Chapter 2: Introduction Part 2: Scorpius Malfoy
This story has been in my head for awhile and I finally decided to put it down to pen and paper. Please be gentle.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
When Scorpius Malfoy was a young boy, his most prized possession was a baby dragon. His mother, Livia, who had accidentally mistaken a dragon's egg for a large golden centerpiece when she'd purchased it from a passing peddler, had given it to him for his fifth birthday.
Scorpius adored that dragon. He loved to watch its translucent blue scales change color under the various lights of the day. He loved watching it maul the strips of meat that he fed through its iron cage. Most of all, though, he loved the way the dragon seemed to adore him just as much as he did.
For Scorpius, love was a fickle thing. Though he was certain his parents loved him to some degree, it was difficult for him to evaluate how much exactly. He sometimes felt forgotten and neglected, as if he were some object that had been misplaced around the mansion. He sometimes could not figure out whether even his parents loved one another. Draco and Livia Malfoy had a long history of having terrible quarrels, quarrels that sometimes led to violent scuffles and even hexes gone astray. These disagreements were never quite enough to break them apart, but they contributed to the constant undercurrent of tension that lay beneath the Malfoy household. To make matters worse, Scorpius had no other brothers or sisters to keep him company. One child, it seemed, had already been plenty enough for his parents.
For this reason, Scorpius was always on the lookout for new people to associate himself with. When other children came to visit the Malfoy Manor—the Notts, the Zabinis—he always presented with an air of cool composure, though secretly yearning for their acceptance. He discovered then that he had a natural ability to win people over. The other children flocked to him as if he were their leader. They found his superior pose daunting enough to respect him, but his wit sharp enough to admire him. They became his friends. Nevertheless, Scorpius often found these friendships unsatisfying, for they seemed to be lacking any sort of loyal stability. There was no love between him and his friends, just a sense of mutual understanding.
The dragon was his source of love. When he was sick, the dragon kept him warm by swallowing coals and curling beside him in bed. When he was frightened of the various magical beasts that occasionally appeared in the broom cupboards and stairwells, the dragon would snap its jaws and chase them away. In return, Scorpius nurtured it as he had never done for anyone else. On the day that Scorpius mounted his first broom, he taught his dragon how to fly. He watched in exuberance as it expanded its gleaming wings and soared under the sunset for the first time. Time passed like this for his early childhood years. Scorpius rarely left his family's estate. He did not see much of the outside world. For him, the universe he lived in was just enough.
Then, on his 8th birthday, Ministry officials came knocking at his door. They had heard rumors from the neighbors of dark objects still existing in the Malfoy Manor. They combed the place from head-to-toe, stripping the walls of anything they found suspicious. Priceless artefacts, ancestral belongings, beautiful antique furniture; nothing escaped their eyes. It wasn't long before they found the dragon, which the boy had concealed beneath the floorboards of his room. Scorpius watched in rage and horror as they thrust the dragon into its iron cage and hauled it over their shoulders. The only thing they allowed him to keep was its collar, a beautiful leather thing that Scorpius himself had inscribed the dragon's name on.
That night was the first time that his parents mentioned divorce. Scorpius, too haunted to fall asleep, pressed his air against the floorboards and listened as they fought.
His mother screamed:
"I should have never married a Death-Eater! Gone, all gone! My mother's jewels, my own inheritance, confiscated by the Ministry all because everyone thinks this family is evil to the bone!"
Then his father's reply:
"What do you want me to do? I've bloody well tried everything. I've got decent employment. We've still got plenty of money left, we'll just buy our things back-"
"This isn't about the fucking money, Draco! That money is tainted, don't you see? What do you think people see when they look at us walking around in our fancy dress robes? They think the Dark Lord himself handed to us that money. For Merlin's sake, they'll always remember you as the boy who almost killed Albus Dumbledore!"
"I'm sick and tired of you bringing up the past! You weren't there, Livia, you left the bloody country. You had no idea what it was like for the rest of us who stayed."
"Well look who's paying for it now? Your son doesn't have any friends who aren't the children of former Death-Eaters. He's practically lived his life in this Manor because Merlin knows what will happen to him if he was allowed to walk the streets alone!"
At this point Scorpius had shrunk away from the conversation, unable to hear anymore. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, contemplating the implications of his parents' words. Up until now, he had never fully realized the gravity of his father's actions in the past. His parents had given him the fundamentals of Draco Malfoy's part in the war, but they seemed to be so ashamed of what had happened that they would only divulge little snippets at a time.
Of course, Scorpius had grown up hearing about the stories of the war himself, and through various media, he was kept well-informed along with the rest of the Wizarding world on the latest news of the country's national heroes: Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. It was impossible not to. Newspapers, radio stations, and tabloids were constantly jabbering about some event related to the Potter-Weasley family (celebrating the birth of another child, as was so often the case). Not to mention the endless procession of Harry Potter biographies which were released every so often, with each new account more action-packed than the last and some containing such absurd detail that they were unlikely to be true (for instance, Scorpius highly doubted that Harry Potter had nearly blown up his Muggle aunt). Nevertheless, despite the copious amounts of information Scorpius had access to, he had never once found an extensive report on Draco Malfoy. What information he had gleaned on his father was either extremely nasty or intentionally vague in order to avoid controversy. It was quite frustrating, and confusing, for a boy his age to see such prejudice against his home and not know why.
Oddly enough, Scorpius couldn't bring himself to feel resentful towards his father. His anger was directed at the strangers who pointed their fingers at him when they passed, the ones who eyed his fine clothes with disdain and muttered darkly to their children. It was them that he held responsible for the Ministry seizing his possessions and the dysfunctional state of his family. In his opinion, it was unjustified. Society was unjustified.
As a result, Scorpius grew to be extremely proud of his family name. His reasoning was that if he were to be ostracized for being a Malfoy, he wouldn't give people the satisfaction of putting his name down. Instead, he began to adopt a new strut and aptitude for flaunting the family fortune. It was astonishing to see how such a young boy could be so impeccably dressed in the finest quality robes, not a hair out of place. In addition, his speech had also begun taking on a lazy drawl, which gave the impression that he saw himself superior to everyone else.
Inevitably, this attitude led to the development of a rather nasty rebellious streak. Scorpius was always resolute in having the last word. He was dreadfully stubborn and outspoken, to the point where he could've insulted the Minister of Magic's mother without batting an eyelash. Even Livia was sometimes so exasperated that she had to lock herself in her bedroom to prevent herself from doing anything drastic. There was no doubt that Scorpius had a talent. His words could provoke the most even-tempered of adults, and yet they held such a clever combination of logic and wit that it was sometimes impossible not to agree with him.
But that did not always work in his favor.
It happened on the day that he first met the Potters. He could remember standing outside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, feeling a surge of mingled bitterness and envy towards the children in the store. He had never been inside a joke shop, or rather, any shop whose sole purpose was to provide entertainment. But there he was, battling the urge to step inside, remembering the previous time when the store-owner himself—a redheaded, lanky-looking git—had prevented him and his mother from doing so after charging out and furiously shouting: "No Death-Eaters Allowed!".
That's when he noticed the boy and the girl staring at him.
The girl captured his attention first. She was a redhead, though her hair was a color that he'd never seen before—an unusual cross between gold and crimson. She was the image of juvenile, with the odd sprinkling of freckles and plain round face, but the moment she spoke—"Well aren't you going inside?"—he saw a strong and resolute maturity behind her voice that indicated her mindset was as less of a child's as he was.
He did not think much of the boy until he identified himself as Harry Potter's son. That was when he looked at Albus Potter as though he might've looked at a mirror depicting an alternate universe.
He took note of the quiet, unassuming boy—the way his reddish brown hair hung messily over his face, the way his thin and lanky body stood so awkwardly to the side—and the thought that went through his mind was this: I could have been him. It was a strange feeling; not quite envy, not quite anger, but more of a deep resonating scorn. In that moment, Scorpius' cool-headed wit had departed and was replaced with an overwhelming hate. He hated the fact that this boy, who looked as though he could hardly care about rolling out of bed in the morning, had been simply given all that he'd strived so hard to achieve: respect, esteem, even something so trivial—like entry into a joke-shop.
He was so preoccupied with this thought that he hardly noticed the arrival of Harry Potter and the rest of the family. During the exchange between Harry and his father, he only caught fragments their exchange before his father ushered him away. Scorpius was relieved. He was certain that if he'd stayed in their presence a moment longer, his blazing emotions would have consumed him. As they departed, he only hesitated for a moment, turning back for a last look at the son of Harry Potter.
Albus Potter's eyes met his without flinching. They were a vivid bottle-green, burning with curiosity.
It was a moment that Scorpius would often recollect in the next couple years. When he returned home and once more encountered the newspaper articles and the tabloids about the Potter family, the image of the quiet, redheaded boy would leap into his mind, and the bitter emotions he'd experienced on that day would resurface.
And then the day came when Scorpius was due for his first-year at Hogwarts.
It was a silent trip to Platform 9 and 3/4. The Malfoys, as always, avoided contact with the other families except for those that were friends of Draco's. Scorpius was reunited with his former playmates—Vera Zabini, Lucas Rosier, and the twins, Gareth and Carpathia Nott. They greeted each other solemnly in the midst of their parents, who were all determined on being as inconspicuous as possible.
As the train gave its final boarding call, Draco's farewell to his son was quick and concise ("Don't get into trouble, boy"). His mother barely had time to give Scorpius a small embrace before the two of them ducked away from the platform's edge and Disapparated.
For the first time in his life, Scorpius' home was no longer the Malfoy Manor. He reflected upon this with slight amusement, and found himself suddenly relaxed, as if an anvil had been lifted off his shoulders. As he and his friends settled into their compartment, the conversation between them took on relatively lighter tone as they too began to sit restlessly in anticipation, no longer burdened with somberness of their parents.
"So wot do you think it'll be like?" commented Gareth in his thick Irish accent. He was a rather mousy-looking boy who was quite easygoing once one got to know him. More on one occasion, Scorpius had seen Gareth smile wider than his face would permit, but granted, it did not happen very often.
"It must be easier than home," said Vera decisively, tugging her dark straight hair out of the bun her mum had made her wear. She adjusted the red-tinted glasses on her face and peered into the corridor outside. "Have any of you seen the Potters? I've been dying to get a good look."
At the mention of the Potters, Scorpius was once more assailed by all-too-familiar emotions, but he suppressed them with an easy smile. "Why? They're all a bunch of frumpy, redheaded idiots. Terrible fashion sense. Now there's a new meaning to the phrase 'looks to die for.'"
The children in the compartment guffawed, all except for Carpathia Nott who—as usual—was in a silent stupor.
"Reckon I saw at least three of them by the train," said Lucas, "You know what this means: more Gryffindors."
Gareth groaned and muttered something darkly under his breath. At the sight of this, his sister rolled her eyes and let out a small 'puh' of disdain.
Gareth turned to look at Carpathia Nott, a fierce expression on his face, and said: "What? Do you have something to say this time?"
Carpathia's eyes glinted almost maliciously at this outburst, but she remained silent.
Scorpius raised his eyebrows at this exchange. He had always found Carpathia Nott to be a bit of an oddity. In all the years that she'd known her, she had never willingly formed a fully-fledged sentence unless it was expected in polite company. Unlike her twin, who liked to speak what was on his mind, Carpathia expressed herself through her eyes, her hands, her posture. It was perhaps for this reason why she seemed to treat her image like a work of art. To her parents' exasperation, Carpathia had taken it upon herself to battle every form of tradition when it came to her attire. Scorpius had never seen Carpathia in anything but black, and yet every set of black robes that she owned was different, for she had snipped and altered them each to a unique and specific design.
Today, it looked as if her Hogwarts robes had not escaped such treatment. She had somehow made it so that the robes wrapped around her body like a cloak. On one side, the dark cloth fell gracefully over her shoulder, which almost seemed to make her look like a sophisticated vampire. Her plain brown hair, which had been falling nearly to her waist when he'd last seen her, was now cropped just above the shoulders. A dark shock of it fell over her eyes, which—like her brother-was a light greenish brown.
When she angled her head away from the rest of the children, Scorpius was surprised to see a gleaming black stud glittering in her ear.
"Nutter," snapped Gareth ruthlessly. "Merlin, it's impossible living with you." He looked at his friends, and did a spiral motion with his finger next to his head: "She got her ears pierced this summer at a muggle store. Nearly gave mum a stroke." Carpathia gave no sign that she was perturbed by his words; in fact, she'd begun to smile.
At that moment, the train door compartment burst open, and the girl that Scorpius had seen the other day outside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes stumbled in.
"Sorry for barging in. I was just wondering if maybe any of you have seen an owl?"
For several awkward seconds, the entire compartment stared at the intruder, taking in her flaming red hair and disheveled robes.
"An owl?" Gareth finally repeated, breaking the silence. "How on earth do you lose an owl?"
"I s'pect it flew out of its cage," said the redheaded girl breezily. "Well, anyway, thanks for looking. If you see anything flying around-"
"You mean there's a great ruddy bird flying around the train?" said Scorpius incredulously.
"I certainly hope so. I wouldn't want it flying out the window," replied the girl worriedly, turning to address him. Her eyes registered Scorpius' pale blond hair and condescending expression and then widened in recognition. "Oh! It's—it's you." The last syllable went down a pitch, signifying her apparent distaste.
"Don't sound too enthusiastic," commented Scorpius acidly.
"I apologize. O, tis you, a wonderful sight to behold." she responded tartly, and Scorpius couldn't help but smile in amusement. "Right, um, sorry to bother you all again. Must be going now-"
"Well hang on, aren't you going to introduce yourself?" interrupted Vera eagerly, who seemed to be on a warpath on making new friends. The others in the compartment groaned and shifted uncomfortably.
The girl looked rather taken aback for several moments, but then she recovered her manners and replied: "Right, of course. Um. I'm Rose. Rose Weasley."
Scorpius couldn't help uttering a snort. A Weasley. Oh, how quaint.
Rose's nose twitched in irritation and she opened her mouth, no doubt to make a cutting retort, when—
Several things happened at once. A large object collided into the compartment door with a huge bang, rattling the doorframes. Immediately following this, a jet of light came hurtling down the corridor, hitting the object (which looked from a distance like a ball of feathers) and causing it to drop towards the ground. At the same time, Carpathia lurched forward with surprisingly quick reflexes, catching the object neatly in her hands.
Loud footsteps came echoing down the corridor until a familiar figure with reddish brown hair stumbled, panting, into the compartment. It was the Potter boy, no doubt about that. He looked just the same as he had two years ago, just as Scorpius had visualized him in his mental ponderings.
Carpathia got up from her kneeling position and held out the object—which they now knew was the immobilized form of a grey owl—in her hands. She said simply: "Your owl."
The Potter boy gaped at her in bafflement, then took the unconscious owl gingerly in his hands: "Er, thanks. Thank you," he added quickly, acknowledging everyone in the compartment with a nod of his head. When his eyes fell on Scorpion, they flickered in recognition. "Don't I know you?"
"Scorpius Malfoy," stated Scorpius smoothly.
"Oh right," replied the Potter boy rather awkwardly. He extended his hand courteously and said, "Albus Potter. Or Al."
Vera uttered a small titter of excitement. Gareth and Lucas both shot her looks of reproach, but they too began to assess the boy with critical eyes. Rose, who seemed to be on her tether's end with all the niceties, then proceeded to tug on her cousins' arm and made a small indication with her head that they ought to leave.
The two children muttered quick goodbyes and went off where they'd come from, closing the compartment door behind them.
Gareth exhaled loudly. "So that was a Potter boy? Good grief, I'm definitely not gunning for Gryffindor this year. What about you, Scorp? Slytherin all the way?"
Scorpius smirked. "Naturally. I look dashing in green and silver."
"And you lot? Slytherin?"
There were murmurs of agreement all around. Carpathia, of course, made no sound.
Lucas frowned contemplatively and craned his head to peer down the corridor. "What do you reckon about that Weasley girl? She was rather pretty."
Scorpius snorted in reply, "Oh yeah, if you're into banshees. I, for one, am planning to keep my Hogwarts years completely Potter-free."
Unfortunately, as it would have it, fate did not grant Scorpius Malfoy's wish. Upon the first-years' arrival to Hogwarts and the subsequent Sorting that awaited them, it was apparent that otherworldly workings were at hand.
The first half of the Sorting went smoothly without any terrible shocks. There was already a healthy batch of Hufflepuffs, a handful of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, and the occasional Slytherin popping up here and there. Nothing to worry about.
When Scorpius heard his name uttered, he sauntered up to the hat without so much of an elevated hear-trate. The hat's dusty flap plunged his world into darkness, leaving Scorpius to sit there with his thoughts.
Seconds ticked by, each stretching out longer than the last. He began to feel a new uneasiness trickle into the recesses of his heart.
Then, out of the blackness, a thin, shrewd voice chuckled in his ear: Aha! A Malfoy, eh? Haven't had one of those in nineteen years.
Scorpius gripped the stool beneath him in surprise. His father had never mentioned this aspect of the Sorting when he'd recounted it.
Now now where to put this one? I must say, the share of first-years this year has been so very fascinating, quite as fascinating as the year that Harry Potter and his friends came to Hogwarts.
Slytherin obviously, thought Scorpius with thinly-veiled contempt. He could hear the others in the Great Hall buzzing with commotion over what was taking so long, and wished that the Sorting would just be over and done with.
What's this? A streak of rebelliousness, I see, and quite a great deal of mischief… but dare I say that I detect a smidgen of bravery?
No, not bravery, Scorpius thought fervently, just plain old mischief.
Senile dishrag, he added half-heartedly for effect.
Yes, yes, don't think I haven't heard it all before. Well I'd hoped you would not consent to follow in the footsteps of so many Malfoys before you, but now I see its necessity… it would make your future actions that much more significant if you were a Slytherin…yes, I see that now. You have the ambition to become so much greater than your forefathers, and you must if you wish to break the cycle…but you won't do it alone. Oh no, I'll make sure of that…
"SLYTHERIN!"
Scorpius blinked in bewilderment as a wave of applause washed into his world. When the Hat was lifted from his eyes, he felt as though he'd been woken from a trance. He made his way dazedly to the table of green and silver, his head still spinning from the Sorting Hat's words, but still lucid enough to feel extremely satisfied that he'd finally made it to the house that he belonged.
He settled comfortably in his seat just in time to watch Carpathia Nott walk calmly to the stool. Gareth, who was next, watched her with anxious eyes with the rest of the uncalled first-years. The Hat sank over Carpathia's dark head, obscuring her face from view.
Scorpius smirked, already imagining the Hat's croaky screech when he delivered the outcome. Slytherin!
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Scorpius started and nearly fell of his chair. A loud droning noise began to occupy the room as students buzzed in bewilderment, the words 'Death-Eater' and 'dark wizarding family' circulating in the atmosphere like some airborne disease. Carpathia was frozen on the stool, one hand clutching the hat that she'd just lifted from her head. She looked as if she was choking on the letter 'O'.
Then, from the opposite side of the room, the Gryffindor table began to clap weakly. One of the prefects stood up and beckoned Carpathia over, putting an arm around the girl's slumped shoulders when she arrived at the table.
Gareth was so stunned that he had to have his name called twice. He finally made it to the Sorting Hat after having Lucas shove him onto the platform. A moment later, he made his way to the Slytherin table and sat beside Scorpius, his expression still frozen in shock over the placement of his twin sister.
"A Gryffindor!" he kept murmuring dully to himself, "What will mum and dad say?"
But little did they know the Sorting Hat's tricks were far from over. Barely five minutes later, Albus Potter's name was called and the poor boy was washed up onto the platform on a tide of anticipated applause. Even before the Sorting Hat was placed over his head, the Gryffindors began banging their goblets on the table and shouting out Potter's name as though he was already their own.
Scorpius would always look back and remember his jaw dropping for the first time in his life, the moment when the Sorting Hat had inexplicably, unexpectedly roared: "SLYTHERIN!"
The Sorting Hat's astonishing proclamation resonated within the Great Hall's four walls, and a very pregnant silence descended upon the room, filled with a thousand noiseless open mouths. It was so quiet that one could've heard a pin drop, and the worst part was that it seemed endless. Unlike the swift, relieving applause that the Gryffindors had provided for Carpathia's unexpected placement, there was no one on the Slytherin table who seemed prepared enough to get over the fact that for the first time in history, a Potter had become a member of the Slytherin House. It was only when the Deputy Headmaster cleared his throat and called out the next name did the Sorting resume.
The rest of the night became a hazy stupor of food and pumpkin juice. As the turbulence from the unforeseen Sorting died down, the students became preoccupied with talk of classes and the latest gossip. Scorpius indulged himself with the company of new Slytherins that quickly came to regard him with interest and admiration, and found that he was immensely enjoying the fact that he was in the spotlight. It was only later, when he trudged wearily to his new dorm and prepared to enter a good night's sleep, was he reminded of the strange events that had transpired that night…
…because there—sprawled across the bed next to his-was an unmistakable redheaded figure snoring away, his hair clashing with the green sheets, the same figure whom Scorpius was now forced to spend the next seven years living with.
Faced with this horrific realization, there was nothing left for him to do but say, with a great deal amount of feeling: "Bugger."