SECRETS

But he was wrong.

In the train to Hogwarts, the door of his compartment flew open and when he looked up from his book with a start, the place was already invaded. Craig Finnigan was chewing the head of a chocolate frog, while talking Quidditch with Samuel Flinch-Fletchley. Terrence Swanson was pulling something long, sticky and blue out of his nose under the disgusted eyes of Fabius Macmillan. Wendy Philips had gotten rid of the silk ribbon holding back her perfect brown curls and had already donned a loose sweater over her posh dress. Toughie was hopping in his cage, hooting piercingly to taunt the cat locked in her basket... and Albus had just dropped on the seat next to Scorpius.

Spoon the ferret popped his devious head out of his master's pocket and rattled his sharp teeth when he saw Scorpius' grimace.

- "Hi", said Albus with his usual bright smile. "We looked for you everywhere. Did you have a good time over summer?"

Scorpius, who had spent the last two months hearing his parents fight with his grandparents, only shrugged.

- "Oh", Albus said with compassion.

He took a foil ball out of his other pocket and unfolded it carefully.

- "Do you want some fish cake?" he asked, apparently believing this was the solution to all problems.

Scorpius felt his throat tickle.

- "No, thank you. You better give it to Fabius' cat", he answered very seriously.

But a chuckle had just hatched inside his chest, warm and comforting, and he found himself enjoying the merry din around them.

He had not been forgotten.

Things did not get easier, though. Their homework had doubled, the teachers were less forgiving and the weather seemed to be trying to establish a lackluster record: an icy mist clung to the windows with persistence and a thick fog rose from the hard and cold ground. Sometimes, crows fell in the fireplace or bugs tried to find refuge in the dormitory: Spoon chased after them, uttering piercing cries that woke the boys in the middle of the night.

During first term, the persecution resumed. Scorpius made such a grand treacle slip in the dining room that he was forced to write his parents in a joking tone about it, for fear the information would reach them from another source. His mother seemed to have guessed, one way or another, that he was tormented at school. He was so afraid she would get sick from worry that he preferred to tell her the truth - somewhat embroidered - rather than have her learn about it from a Slytherin student's family. And he definitely did not want his father – and his grandfather – to know he was bullied.

Then suddenly, without warning, the persecution stopped. Scorpius felt a little guilty that he was relieved, thinking that perhaps the seniors were now tormenting first years. Then he heard Kevin Mordecrat say he had overheard the headmistress giving an earful to her staff. According to the tattletale, the old lady was beside herself and was shouting from the top of her lungs: "Let us be vigilant! We're no longer in the days when students could raise arachnids in their closets or prepare Polyjuice Potion in the ladies' bathroom! The precious children of this time of peace should be able to study in the best of environments!"

Scorpius made a mental note to ask his father about his schooling. He had never heard speak of events as foolish and wondered what kind of wacky headmaster had preceded Minerva McGonagall and let such things happen.

Free from the constant fear of abuses, Scorpius made rapid progress in class. He was a natural worker and loved to study. In History of Magic, he even got better grades than Terrence. He was one of the few to resist when the rest of the class succumbed to Professor Binns' soporific voice. But this was nothing to be proud of, however. He would have preferred to cover himself with glory in another class or to be as cool as Quidditch players.

As soon as the announcement had been made that Second years could come forward, Wendy had tried out to be part of the Gryffindor team and had dragged along Albus and Terrence. Swanson had completely failed the tests – it had been no surprise: the genius brain seemed capable of anything except coordinating his arms and legs - but the other two had been taken as Chasers. Scorpius had been careful not to imitate them: he was doing pretty good on a broom, but James Potter was part of the team and you had to be mental to go risk your life in the sky when someone could easily pretend they did not mean to knock you out with a bat...

For Christmas, Scorpius went back to Malfoy Manor and bore with his grandfather's sour comments with stoicism. He had the surprise of a chat with his father on the balcony, away from their guests and to hear praise for his good grades in History of Magic. Unlike Lucius, Draco Malfoy did not talk about Quidditch, even if his son had glimpsed him gazing thoughtfully at an old picture of the Slytherin team.

They made a trip to the Forest of Broceliande on New Year's Eve and Scorpius relished the walk under the trees coated with glittering frost. His breath puffed like a small bright cloud and he was holding the hand of his mother who walked smiling gently, wrapped in white fur and wearing a fleecy toque like a Russian queen. Draco was reading aloud the magical inscriptions that appeared along the path to educate the visitors and, from time to time, he would lightly ruffle the blond hair of his son.

In February, for his birthday, Craig Finnigan gave a party in the dorms. It abruptly ended when the ferret, who had stolen too many Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, started to vomit rainbows in every corner. Terrence, the king of the Scouring charm cleaned up, laughing while Albus apologized a thousand times. Spoon was put on a diet and stayed quiet for a few days. Scorpius ate so many pumpkin pasties and gingerbread that he nearly got sick too. He thought this had been the best birthday party he had ever attended.

It was no longer enough to look at the others from a distance so, one day at lunch, Scorpius resolutely picked up his plate and went to sit at the same table as the ones he dared not call "friends". Terrence gave him a wink, Wendy happily shoved her elbow in his side and nearly cut his breath and Albus offered him a bright smile. At the end of the bench, Craig Finnigan had just swallowed his chanterelle flan and orange smoke was coming out of his ears.

May and June spun at high speed and summer holidays came back again. But this time, on the Platform 9 3/4, Scorpius did not feel his insides knot painfully. He kissed his mother with impetuosity, got into the elegant coupe and spent the evening telling them all about his school year, forgetting to eat some Strawberry Trifle - his favorite dessert specially prepared by the elves. His grandfather looked astonished. His grandmother was dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief and from time to time, she would let go of a fond chuckle. Draco was sitting very straight in his Empire armchair by the fireplace. He was twirling a Firewhiskey glass between his fingers and his face betrayed no emotion, but Scorpius could read in his mother's gaze that his father was happy.

Over summer, he made a sudden growth spurt and spent hours admiring his new stature in the mirror of his wardrobe, ignoring the mocking comments of it. He however felt ridiculous when he joined the others in their compartment in the Hogwarts Express, on September the 1st. They had all grown up, especially Albus who was now taller than Terrence, but Scorpius was still the smallest. Wendy assured him that he was the one who was doing best, that at least he did not look like a lanky scarecrow - but he did not find it particularly comforting.

When the old castle appeared, cut like a Chinese shadow on the flamboyant autumn sky, they stuck their noses against the windows, oddly touched. Scorpius wondered if growing up always had that effect: a mixture of excitement and nostalgia was bubbling in his belly and he felt like he would do great things during his third year.

Of course, nothing of the sort occurred.

There were some changes: they were now thirteen, which meant they were finally allowed to go to Hogsmeade: it was a topic of endless conversation. Girls also had become more interesting - except Wendy, who was not really considered as such, given the drubbing she'd give you if you commented on her (non-existent) curves or on the feminine gender in general.

Their toothbrushes were not anymore what they compared in the bathroom and Craig Finnigan had stuck pictures next to his old posters of Quidditch that made the heat in the room go up a notch. The elves took them off regularly, but fortunately there were always new undergarment pages in the Witch Weekly.

But overall, routine had resumed: lessons, tons of homework and little free time to stroll by the lake in the warm and pleasant breeze. New Seventh years were after Scorpius in between classes and James Potter, who had a good reason to be frustrated, was making his favorite whipping boy miserable whenever he met him alone in a hallway.

The Gryffindor seeker having graduated, Quidditch tryouts were arranged. Then Jeremy Shacklebolt, the new captain, announced James would stay a chaser and that the younger Potter would now be their seeker. For a moment it looked like Albus would refuse the position he had nevertheless made every effort to win, then he shot a strange dark look to his big brother and shook the hand held out to him.

That night, the familiar purr did not lull them and when Terrence and Craig finally fell asleep, Scorpius sat up in bed, his chin propped on his crossed arms, his knees pulled up under his blanket. For a long time he watched the motionless shape of Albus in the bluish darkness, wondering if he would dare to go talk to him, trying to understand why the black-haired boy seemed so grim.

Then he probably fell asleep too, for he woke up the next morning in the bedroom flooded in sunlight when Albus shook his shoulder, saying they were going to be late for Study of Ancient Runes.

In third year, they had to choose elective courses. Scorpius noticed that Wendy had not taken the same as Albus and that Terrence had deliberately registered in the same as Wendy. So, naturally, he enrolled in the same as Albus.

When they were going up the steps of the long spiral staircase that led them to Study of Ancient Runes, Scorpius always felt a bit drunk. A strange joy fizzed in his stomach and he giggled like a stupid pixie. No one else had taken this elective course in Gryffindor and Rosie Weasley, the only girl they knew, sat with her friends from Ravenclaw. So Scorpius and Albus often found themselves working together on translations. Dust was billowing over their huge syllabary dictionaries, floating in bright sprinkles in the pale light of winter. The sound of pages turned and of quills scribbling on parchment was something peaceful, sweet, perfectly happy.

On top of the tower, they were far from everything and Scorpius loved this exhilarating feeling of freedom.

As if he owned the world. As if there was nothing to hide, nothing to pretend, nothing more to desire.

From time to time, Albus looked up from his homework and smiled.

To him – only to him.

Autumn gave way to winter. The twelve Christmas trees rose in the Great Hall, dusted with snow that tasted like powdered sugar. Over the frozen lake, the bells tinkled merrily as sleds carried teachers and students to Hogsmeade. Albus, Scorpius and Terrence bought a whole load of sweets and got attacked by the rabid dog that guarded Honeydukes backyard when they were looking for a shortcut to go to the Three Broomsticks. Something strange happened then, something none of them could explain. They fared without a scratch, to the surprise of the owner who came out in haste upon hearing the ferocious barking and who found his mastiff whining and drooling, rolling at the feet of Albus like a puppy.

Wendy brought back a bottle of butterbeer for Lily Potter, who was in first year in Gryffindor and the girl gave her a radish necklace that looked like the one their new Transfiguration teacher, Luna Lovegood, was wearing.

In January, as mysteriously as in the years before, James and the Seventh years stopped making life complicated for Scorpius. He had learned to defend himself by then, but he was relieved not to have to watch his back in the hallways or to have to throw anti-smudge charms on his dissertations in case they would end up wet or trampled by muddy shoes.

In March, Spoon died. Even though the ferret had always been nasty with him, something pinched Scorpius' heart when he realized the small creature was curled up, stiff and cold, in the fold of the canopy where it usually slept.

In the pale morning light that bathed the terribly silent room, Albus, barefoot, wearing his pajamas, his black hair tousled as usual, cradled the ferret in his arms. He did not utter a word, but hot tears streamed down his cheeks, pearling at his long dark eyelashes.

Scorpius felt like his heart was going to break. Craig Finnigan muttered it was really sad and stared at the floor. Terrence fished an empty shoebox from under his bed, stuffed it with cotton wool and offered it to serve as a coffin.

When they left the Gryffindor common room with Lily and Wendy, they passed by James who was playing with a quaffle (he had not touched a golden snitch since his brother had become Seeker) lying casually on the scarlet sofa. He straightened up and sniggered, asking if they had planned enough seats for all the rats, lizards and other creatures that would surely come to the funeral "to give support to their Cinderella in her loss."

Scorpius had felt fear, hatred and disgust toward Potter, but for the first time in his life, he felt pity for him. James might have been athletic, cool, popular and good-looking, he would never have what Albus possessed. People easily became friends with him, they covered him with compliments and sought his admiration, but they gave him no real loyalty.

Scopius was certain that if James had been crying, there would have been no desolation and gloom all over the Gryffindor Tower like it was the case on that day. It was like a coldness that seeped everywhere... and then there was a dizzying whiff of raw anger.

Albus had lifted his green eyes.

His brother was the one who looked away.

Then the feeling of sadness came back with a shiver under their skin and they went down to Hagrid's hut, yet again not understanding what had happened.

Bert Hammersmith, the keeper of keys, dug a hole near a birch, then stepped back and waited with compassion, holding his big spade. The giant hare of Flanders was standing next to him and the wind was brushing backwards his scruffy fur.

Professor Douglas, who taught Runes and who had often allowed the ferret to perch up on the blackboard with a chalk as a snack, asked Albus if he wanted someone to say a few words, but the boy shook his head, lips fiercely pursed. The man gently squeezed his shoulder, then went back to the castle, holding his bowler hat, his coat flapping in the wind.

A few drops crashed on the lid of the cardboard box and made translucent halos. Lily and Wendy were holding Albus' hands and were crying.

Rosie Weasley and her brother Hugo, who had so many freckles it looked like he had painted them, put flowers in the pit. Scorpius wondered what they were doing there, and then he remembered they were cousins with the Potters.

Then Terrence cleared his throat and suggested timidly to close the grave before the Hufflepuff Quidditch team would come back from training. Albus nodded weakly. He was very pale and was shivering, as if he were cold.

Scorpius took off his jacket and put it over his friend's shoulders. He wished he could do so much more.

When Bert Hammersmith was done tamping the last shovelful, Albus whispered in a shaky voice: "I wish Dad were here" and Lily stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek.

That night, there was no purr either and Scorpius, who was not asleep, saw something very strange. One by one, house elves apparated in the room, as silent as stars reflecting in a pond. They gathered around Albus' bed and joined hands. Their large ears and small bony bodies stood out in the dark and their big golden eyes gleamed mysteriously. Then they began to sing so softly that Scorpius, hidden under his blankets, thought at first he was only hearing blood pounding in his ears.

After a moment, they faded away - or perhaps Scorpius finally fell asleep, lulled by their chant.

In the morning, there was no trace of their passage.

It was not the first time something inexplicable occurred and it was not the last either. During Defense Against the Dark Arts in the supervised swimming part of the lake, one of the grindylows they were studying tore open the safety net and attacked Jane Caradoc who was practicing her stunning spell. Albus, who was paired with her, rushed to help without listening to Professor Curtis who was shouting he needed to get away, her voice oddly distorted by the bubble that allowed her to breathe. Seconds later, the Grindylow was swimming away. It had left large red marks on the arms of the poor traumatized girl, but it had not killed her.

Albus explained to the angry teacher he had just tried to free Jane and that the creature had immediately fled.

The others lost interest in the matter when the next visit to Hogsmeade was announced, but Scorpius and Terrence classified the case in a corner "not to forget" in their heads.

Wendy had a fight with Jane Caradoc afterwards and nobody understood why, but it went unnoticed in the frenzy of Quidditch training. That year, Gryffindor lost both the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup, and then they found themselves again aboard the Hogwarts Express on their way back home.

Craig Finnigan and his two friends ate almost their weight in candy while studying a new magazine they had bought in Hogsmeade: it was called Blue Laces and its content was very dubious. Terrence dozed almost all the way to London. He had a yellowish bandage around his head - his latest experiment had gone wrong - and his face was dotted with weird little warts. Albus played chocolate frog cards with his sister until she majestically announced she would now go see her friends. Scorpius looked up from his book and an amused smile tugged at his lips as he watched her leave the compartment. Then he jumped when Albus leaned against him to read over his shoulder.

Wendy came back from the bathroom, dressed again like a young lady from the High Society, and slumped on the seat in front of them. She looked sullen, but her expression gradually became envious and miserable.

But Scorpius was too focused to notice.

Albus had fallen asleep against him and he would certainly not wake him up by making a sudden movement.

Then the train pulled into King's Cross Station and stopped noisily, throwing them all over each other. The trunks fell from the nets, the whistle of the locomotive pierced their eardrums and the first cries of joy rang on the platform.

Their third year was over.

During summer holidays, Scorpius turned fourteen and the night of his birthday, he suddenly learned why students who had never looked at him before would suddenly become bullies when they would start their seventh year.

It was an accident.

A storm was coming on that night. The sky was low, the dark purple clouds were puffy and veined in red. The air was terribly hot, thick, and oppressive. Astoria Malfoy had deployed a dozen charms to keep the pergola fresh and nice, but once you were setting foot in the garden, you were dripping with sweat. The elves were going back and forth with grills and salad platters, pitchers of iced lemonade and champagne. The women were in bare shoulders, dressed in beautiful dresses made of shimmering silk, and Scorpius was glad he was still young enough to wear a shirt with short sleeves. As for Lucius and Draco, they were strapped in elegant suits whose sleeves were buttoned impeccably.

They toasted and a mountain of richly beribboned gifts appeared on a wrought iron table, while trays of delicate pastries circulated among the guests.

Scorpius stuffed some Strawberry Trifle in his mouth and nearly choked on it, because at the same time, his father turned to him and asked him to thank the guests.

Then thunder rumbled over the house and there was a flash of lightning, followed by a tumble of broken glass and screams.

Scorpius had shut his eyes instinctively and when he opened them, it was chaos. One of the big windows on the ground floor had been shattered. There were shards of glass everywhere, crunching under his soles, and drops of blood had splattered the white marble terrace.

He looked up and paled.

A dark stain was widening on the sleeve of his father's jacket and something was shining on his forearm. Draco was white as a sheet and his pursed lips had lost all color.

Another lightning shot out, immediately followed by another blast of thunder and then rain began to fall hard and tight.

Draco staggered, looking around him as if he was in a trance or about to faint, then he hurried inside of the house.

- "Darling!" cried the distraught voice of Astoria and Scorpius cringed.

People were talking all at once, the rain was thrumming with violence on the roof of the pergola, his grandmother was moaning and Lucius was barking orders to the elves who were running all over the place to help the guests and clean up the broken glass.

Scorpius rushed through the shattered door and across the living room. In the corridor, he did not need to follow the trail of blood droplets on the green carpet to find out that his father had gone upstairs. He climbed the steps four at four and rushed to the bathroom.

The thunder broke out again, with a dazzling purple lightning shot and all lights flickered and went out, as if the magic of the mansion had suddenly no more strength.

Scorpius hit his knee against a cabinet and stifled a curse. He blinked, trying to get used to the dark and found the bathroom door.

He heard his father's voice mutter a spell, then the room was filled with a bluish glow, shimmering on the white ceramic tiles. Scorpius was about to come in, but something stopped him: a cold shudder down his spine, a shiver on his clammy skin.

He cast a glance inside, silently.

Magical flames were dancing in front of the mirror. Draco was leaning against the sink, breathing heavily. He had taken off his jacket and dropped it to the floor. He was staring at his left arm, sleeveless, with the glossy shard stuck in it. Scorpius could almost see the trembling of the muscles under the skin smeared with blood.

Draco drew a deep breath. Then he pulled out the shard of glass, hissed in pain and doubled over, gasping.

Scorpius was about to come in and help, but then he froze.

There was something on his father's arm.

The horrible black tattoo of a coiled snake and a skull.

A drawing that looked awfully like the one his tormentors had carved on his arm during his first year.

Draco gasped, his nails clutching his wrist, and the infamous inscription rippled as if it was feeding on his pain.

Scorpius had stopped breathing and he did not feel the brush against his shoulder when his mother walked past him. The door closed, but not completely. The latch clicked against the doorframe.

- "You should have waited for me", said Astoria's voice with compassion. "You know you can't be healed by magic when the wound is close to the mark..."

- "Where's Scorpius?" Draco panted. "I don't want him to see...to know… my shame..."

Scorpius felt his throat clog.

There were sobs in his father's voice.

- "Shhh... Scorpius is downstairs", softly said Astoria. "Let me take care of you."

The boy's legs wobbled.

His mother was lying.

She had necessarily seen him.

In the bathroom, water was flowing, someone was opening a closet, moving boxes.

- "If only", Draco spat bitterly. "If only I had been stronger... if I..."

- "You couldn't have gone against Lord Voldemort", whispered his wife.

- "Do not mention his name!"

- "It wasn't fair. You were only a child..."

- "Harry was the same age and he did not..."

- "Shh", gently repeated Astoria. "It's useless to torture yourself..."

- "If Scorpius was Harry's son, he wouldn't have to carry our shame."

Oh, how broken was that voice.

Desperate, hateful, exhausted, plaintive.

Like the voice of a trapped teenager.

There was a rustle of silk and Scorpius guessed his mother had taken his father in her arms.

- "Scorpius will be fine. He knows nothing of your past... He'll never need to know. It's over, Draco Malfoy. It was a long time ago. The nightmare's over, now. You're free..."

The rain was drumming against the windows and the storm was roaring outside, as lightning shots stabbed the darkness.

Downstairs, under the pergola, in the warmth of candles lit by the elves, the guests were back to the party carelessly. Lucius was sipping a glass of champagne, leaning against a column, and his hand was trembling like one of a drunkard. His wife was glancing at him while graciously welcoming the VIPs who had deigned to come to the young Malfoy's birthday and who may help to restore their soiled name.

Upstairs, in the dark corridor, Scorpius was clenching his fists, his throat so dry it felt like it had been rubbed with a grater.

In the bathroom, Astoria was bandaging the bloodstained Death Eaters' mark with gauze and Draco was crying silently.

These summer holidays marked the end of Scorpius' childhood. He never told his mother of what he had seen and heard that night, and she never mentioned it either. From September onwards, he began to write to his father several times a week. He was telling him all that went through his head, all about his life, all that he cared about: his mad dorm mates, Terrence's incredible tests and theories, the piercings with which Wendy had come back after the break, the beauty that was in everything revolving around Albus.

He filled his letters with his love for his father, with the peace born every night with the purring, with the explosive and joyful evenings in the common room, with the thrill of Quidditch games, with Pernickety Nick's funny OCDs, with the quietness of autumn light and the soft dusty smell of old books in Study of Ancient Runes.

He became stronger; he was putting on a wry and nonchalant attitude; he smoothed back his almost white blond hair. He was full of hope.

He dreamed that his letters would relieve his father from his burden; he wished with all his heart that one day he would find the courage to stand in front of the man and to tell him how proud he was to be the son of a Death Eater who had turned his back on his master.

He dared asking Neville Longbottom, the Gryffindors' reference teacher about the mark. At first the man looked uneasy and refused to answer his questions. Then he sighed sadly and finally did not revealed much of anything, just explained what the mark meant and told Scorpius he had known his father.

Scorpius tried to imagine the lanky brown-haired man who was teaching them Herbology and a younger version of Draco laughing together like Craig Finnigan and Samuel Flinch-Fletchley. Then he remembered his father had done his schooling in Slytherin at a time when people did not mixed with the other houses.

He didn't tell Albus or the others about his father's past.

For Christmas, he went back to the mansion and showed especially attentive to his grandfather. Lucius, delighted, spent hours telling him about the Malfoys' former glory and going through old trunks full of memories in the attic.

His mother and grandmother were teasing him about Wendy: they knew some parts of his letters by heart and were convinced that he was in love. He did not try to disabuse them.

Draco was watching him, sitting in his high backrest armchair, not saying a thing, as if trying to understand the change that had taken place in his so shy son.

Back to school, Scorpius resumed the routine that was so dear to him. Climbing up the spiral staircases to Study of Ancient Runes, studying shoulder against shoulder with Albus for hours. Looking for his things in their messy dorm and trying not to be contaminated by the shady stuff foaming in Terrence's cauldrons. Listening to Wendy telling him about Quidditch workouts with so big gestures that she almost took your eyes out if you were sitting too close to her. Bearing with the hysterical giggles of Finnigan and Flinch-Fletchley when they were deep into their favorite magazine. Passing by James Potter in the hallways of Hogwarts and enjoying the fact he did not try to bully him anymore. Glaring calmly at Seventh years attempting to engage in hostilities and going away unscathed. Writing to his father and showing him life could be different.

Then in April, everything changed.

First there was the Boggart who betrayed all the fears he thought he had overcome. Then Harry Potter tried to kill his son and, finally, Scorpius found himself in the gallery of portraits, alone with Albus and the painting of a professor named Severus Snape.

He confessed his secret.

Then Albus revealed his own.

From that day forward, their destinies were inextricably linked.

oOoOoOo

Scorpius shifted in his sleep. He was hot and something heavy was weighing on his chest. A drop of sweat trickled down his temple. The fleeting images of Hogwarts gave way to his old nightmare of the war in the Hebrides. Then he suddenly found himself in a cave with walls of ice and saw his face appear all around him, huge and pale.

- "You know you never will..." whispered a voice that frightened and fascinated him at once.

There was an explosion of black feathers, a green blaze, then he saw Albus lying on the ground and he knew he was dead and that it was his fault.

Someone coughed and, with a cry of despair, Scorpius jerked awake in the living room of the Observation Tower.

...

This short story is actually a stand-alone three-part chapter from "the Shufflers of Light", the last fanfic of my Albus Severus Potter series.

You may read it on its own – that's why it was posted independently.

BUT if you liked it a lot and want to know what exactly happened during their fourth year, why Harry was accused of murder, who was waiting for Scorpius in the Hebrides and what Albus' secret is, then… may I suggest you give a glance to "Bright as Night" ?

In "the Shufflers of Light" (Dragon's Choice series part III), Scorpius, Terrence, Wendy and Albus, now 21 years old, are studying in Antarctica, looking for the Gate to a mysterious place called the Axis. And as you probably already guessed, Scorpius' secrets will make a difference when the four friends will have to face a magic far beyond what they ever imagined…

In "Dark as Snow" (Dragon's Choice series part I), you get to meet the fluffiest and cutest creature ever and you'll be there when Harry makes a terrible choice, changing Albus' life forever and starting the chain of events that will lead us to the depths of Antarctica… (But it's okay if you don't feel like reading "Dark as Snow". You'll be able to understand what's happening in "Bright as Night" just fine.)

And if you only have time for some more one-shots but still want to have the same bittersweet feeling as you read, I'd like to suggest:

A Little Girl With A Blue Ribbon, to know a bit more about Wendy.

The Box, in which you'll read Albus' letters to Harry during his time at Hogwarts.

And the flashback chapter of "Bright as Night" called Toughie & Spoon, where Terrence and Albus meet for the very first time.

Thank you for walking through Scorpius Malfoy's memories together with me!