May 2, 2024
Head Boy Scorpius Malfoy led the procession of Hogwarts students down the castle steps towards the lake. It was still dark, and even with his and Rose's lumos charms, he could barely see a few yards in front of him.
These ceremonies were always awkward. Rose and Al and all their cousins complained about them too, but for Scorpius, it was different. Oh, there were always the comparisons (both he and Al had been cursed with looking just like their fathers), but Scorpius's parents hadn't been heroes. They hadn't fought with the Order of the Phoenix or fled the country or gone into hiding.
Scorpius's father had been a Death Eater, his grandparents' home Voldemort's headquarters.
In fact, it was to Malfoy Manor Rose's parents and godfather had been taken when they were captured, Malfoy Manor where her mum was tortured, his great-aunt who had performed the curse. His name was inexorably tied with the evil that had been Voldemort's regime, and Scorpius's presence at these ceremonies made everyone uncomfortable. Mum and Dad would stay home today as they did every year, but as a Hogwarts student his attendance was mandatory.
He sighed as the lake came into view, shimmering under a waning moon. Rose reached over and took his hand, squeezing briefly before letting go. She was his saving grace at these ceremonies; had been ever since first year, when she had quelled the dirty looks and not-so-hushed comments by leaving her place in queue with the rest of the first-year Ravenclaw girls and coming to stand directly beside him. Rose's presence, her status as the daughter of two of the heroes of Hogwarts, ensured any nastiness at least stayed out of earshot.
She wasn't bad with a wand, either.
It was easier to see now, the Ministry officials having put up lights around the stage while they made preparations. Scorpius extinguished his wand and stepped back to shepherd the Ravenclaws and Slytherins into orderly rows so they could file into the seats reserved for them. Most of the kids were quiet, being too sleepy to cause any fuss. He separated a couple second-years about to bump into each other (the latter had her eyes closed) and as the fifth-year Slytherins approached, went forward to help Rose. There were lots of Gryffindors this year, more than double the number in their own class, and first-year Gryffindors meant first-class trouble.
Scorpius counted heads, determined where the second- and third-years should break, and directed them to take their seats. By the time Rose had the first-years settled, the older Hufflepuffs, well-experienced in the routine, were sitting down. Scorpius waited for her, and they joined their fellow Ravenclaws.
"Honestly," Rose muttered, pushing her curls out of her eyes. "They get more unruly every year."
"Well, this is the last time you'll have to deal with them," Scorpius said.
She smiled back, but it was bittersweet. Two months … they had two months left at Hogwarts, and then they'd never be back.
Except … that wasn't true, was it? With a start, Scorpius realized they'd always be back, today. Every May second, Rose would join her family in celebrating the end of the war and honoring the dead, including her uncle Fred Weasley, and that meant Scorpius would be here too. As the last of the Ministry workers scurried off the stage and vanished the torches, Scorpius closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on the ceremony ahead. Today was not about the failures of his family or his resentment at being tarred with the same brush. Today was about remembering what had gone wrong, those who had fought to make it right, and learning the lessons needed to make sure it never happened again. Leading the students out here, encouraging both students and professors to tell their stories, demonstrating respect for the sacrifices made were all ways Scorpius endeavored to honor the anniversary.
The memorial progressed with the usual ritual, speeches, and sentiment. It was shorter than usual; this year was the twenty-sixth anniversary, and after all the pomp and ceremony of last year's remembrance, it seemed the Ministry had run out of ideas … and volunteers.
Rose left her seat with the rest of the students but did not head towards the castle, instead working her way to her parents and extended family.
Her mum spotted her first. "Rose!" she exclaimed, face lighting up. "Hello, darling. How are you?"
"Good," Rose said, returning her hug.
"Where's Hugo?"
She shrugged.
Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes and smiled at Scorpius. "Good morning, Scorpius, how are you?"
"I'm well, Mrs. Weasley, thank you." He didn't return the politeness; much like his well-intentioned dinner invitation last summer, it was not appropriate under the circumstances.
Rose was now being passed down the row of aunts and uncles and Scorpius looked around nervously, hoping Al or Hugo or any other of the Weasleys or Potters would show up and take the focus off him.
"Scorpius."
The deep voice came from several inches above him, and Scorpius turned to shake the hand of Ron Weasley. He wouldn't call his relationship with Rose's father friendly, exactly, but after his Auror internship last summer, they'd progressed to a sort of … collegial cordiality. At least he no longer called him "Malfoy" in that tone one reserved for chewing gum on a shoe.
"Good morning, Mr. Weasley. I—" He hesitated, then decided it was appropriate. "I'm sorry about your brother."
Mr. Weasley nodded once, but before he could say anything else, a red-and-green blur charged across the aisle.
"Uncle Ron, Uncle Ron!"
Lily Potter launched herself at her uncle, who caught her easily and lifted her in a tight hug before setting her down again.
"Hello, Lily-Loo. How's my favorite Slytherin?"
Lily gave her uncle a dark look, whether at the nickname or the house reference Scorpius couldn't tell, but it was obvious there was no malice in it. As she chatted amiably with her uncle and the rest of the Weasley grandchildren at Hogwarts joined the mini reunion, Scorpius once again marveled at the Weasley-Potter family. There was no denying today was a sad day; it was visible in the lines on the elder Mr. and Mrs. Weasleys' faces, the way everyone hugged George just a little longer, gave Harry Potter a little extra space, ignored Ginny Potter's conspicuous early departure. But there were also smiles and kisses for the children just seen at Easter holiday, birthday wishes for Victoire, and good-natured rivalry about the upcoming Quidditch Cup.
This, Scorpius thought, watching the familiar chaos, this was the best remembrance—living life.