THE SKYLARK
The youngest son of the hero was nothing like his brother. First, he was six months late, if one considered that his birthday was in April. He was kind, clumsy and very shy. He was spending most of his time buried in books or listening to his friend Terrence's constant new theories. He did not seem at all interested in the fame associated with his name, turned a scarlet shade when a teacher exclaimed "Oh, you look exactly like your father at the same age!" and the other students had quickly tired of his lack of charisma. He feared his brother almost as much as Scorpius, if one could believe in the alarmed glances he threw around when James stepped in the Gryffindor common room. And last, rumor had it that he was afflicted with the curse of Cinderella.
Terrence had researched it in the library - his favorite place - but he had returned empty-handed. Apparently the disease was not listed anywhere and belonged more to the domain of gossip than that of medicine.
Albus Potter loved pets, like many other children his age. What was not normal was the love the creatures had for him. The dormitory was ruled by Fabius Macmillan's cat and the unsympathetic ferret Spoon, which prevented rats from squatting the place, but you often came across hopping ecstatic toads when you walked to class with him, or saw mice and spiders busy hugging the walls to follow him.
The Gryffindor table was prone to storms of owls whenever it was mail time – getting droppings in your plate was not pleasant and Albus' had hair looked more untidy than ever when he reappeared after these twisters of feathers and beaks - and during Transfiguration, sometimes you could see cups rubbing against his ankles or watches that were trying to fly to his desk.
Scorpius had no problem with that: he always felt rather relieved when a wave of owls diverted the attention of the others and he could take care of his meals or homework without having to watch his back.
The persecutions had slow down after the Christmas holidays. There were rumors of a letter allegedly sent by the principal to the parents of every seventh year students. It was whispered that an investigation was conducted into the upper classes to discover the perpetrator of a heinous act. Nobody knew what the deed had been, however. Scorpius was not interested in Hogwarts' gossip: all that mattered to him was that he could venture into the corridors of the castle, alone, without falling into an ambush.
Well, at least most of the time. Today had not been the case.
- "You'll be fine, don't worry."
He stopped a few meters from Albus and watched him, intrigued. The boy with tousled black hair had left his bag and books next to him on the stone tiles and was leaning over something he held on his lap. The hallway was dark and only a sunbeam passing through a basement window gave some light to the wall smeared by smoky torches.
- "There. It's done. D'you think you'll find your way back?"
Albus stood up and stretched his arms to hold something to the height of the basement window.
- "Too small", Scorpius commented before he had time to stop himself.
He frowned and tried to look casual when the other boy turned to him, surprised.
- "Oh, Malfoy. I didn't know you were there."
Albus' green eyes lit up and he suddenly grinned.
- "Good ! Can you help me?"
- "We're late", said Scorpius stupidly.
A drop of water slid from his hair and melted into his wet wizard robes: a half dozen dungbombs had fallen on him when he was passing near the Astronomy Tower – some fourth years who were bored in class, probably - and he had just spent fifteen minutes cleaning himself in the bathroom. He had the feeling the stench was still floating around him and swallowed back nausea.
- "I know we're late", Albus said hurriedly. "I don't want to get into trouble either. But if we ignore it, a cat will surely eat it."
He opened his hands and Scorpius saw he was holding a wounded skylark.
- "It was going trlit, trlit, as if it was crying", explained the black-haired boy with a voice full of compassion. "Its leg's broken. I put up a splint. I think it should be able to fly up to its nest, if we can help it out of the basement window."
Two red and yellow woolen strands were twisted around a wooden splinter at the leg of the bird that was breathing heavily, its beak slightly open, its flanks palpitating.
- "You should leave it to fend for itself", Scorpius said brusquely. "The others will cast it out if it has a different smell."
His heart was pounding in his chest.
- "Oh", Albus stammered. "I didn't think about that…"
His green eyes looked concerned for a while, then brightened again.
- "We could bring it to Professor Migden, she'd know what to do!"
Scorpius rolled his eyes.
- "Yes, but not now. We're late", he repeated, articulating to emphasize the seriousness of their situation. "Late for Pernickety Nick's class."
- "I forgot", Albus winced.
He picked up his books, put the strap of his bag over his shoulder and carefully slipped the skylark in the large pocket of his robes, after swaddling it in a handkerchief. Then he smiled, as if Scorpius had done something great, and walked to the door of the dungeon.
The classroom was filled with thick gray smokes, but it did not prevent the professor from identifying them as soon as they entered.
- "At last !" he sneered as he came to them, his pointed shoes clicking on the stone tiles. "Are these gentlemen done strolling around the castle premises? Will they deign to do us the grace of their company?"
He was still quite far from them when they were sprinkled by the first spittle. Scorpius narrowed his eyes and Albus did his best to not turn his head.
Polycarpus Flaubert always held himself with his shoulders hunched and his belly slumping forward. He combed the three hairs on his skull with gluey gel and wore an old-fashioned plaid suit. He was as bony as a Patagonykus skeleton, walked like a duck and his breath reeked.
- "Perhaps these gentlemen need some detention time to help them remember that classes are not a far-fetched option of their cruising at Hogwarts?"
His -p and -f caused each time new flights of nauseating drops and even the giggling students behind their cauldrons began to feel sorry for the latecomers.
- "Well, well. Since everyone else is already divided in pairs, you will work together", said Flaubert when he no longer had enough breath. He inhaled through his mouth, snorted, then looked at them curiously, as if he had just realized who was standing in front of him. "Potter and Malfoy. Let's see what you can accomplish when you're thrown into the same cauldron."
Scorpius was a bit worried he meant that literally, but his anxiety dimmed down when the teacher went off to give Samuel Flinch-Fletchley an earful.
The blond boy went to the rickety table at the back of the room, on which were the ingredients for the potion. Albus put his bag on a stool and fished the swaddled skylark out of his pocket.
- "It's going to be okay", he whispered warmly, before putting it safely on a shelf, between two dusty jars.
And, again, his teammate thought the words were addressed to him. He cleared his throat, more from embarrassment to the troubling comforting feeling it was stirring in him than because of the smoke surrounding them.
- "We should start", he said. "The others are twenty minutes ahead of us. I don't understand how he can know exactly how many we are and still confuse us all the time..."
Albus chuckled. He poured in the cauldron the amount of water and baking soda the recipe requested and lit the fire with his wand, while Scorpius pulled on his gloves to tackle the nettle roots.
They worked in silence for a while. Somewhere in the sulphurous fog, Craig Finnigan had blown up yet another cauldron. Wendy, disheveled, her cheeks stained with the purple juice of carbobrotis, was frowning, biting her lips, trying to decrypt the instructions. Terrence was whistling, stirring the blue paste bubbling in his cauldron, without listening to Polycarpus Flaubert's lamentations. Terrence had the highest ratings of the class in most subjects, but he made their Potions teacher pull off his – almost inexistent - hair: he never came to the right result but, curiously, his concoctions always showed interesting.
The clock was ticking inexorably and the teacher suddenly announced that he would begin his tour.
- "How many seeds do I have to add?" hurriedly asked Albus, ready to empty his cutting board in their quietly bubbling potion.
- "Five. No ! Four and a half", Scorpius corrected after a quick glance at the manual. "Sorry."
Albus grinned.
- "It doesn't matter", he said gently.
Scorpius cleared his throat and pointed to the line of the recipe that threatened them with the worst consequences if they were wrong in the number of cenedrine seeds.
- "But it does", he said sternly.
Albus giggled again.
- "I'm glad I've been paired with you", he said as casually as if he had asked for the salt.
Scorpius blushed. Behind them on the shelf, the skylark was widening its bean eyes under yellow feather brows. It struggled to get off the handkerchief and managed to stand. Ruffling its wings, the bird hopped on one leg to the edge of the shelf.
Polycarpus Flaubert emerged from the gray mist like the dreadful figurehead of a Viking ship. He sniffed their potion which had a bright golden shade. He twirled his wand above it, examined the spiral, groaned cryptically, then levied a sample that he stocked away carefully.
- "It's a disaster", he concluded, satisfied, going towards the back room that was his office. "You'd kill more plants than beetles with this sauce."
Albus and Scorpius shared a dismayed glance. But they had no time to protest that the recipe announced a draft of a yellow sunflower shade and that they had certainly done better than Violet Morgensten whose cauldron was filled with pink stringy liquid, or than Fabius Macmillan whose potion was crawling away like a swamp monster.
There was a distinct "splash!" followed by a cry of horror.
- "PROFESSOR! A bird fell in my cauldron!" Miranda Brown squealed, stepping back instead of helping the skylark drowning in her potion.
- "Don't try to be interesting, Miss Pond", answered Ploycarpus Flaubert distractedly, from the small room where he was labelling the samples.
There was a moment of shocked silence, then everything became a shambles.
Albus had run to save the skylark and now he was hissing in pain, his hands red and covered with blisters. Terrence rushed to him and, after a quick glance around, grabbed a phial on a shelf and emptied its content on his friend's palms. The skin began to smoke but the contorted face of the wounded boy relaxed a bit. Wendy was trying to fish out the bird with a ladle and the others were all talking at once. Craig Finnigan was single-handedly making more noise than a dozen students.
Scorpius swallowed hard and his brain emptied any coherent thought. His face froze like a mask and his legs started to move by themselves. Without taking his eyes off Albus who was breathing through clenched teeth, he forced his way to the office, entered without knocking and stood next to the teacher who did not spare him a look.
- "Professor, I need to take Potter to the infirmary", he said sharply.
- "Don't be silly", retorted Polycarpus Flaubert, busy putting the final touch to a label on a phial, frowning and pushing his tongue through his damaged teeth. "We're going to work on another potion in a minute; you don't have time to go to the bathroom, Eric."
- "Professor, I don't think you understand", insisted Scorpius, raising his voice to be heard over the din of voices coming from the other room. "There was an accident."
Irritated, the teacher looked up from his arabesques of ink.
- "What have you come up with, this time?" he barked.
Scorpius gravely wiped the spittle on his face with his sleeve.
- "Potter put his hands in a pot of Recens Hortus, sir. Requesting permission to take him to the infirmary."
- "Billions of blistering barnacles!" gasped Polycarpus Flaubert, opening horrified eyes and letting go of the bottle he was holding. The phial crashed on the stone tiles with a small sound of explosion. "Yes, of course you can! You must! Go immediately! No, wait, wash the irritated areas with essence of..."
- "Done", cut in impatiently the voice of Terrence. "Malfoy, move your arse. I think the bird will soon kick the bucket and..."
He had an eloquent look. Scorpius immediately understood.
And if the skylark dies, Albus will be devastated.
He hastened to the classroom, grabbed the box that Wendy was holding out to him and in which was convulsing the bird wrapped in a pungent-smelling soaked handkerchief, and stormed out, Albus in tow.
They ran breathlessly in the corridors of Hogwarts. From time to time, Scorpius heard a muffled moan somewhere on his left and he prayed with all his heart that the little creature would survive.
Scorpius had never even sniffed in front of his persecutors. He did not want to witness their nasty joy if he broke down. He often cried, more from frustration than pain, but first assured to be safe under his pillow. Even though he was called "the sickly scrawny blonde," he was regarded as a tough kid.
Craig Finnigan, Terrence Swanson and the other boys of their age would have died of shame before being called "whiny": they turned their heads uneasily when a girl wailed after a fall in flying class or winced, accusing the wind / dust / whatever came to their minds when they were scratched or pinched in Herbology.
Albus, however, had no such restraint. He was walking with his heart on his sleeve, like a living ball of emotions, and constantly questioned their attitude, never noticing that he was doing so: if he was happy, he laughed. If he was upset, he burst into tears.
When tears welled up in his green eyes, something extremely odd always happened. The first time, Scorpius had thought he was the only one affected, then he realized the other students also seemed to feel the same surge of compassion, the same need to do something.
Even James Potter looked taken aback when his brother's eyes blurred up and he hastened to change the subject or walked away, like if he was afraid he'd soften.
Scorpius was glad that at least one person in the world was able to unsettle his worst enemy, but he would have preferred not to be also invaded by the unbearable feeling, as if making Albus cry was as cruel as killing a unicorn. As if one could not allow such innocence to be broken.
- "Almost there", he wheezed, trying not to slow down, despite the burning pain in his side.
Albus did not answer.
In the box, the skylark was shaking, its beak wide-open and its eyes rolling in their sockets. Its feathers were blackened and the skin of its neck was raw.
When they finally got to Greenhouse 3, Professor Migden was seeing off her last student from Ravenclaw and she frowned seeing them tumble in, out of breath.
- "This bird fell into a cauldron of Recens Hortus", explained Scorpius, breathless, pushing the box in the teacher's hands. "We must save it. Please."
He swallowed, straightened with a wince, then grabbed Albus' wrist.
- "I have to take Potter to the infirmary", he added, and off they went before the woman could ask anything.
Scorpius' brain was still as empty as if it was filled with white paste. He had no idea what had taken him, but he did not want to stop to think about it. The dangerous word why could wait. For now, all that mattered was how the skylark and Albus were doing.
"It's going to be okay."
When they entered with a bang, the nurse immediately put down the spoon and cough syrup she was going to give to a sixth grader who had a dripping nose and was surrounded by a mountain of handkerchiefs. She hurried toward them, lifting her blue dress and pointed at the nearest bed. For a while she got busy, rumbling about the dangers of practical work then, when she had bathed Albus' hands in three different concoctions and coated them with a cream that smelled of peppermint, she went off to fetch strips of gauze and left them alone.
Albus was sitting on the edge of the mattress, his head down, his legs dangling, and he held his palms like an offering. Scorpius, who had stayed out of the way so far, came to the bed, plopped on it and lightly touched his shoulder.
- "Hey", he said awkwardly.
Albus did not move and Scorpius felt his heart sink. Tears were rolling down the cheeks of the boy with black hair, dampening the collar of his shirt.
- "Don't cry", the blond boy tried again in a quavering voice.
- "It's my fault", Albus muttered, still staring at the ground. "It's all my fault…"
Scorpius raised an eyebrow.
- "It's not true", he protested. "You couldn't guess the bird would run off and fall in Amelia Pond's cauldron."
- "Miranda Brown", Albus corrected absently. He snuffled, then lifted his chin and the other boy froze at the guilt he read in the so dark green eyes. "Sorry."
- "I don't get it", Scorpius said flatly.
Albus shook his head. His face was pale, tense with pain and intense distress coming out of nowhere.
- "I'm s-sorry", he stuttered. "You shouldn't... I should have... you w-were all alone... it's not fair..."
Scorpius stared at him for a moment before he began to understand. Then his cheeks caught fire.
- "It has nothing to do with you", he muttered.
- "We should have told a teacher or protected you", Albus insisted feverishly. "I was s-scared... but you… you helped me... I wish I were as brave as you... thank you... and... I'm s-sorry..."
There was a lump in Scorpius' throat, a clump of giggles or of sobs.
The white haze in his brain tore open under a beam of warm and happy light.
The world suddenly became a less dark, less sad, less lonely place.
He choked on the sudden realization.
He had just understood that for the first time in his life, he had accomplished something. For the first time in his life, he had not just bear with what was happening, he had not tried to hide, he had stepped forward.
It was like setting foot on a new land and discovering it belonged to you.
He offered a weak smile to Albus.
- "Don't cry", he repeated, and his voice was becoming stronger with every new breath he drew. "It was not your fault. Neither the skylark or the others... I'm fine. It's okay."
The words were dancing in his head despite the headache that was soon to hatch, inevitable result of this agitation.
"You'll be fine."
"I'm glad I've been paired with you."
Albus was eleven and a half, his nose was red, his eyes puffy with tears and he was holding himself in a weird way because of his hands covered with blisters, but Scorpius thought he looked like a hero.
Not the kind of hero who attacks head-on and beats the bad guys to the pulp - that was Wendy - not the kind of hero who has answers to every question in the world – that was Terrence. He was not cool and funny like Craig Finnigan, and definitely not a detestable show-off adored by his fans like James Potter.
No, Albus was different. He was shy and clumsy and there were tons of things he did not understand or was frightened of, but he saw you. With your troubles, with your flaws, as you were. And he found you interesting. He even offered you his friendship. He showed you that you were able to take your destiny in your own hands - and all of this without knowing how amazing he was.
Yes, making Albus cry was a crime. You had no right to hurt someone who did not suspect evil, who believed in everyone, who tried to do good and was angry with himself when he could not.
Scorpius clenched his fists and lifted his chin.
Mrs Abbot chose that moment to come back and she frowned.
- "What's happening here?" she asked sternly. "Did you have a fight?"
They shook their heads in a beautiful ensemble.
- "I hope so", said the nurse, examining them carefully. "So, now, you (she pushed her finger in Albus' chest) you'll make me glad by lying down, and you (she gave a flick to Scorpius' forehead) you'll quickly go back to class. My word, aren't you two small and skinny! Don't children eat soup nowadays?"
Scorpius combed back his hair with a grimace and fled after the second warning from the nurse.
He had lingered behind to mouth silently: "I'll go check on the skylark, I'll be back."
"Thank you," Albus had replied the same way.
The days that followed, the words kept bubbling warmly inside Scorpius. The skylark was slowly recovering and Professor Migden allowed them to visit it as often as they wished. Scorpius never tired of walking alongside the other three, a little behind, watching them laughing and chatting together.
From time to time, Albus would turn and he would just smile and wave him to come closer.
It was like having friends.
Terrence was trying to convince Scorpius to go denounce his tormentors to the headmaster, but the blond boy disliked the idea. Was it really necessary? When he was with Albus, James did not make fun of him and the Seventh years were now keeping at a distance.
Life was so much better.
Winter melted on the hills around Hogwarts and spring began to pop out in small green and pink buds.
It was hard to study in the Gryffindor common room always full of noise, of unpacked Skiving Snackboxes and of mini-explosions, so Scorpius took refuge in their bedroom. Often, he found there Albus reading on the windowsill, Fabius Macmillan's cat curled up on his knees and the ferret snuggled on his shoulder. Scorpius would then sit on the stone tiles next to the window and study in quiet happiness, while golden dust twirled peacefully in a sunbeam.
And that was enough.
He did not need more.
He tried not to take too much space, found excuses that scraped his throat like fishbone not to be all the time with them, did not sit at the same table - he did not want them to get tired of him.
He was not telling them when the gang cornered him. He claimed he was allergic to pollen when they brushed his face with caterpillars behind Greenhouse 5 and he had a rash because of it. The nurse did not believe him but he stuck to his story. He did not want to become a tattletale like Kevin Mordecrat and to be even more cast out.
He always feared that one day the dream would collapse.
The lark took off the first really hot and sunny day and Professor Migden said it was a good omen, that skylarks symbolized the glow of a new dawn and that their wings were carrying the dearest wishes of humanity.
Scorpius prayed with all his heart.
He wanted to be the person Albus had seen in him.
He wanted to believe he could be.
He would not let go.
If he could find the courage to come a little closer... if it was not being too greedy...
But surely the skylark could not fly away carrying that many desires, so he resigned himself to keep on living bravely.
On Platform 9 3/4, the last day of the school year, after he had kissed his very moved mother and awkwardly greeted his father who was watching him sternly, Scorpius gestured to call Albus and introduce him to his family. But in the blur of sunlight and vapor, he saw him running toward a man who looked exactly like him.
- "Oh! It's Harry Potter!" cried an excited voice.
Draco stiffened and his wife worriedly touched his hand. James, who was nonchalantly heading towards his family, turned round.
"See you in September, Malfoy" he mouthed with a sneer.
Then a stone fell inside Scorpius as he watched Albus disappear in the cloud of smoke, without a backward glance, nestled under his father's arm.
Then he knew it was over.
After summer holidays, he would be forgotten.
TBC
Next chapter (3/3): SECRETS