Chapter Five
The morning of the first Quidditch match of the season between Gryffindor and Slytherin dawned grey and cold, a light drizzle dampening everyone's heads and necks as they hurried down to the pitch from the grounds. As Scorpius was playing in the match and so already gone when Albus left the Great Hall, he walked with Langwith and Zabini. Fitzroy, being the Slytherin Seeker, was also absent.
It was a while since Albus had spent any great length of time with either Langwith or Zabini, and he felt a twinge of sheepishness as the three boys set off down the lawn. Neither of his companions mentioned his recent absence - like everyone else, they presumed his time was taken up with making sure that Scorpius was doing alright.
Things had indeed come to a head with the Malfoy family a few days ago, as the court date for Draco Malfoy was finally set for the fourteenth of November. The Daily Prophet revived its sensationalism about the case at this announcement, and had written a thoroughly melodramatic piece about it. Scorpius had had to deal with several less tasteful students quoting it behind his back, or laughing over copies of the newspaper as he walked past. Still, Albus noticed he'd developed a steely resolve during the past few weeks, and had remained coolly aloof over it all.
None of them mentioned Scorpius' situation as they strolled through the chilly grounds; instead their conversation covered much lighter topics. Langwith led the talk, and he cut a quite debonair figure in his long cloak and boots, his hair freshly styled and a grey scarf thrown about his neck, his drawling voice touching over poetry, music, and the chances of the two different teams.
Zabini looked faintly bored by it all; he was occupying himself by watching the group of Fifth Years in front of them, which was mainly made up of quite pretty girls accompanied by a few slender, . Langwith was quite able to carry the conversation almost solely, and all Albus and Zabini had to do was mutter affirmations in response to the statements he made.
At the pitch they squeezed in with the other Slytherins, managing to shove some weedy Third Years out the way and get a space on the front row, where they could lean quite comfortably against the stands. Albus already felt bored by it all. His hands and face were cold, everyone was being annoyingly loud, and he still couldn't understand why there had to be such a fuss. The Gryffindors, over on the other side of the pitch, began screaming so loudly when the teams actually walked onto the pitch that he wondered if some of them might be sick.
The one interesting factor of the match was that Scorpius and Rose, both being Chasers, were directly opposing each other. That always made for an entertaining match, and the fact that Lily and James were thrown into the mix was just the icing on what was inevitably a very dramatic cake.
The two teams faced each other across the greyish grass, and from way off in the stands Albus could see the steely expression on his friend's face. Scorpius was glaring at the Gryffindor team as if he had a personal vendetta against each of them, and Albus was suddenly quite glad that he wasn't holding a Beater's bat, as he thought that it wouldn't just be Bludgers in danger of getting hit.
As it was, two rather hulking Slytherin boys held the Beaters' bats, and Albus felt a familiar twinge of worry as he saw how small Lily looked in front of them. But he knew that Lily's short stature, as ever, hid a fierce disposition paired with remarkably good aim, and that it was actually the Slytherins who should be fearing the whack of a Bludger.
After a brief talk from the referee Higgs, the two teams took to the air, fourteen crimson and emerald blurs streaking in all directions. Albus leant over the barrier, trying to watch all the action at once. It was impossible. Even as Gryffindor took possession of the Quaffle and streaked towards their goalposts, one of the Slytherin Beaters hit a Bludger straight at James who dodged it by an inch, and Lily struck the other straight at the Slytherin Keeper Bowles. Bowles dodged the Bludger but let in the Quaffle in doing so, and a cheer erupted from the scarlet-and-gold area of the stands.
'Potter has put a good side together this year,' admitted Zabini, as the Gryffindor Chasers performed a victory lap.
'Still, Fitzroy's good when he actually focusses, and our Chasers are usually excellent,' said Langwith. 'They just need to kick into gear.'
And Albus had to agree. Each of the Slytherin players had a lot of skill, but they were too disorganised, disparate, and Scorpius was in fact the worst. He seemed to be acting as a complete maverick, which was fine in a Seeker but as he was a Chaser he was supposed to work in a team with the other two. But he kept grabbing the Quaffle and randomly streaking off across the pitch with no protection or backup, meaning he inevitably missed easy opportunities. And as the match progressed, he got more and more wild and even violent.
'WHISTLE BLOWN AS CHASER MALFOY ENTERS ALTERCATION WITH THE GRYFFINDOR KEEPER GOODWIN, HIGGS IS ABOUT TO AWARD - YES, ITS A PENALTY FOR GRYFFINDOR, CONROY TAKES POSSESSION AND HEADS TOWARDS THE GRYFFINDOR GOALPOSTS,' roared the commentator. 'HE SCORES! EIGHTY - THIRTY TO GRYFFINDOR, AND SLYTHERIN CAPTAIN BOWLES DOES NOT SEEM HAPPY, HE'S CLEARLY GIVING MALFOY A STERN TALKING TO…'
Across the stands, the Gryffindors were making a cacophony of cheers and jeers, and Albus watched morosely. James and Lily were always unbearable after a victory, and it was particularly bad if that victory was against Slytherin. Scorpius, having been yelled at by Bowles, streaked off towards the other two Chasers looking mulish and bad-tempered.
There was a slight diversion from Scorpius' antics, as Lily struck a Bludger at Fitzroy so hard it knocked him clean off his broom. Luckily he'd been scanning for the Snitch low to the ground, and only fell about five feet, but he looked rather dazed when he stood up again, his curls very out of place, and as he took to the air he flew in a vague diagonal line, wobbling slightly as he did.
After that the match got more and more intense and brutal. Beaters were whacking Bludgers so fast and hard that Albus was surprised any of the players could focus on anything but dodging them, and even the other ten players began to be more inclined to get rough with the opposing team.
When the Gryffindors scored their twelfth goal, Slytherin Chaser Digby took possession of the Quaffle, and started back down the pitch tailed closely by three other Chasers, with Scorpius and Conroy flying in from ahead to join the fray. A well-placed Bludger from Lily forced Digby to drop the Quaffle, and Rose snatched it up, dodging around Beater Mulberry and spinning around to head back towards the Gryffindor goalposts. A Bludger flew over her head, and out of the corner of her eye she saw another green streak headed towards her left side …
Crunch. A great groan rose from the stands as Scorpius collided with Rose, who was knocked off balance and clung to her broom, the Quaffle slipping from her grasp as she did. Digby caught it, but that was pointless as Higgs blew his whistle a second later. Spinning on her broom, Rose elbowed and shoved at Scorpius, who was still flying so close she couldn't control her own path. He dodged that but refused to move out the way, forcing her towards the wooden wall of the stands. Losing her temper, she aimed a punch at him, but found they were being forced apart before she could strike him. She was annoyed by that - she'd have liked to see the look on his pretty face when she punched his lights out.
'Malfoy! Weasley! Stop!' roared Higgs. 'A penalty to both teams!'
'Both?' protested James, flying in from the side to join the scene. 'Malfoy attacked my Chaser! Why do -'
'Your Chaser attempted to hit him, that's still a penalty Potter! Now, move back all of you or I'll award some more penalties!' yelled Higgs, and they all flew in opposite directions, albeit with rather mutinous expressions. Rose took the penalty for Gryffindor, but she was so angry at Scorpius' actions that her aim was off, and Bowles caught it. Bowles waited until Goodwin had caught the Slytherin penalty, and then immediately called a timeout.
Scorpius knew he was in trouble. His feet had barely hit the soft ground when Bowles caught him by the robes and shook him.
'Have you completely lost your mind, Malfoy?' he roared, shaking him again roughly. 'What the hell do you think you're playing at?'
Scorpius didn't reply. The rest of the team were huddled a little way off, shooting furious looks at him.
'Look, I know there's shit going on in your life at the moment, but if you bring it out on the pitch again, you're off the team. Understand, Malfoy?'
As it was, there wasn't a chance for him to act out again. Hardly two minutes after the teams took to the air again, James suddenly shot into a dive, clearly in pursuit of the Snitch. He caught it easily, a dazed Fitzroy barely even noticing what was happening before it was all over. Gryffindor won, 270 points to 50. Scorpius left the pitch alone, dissonant boos and jeers following him as he went.
Albus hurried out of the stands to find him, but his friend had already disappeared. He didn't track him down, in fact, until they were back in the dormitory. Scorpius was stood before the window, stripped down to his white sports britches, and neither of them spoke for a long time. When finally they did start to make conversation, the subject of Scorpius' actions during the match was not touched upon.
In fact, the match was talked about surprisingly little across the school, due to the fact an event the next day forced all thoughts of something as petty as a sports match out of everyone's minds. As usual at breakfast the owl post arrived with a great flurry of swooping birds and dropped feathers, and several dozen Daily Prophets were dropped on various students amongst the scattering of letters and parcels.
Rose reached up automatically to catch her own newspaper, and before she'd even unrolled it she saw the headline emblazoned across the front.
MAGICAL EXPLOSION TERRORIZES MUGGLES
Fingers fumbling slightly with the strings, she pulled the ties apart and unrolled it, shoving her plate and mug out the way to flatten the paper on the table and read. On either side of her, her friends Katie and Bethany leant in as well.
A large explosion struck last night in the busy Muggle area of Piccadilly Circus, with four casualties confirmed already, and eleven more in critical care in Muggle hospitals. Unknown to the non-magical community, the Ministry for Magic has affirmed that the attack used magical means, and was certainly enacted by a witch or wizard.
The identity of the attacker or attackers remains unknown, as despite the almost immediate arrival of members of the Auror Office and several Hit Wizards, they seem to have instantly escaped the scene and remain at large.
Although the Ministry has urged the public to remain calm, it is clear that we are dealing with a highly dangerous individual or group capable of merciless and widespread attacks. Anyone with information about the incident is encouraged to come forward immediately and aid the attempt to bring these criminals to justice.
Prophet reporters were at the scene last night, and interviewed several Ministry employees about what they had seen.
'It's just carnage,' said Togo, a trainee Hit Wizard. 'Never seen nothing like this, and I took down them rogue werewolves last month.'
'It's going to take a lot of work to sort this mess out!' said another employee, watching a pair of paramedics (non-magical Mediwizards) attend to an injured Muggle.
It is undeniable that the pressure at this point falls upon Minister for Magic Granger, and the Head Auror Harry Potter, both of whom are now tasked with the responsibility of tracking down the perpetrator and bringing them to justice. Can this famous pair live up to their reputation, and take down these disgusting killers?
Rose finished reading a little before her friends, and she looked around the Great Hall, scanning to see whether anyone else was reading the article. The rest of the school seemed entirely unconcerned about the fact that a nasty, bloody attack, of the sort that hadn't been seen since the war, had hit Muggle London just a few hours ago. They were chattering, laughing, arguing, but none looked remotely worried by anything more serious than an upcoming test.
Her friends said the usual words, about how horrific and senseless it was, and how they were sure the perpetrator would be caught soon, but soon their thoughts had also drifted off onto more trivial things. Rose folded up her newspaper, thinking that she could hardly focus on a more banal article after that one, and went back to her breakfast.
She was wrong, of course. Although the attack did not instantly catch everyone's attention, over the next few hours the news of the incident trickled through the school from the few students who did read the Prophet, and soon it was the topic of conversation on most people's lips. Wild rumours spread with it - that dozens of Muggles had been killed, instead of a handful, that St Mungo's was full of injured witches and wizards, or that a figure in a dark cloak had been spotted just before the explosion. Most of all, people were discussing whether it could possibly be anything to do with Death Eaters.
'Impossible!' exclaimed Daniel Goodwin, as a large gang of Gryffindors settled down in the Common Room to discuss it. Celebratory banners from yesterday's match still hung from the walls, but no one was thinking about that now. 'All the Death Eaters have been rounded up by now, my Dad said so!'
'Not all of them.' said Louis Weasley, brushing his red fringe out his eyes. 'My mum says that some of them are just missing and presumed dead. They could've reappeared, and be behind this!'
'But why now?' asked Connor Finnigan, frowning. 'It seems so random!'
'Maybe that's the point,' said Rose, and everyone turned to look at her. 'Maybe it's meant to be random, because that makes it harder for the Ministry to track down who did it. The main question now, really, is why did they do it?'
There was a silence after that, as everyone thought about what she said. All across the school, in all the Common Rooms, the Library, back rows of classrooms, the same conversations were being held, all ending on the same question. Why?
The entirety of the Sixth Year had been attending Apparition lessons for a few weeks already, but there seemed to be a feverish interest in that Saturday's session, which had not been felt for a while. As Bertie Finch-Fletchley of Hufflepuff said in a hushed voice as they all filed in, 'we do after all need to have a way of escaping, if we're caught up in an attack y'know.'
Rose thought that this was a little melodramatic - after all, there'd only been one explosion, and although it was tragic there was no evidence that it was any more than the one-off action of a madman. Still, she did stare at the wooden circle with a little more concentration than before, and she managed her third Apparition, although she did reappear thirty feet away from the target. Ignoring Albus' smirk - he was stood smugly inside his own wooden circle - she marched back to her place, taking a small amount of satisfaction in the fact that Scorpius Malfoy at least had only managed to twist an ankle spinning around, and hadn't Apparated so much as an inch yet.
A few days later, Scorpius woke at dawn and dressed in his smartest robes, combing his hair extra neatly and slipping out of the dormitory before the others awoke. Slytherin House was at its quietest - it was never silent - as he crept through the anterooms and the Common Room, where just a few students were up, studying or just sitting looking out at the Black Lake. Scorpius was using the fireplace in Professor Flint's study, as it was the nearest one linked up to the Floo Network, and he found his Head of House looking rather crumpled and tired at the early hour, sat sleepily behind his desk.
'Hullo, Malfoy,' Flint sighed as he entered the study. 'You might as well go straight through. Just say 'The Ministry of Magic' as you step through, and it will take you to the Ministry Atrium. Ministry wizards will take you from there.'
'Yes, sir,' said Scorpius, swallowing as he stepped towards the fireplace, where embers were burning dully. Flint caught his shoulder, holding it with one meaty hand.
'Good luck, Malfoy,' he murmured. 'I know your father well, and I wish you all the best. Go along, now.'
Scorpius wanted to thank the man, but he was finding it very hard to speak past the lump in his throat, and anyway Flint was ushering him on into the fireplace. He took a handful of Floo powder from the box on the mantlepiece and threw it into the fire, watching as the embers burst into green flames. Trying not the breath in a lungful of ash, he stepped into the fire and said, as clearly as possible, 'The Ministry of Magic!'
A force instantly sped him away, spinning him faster than he thought possible, as he kept his eyes tight shut and hoped that he wouldn't be sick. Arriving in robes covered in ash and vomit wouldn't make the best impression on the Wizengamot. Luckily, the journey was over as quickly as it had begun, and he found himself being spat out into the familiar, arched room already busy with bustling crowds of witches and wizards.
He moved out of the way of the fireplace just in time, as another wizard appeared behind him, and he stood for a moment to get his bearings, as the room seemed to tip on an axis and a feeling of nausea churned inside him.
'Scorpius Malfoy! Scorpius Malfoy!'
He looked around, dreading the arrival of reporters, but instead it was the squat, balding wizard who'd accompanied him and his mother to Azkaban. The man must be assigned to be some sort of dogsbody for the case. The man was attempting an ingratiating smile, which Scorpius did not return.
'Come along, Mr Malfoy, we'd better get down to level nine,' said the man, hurrying him across the Atrium to the gilded lifts on the farthest side. 'Your mother's already there, I think, at least that's what I heard before I left. What's the time? Gosh, not even seven! They are being rather prompt about this, but then again the trial is at eight twenty-six on the dot, and there's ever so much admin and paperwork to do with these things. I'm afraid your hand will rather ache from all the forms you've got to fill in! Come now, in!'
The man - who later turned out to be called Peasgood - kept up this chatter all the way down to level ten, where the Wizengamot courtrooms were. It was cool and dimly lit down there, the white-flamed brackets on the walls casting strange shadows and bleaching what little colour remained in the faces of the few witches and wizards who walked silently past. Scorpius looked at his hands, splaying the long fingers, and saw that they'd turned a bluish-grey.
'This way!' chirruped Peasgood, voice reverberating strangely in the space. A passing Unspeakable, whose wide-set eyes and long face meant he bore a striking resemblance to a hammerhead shark, gave them a haughty look as he walked past.
Scorpius followed the square little figure of Peasgood now a long, narrow staircase that curved down into the darkness, the stairs below melting into inky black, and he'd lost count of the steps when Peasgood suddenly turned a sharp left, disappearing through an archway into another corridor. Scorpius hadn't ever been to this area of the Ministry before.
It was quite clear, however, that they had come to the right place. A gaggle of witches and wizards were huddled in the narrow corridor, speaking in the hushed voices usually reserved for libraries and the presence of the dying. Scorpius felt his nervousness redouble as Peasgood led him towards the group, or more specifically, towards a thin witch stood near the centre of the group.
'Madame Thackerey,' said Peasgood, 'I've brought Scorpius Malfoy.'
The woman turned to look at Peasgood, and then at Scorpius. Although her hair was dark in its neat bun, the lightly etched lines around her eyes and mouth showed that she was entering middle-age. She smiled at Scorpius, but her expression remained as cold as the tiled walls around them.
'Mr Malfoy,' she said, nodding to him. 'I am Justina Thackerey, I'm the Administrator for this case. Follow me, please.'
She led him into a small anteroom, where a clerk with shaking hands was going through a tottering pile of parchment documents. 'Belby, I want the forms for Scorpius Malfoy.'
'Y-Yes, here, Ms Thackerey.'
There seemed to be innumerable forms for Scorpius to sign, waivers and conditions and declarations, and then he was sat on a hard wooden chair, and left alone. For nearly an hour, he sat watching the second hand on the clock opposite him make its endless cycles, meditated on the steady movement of the minute hand, and all the while a constant, slow flurry of movement shifted around him.
At three minutes to eight, a slight diversion was caused by the sudden appearance of Astoria Malfoy. She swept into the room, the clerks seeming like flies on a prize-winning thoroughbred as she brushed them away and went over to Scorpius, who stood to meet her. 'Mother.'
Although still beautiful, she looked tired, as if she hadn't slept in weeks, purplish marks of exhaustion around her eyes. The smile that appeared on her lips at the sight of him trembled, and disappeared almost immediately.
'You are both witnesses,' a voice rang out, 'no private contact permitted.'
Mother and son looked extremely alike as they directed an identical look of haughty disdain at the clerk, who looked suddenly embarrassed at his impertinence, but stared stubbornly at them until they stepped apart. As Astoria was led away to sign her own forms, Peasgood reappeared and bounced over to Scorpius, who had sat back down again in resignation.
Peasgood seemed to have been told to keep a closer eye on him, as for the next half an hour he stood, fidgeting constantly, beside Scorpius' chair. He was close enough that Scorpius could smell the cheap, cloying scent of his aftershave and see the beads of sweat that beaded on the fat folds of Peasgood's neck.
His father's lawyer, Callaghan, appeared soon after. He was a burly, freckled man with a broad, honest face, but despite his appearance he was becoming renowned for his cunning and intelligence in the courtroom. Shaking Scorpius' hand, he grasped his shoulder.
'You remember everything we discussed?'
Scorpius nodded. He didn't think he was able to speak.
'Good man. Keep calm, don't get caught up, and you'll be alright.'
There was another stir at eight-twenty-six, when the trial began. All fifty members of the Wizengamot filed past the doorway, a few glancing in at them curiously, and then the door swung shut behind the British Youth Representative and there was a moment of silence again.
Scorpius began feverishly going over in his mind the instructions that Callaghan had given him. It had seemed fairly easy before - answer the prosector's questions as simply as possible, say the short statement they'd prepared, don't get carried away - but now that he was faced with the daunting prospect of actually standing up in front of the whole Wizengamot and having to represent his father, it seemed like an impossible ask. He was bound to screw up, to mix up his words, and if he did then it meant prison for his father.
'Second witness - Scorpius Malfoy,' called a dull, monotonous voice, and he stood up. He felt light-headed, but he was glad that he hadn't eaten anything as he was quite sure he'd just vomit it up again.
The courtroom was a large, circular chamber, like a gigantic cylinder, and the Wizengamot were sat on raised seats that started about six foot above where he was led in to stand, in the very centre of the room. He was forcefully reminded of a gladiators' pit, with the merciless spectators watching from the amphitheatre stands.
Although he didn't want to, Scorpius forced himself to crane his neck and look straight up at the Wizengamot, especially the three members sat on the front row, with gold trim on their purple robes. Kingsley Shacklebolt sat in the centre, with a blonde man Scorpius didn't recognise on his left, and on his right none other than Harry Potter, Albus' father. The sight of him, looking just like an aged Albus, made Scorpius' stomach twist. If Harry Potter was the man who sent his father to jail, how was Scorpius supposed to ever face him again, how would he face Albus, even? He was only glad for the fact that at least Rose Weasley's mother, Minister for Magic Granger, was not attending the trial.
Looking around, he felt another pang at the sight of his own father, sat chained to a chair across the room. He looked, if possible, even worse than last time they'd met. He was so thin now that his torso was concave, his limbs curling around around nothing, and although he'd clearly had the chance to clean up a little his new robes did nothing to hide the prominence of his bones, and his combed hair only accentuated his face's resemblance to a skull.
'Take your place on the stand please,' the voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt rang out. He was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and so was apparently presiding over the case. Scorpius looked around, and saw a small raised box that looked a little like a Muggle pulpit. His footsteps echoed strangely in the silent chamber as he walked over to it.
'Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy,' said Kingsley, his voice slow and steady. 'You have been called in front of the Wizengamot as a witness, to give testimony as to your father's character, and to give any evidence you may have regarding the charges laid against your father, Draco Lucius Malfoy. Do you have anything you wish to say before questioning begins?'
The trial seemed to last forever. There was Scorpius' statement, and then a seemingly endless stream of questions, until Scorpius felt drained and exhausted. It wasn't Kingsley carrying out the questioning, as Scorpius had hoped, but the blond prosecutor, who was apparently called Zachariah Smith, and who spoke throughout in a snide and sneering voice.
'How much contact did you have with your father's business dealings?'
'Very little.'
'Very little? So you did have some contact?'
'No, I only knew details that were public anyway.'
'Were you ever privy to the meetings he held with clients and partners?'
'No, I never joined them.'
'Did he tell you any specific details about his businesses?'
'Objection!' called Callaghan, leaning over the barrier and holding up a hand. 'The prosecutor is unproductively repeating previously answered questions.'
'Yes, objection upheld,' said Kingsley Shacklebolt, nodding to Callaghan who sat back in his seat looking only slightly mollified. 'Prosecutor Smith, please keep within the bounds of reasonable questioning. In fact, I think you have exhausted your time. Potter, do you have any questions for the witness?'
Harry Potter had been sat back in his seat, his face half in shadow, although he'd clearly been watching it all closely. When Shacklebolt spoke to him, however, he leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees and giving Scorpius an intent stare. Scorpius found it impossible to look away; behind the round spectacles, his eyes were the exact shade of green as Albus' eyes.
'I'll only ask one question, but I'll do my best to make sure this one is exactly on point. Scorpius Malfoy, from your complete knowledge of your father's work and businesses, do you have any knowledge or evidence that he has ever committed serious wrongdoing and malpractice, of the sort laid against him in these charges?'
Scorpius felt his mouth go dry. What could he say? He had some knowledge, yes, but only the sort he'd pieced together from the snippets of conversations and glimpses of written words on papers, the picture that he'd jumbled into sense through curiosity, like the stupid little boy that he was. How could he say he knew nothing, when really he did? He would be lying, lying to the Wizengamot, and that could get him jailed right alongside his father. He was seventeen in a few months, they could send him to Azkaban then. He was intensely aware of the whole Wizengamot watching him, awaiting his answer. Harry Potter still held him in his gaze.
Swallowing, he took a deep breath, and spoke: 'I have no evidence that my father committed any wrongdoing or malpractice in his work.'
Silence. He looked up at the three men, his heart thudding against his chest, his lungs suddenly very tight. Would they catch him out? Would any of them point out that he had not mentioned if he had any knowledge, only that he had no evidence? It was true, after all, that he had no concrete evidence of what his father had done, that wasn't lying at all. But Zachariah Smith seemed to be sulking after his reprimand, and was staring into space, scratching his nose. Kingsley Shacklebolt was now the one sat back in shadow, and he too remained silent. Then he looked at Harry Potter, who was still looking a him. Their eyes met again, and he thought he saw an inkling of understanding in the older man's face, that Harry Potter knew, to an extent, what Scorpius was really saying.
His breath caught in his throat and he waited for the next question, but then Harry Potter just looked away and turned to Shacklebolt, saying: 'I think we're finished with this witness, aren't we?'
'Yes, the boy has endured quite enough from Smith's hot iron,' said Kingsley, and there was a murmur of laughter from the other members. 'Witness dismissed.'
Scorpius was led from the chamber, and sat back down in the little antechamber with Peasgood. His mother had been the first witness, and they were allowed to sit together now. She took one of his hands and traced it with her own fingers, brushing over the veins, the little lines on his knuckles, the trimmed nails. They sat in silence for a long time, listening to the incessant tick of the clock on the wall, and just enjoying each other's companionship. Finally, when the hands of the clock struck eleven, the door of the courtroom opened and the Wizengamot began to file out.
His heart regaining its former tempo, Scorpius stood up. His mother was holding his hand tightly now, and although it hurt he didn't let go. The fifty members of the Wizengamot filed past the doorway, and again none of them looked in at them except Hartley McKinnock, who was a Ravenclaw in Scorpius' year. He gave them a slight nod, and then hurried to keep up with the others.
Callaghan appeared a few seconds later looking very fatigued. He looked at them both, and said in a low voice: 'Not guilty.' He raised a hand to stop them as they began to look elated. 'But only in that there was not enough evidence to give a sure verdict. Mr Malfoy will not return to Azkaban, but his business assets are frozen for the time being, and he will likely not regain access to them. They're being thoroughly vetted, and that process can take years.'
'That's alright,' said Scorpius' mother in a hushed voice. 'We don't care about his business assets, just as long as we've got him back. Can we see him?'
'I'll go get him.'
The broad, honest-faced man left, and Scorpius' mother turned to him and gave him a rare embrace. 'Oh, Scorpius,' she said. Her voice cracked slightly, and he felt teardrops fall on the top of his head.
When his father reappeared a moment later, she had become quite composed again, and she just gave him a demure kiss on his worn face. Although still emaciated, Scorpius saw that his father's eyes had at least regained some of their old light and life. He smiled at Scorpius, placing a hand on his shoulder. 'Thank you, my son. Thank you.'
The celebrations that evening in Slytherin House were some of the biggest Scorpius had ever seen. The news of his father's verdict had spread like Fiendfyre, and he was not only restored to his old popularity, but he'd strangely become a bit of a celebrity, too. Everyone in the house wanted to hear his account of the trial, and he found himself being born from room to room with a pack of admirers, who all plied him with drink until he was not actually able to speak any more.
Albus followed it all with a quiet enjoyment, merely content to see his friend happy again. He himself was careful not to drink; although he wasn't the sort to talk, he couldn't risk becoming too intoxicated and revealing his own secret. So he stayed on the fringes of the ruckus, a small drink in his hand, and simply waited until Scorpius was entirely legless, when he stepped in and carried him to his bed.
Scorpius remained in a state of jubilation for several days, and it was only because of his previous unhappiness that his friends endured the constant regaling and repetition of anecdotes from the trial. He was oblivious to any annoyance they might have, anyway, because surely this was the best news in the world, the most interesting thing to have happened for years.
The only dark spot, however, was the way that Rose was acting towards him. Since the announcement that Scorpius' father was under arrest, Rose had treated him with an unusual amount of respect and tact, remaining polite instead of getting into the furious arguments that were normal between them. And to be fair, indulging in wind-ups and teasing would look like she was 'piling on', when he was already being pushed about and even beaten up. But since he returned, and the outcome of the trial was announced, she quite suddenly refused to speak to him at all, and Albus thought that she looked rather obnoxiously disdainful whenever she looked at him.
If Scorpius noticed Rose's new attitude, he said nothing about it. But Albus had seen how her eyes flicked onto him and then immediately away when they passed in the corridors, how when she spoke to him she'd now ignore Scorpius when before she would've at least exchanged a few words. And when this behaviour continued for the third day in a row, he made an excuse to leave his friends and caught up with her down the corridor.
'What do you want, Albus? The Slytherin Dungeon is in the other direction,' she said, giving him a sideways glance.
'Don't try and avoid me, 're you acting this way towards Scorpius?' he asked. He'd never been one to beat about the bush with such confrontations.
'Scorpius and I have never exactly liked each other,' she retorted sharply, tossing her hair.
'No, you haven't,' said Albus. He was vividly reminded of the period of their Third and Fourth Years, when the two of them could barely be in the same room without one attempting to hex the other, or in one memorable case, hit them on the nose with a broomstick handle. 'But you've at least been cordial recently, and now you're just ignoring him, and looking at him like he's some sort of lowlife. What's your problem?'
At that moment, they hit a large cluster of Second Years congested on a staircase, and Rose didn't reply until they'd fought their way past and reached a quiet stretch of passageway.
'Because,' she said, appearing to be choosing her words extremely carefully, 'Scorpius' father got off on a mere technicality. So while Scorpius is walking about acting like this is a cause for some great celebration, his father has got away with major fraud and malpractice! I don't want to associate with someone involved with that sort of thing, and I don't think you should be anywhere near it, either!'
Albus stared at her. They'd reached another staircase, and Rose was three steps up before she realised that he wasn't following her anymore. She turned back, arms folded and expression stubborn.
'If you think,' said Albus, his calm voice hiding the boiling anger that he felt inside him, 'that I'm going to abandon my friend because of the rumours and hearsay that his father should be in jail, you clearly don't know a single thing about me. Slytherins are supposed to be ambitious and cunning, but at least we have some common decency and loyalty towards our friends.'
'I do have decency!' snapped Rose, glaring at him. 'That's why I'm saying this! Because his family mixed up in an absolute swamp of suspicious things. It's what our parents have spent their lives fighting, Albus!'
'If I remember correctly, our parents have spent their lives fighting against a force a bit stronger than a sixteen-year-old who's just happy that his father is no longer imprisoned,' said Albus coldly. 'Get your priorities straight, Rose, and remember that Scorpius hasn't done anything wrong.'
He turned and began to walk away, feeling her eyes burn on the back of his head as he did. He was so angry that he decided to go a longer but quieter route back to the Common Room, as he didn't have the patience to deal with idiotic younger students and bolshy older ones. Turning away from the staircase, he went down a narrow corridor and another winding staircase, and then ducked through a facade portrait into a secret passageway.
It was much darker in this passage, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust and recognise the figures pressing against the stone wall, their arms around each other.
'Lily!' he burst out, staring at her with an aghast expression. The two figures jumped apart and Lily turned to look at him, clearly surprised to see him but with a stubbornly unconcerned expression on her face. Her eyebrows raised very slightly as she looked at him.
'Something wrong, Albus?'
'What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?' he snapped, waving a hand at the boy, who was stood looking absolutely terrified.
'I'd've thought you'd be familiar with the practice by now, Albus, I'm so sorry,' she retorted, smirking. He resisted the urge to hex the sarcasm off her face.
'You're too young! And who the hell are you?' he asked, turning his wand on the boy, who turned a vague shade of puce.
'Albus, stop, you're sounding like James,' said Lily, rolling her eyes. 'I'm not too young, you and James were both getting up to this sort of thing when you were my age, you're being an absolute hypocrite. Just go away and leave me be!'
'No,' snapped Albus, furious. He trained his wand light on the boy's tie, which was blue and bronze. 'Right, you can go straight back to Ravenclaw Tower, and I'm escorting my little sister to her own house.'
'No you won't!' yelled Lily, grabbing the boy by the hand. 'Yes, we're going, but you're not escorting me anywhere. Come on, Austin!'
'Wait!' cried Albus, but she trained her wand on him, now.
'No, you wait,' said Lily coldly. 'I know a few good hexes myself, Albus. You'll stay right there if you know what's good for you, and remember that I'm not going to be controlled by you, James, or anyone.'
And so he watched, helpless, as she marched off with the boy in tow. Wondering what other members of his family he had to argue with, he set off again, headed down towards the dungeons. He reached there without a mishap, and found his friends sat around quietly, pretending to work but actually talking over half a bottle of bourbon. Scorpius glanced at him as he sat down, asking what took him so long, but Albus just shrugged and pulled his Transfiguration essay out his bag as a distraction. But hardly five minutes in, he realised that his introduction was an absolute mess and he had no idea how to put together a succinct argument for the other two feet of parchment. Putting it away for later, he pulled out a book he had been meaning to read, about dealing with objects imbued with Dark Magic. But the words seemed to just bounce off the back of his eyes and he could make no sense of them. Instead of Dark Detectors and curses, the images of Rose's glare and Lily's stubborn defiance swam in his head.
After an hour or so of just flicking through the pages and pretending to listen to Fitzroy's long-winded story about a set of twins that he was trying to pursue, Albus decided to go to bed. The alcohol was nearly all drunk, anyway, and the conversations were getting steadily less interesting. As he stood up and packed his things back into his schoolbag, he found Scorpius standing up with him.
'You alright, Albus?' Scorpius asked as they set off through the anterooms, the library, and then up the winding staircase to their dormitory. 'You're acting quiet. Is something going on?'
Albus shrugged, attempting (and failing) to push his hair back off his face. They reached the top of the stairs and walked into their dormitory, which was empty. As Scorpius sat down on his bed and began to unlace his shoes, Albus looked at him, considering whether to tell him about what was going on with Professor Chang. He'd avoided the subject before, as he didn't want to heap extra burdens on his friend's shoulders, but now that Scorpius' father was not facing jail time, he couldn't find a valid reason to keep the subject from his best friend. But still, the thought of what Scorpius' reaction might be made him cringe away from it.
Still, he decided he had to do it. Sitting down opposite Scorpius, he took a deep breath and said: 'Look, there is something that I've -'
BANG. They both jumped around as the door slammed open and Zabini, Langwith and Fitzroy all burst in, laughing at some story Langwith was telling. 'And then, he just tripped over his own robes, and slipped right into the pig!' finished Langwith, waving his hands to illustrate as Zabini and Fitzroy laughed even louder.
At the sight of the three other roommates, Albus immediately stopped talking and bent to untie his own shoelaces. When he straightened up again, Scorpius gave him a meaningful look, but Albus just shook his head, and went into the bathroom to have a shower. There was no way he was attempting to have the conversation with the other three in the room as well.
The next day was a Thursday, and Albus remembered as soon as he awoke that he had another 'tutoring' session later that day. The thought of it cheered him slightly, and he managed to smile and laugh at Fitzroy's chatter, even though both Lily and Rose blanked him when they passed on the way to breakfast.
Throughout the morning, Scorpius seemed to want to get Albus on his own, to pursue the conversation that had been interrupted the night before, but the others were hanging about like flies, and anyway Albus didn't want to talk about it anywhere remotely public. He also, secretly, wanted to put off the subject again, his courage damaged by the interruption the night before. It was easier during the daytime to find excuses why they couldn't talk privately.
At dinner, the Zabini twins had made a plan for them to all go to the hot tubs and swimming pool that evening, but Albus made the excuse that he had to go to his tutoring session. Vittoria Zabini turned her gaze on him, her brows arched. 'Really? You still need tutoring? But you're getting top marks in everything.'
'Yes … well …' said Albus, trying not to turn red. 'Professor Chang thinks I should continue to … to make sure I really get to grips with non-verbal spells, you know?'
Vittoria still looked incredulous, but Scorpius distracted her by saying that he also couldn't make it due to mentoring. 'Kirkby's got into detention again and I've got to run it,' he said, shrugging. 'Along with a couple of other turds.'
'Merlin, I thought we were meant to be fun!' complained Vittoria, tossing her hair and going around the others to make them promise to come. Scorpius caught Albus' eye from across the table, but Albus just shook his head and busied himself with the remnants of his chicken pie.
It was hard to not seem rushed as they finished their food and headed out of the Great Hall, the others seeming to meander achingly slowly, chatting and laughing and hailing other students that they knew. Scorpius disappeared to catch Kirkby, who he'd spotted attempting to sneak off, and the others were too caught up in conversation to take much notice of Albus as he bade them goodbye and headed up the Marble Staircase.
Professor Chang - although she was Cho now, really - was looking particularly beautiful in a set of deep purple robes trimmed in silver, a silver chain around her neck, but she didn't smile when she turned and saw Albus in the doorway. He shut the door behind him and went over to her, reaching out to take her hand, but she just stepped away.
'What's wrong?' he asked, frowning slightly as he tried to look her in the eye. 'Have I done something?'
'No,' she said, shaking her head. 'I … I want you to go, Albus. We need to end this.'
He stared at her. 'Why?'
'You know why!' she snapped. 'A thousand reasons why! I'm your teacher, you're my student! Don't you realise how much trouble we'll be in if we're caught?'
'But why would we be caught?'
'Albus, I'm ending these tutoring sessions, go back to your Common Room-'
'No,' he retorted stubbornly, stepping closer to her again. 'I don't want to end this, and nor do you! Fuck the thousand reasons why, I don't care about any of that. And you don't either, not really.'
'Albus…' she said again, softly this time, and she looked at him properly. Taking her by the hand, he stepped close to her, and kissed her on the lips. 'Albus, we shouldn't.'
'We should,' he replied, parting her thighs and standing between them, pressing himself against her and enjoying how her body relaxed instantly against his. 'You know we should, you want this.'
His lips found her neck, and he elicited moans from her as he kissed and sucked, his hands slipping underneath her robes to touch her. Her hands were on him, now, holding on him and squeezing his arse. The rest of the world was forgotten, it was just the two of them, kissing and clinging, just them.
Until…
'Professor?'
They burst apart as if jinxed, Albus found himself thrown backwards and stumbled into the blackboard, but there was no hiding what they'd been doing from none other than Rose. She was stood in the doorway, a half-written essay in her hand, the colour rapidly draining from her face as she looked between the two of them. Then she turned, and walked out of the room.
Albus ran after her, attempting in vain to straighten his robes as he chased her down the corridor, grabbing her arm and forcing her to stop. 'Rose! Rose, wait!'
She turned to look at him, and he was shocked to see tears in her eyes. But as the colour reappeared on her cheeks, he quickly realised that they were tears of anger. 'You are an absolute bastard Albus Potter!' she cried, shoving him away from her. 'What the fuck do you think you're doing?'
'Rose, please, I'm begging you-'
'Oh don't you dare ask me to hide this for you, Albus,' she said, shaking her head. 'It's wrong, it's disgusting! How could you do this? Do you not realise how serious this is? She's going to get fired, you could get expelled! And this will come straight back to our parents, don't you think it won't. You - you're like a child, I mean Merlin I could hit you!'
'Please, Rose,' he said, staring desperately at her.
'No, Albus,' she said, shaking her head. 'You can either come with me, or wait for them to come get you. It's your choice.'
And so, an hour later, Albus found himself sat in front of Headmistress Clearwater and Professor Flint, staring at his knees and feeling his cheeks burn. It felt as if they'd been sat there in silence for years, just listening to the regular tick of the clock on the wall and the mutterings of the portraits on the study walls. Then, all at once, there was a roar behind Albus and he turned instinctively to see that the flames in the grate had turned bright green, and his father came spinning into view.
He stepped out of the fire quite neatly, brushing ash from his clothes and taking his glasses off to clean them, and then he looked around at the three of them. 'What's wrong? I got a message saying I had to come urgently, I thought maybe someone was hurt …'
He looked Albus up and down, as if checking for bandages or missing limbs, and then when he saw it was nothing physical, he looked if possible even more worried. Albus went back to staring at his knees.
'Please take a seat, Mr Potter,' said Clearwater. 'We sent a message to Mrs Potter, too…'
'Ginny's gone to Romania to visit her brother, so I'm handling this,' said Albus' father. 'What's going on? Albus, is something wrong?'
'I think we should just tell you straight, Mr Potter,' said Clearwater. 'Your son has been caught having illicit relations with a teacher.'
Albus felt his father's eyes bore into him, and he forced himself to look up.
'Illicit relations? Not …'
The expression of shock and disappointment was one that Albus had never seen on his father's face, and certainly never when looking at him. At the sight of it, something seemed to die, deep down in the space behind his chest and stomach, and had to look away.
'Albus, is this true?'
There was a long pause, then he nodded, once. There was no point in lying, not now. His father let out a long sigh, and ran his hands over his face. 'Oh, Albus! For Merlin's sake. Who - who was it?'
'Professor Cho Chang,' said Clearwater.
Albus was expecting a bad reaction from his father, expecting him to be angry and disappointed with him. What he was expecting was the look of instant fury and disgust that appeared on his father's face, as he jumped up and looked between the three of them. 'That can't be true.'
'It is, Mr Potter,' said Clearwater, who looked as surprised at his reaction as Albus was. Flint's expression was unreadable. 'Please, sit down and remain calm.'
'I won't - bring her in, I need to speak to her, need to find out what sick, depraved thoughts were going through her mind when she went after my son!' he yelled. 'Where is she?'
Albus stared at his father. He'd never seen him lose control like this, it was always his mother who shouted, but his father was suddenly quite demented. 'Dad, please!'
'No, Albus, you don't understand, you can't understand, I never said, you see…' But Albus' father seemed unable to put into words what he was feeling, he looked nauseated. 'Where is she?'
'We had her wait outside,' said Flint, before Clearwater could stop him. Without a word, Albus' father spun on his heel and marched to the door, throwing it open and rounding on Professor Chang, who was looking pale and shaky. For one wild moment, Albus thought that his father would curse her, but instead he just said in a low, deadly voice.
'I never expected you to sink to a low such as this, Cho.'
She looked up at him, shaking even more, and then burst into tears. Albus wanted to stand up, to go to her, but something kept him frozen in his seat, watching the scene in horror.
'Mr Potter, I'm sure you have many questions, but at this point we need to talk to Albus,' said Clearwater. 'There are some things we need him to tell us. So please, take a seat, and we will try to answer your own questions after.'
Albus looked up, meeting her clear blue gaze. His father sighed, and then reentered the room and shut the door. He stayed stood in the corner of the room, a hand over his face, and the two teachers turned to Albus. 'Potter,' said Flint, leaning forward now and resting a hand on the back of Clearwater's chair. 'You are sixteen years old. Therefore if you and Professor Chang did more than what Miss Weasley saw, if you had … sexual relations, it is a crime. Understand?'
He looked up, and nodded.
'So we need you to tell the truth. Did you have sexual relations with Professor Chang?'
There was a long pause, as Albus felt the burning gaze of all three adults, all of them watching and waiting for his reply. He should tell the truth, he knew that, but the image of Cho weeping into her hands swam across his mind, and he took a deep, shuddering breath, and shook his head.
'Potter,' said Flint, and Albus knew he didn't believe him. 'Answer me truthfully, now!'
'No,' said Albus.
'If you're lying, I will have you expelled!' roared Flint, slamming a palm on the desk.
'He's given his answer!' snapped Albus' father. 'I won't have you verbally abuse my son!'
'Yes, Marcus, calm down,' said Clearwater. 'Fine. That makes it a little simpler. Professor Chang in fact handed in her resignation forty-two minutes ago, she's going to go do research at the Salem Witches Institute. She won't ever work closely with children again. Hopefully we can count on Miss Weasley to keep this quiet, and as long as the story doesn't spread this should stay out the papers. I'm sure you're glad of that, Mr Potter.'
'There's not much I'm glad of here, Penelope,' said Albus' father.
'But what about me?' asked Albus, looking up again. They all turned to stare at him. 'What's going to happen to me? I was in the wrong too!'
'Albus!' said his father warningly.
'I was in the wrong, why should she have to leave and I shouldn't?'
'Potter, stop it right now!' snapped Flint. But Albus wasn't listening. Standing up so forcefully he knocked his chair over, he ducked away from his father and ran from the room, taking the stairs two at a time and dashing almost straight into Rose. She'd been waiting, on the other side of the gargoyle.
'Albus?'
He looked at her, and felt the anger and pain that had been trapped inside him burst out, tears running down his face as he shoved her off him. 'Get away from me! In fact, never come near me again! I hate you!' he yelled.
There were tears in her eyes now, and without a word she turned, and ran away. Footsteps behind him told him that he was being followed, that someone was coming to get him back. Quickly, he ducked behind a large bust of a warty wizard in a nearby alcove, watching from behind the large marble ears. His father stepped out from behind the gargoyle and looked around the apparently empty corridor. Albus was shocked to see how old his father looked. His face looked suddenly much more lined, his eyes set with fatigue. He stood quite still for a while, apparently deep in thought, and then he turned and went back up the staircase again. Albus waited until his footsteps had died away completely, and then walked away in the opposite direction.