A/N: And the plot bunny strikes again! You can thank her, patient readers, for the reasonably quick updates. Enjoy!
It was the next day, after breakfast, before he could get away. It was a Saturday; the first big snowfall of the season had fallen, and he had to (reluctantly) plead unfinished Transfiguration homework to get out of mounting an ambush on Rose and a few other Gryffindor girls with James and Albus.
He had finished all of his homework, Transfiguration included, ages ago, but that was the only plausible excuse Scorpius could think of-and besides, it technically wasn't a lie. Once he found what he was looking for, he would be doing homework. Advanced, self assigned homework, but homework nonetheless.
His father had told him once, when he was a lot younger, about a wonderful little room within Hogwarts on the seventh floor that could be anything the finder wanted it to be. His father had told a story, in fairytale form, about a boy who had found the room. Scorpius couldn't remember what the boy used it for, just that it had something to do with a magical cabinet, but whether the story was real or not, the room was, he knew that for certain. It was the one secret his father had shared with him and him alone.
He had absolute faith in his memory and his father's story; it was just finding that one room inside the huge seventh floor that would be the problem...
He rubbed his temple absently as he hurried down the first corridor he came to on the seventh floor, feeling lost and terribly alone. Come on, Scorpius. Remember the story. Father told you. What did he say?
He slowed to a walk, almost without thinking about it, rubbing his temple with the heel of his hand as he thought back...
"Story!" he cried. When his father sighed, he jumped up to bounce on his bed. "Story, Papa! Story, story, STORY!"
"Hush, Scorpius. You'll wake your mother."
"Story, please?" Scorpius whispered loudly in response, poking out his lower lip.
"I suppose. Lie down."
Scorpius must have done as he was told, because the next thing he could remember was a sideways view of his father's face. He had sat on the bed with Scorpius; Scorpius could remember smelling the sharp smell of peppermint strong in his nose as he snuggled up to his father's warm side. Once Scorpius had stopped squirming, his father had launched into his story...
"Once upon a time, there was a young boy called Draconis. He...wasn't a very happy boy. His father and mother were in the thrall of a very bad man, who would hurt them if Draconis didn't do something for him."
Scorpius stared at his father, instantly enthralled himself. "What did the bad man want him to do, Papa?"
"He wanted him to go into Hogwarts, and find a secret room, and to repair the magical cabinet within that would let the bad man and his followers into the castle."
Scorpius shut his eyes tight, forcing himself to remember through the fog. Where was the room, Papa?
To his surprise, his memory-father answered him clearly: "Seventh floor...in front of a tapestry with a foolish man trying to teach trolls to dance.
Scorpius punched the air in triumph, racing forward again. Inside his head the memory flashed by in a blur too.
After the story, his father had looked at him seriously. "Do you wish to know a secret, Scorpius?"
Scorpius, who had been on the verge of sleep, was instantly awake again. "Yes, Papa!" he chirped eagerly.
"I found that room that Draconis found, too. If you promise not to tell anyone, I'll tell you how I opened it."
"I won't tell, Papa!" He had mimed sealing his lips with an imaginary wand, like he'd seen the other pureblood children do, on the rare times he saw them.
His father had chuckled, a warm sound Scorpius had heard all too rarely in the years since. "I walked past it, three times, all the while thinking very, very hard about what I really, really needed. On the third pass, the door to this Room of Requirement was there, waiting."
Scorpius looked at his father, eyes wide. "What was in it, Papa?"
His father smiled. "Everything a boy could possibly want. Now sleep, Scorpius." As Scorpius obediently closed his eyes, he felt his father kiss his forehead, and walk slowly out of the room...
Scorpius whipped around a corner, and there it was. Just as his father had said, a tapestry hung in front of a blank space of wall, the faded fabric decorated with a man and his troll 'dancers'.
"Thank you, Father," Taking a deep breath, Scorpius marched past the wall, then spun on his heel and did it again, all the while thinking, I need a room where I can learn advanced magic...advanced GOOD magic...He didn't know really why he should make that distinction-Hogwarts was a school that taught good magic; surely there wouldn't be any place here for dark magic, even a secret magical room...
Scorpius shut his eyes tight, blocking out any stray thoughts, particularly ones about dark magic, chanting his need inside his head. I need a room where I can learn to defend myself with advanced good magic...I need a room where I can learn to defend myself with advanced good magic...
He made six passes, just to be safe, before he dared to peek at the wall...He blinked, rubbing his eyes and pinching himself to make sure he wasn't imagining it, or dreaming. Yes. There was definitely an ancient, slightly blackened door set in the wall, where there hadn't been one before.
He stared at the slightly ominous-looking door for a long second, summoning all his nerve. He took a deep breath, and as he let it out he stepped forward, pushing open the door...
The room was not what he imagined. He had imagined a training room, filled with training dummies to fling spells at, and a few books with the spells he needed in them. What he saw was a library, with vast shelves made of the same blackened wood as the door. Black streaks covered the floor in place of a carpet, and the air smelled of ash and burnt wood, as if there had been a great fire here not long ago.
The whole place had the deserted, sinister feel of a haunted mausoleum, so it was a perfectly acceptable reaction to Scorpius to jump five feet in the air and scream like a girl when a voice boomed, "So here you are. Back again."
Scorpius backed up, jumping again when his back hit the door. "W-who are you?"
"You should know who I am. You asked for my help. Or my room did, at least."
"I-I don't..."
A sigh. "Come where I can see you properly, boy."
For a moment, Scorpius stood frozen, his heart pounding wildly. Then he stepped forward. One...Two...Three...He dug his wand out of the pocket of his robes, well aware of how little in the way of protection it offered, but taking courage and reassurance from its weight in his hand, anyway. Four...Five...Six...He came to the end of the corridor of books, to find himself in a small nook. A worktable and chair sat in one side of the area; a small dark blue rug, the only thing that seemed to have been untouched by flames, was spread across the floor...
"Hello." Scorpius jumped, spinning around. On the other side of the nook, two hawk like eyes gazed at him, assessing. A woman, her dark hair swept back from her face, framed by...a gilt frame?
The woman clicked her tongue, leaning on the edge of her frame. "No. Not the same one. A son, perhaps? But I digress. You asked my room for help to defend yourself with advanced magic, yes?"
"Yes. Sorry, but who are you?"
The woman smiled, lifting her pointed chin proudly. "I am Rowena Ravenclaw. Or, at the very least, her portrait. My room called me, when you asked for its help. You wish to learn. I and my books have the knowledge." Her dark eyes flickered at a shelf behind Scorpius. "Fetch the red book with white binding, second shelf, three from the end."
Feeling dazed, Scorpius did as he was told. The book in question was slender but strangely heavy, and the worn cover had no title.
"Take it to the worktable, and open it to the first page."
Scorpius did, and stared at the contents. "'Treatise on the Superior Arte of Conjuration.'" He flipped the title page, and stared, uncomprehending, at the diagram and tiny, precise handwriting. "Ummm...Professor Ravenclaw...?"
"Hmmm, no. Perhaps that one is a little too advanced for you...try the black one, third row from the bottom, blue binding."
" 'Everfrost's Compendium of Classic Defensive Technique'."
"Ah, that's the one. Take it to the table, and begin reading."
"But Professor...I need to learn practical spells, fast."
"And you will. All proper learning must first begin with theory. Now read the book, Mr. Malfoy."
Scorpius sighed, resigned, moving back toward the table.
A/N: ...the plot bunny stole the show again. Sorry that its another shorty. It'll get longer and more interesting soon, I promise!