Chapter 12

It was the first weekend of June, and the drizzle of the past ten days had cleared up, to be replaced by scudding clouds and a brisk wind. Albus and his friends set off for Hogsmeade after lunch, strolling through the castle grounds to the village just beyond its borders. This weekend, however, they bypassed all the shops and the Three Broomsticks, and headed straight for the far edge of the village. It was the weekend of Inverfest, and they were planning on sneaking out of Hogsmeade for it.

The shopping street was of course busy, but the crowds petered out towards the far end, and as they turned away from the Shrieking Shack and went in the opposite direction, they soon found themselves completely alone.

'Alright, here's good,' said Scorpius, a minute after they'd lost sight of the last few students. They all stopped and pulled off their cloaks, stuffing them into their bags. Underneath, they were all in Muggle clothes, of course.

'So just remember, you lot need to be back by seven pm, or you need to stay out all night and sneak back in the morning. Got it?' said Vittoria.

'Yes, Vittoria, we've said this a hundred times,' said Fitzroy. 'Enjoy your weekend without us, Zabinis!'

The twins glared at him, but Fitzroy's grin only broadened. They all stepped apart slightly, nodded to each other, and then began to Apparate, popping out of sight one by one until only Albus remained. He gave the twins a nod, and then turned on the spot and was pulled suddenly into complete darkness, with the familiar pressure like he'd been forced into a rubber tube. A second of suffocation, then sunlight suddenly burst brilliantly around him and his feet found solid ground. He stumbled on the grass a little, and Scorpius caught him.

'We made it?'

'We made it,' said Scorpius with a broad grin. 'You've splinched off a chunk of your hair, by the way, but don't worry it'll grow back.' He laughed as Albus felt for it and found an inch square of baldness.

'Oh, fuck!'

'Don't worry about it! Look around - we're at our first festival.'

The whole scene spread out in front of them. It was so strange and quirky that he could've believed it was magical, if they weren't obviously surrounded by Muggles. Now that he looked around, they were all quite out of place in their clothes, as all the real Muggles had bedecked themselves in such garish combinations that they resembled wizards attempting to disguise themselves. The irony wasn't lost on Albus, as one boy his age wandered past in a pair of wellingtons, swimming trunks, and a neon string vest. He wondered how they weren't all dying of hypothermia, dressed as if it was a Mediterranean beach rather than a Scottish hillside.

'Look! There's Archie Higgins, he's the year above us in Hufflepuff, isn't he?'

'We didn't see him sneak out!'

'I think there's some more witches and wizards over there, look at that gaggle by that food stand.'

'Come on, let's go get drinks.'

They bought a round of Muggle beers and settled down on the grass near one of the stages. A boy, who looked hardly older than they were, was at the front of the stage strumming his guitar and moaning into the microphone while the rest of his band played quietly in the background. Albus thought they weren't half bad for a Muggle band, although they all needed a proper haircut and some dress sense. Who decided that straggly hair, plaid shirts, and lumberjack boots were all back in fashion?

After a while they'd finished their drinks and went to explore the festival a little more. Winding their way through the milling crowds, they passed tents selling trinkets and souvenir t-shirts, vans serving every sort of food Albus could think of, and further beyond row upon row of smaller tents, where all the Muggles obviously slept. It was all extremely dirty, especially the rudimentary toilets, but he forced himself to ignore that.

As the afternoon drifted on and the sun began to hang low in the sky, the whole festival gained a strange golden hue, and the sun shining through the cloud created streaks of light across the sky. Albus found himself stood with Adelaide on a stretch of grass near a stage, the others slightly in front, and as he looked at her he saw the light seemed to have caught her hair so that it seemed filled with fine filaments of gold amongst the auburn. She looked up at him with a smile, and he wondered if he'd ever been in such a romantic situation.

Suddenly feeling very brave indeed - perhaps because the Muggle beer they'd been drinking was much stronger than Butterbeer - he found himself saying: 'Adelaide … I was wondering … if you'd like to go for a drink with me? Just us? I mean, only if you want to, I just thought…' He trailed off, looking away and kicking himself inwardly for this colossal moment of idiocy. What was he thinking? He'd never be able to look her in the eye again.

But he did manage to look at her again, and when he did he saw she was smiling. She was incredibly beautiful. She slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. 'I was wondering if you'd ever ask, Albus.'

'So … yes?'

'Of course.'

He leant forward and kissed her gently on the lips, wishing he could spend the rest of his life right in that moment. He'd been ignoring it for months, making himself believe that they were friends and that was it, that it was better that way. But as they held each other and kissed, he couldn't believe he'd ever let himself think that.

'Hey, you two!'

They broke apart and looked around: Fitzroy was grinning at them from up ahead. At some point he'd tied a bandana around his forehead, his curls sprouting over the top, and Albus thought he looked as idiotic as all the Muggle festival goers.

'What?'

'We're going into the crowd close to the stage, so come along if you're done necking each other.'

They laughed sheepishly and set off after the others. The three boys walked slightly ahead, joking and trying to spot other magical folk in the crowd milling about them. It was difficult, in a crowd where no one seemed to know how to dress properly, and they'd soon turned it into a game.

'My wiz-dar is just way ahead of you two,' boasted Fitzroy, pointing at a pair of girls in thigh-high waterproof boots. 'Definitely witches.'

'Wiz-dar?' queried Langwith, glancing at him. At some point during the day they'd convinced him to let a strange man in a stall style his hair, and he now had thick streaks of hot pink and silver through his dark locks, and a braid of silver links and white thread.

'Like a radar, only for wizards,' explained Scorpius.

'Oh, in that case you're categorically wrong, Fitzroy.'

'What? I've spotted way more people than you have!'

'It doesn't count if they're not actually wizards, Fitz! One guy you spotted was actually wearing a hat with an umbrella on it. That's not a wizard, that's just a weirdo.'

'Oh, shut up. What about that guy? He's got to be a wizard,' said Fitzroy, indicating to a figure about thirty feet away. Scorpius jumped slightly, as the man seemed to have appeared out of thin air. He supposed it was silly to be spooked by people Apparating, but it was surprising in such a crowded and non-magical area. The guy would be up in front of the Improper Use of Magic office if he wasn't careful.

But the man didn't seem to be trying to be inconspicuous - he was swathed in a long black cloak, with the hood pulled up over his face, and so stuck out like a mole amongst the colourful festival-goers around him. As Scorpius looked, something about the man made him uneasy. There was just something undeniably sinister about him, stood still and alone, his face shadowy under the hood.

'Guys - doesn't that man look a bit too strange?' he said, nudging Fitzroy and Langwith who'd taken no notice of the man beyond pointing out that he was a wizard. They looked around, but at the same moment the strange wizard pulled out his wand.

'Merlin!' said Fitzroy.

Something clicked in Scorpius' mind and he started towards the man, a horrible feeling growing in his stomach that something awful was about to happen. He pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the man, who was staring at the milling crowd of Muggles waiting for the music to start. Behind him, he heard the gasps and exclamations from his friends, and for just a second he hesitated, unsure, and in that same instant the man turned and stared directly at him.

Things moved quickly after that. Scorpius raised his wand, a spell forming in his mind, but at the same moment the cloaked man raised his wand, and Scorpius felt the earth rent from beneath his feet.

When he came to, seconds later, the whole world was a scream. He didn't know where it was coming from, that scream, or if it was in fact a thousand screams melded together, but it filled his whole head. He opened his eyes and saw only smoke, smoke and screams. He was dazed, and for a moment unsure if he could move at all, but then he was sitting up and his fingers felt a thin stick of wood in the grass. His wand!

Blinking, tears streaming down his face from the smoke, he forced himself to his feet. He was utterly alone, surrounded by shifting, panicked people and lifeless bodies. Where were his friends? Were they amongst the bodies? He couldn't think like that - they wouldn't be there, they couldn't.

He looked up, and caught sight of a dark figure, stood still amongst the mayhem. For a wild moment, he thought it was a Dementor, but then he remembered the strange cloaked man pointing his wand at them, and his stomach dropped. Without thinking too hard about it, he raised his wand and choked out: 'Expelliarmus!'

A wand flew towards him, he reached out for it but missed the catch in his daze and it landed on the grass a few feet away. The man looked around, seeing him, and then began to run straight at him. Scorpius stared at him, his confused mind struggling to comprehend what was going on, but then the man came close enough for Scorpius to see under the hood, see the crazed expression of hate, and then he pulled a long bowie knife out of the cloak.

'Stupefy!' The spell flew over the man's shoulder as he dodged, and Scorpius began to back away. 'Impedimenta! Stupefy!'

The man swung his arm and Scorpius jumped a second too late, feeling the knife catch in his chest with a blow that knocked him off his feet. Gasping, he felt the weight of the man slam down on top of him, felt the cold edge of the knife press against his neck as the man's hot breath filled his mouth and nostrils. His fingers were still closed tight around his wand, somehow, and as the knife bit into the soft skin of his neck he managed to turn the wand just enough to point at the man and whispered: 'Stupefy!'

The man was blown off him as if from a giant's punch, rolling facedown in the grass, unconscious. Scorpius lay in the damp grass, unable to believe that he was still alive, and then the thought of his friends entered his mind and slowly, ignoring the pain in his side and neck and spine, he rolled over and began to crawl, painstakingly, across the grass.

He saw Albus lying beside Adelaide in the grass, their hands almost touching. Adelaide, from a glance, seemed alright but that she was unconscious. The sight of Albus, however, made Scorpius choke for air as he fought off nausea. The whole left side of his friend was covered in blood, seeping through his clothes, congealing on his cheek and neck.

'Oh Merlin, Albus, Albus wake up, Albus, please!' sobbed Scorpius, fumbling blindly with his friend's clothes, desperate to find some way to help, but all he found was more blood. He reached to pull off his own shirt, but as he touched his side he found that it, too, was soaked with dark, sticky blood. He looked around, sobbing still, desperately searching for some kind of help or aid.

'Help! Somebody help my friend! Please!' he cried, but his voice just joined the multitude of others.

Vanishing the blood from his shirt, he pulled it off and pressed it against Albus' side. His own ribs were throbbing horribly, but he ignored that. As he looked up, he thought he saw figures running towards him. Thinking of more cloaked attackers, he raised his wand and pointed it dully at them, but the words couldn't form in his sluggish, exhausted mind.

'Who are you?' he cried as they drew near. 'What do you want?'

'We want to help you! We're from the Ministry,' said one of the figures, a woman from her long blonde hair.

'The … Ministry?'

He swayed, as his vision began to disintegrate, and as he collapsed it felt as if he was falling into a set of strong arms. Finally allowing himself to give in, he relaxed into the embrace, his head lolling back. Darkness began to rise up around him, but even as dreams sprang up around him he heard the words of the Ministry witch and wizard:

'Merlin's beard - this is Potter's son!'

'And this one - this one's the Malfoy boy.'

'There'll be a storm about this one, I tell you!'

—

Albus woke up suddenly, like when one has been trying to sleep and opens one's eyes to find it is morning already. He lay, utterly disorientated, trying to piece together how he'd gone from kissing and holding hands with Adelaide one moment to lying in a strange bed the next. His left side felt oddly stiff and was wrapped in some kind of material, but he gritted his teeth and leant on his right arm to force himself to sit up a few inches. His legs didn't seem to be responding very well, either.

He was clearly in a ward, although it wasn't the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts, so he surmised that it must be St Mungo's. Most of the other beds had curtains drawn around them, and he didn't recognise any of the others. In the bed next to him sat Scorpius, a bandage wrapped around his neck and a copy of the Daily Prophet spread out over his knees.

'Scorpius?'

His friend looked around, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. 'Gosh, you're alive. That's a surprise.'

'What happened?' asked Albus. His mouth felt very dry and husky.

'I'll explain it all in a minute,' said Scorpius, looking back down at his newspaper and turning a page. 'We've been out for five days, I only woke up an hour and a half ago. You're just in time - your parents have arrived, along with the Minister for Magic and a couple other Ministry people. They want our account of what happened.'

'But what did happen?'

'Alright, my account. You were unconscious for most of it so probably can't give a very useful statement,' said Scorpius.

'Statement? What's my aunt and the Ministry doing here?' asked Albus, feeling more and more confused by the minute. But at that moment the door to the ward swung open and he saw both his parents, his aunt, Professor Longbottom, and a couple more Ministry witches that he vaguely recognised, all file into the room.

'Albus!' exclaimed his parents, and they hurried forward to embrace him. He smiled awkwardly at them, but as he still had no idea exactly how he got to be in a St Mungo's bed, he didn't really have anything to say. Anyway, after the preliminary hellos and introductions, they all turned to Scorpius, who began to speak. One of the witches whipped out a notebook and began to write furiously, as Scorpius detailed everything that had happened after Albus lost consciousness at the festival.

He told them about spotting the dark figure, about the explosion that knocked them all unconscious, about waking up and seeing the cloaked man still stood in the field. Albus felt a chill run over him as he listened to Scorpius tell about Disarming the man, about being attacked by the man's knife and then managing the Stupefy him at the last moment. He felt sick at the thought of what would've happened if Scorpius hadn't managed to keep hold of his wand.

When he finished, there were a few seconds of silence before anyone said anything. In the end, it was Albus' aunt Hermione who spoke first: 'That is quite an account, Mr Malfoy. You have certainly acted with experience and nerve far beyond what I'd expect of someone your age.'

'I agree,' said Albus' father, 'and we can also tell you that the man you apprehended has been identified as a Mr Augustus Burke. He's been on our radar for a while for some anti-Muggle feelings that he's expressed, but he seemed to just be a quiet if eccentric man. Anyway, we've examined his wand and questioned him, and he's being charged with all attacks from the past few months. We're just trying to determine now if he acted alone or with accomplices.'

'Well done for managing to catch him, Scorpius,' said the Minister, 'It's fantastic that we've got him. I must run now, but I'll leave you with my personal regards and congratulations. Albus - all my love and best wishes for your recovery.'

She left, and the Ministry pair followed at her heels leaving Albus' parents and Longbottom behind. At that moment, a Healer in lime green robes came over. She'd clearly been picking her moment, not wanting to interrupt whatever meeting the Minister for Magic was having in her ward.

'Hello, I'm Healer Jenkins,' she said, smiling at Albus and Scorpius. 'I'll just give you both a quick rundown of your respective situations. Mr Malfoy, we've already given you a bit of an overview, haven't we?'

'Yep, stab wounds to the ribs and neck, not serious but attacker used a cursed knife so it can't be healed with any spells,' Scorpius reeled off.

'Perfect, couldn't have said it better myself. We can give you Skin-Graft Solutions and some other potions and ointments, and you should be as good as new in about a week,' said Jenkins, making a note on her clipboard.

'What about me?' asked Albus.

'Your condition is a little more complicated, Mr Potter' said Jenkins, frowning a little as she scanned her notes. 'What we've surmised is, when the attacker cast the explosion, the epicentre was very close to you. Therefore, your body has undergone intense trauma and, due to the cause being magical, it's effectively gone into shock.'

'What does that all mean?'

'Don't be worried - none of the damage should be permanent. Think of it as like when you get winded, and you can't move or breathe for a few seconds. That's what your body is feeling like. So your internal organs will be quite bruised, you'll feel tired and a little nauseous for the next few days, and your spine will also be struggling for that period, too.'

'My spine?' cried Albus, trying to sit up and finding his body didn't respond. Panic began to rise up from his belly as he attempted to kick his legs and they only twitched. 'What's wrong with me?'

'Albus, calm down,' said his father.

'As Jenkins said, you're going to be fine,' said his mother, sounding no-nonsense as ever. 'You'll have treatment here for the next two weeks, and they'll rehabilitate you back to normal again. Your body just needs to recover from the magical shock of the explosion.'

He nodded, staring down at his limp limbs under the blanket. 'Is that all?'

'There was a little skin damage from the blast, too, but that's nothing to worry about,' said Jenkins. Something in Jenkins' voice made him suspicious and he wondered whether to press her for the real truth, but he decided against it. He didn't need more depressive news. 'As for your treatment, I'd say two weeks here, and then another two weeks at home with Healers visiting. You may need a cane for a month or so after that, but that's all.'

'Like an old man,' sighed Albus, staring up at the ceiling. He'd never been particularly active, but the idea of his body not responding to his head made his skin crawl and pushed a nugget of fear deep into him.

'What about the others?' asked Scorpius. 'I only woke up an hour ago, I haven't seen anything of them.'

'Mr Fitzroy and Mr Langwith were kept in induced comas for four days, like you two, in order to help their bodies deal with the stress of the explosion. However, as there was nothing else wrong with them, They should be waking up today; as there's nothing else wrong with them, they'll be off to Hogwarts this evening.'

'And Adelaide?' asked Albus. His heart sank at the look on Jenkins' face. She wasn't dead, she couldn't be, he didn't even want to imagine what it would be like if she was dead…

'Miss Gray is being treated in L'Institut des Guérisseurs Magique, in Switzerland.'

'In Switzerland?' exclaimed Scorpius and Albus in unison.

'What's she doing there?' asked Scorpius. Albus was speechless.

'Her father had her transferred two days ago,' said Albus' mother. 'We spoke to him, and her mother, and they were extremely upset by the whole situation. Adelaide's treatment is going to take longer than yours, Albus, as she was hurt worse in the blast. So they've decided she'll be treated in Switzerland as they live there, and she can finish her schooling with a tutor or at Beauxbatons.'

'She's - she's not coming back to Hogwarts?' choked Albus, his throat suddenly horribly tight. He wanted to scream as he thought of the happiness that had been so suddenly removed, like a toy given and then stamped upon, but he bit it back and forced his expression to show nothing more than sadness at the loss of a friend. He felt Scorpius' gaze upon him, more knowing than his parents, but he didn't look at him.

'No. I'm sorry, Albus,' said his mother, giving his hand a squeeze. 'We knew you were close.'

'Your body still needs to rest a little more and process some of the healing potions we've given you, so I've got a Sleeping Draught for you,' said Jenkins, handing the flask to Albus. He felt so entirely bowled over by the bad news he'd been given that he took it without protest, downing the bitter liquid in one and relaxing back on the pillows. After the last half hour, he just wanted to be unconscious again.

His mother sat beside his bed and smoothed his hair off his face as he drifted towards sleep, and the cool touch of her hand felt more comforting than he could've imagined. He wanted more than ever to be hidden in her embrace, like he had as a child, feeling as though there he was truly safe and comfortable.

He heard his father speaking in a low voice, but even though they were only a couple of feet apart the words were indistinct. Albus strained his ears to listen, but he was already falling to deeply into sleep, and before he knew it he was gone.

It was Scorpius his father was speaking to. As Albus' eyes closed, Harry turned to Scorpius with his hands clasped, elbows rested on his knees. 'Scorpius I - I can't thank you enough. You acted far beyond what I'd expect of a seventeen-year-old in your position, and on top of that you helped Albus even when you yourself were injured. You're a fine young man, and if ever you wish to join the Aurors, I'll make sure a spot is open for you.'

'Thank you, sir,' said Scorpius quietly.

'Don't thank me - and call me Harry,' said Albus' father. They shook hands, and Ginny turned around to shake his hand too, uttering her own words of thanks. Then Mr and Mrs Potter stood up and said goodbye, leaving the ward hand in hand. Scorpius watched them go, and then looked back down at the newspaper in his lap. The mugshot of Augustus Burke grinned slyly up at him, and with a shiver and an itch of pain in his ribs, he turned it over.

He had slipped into a light doze, jerking suddenly awake by a vaguely disturbing dream that he forgot immediately, and opened his eyes to find his mother sat beside his bed. Albus was still unconscious, his head lolling away from them. He realised that he hadn't seen his mother for over six months, since before she left at Christmas. She hadn't changed much at all; her hair was a few inches shorter, her robes were French rather than British style, and there was that same distinctive scent of her perfume, that flower that Scorpius couldn't place. He stared at her, unsure quite what to feel.

'Scorpius,' she murmured, reaching forward to take his hand. Without thinking, he found himself lifting up his hands on the pretext of smoothing his hair, and then clasping them in his lap away from hers. She quietly withdrew her hand, resting it in her own lap, and looking down. 'I'm sorry I haven't seen you earlier. I've been busy.'

'I'm sure you have been,' said Scorpius dully.

'I came to see you when you were ill in February.'

'Not while I was awake.'

She looked away again, staring across the ward. 'I know this is hard on you, Scorpius, but you must understand. I had to get away.'

Scorpius did wonder why he wasn't shouting and screaming at her, for leaving and abandoning him. He found that he didn't even have the energy to be angry, or sad. Those emotions were burnt out of him months ago. Now when he looked at his mother, he just felt something become cold inside him, the remnants of a kind of grief.

'I don't understand. But that's fine.'

'Please, Scorpius, darling. I've been thinking about you so much, I've missed you more than I can say. I thought it would be better if I broke cleanly, gave you and your father some space to readjust.'

'No, you wanted to escape. You wanted to leave him, and you didn't care enough about me to fight for me.'

'No!'

'Either you don't care, or you're a coward.'

He wondered if he'd made her cry. She did look down for a long time, her hands clasped so tight her knuckles became stark red and white. But when she looked up, her face was stricken yet controlled, as ever.

'I know I've done you wrong. But I want us to spend time together again.'

'Will you take me to live with you in Paris?' he asked, staring her in the eye.

'That's … that's complicated, Scorpius, my flat and my life there means…'

'You mean you don't want me to live with you. That's fine. But that means the truth is you don't really want me in your life, you just feel you should -'

'Scorpius, please!'

'- still see me, because it is taboo to abandon one's son. But to be honest, if I'm just your shiny accessory you can ram that up a Hippogriff, because -'

'Scorpius!'

'-frankly, I don't have time for either you or Father. I'm seventeen now, I will do what I want to do. And the first thing that I want is some time alone.'

'Please, I just want to see you.'

'I don't want to see you. Please leave.'

His mother stood, but turned back to him. 'I still want to be your mother, Scorpius.'

He looked up at her, keeping his face blank and cold. 'You're too late. I needed you to be my mother when I sent you those letters. But I've learnt now that I don't need you. Goodbye.'

She gasped as if he'd cursed her, and hurried from the ward. Scorpius waited until the door swung shut behind her and he was sure she'd gone, and then slid down in his bed and pulled the sheets up to his chin, making sure to keep silent as tears rolled down his cheeks and the lump in his throat threatened to choke him. After a long while, he slipped back into an uneasy sleep, where he dreamt he was back home in the manor, and he was following a lingering smell of flowers that became weaker and weaker before finally disappearing altogether.

Despite the monotony of the days, the end of Scorpius' week in hospital rolled around surprisingly fast, and suddenly he was packed and fully dressed again, waiting for Healer Jenkins to give him the all clear. Albus watched him morosely from his bed - he still had another week of rehabilitation treatment to get through.

'I'll be with you in a moment!' Jenkins called as she bustled past, half a dozen clipboards and some vials of potion balancing precariously in the air in front of her. She paused for a second to thrust an envelope into Scorpius' hands from her pocket, nearly losing several clipboards as she did. 'That arrived for you this morning, you can read it while you wait.'

'Who's it from?' asked Albus, as Scorpius sat down on the edge of the bed and tore open the letter.

Scorpius didn't reply immediately. He recognised the neat, slanting handwriting instantly, but he didn't want to have to explain to Albus why Rose Weasley was writing him letters. 'Just … just a girl …' he said evasively.

Dear Scorpius,

I'm sorry i haven't written before, or come to visit. I'm sure you understand, but believe me I've wanted to come see you. I know that we left things in an odd place at Easter, and we haven't really spoken since when we should've; it doesn't really matter whose fault it is, but let's say its mine.

I guess I've been trying to ignore how I feel about you, and it's become more and more difficult to do so. When I heard what happened to you at Inverfest I was beside myself, and I can't really ignore things anymore.

What I'm trying to say is, as much as you drive me mad, I think I like you in some way that's maybe more than the normal amount to like a cousin's best friend. I've heard you're not coming back to Hogwarts before the end of term, but can we talk soon? I at least feel I should make amends for how I've been acting in the past few months.

Get better soon,

Yours,

Rose

'Mr Malfoy?' Healer Jenkins had reappeared, this time with only the single clipboard and her wand. Scorpius hurriedly stuffed Rose's letter into his pocket and stood up. Jenkins' check lasted all of ninety seconds, and then she made a few notes on her clipboard and smiled widely at him. 'Congratulations, Scorpius, you're good to go. Is anyone here to get you?'

'No, but I'll be fine,' said Scorpius with a grin. 'I've passed my Apparition test, anyway.'

'You're not Apparating with that chest! You can go down to the front desk and get a Portkey - take your discharge sheet. I'll see you for your checkup in a fortnight.'

And with a brief goodbye and a promise to meet again soon, Scorpius was gone. Albus watched him go, and then stared back up at the ceiling, slipping back into the deadened depression that had plagued him since he'd regained consciousness. Adelaide was gone. The sentence had been beating in his mind like a twisted mantra, repeating over and over again until he thought he'd go mad. He'd written her two letters, but received no reply. Was she awake yet? Would her parents reply if not? The idea of writing to her, and getting a possible response, was the only thing that could motivate him to any real activity.

He had rehabilitation twice a day, and he hated it. The Healers cast all sorts of charms on him, and he had to do exercises that were frankly no more advanced than what Muggles probably did. Forcing himself up and down the room, his body sagging onto the crutches as his legs refused to move properly, dragging on the floor. He'd never been an active person, but this lack of locomotion humiliated him. His hands and shoulders hurt, his legs ached constantly, and he wondered if he'd ever walk properly again.

Finally, after a fortnight, he was released from hospital. He could walk on a cane now, albeit slowly and painfully, but his parents arrived buzzing with energy and excitement. He tried to not look too grumpy, forcing a smile as they helped gather his things and chatted to Healer Jenkins.

'I'll see you back here in two weeks, Potter,' said Jenkins, signing his discharge sheet and handing it to his mother. 'Good luck! Make sure to do your exercises, now.'

The end of term at Hogwarts wasn't for another week, and the house in Ottery St Catchpole felt oddly quiet without Lily and James there. His room was just as he'd left it, only his school trunk lay at the end of his bed, his schoolbag lying neatly on top of it. Albus stood in his doorway, and for the first time since the attack he wondered if he was going to cry. He looked down, swallowing painfully, and then his father spoke from behind him:

'Are you alright, Al?'

'Yeah,' croaked Albus, 'I'm just going to have a rest, I think.'

'Of course.'

His parents retreated, and he went slowly over to sit down on his bed. His whole body seemed to be hurting, stabs of pain travelling up his right side with each movement. The dull ache that had sat on the left-hand side of his chest for the past fortnight seemed to be growing stronger, so now it seemed to be throbbing. Ignoring the pain for a moment, he reached down into his bag from the hospital, and after fumbling about in the inside pocket he pulled out four letters, held together by string.

"Adelaide Gray" was written across the front of each in cramped, angular handwriting, and over it the word "Returned" had been stamped in red ink so bright it seemed to glow. On the top letter, the most recent, a much neater hand had written below the stamp: 'Mr Potter, my daughter is undergoing intense medical treatment and will not be able to write to you for a very long time. Please stop attempting to communicate. I wish you the best of health, Alfred Gray'.

Blinking back tears, Albus limped to his desk and shoved the letters to the back of a drawer, slamming it shut again. Then he went back to the bed, lay down, and attempted to sleep.

Two days later, Albus found his dream disturbed by a strange tapping noise. He was hovering on a broom, hundreds of metres above the ground, circling higher and higher, when suddenly there was a loud tapping somewhere near him. He looked around, trying to turn the broom to see what it was, and as he did he slipped, and with a silent scream of horror found himself falling through the air, arms and legs flailing helplessly…

He opened his eyes, jumping in anticipation of hitting the ground, and then realised he was in bed. But the tapping was still there - someone, or something, was knocking on his window. Glancing at his alarm clock, he saw it was three minutes past four in the morning.

'What in Merlin's…' he muttered, forcing himself upright and sliding awkwardly down his bed to the window. As he pulled his curtain open, he was nearly struck on the nose as a small airborne object flew through the open casement and into his room, hovering in the air in front of him. He glanced outside - it was still fairly dark outside, the dawn just a greyish-yellow strip over the purple horizon - and then squinted at the object.

After a few seconds, he realised it was a tightly rolled scroll that had been attached to a pebble. Still in the fog of sleep, he reached out and picked it up, pulling the scroll away and unrolling it. The pebble fell to the ground, spell broken, as Albus read the few lines of narrow writing:

I'm outside and need to talk to you. Come at once, please don't wake anyone. S.

He looked out the window again, wondering if this was some trick, but as he did he thought he caught sight of a familiar silver-blond head. With a sigh, he began to dress.

A few minutes later, he was limping down his front garden, cane clutched in his right hand. Scorpius was stood just on the other side of the fence, staring away across the surrounding countryside, but he looked around as Albus approached. As their eyes met, something in Scorpius' expression made Albus' stomach lurch. He was hurting, far more than when they'd been in the hospital together. It was something close to a few months back, when Scorpius had come back from his suspension so cold and unreachable.

'What's happened?' he asked, reaching the front gate and leaning upon it.

Scorpius didn't reply for a moment. 'Albus, I haven't been fully truthful with you. It's … it's my father. Something's gone wrong with him, I think it was when my mother left. There was always this other side to him, a darker one, but he kept it hidden when she was around. But now she's gone, and it's like he's a different person, he's mean, and violent…'

'Has he hit you?' asked Albus. Scorpius nodded. 'Did he hit you when you were suspended?'

Scorpius nodded again. 'I'm sorry that I was so distant when I came back, but I didn't know how to tell you and I didn't want to lie to you either. In the end, he wrote me a letter saying that he'd acted out of character, and that he'd never do it again. Only, when I came back from St Mungo's and he came home from some business trip to Sri Lanka, he started getting angry again, and then yesterday he … well, I don't need to describe it.'

'I'm sorry, Scorpius.'

'So am I. I've left, anyway. I'm seventeen now, and I can emancipate myself from him without too much trouble. I hadn't meant to access my trust fund for another year - didn't need to, did I? But I'll just fill in some paperwork and get it in a few weeks.'

'What'll you do until then? You can stay with me, my parents won't mind at all, you don't even have to tell them why,' said Albus.

'Thanks, but I wouldn't encroach on you all like that. I think I'll go away for the summer, to Europe or further if I get bored. I know some people, my aunt lives near St Tropez, and there's always the Zabinis in Italy. But I thought I'd come and explain it all to you, as you're the only person I think I can really tell this to. I'm sorry to leave you alone for the summer.'

'Bugger that, I'm coming with you,' said Albus.

'What?'

'Screw sitting about in the house for weeks on end, feeling sad and lonely. I'm coming too - wait here, I'm getting my stuff.'

It took Albus twenty minutes to get upstairs again and pack his things. He could've done it faster, but his leg was still playing up and he was being careful to not wake anyone else in the house. At one point, he thought he heard a floorboard creak in his parents' room, but he froze for a few seconds and the house returned to silence again. Letting out a sigh, he went to desk and found a clean piece of parchment, scrawling a few lines to his parents to explain what had happened and where he was going. Signing it off with a sorry, he left it on his bed and made his slow, awkward way out of the house again, bag in one hand and cane in the other.

Scorpius was waiting in the same spot where Albus had found him, again looking across the surrounding countryside. The sun was almost visible at the horizon, now, turning the sky a pale violet-grey, and as the two boys set off down the lane it emerged above the dark hills, filling the valley suddenly with light and turning the dew on each leaf and blade of grass into thousands of glittering liquid crystals. They walked for a few minutes, until the village was out of sight, then they glanced at each other, turned on the spot and, a second apart, vanished into thin air.