Of Boys and Spells
Chapter 5: Popular Colours
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The last lesson for the year was Herbology. Neville – Professor Longbottom – assigned various tasks to the students, saying he wanted the greenhouses neat and tidy before the holidays started. Al and Scorpius had to harvest Quiverberries.
The task was bordering on impossibility. As soon as Albus reached for a twig, the bush pulled back. Sometimes, Scorpius managed to grab the recoiling branch and held it steady so Albus could cut through the dried little stalks that suspended each bunch of shining white berries. The rest of the bush kept trembling as if an earthquake were taking place.
They hadn't worked together in Herbology before. Neville usually made a point in having mixed teams with students from both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Thus, they had come to know all the Hufflepuffs of their year quite well.
A little way off, Persephone and Nancy Donovan sat at a makeshift table, examining dittany seeds through magnifying glasses.
Persephone had been released from the hospital wing yesterday morning. She could move her legs at will, but she was still far from walking properly. The prefects Levitated her up and down the stairs of Ravenclaw tower. Joseph, Scorpius, and Al, taking turns, had carried her most of the way to the greenhouses.
Nancy had returned from St Mungo's the previous night. She looked pale and frail, and her housemates fussed just as much over her as the Ravenclaws did with Persephone. Nancy had been cleared of all charges. The fifty amber gems were back in the giant hour-glass in the Entrance Hall, which meant that, by now, the Great Hall was decked out in bright yellow and velvety black. A stylish banner showing the Hufflepuff badger was covering half the wall behind the teachers' table.
Slytherin, on the other hand, had lost so many points due to Yaxley's foul deeds that the house had ended up in the negatives. Al wasn't sure what to think about this. Admittedly, the Slytherins were a snobbish bunch on the whole, but did they deserve such a huge amount of humiliation because one of them had turned out to be a criminal?
Yaxley was in pre-trial confinement. The Daily Prophet had published short interviews with Dean Thomas, the Auror who had arrested the delinquent, and Prudence Clearwater, an elder of the Wizengamot. They didn't go much into detail in order to protect the privacy of the harmed girls; Clearwater had stated, however, that Yaxley was of age and therefore to be held responsible for the deliberate and unforced use of an Unforgivable Curse.
Nobody, especially no teacher, seemed to be aware of Albus or Scorpius's special involvement in the affair. So far, there'd been neither questions nor remarks that hinted of any secret knowledge. Obviously, Mr Thomas had been as good as his word, and James and his friends were keeping silent as well. Albus could imagine how much not being able to brag about such a daring adventure irked his brother.
He cut off another small bunch of Quiverberries and placed them in the basket nearby. Scorpius cautiously let go of the branch and took a step backwards.
The bush calmed down, if only slightly.
"There," Scorpius said, pointing. "See it?"
Albus nodded. Slowly, he moved his arm towards the ripe fruit. The branch whizzed back and smashed straight into Scorpius's waiting hands. Albus advanced and, keeping a wary eye on the erratic movements of the other branches, seized the bunch of berries. The little stalks usually proved to be much tougher than their withered look suggested. Cutting them took real effort.
"Good work," Neville said, holding the basket out to Albus. "Harvesting Quiverberries is no doddle. But you two seem perfect as a team."
"Thank you, Professor Longbottom," Scorpius said politely.
"Do you happen to know why Quiverberry bushes fidget like this?" Neville asked.
Both boys shook their heads.
"They are afraid of getting hurt," Neville explained. "Of course, that risk would be a great deal smaller if they didn't move."
"Cutting off the fruits hurts them?" Albus asked, letting the scissors sink.
"Well, magic plants have strange properties sometimes. Quiverberry bushes do feel pain when you cut into green wood. The dried stalks are numb, though. Severing them does no harm."
Scorpius looked pensive. "Do they learn?" he asked. "When we are careful not to hurt them, will they realise that things would go smoother without the squirming?"
Neville studied Scorpius's face in much the same manner as Mr Thomas had done a few days ago. "No," he said, taking out his wand. "They are plants and entirely brainless. There is, however, a spell that immobilises them. Sedatus!"
Instantly, the bush became motionless.
Neville smiled the mysterious, dreamy smile of his. It softened the scars that criss-crossed his face and made him look younger. Shifting his gaze to Albus, he said, "You may leave as soon as you're done here. I bet you haven't packed your trunks, yet."
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They were out of the greenhouse twenty minutes later. Neville had conjured up a wheelchair for Persephone. Pushing it across the lawn was a bit of a challenge, but less exhausting than carrying her.
At the foot of the stairs that led to the front door, they encountered an assembly of older students. Unusually enough, there were several Slytherins involved in a serious conversation with students of other houses.
Albus spotted Angelique in the crowd and walked up to her. She simply nodded before he had even opened his mouth and strode past him to where Persephone and Scorpius were waiting. She helped the younger girl to climb out of the wheelchair and Levitated her up the stairs – not only the short flight to the Entrance Hall but all the way up to the Ravenclaw common room. En route there, she told Albus the latest news: Professor Selwyn had handed in her resignation.
Upon entering the common room, Angelique cancelled the Levitation Spell. Unfortunately, Persephone lost her balance the instant she had to stand on her own feet. In the split second between lurching and falling, she tried – arms flailing wildly – to hold on to something. But all she was able to grab was the silvery locket that Angelique wore around her neck. The chain broke as the girl fell backwards.
Albus and Scorpius rushed to help her up.
Persephone moaned.
"Did you hurt yourself?" Scorpius asked, holding her steady.
"No. It's just... I broke this," she said miserably, indicating the locket.
It hung open, and all three of them gazed for a long moment at Angelique's smiling parents – at her mother's incredibly beauty and Uncle Bill's damaged, but kind face.
"I'm so sorry," Persephone said, handing the locket back.
"Don't worry, dear. It's me who should apologise," Angelique muttered. She fitted the pieces together and, murmuring spells, tapped them twice with her wand. "See?" she said a bit louder. "Such things can be repaired, contrary to my father's face."
"Was it an accident?" Persephone asked, unable to stay her curiosity.
"It happened in the war," Angelique said, giving Scorpius a pointed look. His eyes went wide in sudden apprehension, which evidently surprised her. "You know?" she whispered. "You do know?"
Scorpius nodded, biting his lip.
"Don't tell me your father is still bragging about his evil deeds!" There was danger in her voice. Like her mother, she could become very unpleasant if crossed. Veelablood, Uncle Ron liked to comment on their temper.
"Angel, don't," Albus pleaded. "It's not his fault."
She ignored him. Instead, she continued to glare at Scorpius. "So, how does your father justify what he did?"
"He doesn't... we read... Rose found a book in the library. About the trials." Scorpius, though almost trembling, didn't avoid her eyes. "My Dad has never mentioned yours."
Angelique made a muffled sound in her throat. Her scary Veela aura vanished from one second to the next, and she walked off without another word.
Persephone looked rather bewildered. "Scorpius... you said your father didn't commit any crimes. What did he do to Al's uncle?"
Scorpius didn't answer. He seemed close to tears.
Albus took a deep breath. "In his sixth year here in Hogwarts, Scorpius's Dad let a group of Death Eaters into the castle. Among them was a werewolf, and he attacked my Uncle."
"In his sixth year?" Persephone looked back and forth between the two boys. "Why would he help Death Eaters? He was still a student; he can't already have been one of them!"
"He was," Scorpius said in strangled tones.
"But," Persephone protested again, "he can't have been older than sixteen!"
"Look, Sepho," Albus said urgently, "Voldemort didn't bother with laws or whether people were of age."
The girl paused, considering this.
"I'm sorry, Sepho. I can't tell you why." Scorpius had regained some of his composure. "My Dad doesn't talk about his past. I only know some facts, the ones that were in the book."
"Can I read it?" Persephone asked, turning to Albus. "Does Rose still have it?"
Albus shook his head. "No. Madam Pince put it into the Restricted Section."
Without warning, the girl fired up. "How very sensible of her! And I bet she thinks that's only for our own good. Sometimes, I think all adults are idiots. Why else do they treat us as if we were idiots – silly babies who wouldn't understand anyway? So, why bother with explanations? It's always girl, do this or you mustn't do that, and when you ask, why, then all you hear is because I'm older and have more knowledge than you do. Or some other such rubbish. What about sharing that precious knowledge with us so we can see for ourselves?" She had talked herself into a real wrath. Her cheeks were flushed and her small, skinny body radiated energy. "Scorpius, here is an idea of why your Dad joined the Death Eaters at the age of sixteen: because his parents told him to. And if he asked why, he most likely got the standard lecture – it's a family tradition, you have to live up to our oh-so-good name, and no, there's absolutely no need to ponder this because we're your parents and know what is best for-"
She faltered, startled, as Scorpius's eyes were suddenly brimming with tears.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to hurt you..."
Scorpius gently shook his head, trying to smile and failing.
"Scorpius, I have something to confess," the girl said slowly. "When I was home for the Yule holidays, I foolishly told my parents that you were in Ravenclaw. Dad warned me to be watchful. He wasn't sure Malfoys could truly be trusted he said. My Mum was more blunt. She ordered me to stay clear of you. Naturally, I asked why, and I learned that all Malfoys have been scumbags since the dawn of time. You see it isn't always superior knowledge. Sometimes, we are just fed old prejudices."
Scorpius sniffed.
"No, wait!" Persephone was speaking more quickly now. "That wasn't all. An hour ago, Nancy told me what Mr Thomas, the Auror, had told her: Albus Potter and another boy with violet hair helped him to make Yaxley spill the beans. He didn't say what you did because of the ongoing investigations and stuff, and I reckon you aren't allowed to say much, either. So, let's skip the details. What I want to point out is this, Scorpius: Helping Aurors to save Muggleborn Hufflepuff students is totally inappropriate behaviour for scumbags."
She'd made it worse. Scorpius now sniffed in earnest.
Persephone took a step towards him – that was, she tried to do so. She swayed again. Albus instinctively reached out to catch her, and so, despite the tears, did Scorpius. Since Albus held her firmly with his right hand and put his left arm around Scorpius's shoulders, they ended up in a three-sided hug. Hugging Scorpius was, in Albus's opinion, what Persephone had attempted to do. It was certainly what he wanted to do.
"Steady, mate," he whispered. He threw a wary glance around. The common room was only scarcely peopled, and everyone present was minding their own business. However, the last thing Albus wanted to happen was for somebody else to have a go at Scorpius.
Scorpius swallowed several times in order to master his agitation. He calmed down only slowly; they were still standing huddled together when Rose and Joseph came in.
Joseph eyed Albus's arm around the small of Persephone's back with a critical air while Rose inquired what was going on.
"Just a clash with Angel," Albus said, not feeling like providing elaborate explanations. "You know how she can be..."
Rose gave him a quick, quizzical look. Scorpius she gave a longer one. When he was finally done blowing his nose and raised his blotchy eyes to her, she tensed visibly.
"Could you help Sepho to her room?" Scorpius mumbled.
And Rose understood. With an eagerness that was feigned but also charming in a way, she turned to Joseph, asking, "You'll carry her, right?"
"My pleasure, ma'am," Joseph said, perhaps not getting the whole message behind the words but already replacing Albus's hand with his own. He hoisted Persephone up onto his arms, and Rose ran ahead to open the door to the girls' dormitories.
Scorpius let out a deep sigh.
Albus pointed to a wet streak on Scorpius's cheek. "Wipe that off," he said softly.
Scorpius did. "Pathetic, aren't I?"
"No. Sepho is quite right-"
"I would so like to talk to my Dad! But I can't. I can't do that to him." The words spilled out like water from a broken pipe. "He made a rule after my first letter home – I'm only to use first names, never surnames. You're just Al, Professor Longbottom is The Herbology Teacher and so on. And ten minutes ago, it dawned on me why. Why he's so scared. His aunt is only one piece in the puzzle, and maybe not even the worst. Anyone called Weasley will remind him of a boy who got injured by a werewolf. A Robert Ackerley bore witness in his trial – he might be related to Sepho. The other guy who gave testimony was a Dean Thomas – the same Mr Thomas as the Auror from last Saturday? I don't know. He's too afraid even to hear names spoken, and I don't know a thing. It's like running in a maze. With every turn I take, I have to be prepared for new accusations, for meeting another Blancmange or another Yaxley. And sometimes, the assault comes right out of the blue like right here and now. What am I to tell people like your cousin? I'm sorry that I failed to advise my Dad to do better? Even though it is technically correct that none of the war crimes is my fault – me saying so won't make anyone feel any better. So what am I to do?"
Albus couldn't give answers he didn't have himself. He was no more in possession of the ultimate truth than Scorpius was. For instance – his Dad had never told him that he had spoken in favour of Scorpius's grandmother during the trials. Albus had had to learn this bit of trivia from Vallon's report. What else was there he and Scorpius didn't know?
"What about confiding in your Mum?" he said in a feeble attempt to offer advice.
"She will listen, always, no matter what the trouble might be. But..."
"Yes, sure," Albus mumbled. Scorpius's Mum would hardly comprehend the problem in its entirety. "It was a silly idea."
"No, not silly, Al," Scorpius said. "She can give me guidance in a general way. And she will. I'm sure of that. But I have some questions that only Dad can answer."
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Scorpius spent the remainder of the afternoon brooding behind his flute.
Albus didn't know how to cheer him up. He couldn't even keep himself from brooding while he – somewhat haphazardly – packed his trunk. An awfully large number of people expected Scorpius to make amends for his father's bad deeds, just as they expected him to live up to his father's glorious ones. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't they be judged by their own strengths and failings?
Scorpius's flute kept weeping, and Cedric and Aidan kept making a great amount of racket to drone out the mournful, and sometimes dissonant, music.
Albus wished Joseph was there to crack a joke, or to tell the twins they might know a Bludger from a Quaffle but never a slow waltz from a blues, or to simply mispronounce a word in a manner that would make everybody chuckle. But Joseph didn't show up.
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Joseph came down to dinner with his hair dyed violet. Rose and Persephone had violet highlights. Albus only gulped, unable to say a word; Scorpius gaped, especially at Rose.
The girls giggled. Joseph shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"You look... great," Scorpius finally managed.
Persephone grinned broadly. "As great as you."
"Victoire helped with the Dying Spell," Rose explained. "She's very skilled at doing hair. And don't worry; it's only temporary. Joseph will be back to normal tomorrow morning. The highlights may last for the entire weekend."
"You'll see," Joseph said, still a bit sheepish. "Violet will really catch on."
"That might happen indeed " – Persephone gestured down the table – "once people have seen Victoire Weasley."
Albus craned his neck to catch a glimpse of his oldest cousin. Her long hair was mauve instead of reddish-blonde, wrought into a tower-like structure, and embellished with jasmine flowers. "Wow!" was the only comment he could come up with.
Victoire's appearance drew a great deal of attention not only from the Ravenclaw table, but also from the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. Every other second somebody turned their head to look at her – the boys quite often in unconcealed admiration and the girls sometimes with barely suppressed envy. The little group around Albus got their share of curious stares as well. Among the grins and sniggers there were also encouraging nods or the occasional thumbs-up.
After a while, Albus glanced at his left neighbour. Scorpius was decorating the rim of his plate with bits of fat pork – and smiling quietly.
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