McGonagall's Disappearance

"Hermione," Ron exhaled loudly, rubbing his temple, as he stared at the letter from his daughter in shock,"when did we encourage our children to get friendly with Malfoys?"

"Actually," she narrowed her eyes at him as she posed the plate of pasta on their dinner table and took off her oven mitts, "I think it was rather your fault." She nudged Hugo. "Stop reading, you'll over-use your eyes and we'll have to get you new glasses. Put that book down, will you – and dig in the pasta."

"Yes, Mum," Hugo said in a monotone, tearing off a bit from his napkin and putting it as a bookmark in his book – one thicker than the other, Hermione thought, half-exasperated, half-fond as she watched him grab his fork and begin to wolf everything down. He reminded him so much of herself, when she was that age... except with friends. The nine year-old Hermione didn't exactly have friends.

"What?" Ron burst out, having just realised what his wife had said. "Excuse me, Hermione?"

She scowled at him and took a sip of her orange juice. "I was saying," she said, wiping her mouth, "that you probably tempted Rose into befriending him – Rose and Al. Pointing the Malfoys at the platform probably wasn't the best idea, you know." She frowned as his ears turned red and he scowled. "Stop acting like a teenager, Ronald."

"Meh?" Ron said, offended, his mouth full of pasta. He swallowed and licked his lips. "Well, Hermione, how was I supposed to guess that she was going to twist my suggestion her way?"

Hugo looked down at his feet nervously; he hated when his parents. He was quite brilliant, but he somehow didn't deal with situations such as these very well; he was definitely not a "people person". Clearing his throat, he said in a small voice, "Are you fighting?"

His parents seemed to realise that there was a third guest at dinner, that they weren't alone; Hermione smiled apologetically while Ron reached out to awkwardly pat his elbow. "We're fine, Hughie," he said in what he perceived as a reassuring tone, but only made Hugo more suspicious, "We're just tired."

"Tired?" Hugo repeated, sounding disbelieving.

"Tired." Hermione echoed. "You've surely heard of his Auror work recently from Lills, haven't you?"

Hugo frowned. He did remember something like that, but Auror work didn't interest him particularly; he thought that it was too dangerous, going after Dark wizards day and night. He admired his father and his uncle, men whose bravery he would never have; he sometimes wondered how he came to be, the child of war heroes entirely devoid of courage.

"A bit," he muttered, scooping up a stray tomato with his fork. "Okay. Whatever."

"No! No! No! Please!"

Neville tossed and turned in his bed, sitting up in cold sweat. He tried to convince himself that this was a bad dream, a haunting from his days from the war. However, it didn't work, and then he realised the truth: the screams were coming from Hogwarts's very walls.

Perhaps it was a student having a particularly scary nightmare?

His gut instinct kicked in and told him no; told him that they were coming from one of the staff; somewhere inside him, he knew that someone was under attack. "I'm going to go see," he muttered, fumbling for his shoes and wand. Perhaps it was his old paranoia that motivated his recklessness; perhaps it was his refusal to see the loss of another life.

His eyes and ears were on Auror mode, his wand lighting his way. He knew every inch of this castle, be it from seven years of schooling or more years of employment; he limped this way and that, ignoring the pain in his leg. He had been on the job for years with it; his limp had been caused by a stray curse during the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Shut up, blood traitor," said a cold feminine voice. Neville winced at the familiarity of it.

He was getting closer to the Headmistress's office and her private quarters; his legs began carrying him quicker than ever to his goal. He had enough experience as an Auror and a war hero to envision the other option that no one wanted to think of: that he might not be able to save McGonagall.

He was right. The private quarters were empty once he arrived; and there it was, as he looked over the blood splattered onto the wall: the ugly grey mark of a skull, similar to a Dark Mark, but not quite: over it were the words Dominus Hades Irrevocabiliter Dominatur.

Lord Hades Irrevocably Rules. He traced the words with his index finger, the proof that Cassiopeia Lestrange, a Dark witch to rival Voldemort, had, without a question, returned.

"Longbottom is Headmaster?" Scorpius blurted out, incredulous, slapping his forehead. "Please, tell me that I'm dreaming. This is beyond horrible."

He was sprawled out on his four-poster, reading through the latest edition of Quidditch Weekly, gazing longingly at the display of new racing brooms. His finger jabbed one of the flashiest, a Jupiter or a StormFlyer – Al hadn't read there yet. "Oh," he sighed, "Only if Father would accept to gift me with at least a more decent broom at Christmas... but if I'm lucky to get a present at all, I'll end up with a Hand of Glory again."

"Brat," Rose snapped from her spot on the carpet. She didn't seem in too much of a good mood today, Al thought. He gave himself the responsibility to mediate between the two of them: with Rose's passion on one side, and Scorpius's haughtiness on the other, things could get messy.

"Mate," Al said evenly, "You can't hate him that badly. He only glared at you. Once."

Scorpius shrugged and frowned. "I'll hate anyone who refuses to treat me as I should be treated – as me. If you children of war heroes deserve something, like being treated as yourselves, then a child of a Death Eater should be given that right as well. What did that Muggle bloke say? Oh, yeah – 'All men are created equal.'" He flipped a page and scowled. "What does that say about the wizarding world?"

"That we're not perfect?" Rose tapped her quill against the parchment paper. "Argh, why does Eclipse insist on giving us so much bloody homework?"

"Filch is in Azkaban now?" Al asked, opening a comic book. Sometimes, he just needed to relax. Speaking to two hormonal eleven year-old friends was not the best way to do so, it seemed.

Rose rolled her eyes. "Duh. He's being held for questioning."

"Idiotic," Scorpius sighed. "He'll escape one day, mark my words. That Lestrange woman is a damn genius."

"You fancy her?" her eyes widened as she smirked. "Merlin, Scorpius."

"I don't," he retorted coolly, crossing his arms. His skin took a pink tinge. "Just – oh, nothing." He bit his lip, in thought. "She's supposed to be dead, from what I gather. Didn't your dads and another Auror-"

"Priscilla Thames's mum," Al answered promptly. "She's Dad's second-in-command. Dad offered to Uncle Ron, but he declined."

"-kill her? They hunted her down and killed her," Scorpius finished.

"Well, obviously," Rose rolled her eyes again, "She's alive and well. And gathering force." Her eyes lit up. "Ooh! I have an idea!"

"Be careful," Al said in an undertone to Scorpius, who smirked. "What is it, Rose?"

"We break in McGonagall's quarters," she sounded breathless, "and we look for clues. Maybe we'll find one that'll lead to her capture, and we'll be in the newspaper!"

"Or we get caught?" Al crossed his arms. "Blimey, Rose. Neville's Headmaster now. He could expel us."

"Not you two," Scorpius murmured. "Me." He pursued his lips and grinned cockily at Rose. "And I'm in."

Well, this was certainly easier to write than I'd thought :)

This chapter is for The QAS - and your awesome, mega-sized reviews! :) Yes, Megara is a Greek name - I originally intended to call her Megaera, as in one of the Furies ("the jealous one"), but I actually misspelt it and decided it looked better that way. Anyway, "Megara" is the wife of Hercules, that he may or may not have killed, or an Ancient Greek city.

From now on, there will be PJO elements... like you just saw here. It is to be noted: according to my own, personal canon, the battle against Kronos took place in 2007. So, now - Nico is in his mid-twenties, Rachel and Percy and all of them in their late twenties... Yup, they're grown up, just like Harry and the gang. They're going to appear sooner or later - and you'll see that things between demigods in America... aren't that great. And, you'll see that the British ones of Nico's world do things a bit different.

Lastly. None of the trio are demigods - but they still have worth in Nico's world; yet another difference between America and Britain. In America, we don't really pay attention to those kids related to the gods but not demigods, right? In Britain, though, they do.

Well, I can't say when, exactly, the next chapter will come out, but we'll see Rose's plan get into action, and find out a few things about Scorpius, Rose, and maybe Al's pasts. Then, after that, they'll break into McGonagall's quarters... Not exactly without consequences.

Please read and review, especially if you favourited/alerted!