpius... your cousin is alive."

"What?" Astoria Greengrass had appeared beside Scorpius, her shrewd gaze sweeping over Rose. "What are you talking about, girl?"

"There was some kind of mix-up, at the Ministry," she tried to explain, wringing her hands. "I don't know, but I think..."

"Theodore Nott and Tobias Greengrass swapped places with each other." Albus, coming to Rose's rescue, addressed Astoria Greengrass respectfully. "During the Truthseekers' visit to Hogwarts. They used Polyjuice Potion."

"That doesn't make any sense," Scorpius said, shaking his head while his mother's face slackened. "Aunt Daphne would have known. She was with Tobias for days, in his room, remember, she wouldn't come out?"

"They think Nott's in the vicinity," Albus went on. "My father and a few of his Aurors left a little while ago to see if they could find him. Him... and my brother."

"James went after him?" Scorpius asked, his brow furrowing, and Rose and Albus nodded in confirmation.

"Cassie had an idea of where he might be, so she's gone with them."

Astoria Greengrass looked to be on the verge of posing another question, but at that moment, their conversation was cut short by a sound just outside the castle doors. The rattle of carriage wheels.

"They're back," Rose said, her eyes widening. "They must be." She could see Ginny Potter hurrying past them, going out to greet the carriage. Her parents followed closely on her heels. "Merlin, I hope they've found him."

She saw their figures framed black in the doorway for a moment, then they disappeared from view as they descended onto the drive.

It was when she heard her Aunt Ginny's scream that Rose knew. She knew, deep in her gut, as Albus pushed past Astoria and Scorpius and ran outside, as her father came back into the Entrance Hall to the softly murmuring crowds, a look of blank despair on his face, as he reached for her and Hugo, stopping their arms, shaking his head again and again, saying, "You can't go out there. You can't..."

Rose twisted out of his grip, ducking under his arms. "Let me go, Dad, let me go! I have to see..."

The daylight was almost blinding to her eyes outside, and she blinked as her eyes adjusted. She saw things one after the other. There was Albus, shouting something, his face contorted, and Uncle Harry clutching his son's shoulders, shaking him again and again so that his glasses went askew, talking to him frantically. There was Cassie, her face ashen, and beyond her the Aurors, by the open door of the carriage, where something had been set down on the grass - no, someone. There were Aunt Ginny and Lily, kneeling by his side.

They drew closer; Hugo took one look and buried his face in Rose's shoulder. Mechanically, she clutched him to her, as she stared at James Potter's body where it lay on the lawn, his lifeless eyes gazing up at the sky.

Astoria and Scorpius were silent as they sat in the waiting room just off the Atrium, to which the wizard at the security desk had directed them. It was a narrow, high-ceilinged chamber, with walls of black marble that matched those in the holding cells on Level 10. A narrow bench lined one wall, and on it mother and son sat, a generous distance between them.

"I should be at the castle," Scorpius said at last.

"You need to be here, Scorpius," his mother said levelly, her eyes fixed on the far wall. "Tobias needs us, after what he's been through. We're the only family he has left now."

"But it's not as simple as all that. James..."

"I know." His mother reached out, squeezed his hand briefly. "I know, Scorpius."

"I should be back there," he said again, thinking of the look in Rose's eyes as she stood there on the lawn, her brother sobbing into her shoulder: the look of a felled deer. "They might need..."

"Believe me, Scorpius," Astoria said, her voice low, "you are the last person they'll want to see right now."

"You don't understand." Agitated, Scorpius turned on the bench, faced her fully. "They're my friends, Mum."

He saw a look of surprise in her green eyes, but she swiftly concealed it, merely asking, "Who?"

Scorpius hesitated for a moment, then, "Albus Potter. Rose Weasley. And... James, too, I suppose."

"Ah yes, the Weasley girl. Daphne mentioned - " His mother stopped abruptly, shook her head, then said again, more softly, "Daphne."

"How could she do it?" Scorpius passed a hand over his mouth, then leaned onto it.

"I thought I knew my sister." Astoria swallowed. "But it seems I was wrong."

"It seems you were." A bitter edge entered Scorpius's voice. "She's just as murderous as Zabini."

"You don't know that it was her who fired the curse."

"What difference does it make? They cornered him in that cottage, took his wand. He was defenceless."

"I don't want to think about it," Astoria said faintly. "It's so horrible..."

"And she lied. She pretended Tobias was dead. She watched us all grieving, and she knew - how could she?" Scorpius rose from the bench, took a few steps, and then swung around again to face his mother. "She and Nott. What was between them?"

"Nothing that I know of. They were together for a time, I think, in school, but then she met Blaise, and..."

"Why would she do all that for him? For Nott? And put Tobias at risk..."

"When you think about it, Tobias was in the safest place he could have been. In the Ministry, away from his father." Astoria considered. "Perhaps Daphne imagined that if Blaise thought his son was dead, he would finally leave them alone. She didn't dare hope that Blaise himself would die."

"Did she really hate him that much? Zabini? To wish for his death?"

"With all her heart," his mother said quietly, and heaving a sigh, Scorpius resumed his place on the bench. "It was a beautiful speech, you know."

For a moment, he did not realise what she meant; the speech seemed so long ago. Then he shook his head. "Empty now."

"Not empty. There was truth in it."

Scoripus did not reply. They heard footsteps then, and the door opened, admitting an Auror escorting his cousin.

Astoria jumped up and positively crushed Tobias in an embrace. He peered over her shoulder at Scorpius, who gave him a weak smile. His cousin had lost weight in his face, and was paler than he had ever seen him before.

"We'll need to have your nephew in again for questioning over the next few days," the Auror said as Astoria released Tobias from her grip, to his very visible relief. "Just to piece together what information we can. The details will be sent to your address."

"Of course. I'll bring him myself." Astoria turned away from the Auror. "Come along, you two. It's time to go home."

Scorpius did not subject Tobias to as long a hug as his mother had, for which his cousin seemed immensely grateful. However, as they walked out through the Atrium, he put an arm around his shoulders, guiding him gently.

"I was hoping to see your father," Astoria said as they rose up in the visitor's box, "but visiting hours are over by now."

"No great loss," Scorpius murmured, and his mother gave him a sharp look, but did not reprimand him.

"Where are Will and Sammy?" were Tobias's first words, as soon as they emerged into the daylight. It was still raining lightly, and Astoria produced an umbrella, shaking it over them.

"They're being looked after by a friend of your mother's at the moment. But we'll get them to Charing Cross as soon as we can."

"So I'll be staying with you?" Tobias asked.

"Yes. Your mother - "

"I don't care where she is. She put me in that cell. She told me I couldn't say a word. She - " Tobias stopped, scowled, and resumed, "I don't care."

Scorpius looked at him sidelong, but did not say anything. The look on his cousin's face was enough to make him feel that there no words he could venture to make him feel better.

As soon as they got back to the house, Scorpius dashed up to his room and seized a length of parchment, hastily writing a letter. He was attaching it to his owl's leg when his mother knocked on the half-open door. "Scorpius? Oh." Moving inside, she saw the owl. "I thought as much."

"What, are you going to stop me?"

"I'm not going to stop you," his mother said, "but I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why not?" Scorpius asked, despite himself, and Gaspard hooted inquisitively.

His mother sighed. "A letter from you will do more harm than good at this point."

"That's not an answer."

"Fine." She moved forward, tilted her head to one side and read the name on the envelope. "You've addressed it to Rose Weasley."

"That's right," Scorpius said warily.

"It'll never reach her."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"They won't want you writing to her. Even if she does get the chance to read it, she won't reply."

"You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know Rose. She - "

"Was she close to him?" his mother interrupted. "To James?"

Scorpius hesitated, then nodded. "Very close."

Astoria gave him a penetrating glance. "Closer than she was to you?"

"I... I don't know."

There was a pause. "Think for a moment, Scorpius. Just think about what's happened. Your aunt has been deeply involved in the death of her cousin. For all she knows, you and I were in on the secret."

"Rose would never think that."

"Even so." His mother watched him carefully. "Do you really think she'll look at you in the same way now?"

"Maybe not now," Scorpius said slowly, "when she's in shock. But when some time has passed... and in the meantime, she should know at the very least that I'm thinking about her."

"All right, then." Astoria Greengrass moved for the door. "Send it. Mark my words, you'll get no reply." Another pause, then, as she turned the handle of the door to close it, "I'm making food for myself and Tobias in a little while if you want to come down."

Scorpius listened to her footsteps sound down the stairs, and then he gazed up at the night-sky ceiling of his room, at the gorgeous constellations and winking stars. "She will reply," he said, and Gaspard sounded a vague hoot of encouragement as he flapped out of the window with the letter.

Rose always remembered that week like some extended nightmare.

The Potters' house in Godric's Hollow had not been built to accommodate so many people, and the squeeze of so many presences made Rose feel suffocated. She asked questions, and listened uncomprehendingly to the answers, and - like everyone - attempted to make some sense of what had happened.

A clear picture of what had happened did not really form in her mind until many months afterwards. It seemed that Tobias Greengrass and Theodore Nott had indeed swapped places, so that one could avoid being apprehended by the Ministry while the other was taken for dead. Nott had used some potion to arrest his circulation, and so he had appeared lifeless when found, in the young boy's form. They had buried an empty coffin, and Nott had hidden in Daphne Greengrass's house, who had not only been aware of the whole thing, but had even arranged it. Meanwhile, Tobias, in the Potions Master's body, had been escorted to the Ministry, where a guard in Nott's pay had slipped him Polyjuice Potion at regular intervals to maintain the pretence, until at last the supply ran out and the secret was revealed.

The how of it was thus explained, but the why remained unclear. And it was the latter Rose desperately sought, for that meant everything. Why James? Why Nott and Greengrass, together?

Letters arrived for her over the course of that nightmare week, but they would not let her read them. He should not be writing to her, they said. He had no right. Not when his aunt...

Godric's Hollow. A cruel wind whistling around them as James Potter's coffin was lowered into the ground. Rose clutching her cloak around her and gazing at the other headstone while sobbing sounded in her ears. White marble, shining in the darkness. The names James and Lily Potter, and the inscription.

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

Rose read that over and over, thinking that eventually, the meaning must sink into her brain. The why. It didn't.

But as she stood there, shivering with the others, a strange sound reached them. The sound of Muggles singing, in the church across the graveyard. It came to them, borne on the wind: the many voices joined together in one joyous melody, floating across to the lonely party by the marble headstones. Voices that sang of glory, of love. Voices that belonged to another world.