12/09/2016

This Devil's Workday

Let's take this potted plant
To the woods and set it free
I'm going to tell the owners
Just how nice that was of me
I could buy myself a reason
I could sell myself a job
I could hang myself on treason
I am my own damn god


Teddy Lupin was too thin, but it suited him. He laughed loudly and often and his laughter war contagious. Muscles and bones rippled under olive skin and hair that usually lay somewhere on the colour spectrum between plum purple and meridian blue fell into glowing brown eyes that darted around the room, ceaseless, endless, searching for something that was not there.

Dominique Weasley turned this over in her head as she watched Teddy Lupin make a beeline for her across the crowded office, and it was these thoughts that had raged through her mind every moment she laid eyes on him since she was nine years old.

He smiled when he reached her and, having trained herself well, she returned it.

'Hey,' he sang to her.

Tearing her eyes from the dark face that sat inches from her, she glanced around him at the other occupants of her office, but, consumed by paper work and gossip, his entry had gone unnoticed. She glanced back at him. 'Hi.'

'How's it going?'

'Fine,' she replied, shifting her hand to cover the ink-blotched memos she had been struggling over. 'Harry's in a meeting.'

'That's okay. I came up to see what you were going.'

The gleam in his eyes told her he knew what she was thinking, but she promised herself that was impossible. 'Oh,' she murmured, and, before she could stop herself, added, 'Why?'

'Oh, you know.' He gave a shrug. 'Victoire wanted to make sure everything was going okay with your new job.'

The name of her sister ushered in unwelcome reality to the few inches of space that lay between their eyes. 'Oh,' she said again, picking up her quill and returning to the pile of unfinished memos awaiting her attention. 'I've been here almost a month now.'

'Yeah, but I felt like talking to you.'

With that the looming shadow of Victoire receded from over them and the sharp flourishes of her quill softened. She was blushing, and she was sure he knew it, for he proceeded to ask, 'So, what's going on in here?'

At that, she looked up to gaze over the chaos in question; the Auror office had collapsed into disarray before she arrived at work that morning. Since then, there had been ceaseless movement, a constant flow of Ministry workers streaming in and out.

She glanced back at Teddy, who was watching her with his bottomless umber eyes, and leant over the desk to whisper, 'They're saying Gamp's dead.'

The look Teddy Lupin adopted when he was surprised was exquisite; she watched his arching eyebrows in the moment it took his to collect his thoughts. 'Really?'

She shrugged, pleased to have his attention. 'I don't know. Nobody's told me anything. But Harry's had people coming in all morning from all the different departments wanting to talk to him. They're all going mad.'

'Why? I mean, he was getting on a bit, wasn't he?'

'Yes, but …'

'But what?' he asked slowly. 'They don't think … you don't mean he was killed, do you?'

She gave a shrug and scribbled down something extraneous on one of the memos, hoping to look sly. 'No idea. I haven't seen Harry this morning – he went straight to brief the Aurors after he came from King's Cross. But I did get told to station Aurors at the homes of all the Department heads, though.'

Teddy's eyes swelled; he looked brilliant when he was intrigued, and she wished she had more to tell him, but all she could say was, 'You can't tell anyone that, though.'

'Course not,' he assured her. 'Is that why you've got so many memos?'

She gazed down at the pile before her and gave a nod, wishing he had not noticed the mess she had been making. 'I'm a bit behind,' she told him, trying to sound careless. 'Harry wanted these sent out already.'

'He won't mind. I bet you could use a drink after this, huh?'

Her quill twitched in her hand, marking the purple parchment with a sharp strip of ink, and, trying to steady her hand, quickly continued on scribbling. 'Yeah, I suppose.'

'I'll shout you one. Meet in the atrium after work?'

'Oh, but … I'm not sure what time I'll finish. I might have to work late, what with all of this stuff going on …'

'Right, course. Tomorrow then? Or maybe Friday night?'

She wasn't ready for an excuse with this one. She gazed up into his bright, amber eyes, telling herself to say no. 'Won't Victoire mind?'

There was a pause; it was brief, but it was definite, and she did not know whether to be pleased or dismayed by his hesitation.

'Why would she?' he asked her after a beat of silence.

She shrugged because there was no other possible answer. 'I suppose she wouldn't. How's your day been, anyway?'

'Oh, alright. Had to go out to Cardiff this morning to deal with these Cockatrices who had taken it upon themselves to start mating in an old Muggle dear's orchard. Nearly lost my thumb. Have a look.'

He extended his arm to her, laying his hand on the desk, and her eyes travelled over it without hesitation, working to imprint the patterns of scars and mottled flesh that ran over his arms. Her eyes came to rest on the deep, bloodied slit that circled his thumb, laying before on the desk, not even an inch between his skin and hers.

'Merlin,' she murmured, and she closed her hand over his, raising it to inspect the wound. 'Teddy, that looks awful. Did anyone take a look at it?'

He gave her his toothy, canine grin but did not retract his hand from hers. 'I've had worse.'

'I know you have. That doesn't mean that's not disgusting.'

'All in a day's work, Dom.'

'You're going to get yourself killed one of these days.'

'I'd like to see them try.'

She tore her eyes from his ruined hand to his godly face and found him watching her. He was no longer smiling, but was wearing a look something close to a frown, as though he was struggling with a riddle in the depths of his mind. She was sure she had never seen him wear such a look around Victoire. For a brief moment his hand within hers did not seem unordinary in the least, but that shining instant in which her heart leapt into her throat was broken by the door behind her being thrown open and the arrival of her uncle's voice.

'I know, Dennis, I know but there's nothing more I can tell you. Look, I really must – oh, Teddy, hi.'

His hand slipped from hers and it as if it had never been there. She quickly turned her eyes back to the memos before her as her uncle approached them, accompanied by the other Auror who had emerged with him from his office.

'Hey, Harry,' and the smile he gave his godfather was the one she adored – easy and careless and unaware of her burning flesh where their skin had met. 'How are you?'

'Yes, good, good,' Harry replied, in a breathless voice that told them he was anything but, his eyes not leaving the severe looking Auror beside him. 'Bit behind schedule for the day, so Dennis, I really am sorry but I'm going to have to get back to you on this. Until now we have the Minister's orders …'

Dannis Creevey opened his mouth, looking as if he wanted to argue, but apparently reconsidered and gave a stiff nod. 'Yes, yes, alright.'

'Thank you, Dennis, and I will let you know once I … well, perhaps by this afternoon. No later than tomorrow, certainly. Dominique, could you please have Flint and Urquhurt's files sent over to Mr. Creevey's office?'

Dominque hastily dropped her quill back into the inkwell, splattering her desk with a few rogue pin-pricks of black, and wrenched open the heavy draw beneath her desk and began to rifle through the files within.

'No, no, we don't keep them up here,' began Harry quickly. 'You'll have to send a memo to personnel and – you know what, don't worry about it. I'll send them over to you this afternoon, Dennis – no, really, I will. As soon as I get the chance …'

The glum looking Auror mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "fucking catastrophe" before he bid Harry a terse good day and stalked off across the bustling room and out of stone archway into the winding corridor that led to his office.

Dominique saw her uncle's head give a rigid twitch, as if he was fighting not to shake his head, before he turned back to face her. 'Did you manage to get onto MacMillan?'

Dominique hesitated and reached for the pile of letters she was still working to get through. 'Um …'

'That's okay,' Harry assured her, a strained calm in his voice. 'Don't worry about it, I'm sure I'll run into him upstairs. Just finish with the memos and then if you wouldn't mind sending one up to administration to see if they can spare a few hands to help us on the desks just until Coote and Dalal get back from watch this afternoon?'

Dominique gave a hurried nod. 'Yes, sure … Percy…'

'Preferably someone who's familiar with our Department.'

'Right.'

'And then if you could send a request form down to Percy for the Floo records for the North West for last night between one AM and three AM…'

Dominque snatched up her quill and grabbed a blank memo. 'Right … one AM and three AM…'

'Actually better make that four AM … don't want to miss anything,' said Harry with a frown. 'And if anyone comes in to see me tell them they'll have to wait until this afternoon – or tomorrow morning perhaps. Just make an appointment in the book – but you better leave tomorrow morning free until ten. And if they don't want to make an appointment, just please don't let them hang around here waiting. Just take a message and tell them I'll get back to them, okay?'

'Okay.'

'Unless it's anyone from the Wizengamot. then you can let them into my office, but please let me know before I go in there, and if it's Mafalda Hopkirk you better get her a cup of tea or she won't leave you alone, alright?'

'Alright.'

'Alright,' said Harry, finishing with a great sigh. 'Thanks, Dom. I'm heading up to the Minister's chambers but I'll try to come back here to check up with you before I head out this afternoon, alright?'

'Right.'

'And if you need anything just … well, I won't be around so I guess it's up to you.'

Hoping her cheeks weren't taking on any colour, Dominique gave a nod.

'Got all that?' asked Harry with a grim smile.

'Um … yes. I think so. Yes, got it.'

'Desk temps, Floo records from one to four this morning and don't let anyone in my office unless they're from the Wizengamot,' said Harry breathlessly.

'And make Mafalda Hopkirk a cup of tea,' added Teddy, a grin threatening to spill onto his face.

'Er, yes, thank you, Teddy,' said Harry, and he glanced at his watch before his eyes jumped towards his godson as only just registering his presence. 'What brings you up here?' he asked, before his eyes swelled behind his glasses and he asked in a panic, 'They didn't send you up to get me, have you?'

'Don't worry, it's nothing so dreadful. I just thought I'd come up to see if you and Gin would be free for tea tonight. Didn't know I'd be walking into the Third Wizarding War, though.'

'Oh, right, well …' began Harry, running a hand through his mess of silver-flecked black hair. 'Perhaps not tonight … Not sure when I'll be getting off.'

'Leaky Cauldron for lunch then?'

'Er, no, I don't think so, Teddy. I'm supposed to be in the Minister's office in …' He glanced back at his watch. 'Eight minutes ago, actually. So I'll get back to you … perhaps owl Ginny …' He raised a hand to straighten the front of his robes, taking a few backwards strides towards the office's exit. 'Better use the blue parchment for the memo for Percy, alright, Dom?'

'Good to see you, too, Harry,' said Teddy jovially, but he went ignored, for Harry had ran into one of the Auror officer's desks on his way out of the office before he finally made it to the door and disappeared in a flurry of robes, almost at a run.

Teddy turned back to Dominique, grinning broadly. 'There goes the face of order and stability in our world. He really has a faultless aura of grace, don't you think?'

Dominique stifled her giggle as she spun in the chair to the filing cabinet behind her desk. 'Accio request forms!'

Three draws sprung open, a cascade of multi-coloured parchment flying from them, landing in a mess on Dominque's desk. She picked a lime-green one up, giving it a scrutinising frown, and plucked up her quill to begin to fill it out.

'I think the green ones are for Magical Catastrophes,' Teddy informed her gently. 'If you're sending it to Transportation, you're gonna need to use the yellow ones.'

'Oh, right …' murmured Dominique, watching as Teddy unearthed a slip of canary-yellow parchment from the bottom of the pile and took it from his offered hand. 'Thanks.'

'No problem.'

The smile he gave her forced her to drop his gaze, as if she was staring into great light, and placing the yellow parchment aside she began to return the unwelcome cluster of wrongly summoned request forms to the filing cabinet behind her. 'I best get back to work, I suppose, before Harry gets back.'

'Right. We'll still get that drink on Friday though, right?'

'Oh, I … Yes, I suppose I can.'

'Great. See you then.'

'Sure.'

Another blinding smile and he dug his hands deep into his pockets, backing away from her desk. 'If I see anyone heading up looking for Harry, I'll distract them for you.


Three pairs of eyes darted towards him as he fell through the heavy oak doors that guarded the minister's office, straightening up and pushing his glasses hurriedly up his nose.

'Sorry,' he spluttered at the room, hurrying over to take the seat beside Hermione. 'Lost track of time and I left my ID in the office so your guards wanted to do a full disillusionment procedure …'

Kingsley Shacklebolt raised a hand to dismiss the apology. 'Believe me, Harry, I fully appreciate the disaster all our morning's have turned into.'

Harry gave him a weary smile, though the sharp look Hermione fixed upon him told him she was not so sympathetic to his misplacement of his ID card.

'If you wouldn't mind,' Kingsley said to the guard waiting stock-still beside his desk, 'I'm afraid we'll be needing privacy.'

'Of course, Minister,' replied the guard, and silence fell across the room as they waited for the woman to depart, leaving the three of them to their own devices.

'I apologise that I couldn't speak with you both earlier,' Kingsley informed them. 'We had to tell something to the press, of course, and then the Wizengamot needed to be informed of the situation. And then, of course, I felt that I owed Augusta Gamp a visit to offer my condolences. Now, Harry, have your people been able to uncover any type of picture of last night's events?'

'A very patchy one,' replied Harry. 'St Mungo's sent over a report this morning estimating the time of death to be two-sixteen this morning. The Killing Curse – no doubt about it.'

Neither Kingsley nor Hermione gave any sign that this news surprised them, and the Minister continued to watch him over his desk with an unwavering calmness on his lined face.

'It looks as though the killer forced their way through the protective charms at the property's rear, so it's safe to assume we're dealing with someone fairly skilled. We're unsure how exactly the protective charms were broken at this point, but we've got curse breakers at the scene working on it.'

'Any witnesses?'

'Well, as I'm sure you know Augusta Gamp was abroad visiting their son and daughter-in-law in Tuscany until she heard the news, but we do have their house-elf in custody downstairs.' Seeing Hermione begin to protest, he added quickly, 'We don't suspect her, but we need her to answer some questions.'

'What questions?' asked Hermione shrewdly. 'The Auror admissions officer told me Lula was brought in as soon as the Aurors responded to her message from the manor, Harry. That was hours ago. Can't you get someone in with her so she can go home?'

Harry tried to stop himself from snapping back when he answered. 'We've had someone in with her since the minute she was brought in, but she's absolutely beside herself. She won't talk to anyone. Nobody can get a word from her. We were hoping Augusta Gamp would be able to get to speak to us, but we didn't think it was appropriate to bring her in to deal with her elf after just losing her husband, so all we can do is hope the elf calms down sooner rather than later.'

'Well, can you blame her?' demanded Hermione.

'I'm trust the elf has been well-accommodated for, has she not, Harry?' asked Kingsley diplomatically.

'Yes, of course she has,' said Harry, speaking mostly to Hermione. 'We had a healer come check her immediately, and we've tried to get her to eat and to take a calming draft, so unless we bewitch her …'

'You can't do that anymore,' Hermione reminded him quickly.

'Yes, I know,' grumbled back Harry. 'That's what I'm saying. There's nothing else we can do but wait.'

'Then we'll wait,' said Kingsley smoothly. 'But moving on from the elf to the two dead wizards found in their cell this morning.'

'Dead wizards?' asked Hermione, aghast, turning in her seat to face Harry. 'Harry, it wasn't …'

'Flint and Urquhurt, exactly,' said Harry darkly. 'It looks like Hemlock. Probably self-administered before they were arrested.'

'And connection between their deaths and Gamp?'

'It looks unlikely,' said Harry. 'It's not the first time some lunatics have wanted to search the school thinking they'll be able to find something of value. All those who have tried have been just as unlucky as Flint and Urquhurt.'

'Although nobody else has died in their cell,' Hermione reminded him. 'Harry, what if the school …'

'We've got the grounds guarded,' Harry assured her. 'And if this attempted break-in has shown us anything, it's that protective charms around the school are the best we could hope for. We were on the scene within minutes.'

Hermione gave a nod, though Harry could see her frowning slightly.

'I'll need all of this documented and sent to both Hermione and me, if you would, Harry,' Kingsley informed him, and Harry replied with a nod before Kingsley continued. 'I'm sure you understand that the role of Head of Department now falls to you, Hermione?'

She gave a stiff nod. 'Yes.'

'That is if you accept it?'

'Of course,' said Hermione breathlessly. 'I wouldn't have accepted the role of Deputy if I wasn't willing.'

'Yes, but I don't think any of us predicted your assumption of the role to take place under such trying circumstances,' said Kingsley wryly. 'I shouldn't have to tell either of you how invaluable you both are to the Ministry. You'll both need to keep a tight reign on the department. I don't think I need to tell you that Gamp was … controversial. He was close to being dismissed several times for his candidness regarding his personal values. If the public was have any indication that his politics was a factor in his death …'

'There's no evidence of that,' Harry told him hotly.

'Evidence or not, we must accept the very real possibility that he will gain sympathisers. If the Pureblood community was to see him as a martyr...'

'Not in this day and age, surely,' said Hermione. 'People aren't so naïve.'

Kingsley gave a warn smile. 'Don't quote me on this, Hermione, but we can't overestimate the people. The progress we've made in the last two decades cannot rewrite hundreds of years of prejudice. It is for this reason I have decided to give the position of Deputy Department Head to Mikhael Rowle.'

'What?' hissed Harry.

'Mikhael Rowle?' cried Hermione. 'Minister, please…'

'Kingsley, you can't be serious,' growled Harry. 'Mikhael Rowle – he's worse than Gamp was!'

'He marched with the Blood Supremacists all through the 2000s!' Hermione reminded him shrilly. 'He may think we've forgotten that, but we haven't. He's quietened down since he joined the Department but to make him Deputy Head …'

'He's a Death Eater,' spat Harry, ignoring the startled look Hermione shot him at his candidness. 'You put him in a position of power and we'll have Muggle turning up dead in a matter of weeks.'

'Harry!' gasped Hermione.

'You know I'm right,' he snapped at her.

'Harry, I understand this is a sensitive matter,' said Kingsley, 'and you both know I value your opinions on this above anyone else's. But you must see the logic. A Muggle-born Head of Magical Law Enforcement doesn't turn heads anymore, but there are still those among us ignorant enough to see your promotion as an insult to their blood status, Hermione. You are both some of the greatest symbols we have for blood equality, and to have one of you as the Head of Department and the other as Head of the Auror Office is going to attract criticism – they'll call it nepotism, they'll call it favouritism, they'll call it whatever they want, and we can deny it all we like, but people will talk and people will wind each other up, and so the only way to combat that is to give them someone they can trust. Muggleborns trust you both, and Purebloods trust Rowle. You can't deny it.'

'Minister, I understand that,' began Hermione hesitantly, 'but …'

'But he's dangerous,' finished Harry. 'I'm asking you not to do this, Kingsley. As a friend, as a colleague – I'm saying don't do this.'

Kingsley gave a low sigh and put his hands together on the table. 'I don't want you to think that I am taking your concerns lightly, but I'm afraid my mind is made up.'

Harry gazed back into the Minister's calm, placid face, before he gave a curt nod. Fighting to keep his voice level, and said sharply, 'Will that be all?'

Kingsley gave a nod. 'Yes. Thank you for your time, Harry.'

He got to his feet and strode from the office, the blood rushing in his ears, deafening him to Hermione's murmured goodbyes. The Minister's reception area was rife with ministerial staff waiting for their chance to convene with their minister and he hurried past them, sparing no apology for those who approached him that he brushed past.

'Harry,' called a witch from the Department of Magical Transportation, 'do you have any idea what's going on?'

'Mr. Potter,' came the eager voice of a wizard he knew belonged to the Daily Prophet, 'a minute of a time if you would?'

He stormed past them, offering them no regard, and was nearly at the elevators when he felt a hand close around his shoulder.

Ready to scream in the face of whoever was trying to pester him, he rounded on the spot to find Hermione before him.

'Harry …'

'I don't want to talk about it, Hermione.'

'Well, we need to,' she snapped at him, pulling him towards the elevator. 'Quick, before someone else joins us.'

He allowed her to guide her inside and with a flick of her wand she forced the doors closed. The elevator jostled into motion, heading downwards towards their Department.

'Look,' he began, 'I know I lost my temper but …'

'Merlin, Harry, I'm not here to snap at you about that,' she hissed at him. 'What are we going to do? I mean Rowle. Mikhael Rowle, for God's sake! I can't even remember how many Death Eaters he's tried to get released from Azkaban!'

'You don't need to tell me that, I'm well aware,' he snapped back. The elevator came to a halt on their level, but he flicked his wand to prevent the doors from opening to allow them another moment of privacy. 'Kingsley's lost his mind.'

'He does have a point …'

'Hermione, you can't seriously think …'

'Would you let me finish? I was going to say he does have a point about solidarity – I shudder to think what kind of reaction we're going to get when it comes out how Gamp died – but to use Rowle for it? It's just ridiculous. He's kept his mouth shut since he got the job in the Improper Use of Magic Office, but I know exactly where he stands on blood equality.'

'So, what are we going to do about it?'

She gazed up at him, fixing him with a shrewd glare. 'What do you mean?'

'You're really going to let him stay on as your Deputy?'

She gave a shaky laugh. 'No, Harry, I'm going to break into his house and wipe his memory while he sleeps and have him admitted to St Mungo's!'

'Now that's a thought.'

'Harry, be serious.'

'I am serious. Do you want to see the Ministry go back to what it was? I stand by what I said fifteen years ago. The children of Death Eaters should be barred from Ministry work.'

'Now that's prejudice,' Hermione informed him tersely. 'All we can do is keep an eye on him. Lord knows what he wants with the being Deputy. He's probably got hundreds of blood purists lined up for appointment in the Auror Office …'

'Over my dead body,' growled Harry.

'Then you need to be sensible,' Hermione told him sternly. 'He's your superior now, Harry, and you don't want to give him reason to single you out. He's going to have the support of every Pureblood across the country. We need to be careful.'

'Constant vigilance?' he asked her dryly.

'Don't,' she warned. 'We're not at the point yet.'

'Fine,' he grumbled back. 'So, what now?'

'Now we do what we have to do,' she informed him. 'I'm going to call a Department meeting to announce to everyone the change of leadership, and you're going to find out who killed Gamp. The sooner we can prove his death had nothing to do with his blood the better. Kingsley's right – we can't afford for him to be made a martyr.'

Choosing not to protest, he gave a nod and raised his wand to open the elevator doors, but Hermione's hand flew out to catch his wrist, forcing his wand done.

'What?' he asked her.

'Flint and Urquhurt,' she murmured. 'You really think …'

'It's unrelated.'

'But the school,' she urged, watching him with wide, unblinking eyes. 'If someone's trying to get into the school …'

'Nobody is,' he assured her briskly. 'Flint and Urquhurt are dead. Whatever they wanted they didn't get, and they're not going to.'

'But what could they want with the school?' she breathed. 'Harry, the wand …'

'Nobody knows about that,' he told her. 'Nobody.'

'We do,' she reminded him. 'Ron does. Ginny does. Harry, if someone wants it … if someone's trying to get into the school … the kids …'

'Stop it,' he warned her. 'It's nothing. We've got other things to worry about. The school's safe – the kids are safe. It's just the fate of Wizarding Britain we have to worry about, so it's no big deal, okay?'

She did not manage to return his forced smile, but gave him a short nod and released his wrist. He gave his wand a twitch and the elevator doors shuddered open and they strode out.


Summer seemed to have well and truly begun when they arrived at Hogsmeade Station. The last of the day's light had disappeared and there was a low fog hanging over the platform, making it hard to spot who she was looking for.

Finally, through the crowd, she caught sight of a tall, brown-haired boy walking with a small girl with long, black hair and she managed to catch up to them. When she caught Chandra's hand, the smaller girl gave a cry of delight and hugged Rose tightly.

'Rosie, there you are! I've been looking for you!'

'Well, you found me. Have you seen Al?'

Connor, who had been walking with Chandra, gave a shrug. 'He's probably up at the castle already. Come on, Chandra, let's go.'

Rose watched as the Ravenclaw placed a guiding hand on Chandra's waist and attempted to steer her away from the station towards the coaches, but Chandra brushed his hand away.

'No, no, Connor, it's okay. I'm going to wait for Al.'

Connor looked vaguely annoyed at this. 'Seriously? He might be gone already.'

'Yes, yes, you go. I'll see you later.'

Davies gave a nod and departed with a definite lack of enthusiasm in his swagger, and when he was out of earshot Chandra leant in closely to Rose's ear. 'I think I'm a bit drunk. I'm not sure I like fire whisky.'

'Well, you wouldn't, drinking on an empty stomach. Oh, where the hell is Al? I want to get up to the castle already …'

Chandra gave a pout and patted Rose's. 'What's wrong, Rosie? You're being all glum.'

Rose brushed her friend's hand away. 'Bloody Lucy made us patrol the train all the way here. I tried to sneak off back to find Al and she caught me. She told me she was going to write to my father, and then when I pointed out dad couldn't care less about prefect duties, she told me she'd write to my mother. God knows how that girl has made it to seventeen without being murdered in her sleep. I mean, whose idea was it make her head girl? She's gone mad with power. Oh, thank God, there's Al there …'

She darted through the crowd, pulling Chandra along with her, and managed to catch hold of Albus before he got too far ahead.

'Rosie, Chandra! I've been looking for you. You were both gone for ages.'

'Chandra's been drinking and I've been being subjugated by our darling head girl,' said Rose irritably. 'Come on, that carriage is free.'

They climbed into the horseless coach, soon followed by a group of three giggling second-year boys whose presence did nothing to improve Rose's mood. In an attempt to ignore the younger students' conversations, she turned to look out the window. Lying across the great, black expanse of lake, sitting atop the cliff-face, its many turrets silhouetted against the glowing half-moon, sat the castle.

'Look!' sang one of the second-years, nudging his friend beside him. 'Which one do you think is Gryffindor tower?'

Rose rolled her eyes slightly. She had never quite been able rouse any sense of house-pride from herself like other students had.

The horseless coach came to a halt at the foot of the castle where a heavy set of doors stood ajar, spilling light onto the pebbled road and beckoning them into the entrance hall. The second-year boys kicked open the coaches door and bounded out, before Rose, Chandra and Albus hopped down together.

'Oh, look, there's Sally and Elena and Kim – I love your new haircut, Kim!' called Chandra as they passed her and Rose's three dorm mates on the way into the entrance hall. 'Oh, there's Hamish. Hi, Hamish! How are your summer?'

While Chandra stopped to chat to Hamish Coote, Rose marched through and dropped into the first free seat she came by at the Gryffindor table, towards the rear of the Great Hall, and Albus took a seat beside her.

'Is Chandra okay?' he asked her in an undertone. 'She seems a bit …'

'Drunk,' said Rose, just as Chandra dropped into the seat on the other side of Rose.

'Excuse you, Rosie, I am not,' protested Chandra. 'I just had some firewhisky with Connor – that's all.'

'What's this about firewhisky?'

The three of them turned to see James and Finlay Jordan approaching. The two seventh years dropped down into seats opposite Rose, Albus and Chandra.

James tutted. 'Drinking at school? What would Mummy say of her little prefect, Rosie?'

'Keep your voice down,' Albus hissed at him, glancing around for eavesdroppers.

'Ducky, nobody gives a fuck about whose drinking except you,' James dismissed, before he cocked an eyebrow. 'Why? Have you guys got some on you?'

'Brilliant. Pass it over – we can use this as mixer.' Finlay began pouring them each a glass of pumpkin juice. 'A toast to the first night back at school.'

'What's there to toast to?' grumbled James. 'This year's going to be shit – NEWTs for us and OWLs for these three. And poor little Ducky still can't master a proper vanishing charm, can you, Al? Ginny will be so disappointed when you get all Ts.'

'Don't scare them, James,' came the voice of their cousin Lucy, dropping into the seat beside Finlay. 'OWLs aren't that bad – not if you give yourself time to study.'

'But unlike you, Luce, some of us have a life,' James told her. 'Now go away. We're talking about illicit substances.'

Lucy's eyebrows rose so high they disappeared into her sandy-blonde fringe. 'What?'

'Oh, calm down, I'm only pulling your leg. Now go away, would you? I don't want to be seen with the Head Girl.'

Lucy rolled her eyes but complied none the less, continuing up the Gryffindor table to join her friends.

'But seriously,' said Finlay, turning back to Rose. 'Pass us the bottle.'

'What do you care? You're both of age,' Rose reminded him. 'You can just go buy some.'

'Yes, but it tastes so much sweeter when it's forbidden.'

'We don't have any anyway,' Albus assured them quickly. 'It was the Ravenclaws. Connor Davies brought some on the train.'

'Connor Davies?' scoffed James. 'What are you three doing with that tosser?'

'He's not that bad,' said Chandra in a small voice.

James fixed her with a pitiful stare. 'Oh God, Thomas, don't tell us you're shagging him. Rose, how can you let her do that?'

Finlay sighed. 'James, why must you hate every soul who's ever scored against you in Quidditch?'

'It's got nothing to do with Davies's dumb-luck and everything to do with the fact that no boy at school is good enough for Chandra,' retorted James. 'You could have anyone you want and you chose him?'

Chandra went slightly pink in the face and Rose sent James a warning look. 'Stop it, James.'

James raised his eyebrows. 'Why? Is this working?'

'Alright, shut up, you two,' said Finlay eagerly. 'First years.'

They twisted around in their seat. The doors of the hall had been opened to permit the Deputy Headmaster, leading behind him a group of very scared, very small-looking first years. He led them through the hall to the staff-table, before which sat the ancient sorting hat.

A hush fell over the hall through the sorting hat's song before the sorting began. They waited, not very patiently, for the long list of names to be read out, before at last Miles Zabel was sorted into Slytherin house. As the applause subsided, Professor Sinistra got to her feet from behind the staff table.

'Welcome to you all to another year at Hogwarts,' the Head Mistress called across the Great Hall. 'How wonderful it is to see so many faces, both new and familiar, and what better way to greet you than with food. So please, enjoy!'

With that, the golden plates before them filled with piles upon piles of a vast array of dishes.

'Oh, thank Merlin,' sighed Chandra, diving for a dish of baked potatoes.

James and Finlay bid them goodbye to go join their friends up the table, leaving the three fifth years sitting alone. There was little room for conversation while they ate, all eager to fill up on the endless selection of cuisines offered by the welcoming feast. It didn't take long for Rose to notice that the new first years who had been sorted in the Gryffindor were casting sideways glances towards her and Albus.

It seemed Albus had noticed this to, because he said quietly, 'I wish the first years wouldn't stare. Nobody stares at James.'

'Chandra does,' Rose reminded him.

'I do not, Rosie.'

'Oh, relax, Chandra. Just about every girl in school does.'

'That's not what I meant,' grumbled Albus. 'I hate that everyone knows who I am before they even talk to me.'

'It's only because James doesn't really look like your parents,' Rose informed him. 'You better pray you don't need glasses later in life; that would be too much.'

'Thanks, Rosie.'

'I'm not saying it's a bad thing,' she assured him. 'And anyway, if you're doing this whole reinventing yourself thing, you need to start loving it when people look at you.'

'Shh!'

'Ooh, what's this?' asked Chandra, leaning into Albus. 'Reinventing yourself? You don't need to reinvent yourself, Al. You're good as you are.'

Albus didn't answer but fixed Rose with a glower. 'Do you mind?'

But Rose was saved from answering by the reappearance of Lucy, who had stopped beside them, a newspaper tucked under her arm. 'Hey, Rose?'

Rose gave a heavy sigh. 'Oh, God, Lucy. It was a joke, okay? We don't have any firewhisky.'

'No, not that.' She sounded somewhat uncertain, which was unusual for Lucy Weasley. 'You haven't seen the Evening Prophet, have you?'

'No, I don't. Why?'

Lucy's eyes darted around for onlookers before she took the copy of the Prophet from under her arm, keeping it rolled up as she passed it to Rose. 'I think you should have a look.'

Rolling her eyes, Rose accepted the paper and shook it open.

GUSTAV GAMP FOUND MURDERED
GRANGER NAMED NEW DEPARTMENT HEAD

'You better read it,' said Lucy. 'Quickly though. You've got to take the first years up to the tower soon. The new password is "scurvy grass", okay?'

Rose nodded her thanks and Lucy departed, leaving the three fifth years to read the article before them.

Aurors were called to the home of Gustav Gamp earlier today after the Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE) was found dead by his house elf. Sources within the Auror Office confirm that the death is being treated as suspicious, but Head Auror Harry Potter declined to comment.

Gamp, 89, had served as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement since 2013, assuming the appointment under Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt during the massive reshuffling undertaken by the Ministry following the Second Wizarding War. Known for his Blood-purist rhetoric, Gamp was faced with the prospect of dismissal thrice during his term as Department Head and had garnered a massive band of opponents both in the Ministry and the public sphere.

The Auror Office offered no insight into the investigation and denied Prophet reporters' suggestions that Gamp's murder may have been orchestrated by blood equality activists.

The position of Head of the DMLE been assumed by former Deputy Head Hermione Granger. Mikhael Rowle, formerly of the Improper Use of Magic Office, has been appointed Deputy Head under Ms Granger.

Rose finished reading first and sat in silence, waiting for Chandra and Albus to reach the end of the article. She tried to fix her face into a look of disinterest as they looked up at her.

'Murdered?' whispered Chandra, looking horrified. 'Oh, gosh, that's awful.'

Rose gave a shrug. 'Well, he was a blood supremacist. He hated Muggle-borns more than anyone at the Ministry.'

Chandra frowned. 'But still, Rosie. It's not very nice to murder him.'

Rose gave a sigh. 'No, Chandra. I suppose it isn't. But that's if he was even murdered, isn't it? It doesn't sound like they really know what happened. For all we know he could have died peacefully in his sleep. He was eighty-nine, after all.'

'That's not that old for wizards, though,' Albus reminded her. 'And it must have been something pretty bad or why would they have needed your mum and my dad to come into work so quickly? If he just died in his sleep surely it wouldn't be that big of a deal.'

Rose was silent for a moment while she considered this. She could feel Chandra looking at her with wide, nervous eyes. She gave her head a shake and folded up the Prophet. 'I suppose there's no way of knowing yet.'

'Do you think you should tell Hugo?' asked Albus.

'Why? What's he going to do about it?'

'Well, your mum's been made Department Head, you know? That's pretty big news.'

'He doesn't even know what the DMLE is,' Rose dimissed.

Albus opened his mouth to protest, but it was at that moment that Professor Sinistra chose to get to her feet once more and the hall fell into silence. The Head Mistress gave them the usual beginning of term reminders she bid them all a goodnight and dismissed them.

Rose gave a sigh and got to her feet. 'Well, I'll see you later. Lucy will have my head if I get them up there late.'

'I'll come with you,' said Chandra, jumping to her feet. 'I told Connor I'd meet him up in the Small Tower after dinner anyway.'

Rose started towards the front of Gryffindor table, looking up and down the table for first years, but before she could do so Chandra caught her hand. Rose could see from the look on her face that she looked frightened.

'Are you okay, Rosie?' Chandra asked in a small voice. 'I mean, Gamp was murdered … And now your mum's replaced him …'

Rose shook her head before Chandra could keep talking. 'Forget it, Chandra. Gamp was really unpopular – everyone loves Mum.'

'But, Rosie …'

Chandra looked unconvinced and Rose sensed she was going to once again attempt to probe her for any sense of alarm. Under her sharp gaze, Rose gave a sigh. 'Seriously, Chandra, it's fine. I just … I just wish she'd bother to write me a bloody letter sometimes instead of letting me find everything out from the paper.'

Rose regretted this immediately because Chandra suddenly looked pitying. 'Oh, Rosie …'

'Forget it, Chandra, it's fine. Don't worry about it. You should go – Connor will be waiting for you.'

Chandra seemed to want to argue with her, but to put an end to the conversation Rose turned back to the table and raised her hand. 'First years, come with me.'


'And Lucien Runcorn and Prudence Warrington got it for Slytherin,' said Zaina briskly. 'And Rose Weasley and Hamish Coote for Gryffindor.'

Louisa Edgecombe made a noise of distaste. 'Weasley? Poor Hamish.'

Zaina tossed her curls over her shoulder. Louisa Edgecombe and the other Ravenclaw fifth years were watching Zaina keenly as she recounted the events of the prefect meeting. Zaina looked best like this: when she was commanding the attention of a group. 'I know – can you believe it? God, I hope I don't get paired with her for patrols. Hopefully Scorp and I can do it together.'

'Keep that to yourself, Zaina,' said Connor Davies. 'Nobody wants to hear what you and Scorpius get up to alone.'

Zaina gave Connor a warning look and slapped his hand as if to reprimand him, but Scorpius could see her smiling. 'Don't be rude, Connor. Just because you've become such good friends with the Gryffindors.'

Connor gave a sly look. 'Not the Gryffindors, as such. Just one Gryffindor in particular. And I'm not sure our relationship really qualifies as a friendship.'

Zaina raised her eyebrows. 'I'm not sure you and Thomas really qualify as a relationship.'

'Oh, be nice, Zaina. I'll still have time for you.'

Zaina gave a laugh and smacked his arm again. Scorpius busied himself finishing his glass of pumpkin juice to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

'So, how was everyone's summer?' Connor glanced at Scorpius and raised his eyebrows. 'I know yours was good, Scorpius, but feel free to give me the details.'

Of the many things he liked about Zaina, her friendship with Connor Davies was not one of them. He and Connor shared a dorm and had therefore always remained on amicable terms out of necessity, but his relationship with Zaina had meant that his time spent around Connor had increased significantly.

He forced himself to give Connor a smile. 'Pretty unremarkable, Connor. I bought a new sweater, if that's riveting enough for you.'

Zaina and the other girls laughed. Beneath the table, Zaina put her hand on Scorpius's leg. He wondered if she was doing this out of affection or to try to placate him around Connor.

'And what about your summer, Connor?' he asked. 'Any new sweaters?'

Connor ran a hand through his chestnut-coloured hair. 'Oh, nothing too remarkable. I did go to Greece for the World Cup – you usually go too, right?'

Scorpius did, but he hadn't this year. He had spent most of the summer either at Zaina's house or in the grounds of Malfoy Manor, trying to stay out of the house for as long as he could. He wasn't prepared to tell any of this to Connor though. 'Yeah, usually. Not this year though.'

'Well, it was brilliant,' said Connor. 'Volchenkov's a brilliant Seeker – the rest of the team's not quite up to his standard though. I actually think I probably could have saved most of the goals from that game. I mean, I do practice a lot, so …'

Connor and Scorpius's other dorm mate's, Kienan Cornfoot and Mori Akiyama, now launched into an in-depth analysis of the World Cup and whether or not any of them could have flown better than the Latvian or Vietnamese Quidditch teams. Zaina and the girls seemed happy enough listening to this, but Scorpius was not. After Connor compared Vietnam's win to the Ravenclaw win against Hufflepuff last year, Scorpius had had enough. He needed to leave or he would risk saying something stupid.

None of his house mates looked around as he slipped out of his seat. Rather than heading up the Marble Staircase to Ravenclaw Tower, he opted to take a back route up one of the hidden staircases to avoid the risk of bumping into anyone. He had been so desperate to return to school, but now he was starting to remember things he didn't like. Namely, having to share a dormitory with somebody like Connor Davies.

As he walked, he was starting to feel guilty. He had been so eager to get away from Malfoy Manor that he hadn't given his mum a proper goodbye. He hadn't even hugged her; being around her lately was too hard.

Thinking of this, he stopped suddenly on the third-floor corridor and turned on his heel. He still had time to send a letter before curfew began. He wasn't sure what the letter was going to say, but surely any letter was better than no letter.

'Oi, Malfoy.'

He was nearly back at the staircase when he heard his name being called. He rounded to see four Slytherins coming towards him down the corridor: Caliber Montague and Laertus Zabini, both seventh years, and Edmund Goyle and Clement Rosier, who were in the same year as Scorpius.

Scorpius raised his eyebrows at them. 'Evening.'

He didn't make it a habit to talk to the Slytherins, mainly because he didn't want anyone going around at school talking about how the Malfoy kid had become friends with the other children of Death Eaters. That being said, he was friendly enough with each of them; he made a point to be friendly enough with everyone at school, even if he didn't particularly like them. It just made life a lot easier that way.

'How was your summer, Malfoy?' asked Goyle.

'Oh, yeah, fine. How was yours?'

'Not as good as yours, I reckon.' Goyle gave him a toothy grin. 'Heard you're shagging Faheem. Nice one.'

Scorpius wasn't really sure what he was supposed to say to this, so he decided to ignore it. 'Did you lot need something?'

'You got time to talk?' asked Zabini.

'Not really, actually. I need to go to the owlery before curfew.'

'Fuck curfew,' growled Rosier.

Scorpius raised his eyebrows. 'Not sure if that will hold up against the teachers.'

'It won't take long,' said Zabini bracingly. 'We just have something we wanted to ask you.'

'Go on, then.'

'Not here,' said Montague. 'Somewhere private.'

Scorpius eyed him carefully. He was sure that if Clement Montague deemed something private, it couldn't be a good thing. The seventh year had once received a month's detention for cursing the doorknob of the Muggle studies classroom so that anyone attending the class had developed fast-growing burns on their hands.

Still, he wasn't particularly interested in making enemies with any of these four. It was definitely easier to be on good terms with them.

'Yeah, alright,' he said finally. 'Just quickly, okay?'

Zabini gestured to a corridor that led down to one of the less frequented wings of the castle. 'Down here. Tell anyone about this and you're dead.'


With Chandra and Rose gone, he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself, so he finished his glass of pumpkin juice and started out of the Great Hall. He allowed the crowd to jostle him forward, not watching where he was going, his mind full of Chandra and Gustav Gamp and the lingering stares of the first years.

'Oi, watch it, Potter.'

Vane's sharp voice pulled from his reverie. He had collided with his tall, wiry-haired dorm-mate at the foot of the Marble Staircase, having not realised the crowd had come to a halt under the congestion of students ascending the stairs.

'Oh, sorry, Emory, I didn't …'

His voice died in his mouth at the sight of the tiny blonde girl that stood amongst the group of his dorm-mates. Cassie Kettleburn, her blonde hair pulled into its usual ponytail, accompanied by her usual gang of Hufflepuff girls, stood amongst the Gryffindors, watching him closely, her usually rosy-cheeks positively scarlet at the sight of him.

He was staring at her too long, he knew, and yet he could not look away, nor could he force himself to speak. The moment of silence seemed to last an eternity before Hamish Coote spoke.

'So, how was your summer, Albus?'

'What? Oh, yeah, good. Yes, it was … good, thanks.'

He was fully aware of the giggle being stifled by Cassie's friends, while Cassie herself was staring stubbornly at her feet. They had not exchanged words since the first week of August when she had told him it wasn't working on the steps out front of the ice-cream parlour in Godric's Hollow. She looked much the same as she had that day; bright-eyed, angelic, gleaming, freckles dotted across her nose.

He forced himself to keep his eyes on Hamish, the scarlet badge gleaming on the front of his robes. 'Oh, you got prefect. Congratulations.'

'Oh, yeah.' Hamish shrugged. 'Thanks.'

'Surprised you didn't get it, Potter?' asked Emory. 'I thought surely Professor Longbottom would have hand-picked you for it.'

The Hufflepuff girls didn't even bother to stifle their giggles at that.

'Er, no. I guess not,' mumbled Albus.

'Well, I wouldn't worry,' said Hamish. 'It's a bit of a pain, really. Only just managed to avoid taking the first years up. The new head girl's a bit psycho.'

'She's your cousin, isn't she, Potter?' asked Emory gleefully.

'Oh, shit, right …' muttered Hamish. 'Well, I mean, she's good at her job I guess.'

Albus said nothing as another string of laughter sounded around him. Cassie and Hamish were the only ones who seemed able to control themselves, and yet Cassie still did not seem capable to tearing her eyes from her shoes.

'Oh, good, the line's moving,' said Hamish eagerly, and they started up the steps. 'We were going to go to the Transfiguration room for a bit before curfew. You want to come, Albus?'

If he had had any desire to accept the offer it was quickly crushed by the groan he heard emitted from Emory Vane.

'Er, no, thanks. I'm a bit tired.'

'Oh, yeah, fair enough,' said Hamish. 'Well, we'll see you up in the dorm.'

'Yeah. Night.'

At the top of the Marble Staircase, he watched the group depart, his eyes fixed upon Cassie. He watched her for a moment, scanning for any physical familiarity between her and either of the Gryffindor boys.

'You stalking her now?'

James' voice did nothing to improve his mood, and he turned to find his brother approaching with Finlay from up the Marble Staircase.

'I was talking to her,' grumbled Albus. 'Am I not allowed to talk to her?'

'You were not, you liar. You were talking to Coote. You couldn't even manage to look her in the eye. How are you going to find a girl to shag you if they can't even bring themselves to look at you?'

'Leave him alone, James,' protested Finlay as they started up the Marble Staircase again. 'It's a good thing, Al. If she can't look at you it means she's not over you. You might still have a chance.'

'Fuck that,' said James. 'She's too scrawny. You should ask out that fit Ravenclaw girl with the curly hair.'

'Zaina Faheem?' asked Finlay. 'Isn't she dating Malfoy?'

James gave a mournful sigh. 'Typical. Doubt she'd want you anyway, Al – she seems of sound mind. Well, you could ask out Thomas I suppose. If she's sleeping with Davies, her standards obviously aren't too high.'

'I can't ask out Chandra. She's my friend.'

'She is not,' said James, stopping at the sixth-floor landing to fix Albus with a pointed look. 'She's Rose's friend and therefore she has to be nice to you. Whether being nice extends to shagging you remains to be seen, however.'

Albus rolled his eyes and continued up the staircase, but he had only taken a few steps before he realised James and Finlay were no longer in his stride. He turned back to see them poised on the sixth floor landing. 'Where are you two going?'

'Ask no questions and I'll tell no lies, Ducky,' James sang to him.

Albus trudged back down the steps to re-join them. 'You know Mum said she'd take away your broom if you get another detention before October.'

'Ye of little faith,' said James. 'Not every misdemeanour we commit results in detention. If it did, we wouldn't have time to eat or sleep.'

'So, what are you doing?'

'That's for me to know and you to fry your teeny, tiny brain trying to find out.'

'You're a prat, James,' Finlay informed him. 'We found some Slytherins on the map down in an empty corridor and we're going to chuck a stink bomb in. Want to come?'

Albus immediate response was "no", but he bit it back. Thinking of the resolution he bhad made with himself, he forced himself to say, 'Alright.'

James let out another burst of laughter. 'Very funny. Now go away. You're holding us up.'

'No, I'm serious,' insisted Albus. 'Let me come with you.'

'You've never experienced anything more exciting than Gran's trifle in your life. This is going to do you in, Al.'

'I mean it,' he told his brother imploringly. 'Come on, James, let me come. Or I can tell Mum.'

James looked thoroughly amused. 'Ooh, you're pulling out the Ginny card? I'm very scared, Al.'

'Come on, James, just let him come,' said Finlay. 'If we don't hurry, we're going to miss them.'

James gave an immense groan of reluctance. 'Okay, fine, but you better not be an idiot about it, alright, Al? Just do what I tell you and you'll be fine, alright?'

Albus had lived most of his life by the philosophy that he should absolutely not do what James told him to do for the sake of his own survival, and so it was with great difficulty that he gave a nod.

As they walked down the third-floor corridor, Albus could feel himself growing more and more regretful. Finally, James stopped and gestured down a narrow offshoot of the corridor. There were no torches lit down the passageway and Albus could see nothing but blackness in it.

'Down here,' James instructed.

'Are they down there?' asked Albus wearily. The prospect of wondering through pitch-blackness into a hoard of Slytherins was anything but attractive.

James pulled a yellowed slip of parchment from his pocket and held it out for him to inspect. 'Through there and then they're in the corridor parallel to this one that goes to the Charms room.'

James turned, unheeded, down the blackened corridor, Finlay following closely, and Albus started after them. He felt his way along the corridor, his fingers grazing the cold, stone walls as he followed the sound of James and Finlay's soft footsteps.

In a whisper, he asked, 'Are you sure this is a good idea?'

'Shut up,' was the reply he received from both seventh years, and a moment later he felt himself collide with a tall figure. A light appeared at the tip of James's wand and Albus saw the figure he had collided with was Finlay.

They had reached the end of the narrow corridor, which was barred by a heavy, burgundy tapestry, through which Albus could hear a murmur of voices. James raised a finger to his lips and fixed his brother with a piercing look. Following James and Finlay's lead, he approached the tapestry, resting his ear against it to listen to the voices of the Slytherins on the other side.

'Look, I don't know what you're so worried about …'

'Montague,' James mouthed to Finlay and Albus.

'I think it's pretty obvious what he's worried about, Caliber,' came the voice of Laertus Zabini. 'I'm worried about the same thing.'

'Then you're an idiot,' snapped Montague. 'We've told you, there's no way the school's going to find out …'

'And how can you promise that?' demanded Edmund Goyle. 'For all we know, the teachers could be watching everything we do after what happened last night.'

'So?' bit back Montague. 'That didn't have anything to do with us.'

'No,' said Clement Rosier, 'but it might soon.'

'On the count of three?' Finlay whispered across at James.

'Look, I don't really know what you're asking me to do,' came the drawling voice of Scorpius Malfoy, 'but I really do have a letter to send.'

James gave a nod and, with his free hand, reached into his pocket to withdraw a heavy-looking dung bomb. 'One, two …'

'Wait,' Albus caught James's hand and, ignoring the mutinous look his brother gave him, hissed, 'Listen.'

'Excuse you, Malfoy?' snarled Rosier. 'You should be honoured that we've even asked you to join us.'

'It's not that I'm not flattered – I just have places to be,' retorted Malfoy. 'Now if you don't mind, I'll be going ...'

'Wait,' Goyle hissed at the Ravenclaw, and from the heavy silence that fell upon the group, Albus guessed that Goyle had withdrawn his wand. 'I suggest you take a moment to hear us out.'

'I don't need a moment,' Malfoy told him, and there was a second of silence in which Albus was sure Malfoy had withdrawn his wand. 'Get out of my way.'

'You're seriously going to walk from this opportunity?' demanded Goyle. 'You seriously want to do that?'

'Edmund, put your wand away,' snapped Zabini.

'Wait, wait, Laertus, I think Malfoy owes us an answer,' hissed Montague. There was a rustle of his robes as he too doubtlessly withdrew his wand. 'You know, my father encouraged me to approach you. He said we could trust you …'

'And I'm flattered, but I really do have a letter to send …'

'Don't pretend you don't know what's going on, Malfoy,' snarled Montague. 'Don't pretend you don't know what your father's up to.'

'Caliber, shut up,' snapped Zabini.

'You can pretend my family's beneath yours, but we're going to end up fighting on the same side …'

'Caliber, shut the hell up!'

'What the fuck's your problem, Laertus?'

'There's someone listening behind that tapestry, that's what!'

Albus did not even have time to straighten up before he heard Zabini shout 'Evanesco!' and the tapestry before them vanished. There he stood, flanked by James and Finlay on either side, frozen in their spot, five pairs of wands aimed at them, Caliber Montague's wand pointed squarely at his chest.

'Looky, lads,' Montague growled. 'Looks like we've found some new friends. Alright, boys?'

James's eyes flickered from Montague down to the wand aimed at him. 'Good, mate. And you?'

'Good now that you've decided to make our evening a bit more interesting,' Montague hissed back. 'Expelliarmus!'

With a flick of his wand, Montague brought the three wands flying from each other Gryffindors' pockets and over Montague's head, clattering against the wall of the corridor.

'What did you hear?' demanded Montague. 'Come on, Potter, speak! We don't have all night!'

Albus's heart was pounding in his chest and he looked towards James who – inexplicably – was smiling.

'Temper, temper, Caliber,' said the older Potter pleasantly. 'Let's not lose our heads.'

Zabini gave an impatient sigh. 'Look, Potter, just tell us how long you were there.'

'Oh no, I'm afraid it's not going to be that simple, Laertus,' hissed Montague. 'Didn't your father ever tell you it was rude to eavesdrop, Potter?'

'Oh, our father says a lot of things,' said James. 'What about yours, Clement? I suppose it's hard to have a chat when he's in a prison cell.'

Montague's face contorted with rage. 'How dare ... Cruci –'

And then a lot of things happened very quickly.

In an instant, both Malfoy's and Zabini's arms flew away from the Gryffindors towards Montague. Malfoy shouted, 'Impedimenta!', at the same time that Zabini shouted, 'Expelliarmus!'

Hit by Malfoy's hex, Montague was thrown backwards against the wall. His wand, caught by Zabini's disarming spell, went flying and hit the floor in front of Finlay.

This meant Finlay was able to snatch up the wand and aim it at Zabini and shout, 'Incarcerous!'

Zabini, bound tightly in ropes cast from Finlay's wand, hit the floor heavily.

This gave James a moment to leap across the passageway to snatch up his wand.

But in that moment, both Goyle and Rosier had turned their wands on Finlay and both attempted to disarm him. Finlay cast a shield charm, which blocked both of the Slytherins' curses, but in that time, Montague had managed to snatch up one of the Gryffindors wands and turn it on James and shout, 'Sectum Sempra!'

And the curse flew through the air so forcefully that it seemed to make an audible hiss, but James wiped it away with a shield charm and brought his wand slashing through the air towards Montague, bellowing, 'Stupefy!'

Montague hit the ground hard and now James turned his wand on Goyle and Rosier, who were duelling two-against-one with Finlay.

Albus – who had been trying very hard to follow all of this – realised he should probably do something, and he lunged for his own wand, only to find Scorpius Malfoy in his path. The Ravenclaw looked at him, his wand in his hand, and without taking any time to think if this was necessary, or clever, or effective, he punched Malfoy in the face.

Things seemed to slow down then. Malfoy gave a great howl of pain and the four duelling boys – Finlay, James, Goyle and Rosier – all stopped to look around at what had happened.

All Albus could do was hold his fist limply at his side, watching Malfoy double over with his hands pressed over his nose. Blood was seeping through his fingers onto the stone floor.

'What do you think you're doing?'

The students spun around to see the source of this new voice – or, at least, those capable of doing so spun around. Montague was still out cold on the floor. Zabini was bound so tightly in James's ropes that he could hardly move his head. Malfoy had his head tilted back, attempting to stem a vicious nosebleed.

Zacharias Smith, the Charms professor and Head of Hufflepuff house, was at the end of the corridor. He had his wand withdrawn, apparently ready to break up the duel, and his face fixed into a scowl.

It was known around Hogwarts that Professor Smith was fond of giving detentions for as little as chatter in class. Albus didn't much like to think of what was in store for them after being caught duelling in the corridor.


There were a lot of things people didn't like about James Potter. His brashness, his unruliness, his arrogance and his unfortunate knack for perception that not infrequently ended in shed tears on behalf of others.

James Potter had olive skin and dark hair like his father's and a face like nobody's in particular. He had the brown doe-eyes of his mother and the towering stature of the Weasley men. His high cheekbones belonged to Lily Evans, and the strong, square jaw of the Prewetts.

A lifetime of Quidditch had made him muscled and limber. He walked with a swaggering gait that neither his brother nor father had the vanity or carelessness to attempt, and he held himself with a kind of lopsided ease, which gave the impression of a boy who was both perpetually lazy and perpetually unbothered, no matter how much you wished him to be otherwise.

Even now, sitting in the Charms professor's office, he gave the impression that all of this was a bit beneath him.

'This is disgusting behaviour,' said Professor Smith. 'Disgusting. Do you have any idea how disappointing it is to see eight students – all of you in your senior years – setting such a poor example? Malfoy, Zabini – you're supposed to be prefects.'

Malfoy had a handkerchief pressed into his face to stem his bloody nose and Zabini had a bruise forming on his cheek from where he had hit the ground that. The seven of them didn't look particularly ashamed: they were staring back at the Charms professor with looks of indignation. It seemed only Albus had any sense of bashfulness: he was staring into his lap, refusing to meet anyone's eye.

'As none of you are in my house, unfortunately your punishment isn't up to me,' said Smith slowly, 'but I can assure you, if any of you were in Hufflepuff, you'd be … Ah, here we are.'

They were spared from hearing what would happen to them if they were in Hufflepuff because at that moment the door of the office was opened and the other three heads of house stepped into the room: Professor Karim of Ravenclaw, Professor Fancourt of Slytherin, and Professor Longbottom of Gryffindor.

'Evening, professors,' said Smith severely. 'I do apologise for summoning you all here. I'm afraid we have a rather disappointing situation at hand.'

Professor Fancourt raised her eyebrows, surveying the three Slytherins. 'I see. And would any of you three like to explain to me what happened?'

'Potter started it,' said Zabini immediately, throwing an accusatory hand at James. 'This lot were hiding behind the tapestry waiting to ambush us. And he stunned Caliber. He's in the hospital wing right now.'

Professor Fancourt raised her eyebrows, looking unconvinced. 'They ambushed you when it was three were four of you and three of them? I don't think I'd want to ambush anyone when I'm outnumbered.'

Zabini looked undeterred. 'They weren't outnumbered – they had Malfoy with them.'

Professor Fancourt looked unconvinced. 'Oh, so you were with the Gryffindors, were you, Mr Malfoy? Tell me, then: who did that to your nose?'

Without taking the handkerchief away from his face, Malfoy seemed to hesitate for a brief moment, before aiming a finger at Albus.

Neville seemed unable to contain his surprise. 'You, Albus? Is that true?'

Albus looked panic. His eyes flittered very quickly from James to Finlay and back to Neville. 'I … I didn't mean … I thought … Montague tried to …'

James interrupted before Albus could finish that thought. 'Montague disarmed us, Professor. It was all a bit dramatic. We were just defending ourselves.'

Albus cast James a questioning look, and in return James raised his eyebrows at him. It seemed Albus understood because he didn't try to explain again.

'Let me see your face, Malfoy.' Professor Karim crossed over to Malfoy's chair, leaning over him.

The Ravenclaw hesitated briefly before taking the handkerchief away from his face. His thin nose was still trickling blood and the bone was looking slightly skewed.

Professor Karim made a tutting sound and looked around at Professor Smith. 'The boy's nose is broken. You didn't think it might be good to take him to the hospital wing first?'

James let out a low whistle. 'Christ, Al. Didn't know you had it in you.'

'James,' snapped Neville. 'I don't think I need to explain to you that this is not funny. Together you've broken one person's nose and put another in the hospital wing. You, Albus and Finlay seem to have come off very well for three people defending yourselves.'

'Well, Professor,' said James lazily, 'we're all just a bit brighter than this lot – oi, calm down!'

Before James could finish talking, Zabini had jumped from his seat, lunging towards James and grabbing a fistful of his shirt, and in response Finlay had jumped forward to grab Zabini's arm, and in turn Edmund Goyle had stood up to try to block Finlay's path.

'Enough!' snarled Professor Fancourt. 'Sit down now.'

Begrudgingly, Zabini let go of James, and Finlay let go of Zabini, and Goyle let go of Finlay, and they all slumped back in their chairs.

'You should all be ashamed of yourselves,' sighed Professor Fancourt, looking between the three Slytherins. 'Zabini, at this point I don't care who started it – what I care about is that you're a seventh year and a prefect and you don't seem capable of being the bigger person and walking away from a fight. Fahima, Neville, what you choose to do with your students is completely up to you, but it does seem to me that all of them are partly responsible for this – Montague included.'

At once, they all began to protest, but Professor Karim spoke over them. 'I couldn't agree with you more, Catarina.'

'Indeed,' said Neville. 'And is that how it seemed to you when you found them, Zacharias?'

'Yes, absolutely. I was hoping you'd come to the same conclusion.' And, looking rather pleased with himself, Professor Smith opened the draw of his desk and removed a sheet of parchment. 'I took the liberty of fetching these from the caretaker if you would like them.'

The three other heads of house eyed the parchment cautiously.

'And what is that, Zacharias?' asked Professor Karim coolly.

'Well, Fahima, I know you've made it a policy to set an example by removing students from the Quidditch team for bad behaviour, so I thought you'd be needing to fill out the form for Mr Malfoy. And due to the violent nature of the offense, Neville and Catarina, I thought you might be considering doing the same for your students.'

The other heads were silent as Smith offered the parchment too them. James was sure he caught the other three exchange glances before Professor Karim spoke.

'I had no intention of removing Mr Malfoy from the team,' she said. 'I've done so in the past for more serious situations – for repeat offenders. Malfoy doesn't usually cause problems like this. A little spat between houses isn't worth taking students off of the team.'

'I would call it a little more than that,' said Smith seriously. 'It was a violent altercation. A boy has ended up in the hospital wing …'

'Yeah, because he tried to curse us,' snapped James, unable to contain himself. 'What was I supposed to do?'

'James, please,' said Neville gently, holding up a hand. 'Calm down. I think we can find fault on all parts, and so I think it would be best if the boys served their time and we moved on.'

'But will we be able to move on?' asked Smith snidely. 'Certainly, for some of these students, this is out of character, but James Potter and Caliber Montague have a history of these types of incidences. I don't know how you intend to teach them some discipline without taking away something important to each of them.'

'Well, luckily, Zacharias,' said Professor Fancourt coolly, 'they're not in your house, so you don't need to know. Zabini, Goyle, Rosier – I'm taking twenty points off each of you and you can all do detention with me on Saturday night cleaning the telescopes in the Astronomy tower.'

Zabini gave a great groan. 'No, Professor, please. Saturday night …'

'Enough, Zabini, unless you want to make it Friday night too. And I'll be telling the same thing to Montague when he's out of the hospital wing.'

'I couldn't agree more, Catarina,' said Professor Karim briskly. 'Malfoy, I believe the caretaken could do with some help cleaning the trophy room on Saturday. I'm sure it's built up quite a bit of dust over the summer.'

'I'm sure the three Gryffindors can help Mr Malfoy with that,' said Neville pleasantly. 'You'll make short work of it between the four of you.'

'Well, I think that settles that,' said Professor Fancourt. 'It's nearly past curfew. I suggest you all get a good night's rest.'

'I'm afraid I can't let it go that easily, Catarina,' said Professor Smith. 'By allowing this violent behaviour, you're putting my own students at risk, you know? Four of these students are on their house Quidditch teams …'

'Oh, come now, Zacharias,' sighed Professor Karim. 'This is in no way unusual within the school …'

'And that exactly the problem, Fahima. Without stricter examples …'

'Perhaps we can talk about this amongst ourselves,' suggested Neville gently. 'I understand your concerns, Zacharias, but we've decided on a punishment for our students. We can discuss policies surrounding Quidditch privately. Perhaps this warrants us setting up a demerit system – I wouldn't be opposed, but it does need to be agreed to amongst the heads of house before we start arbitrarily making rules.'

'Indeed.' Professor Fancourt looked back at her students. 'You three can go – and I want you all straight back to the common room.'

'Same goes for you three,' Neville told the Gryffindors, and he looked carefully at James to add, 'I'll be checking on you later and I want to find you all in your dormitories.'

'Malfoy, you can go too,' said Professor Karim. 'I suggest you go to the matron and have her look at your nose.'

It seemed Smith would have liked to say more, but he resisted as the students got slowly to their feet and traipsed out of the room. Malfoy took off immediately, still with the handkerchief pressed to his nose. The Slytherins started away together towards the staircase, but not before Zabini muttered, 'I'd watch my back if I were you.'

'Bit hard, seeming it's my back,' said James pleasantly. 'Fin, I'll watch yours if you watch mine.'

Zabini said nothing else but turned to follow the two younger students away. James's eyes lingered on him a little longer, watching him walk away.

'James, come on,' said Finlay pointedly, grabbing James's shoulder and giving him a push in the other direction. 'Let's not push it.'

The three of them started down the corridor towards Gryffindor tower. The castle was mostly quiet now, the other students having already made it back to their common rooms. After a minute, James took out his tin of tobacco and began to roll himself a cigarette, which seemed to rouse Albus out of his reverie.

'You're not still smoking those things, are you?'

'No, I just roll them for fun,' said James lightly. 'Well, how do you like that, Ducky? Your first detention. What will Mummy and Daddy say?'

'Yeah, Al, you broke Malfoy's nose,' said Finlay happily. 'Nice one.'

'It's not nice,' sighed Albus. 'We all got detention! And you two could have been taken off the Quidditch team. Smith seems to really hate you, James.'

James scoffed. 'Only because he knows Hufflepuff has no hope beating us this year while Fin and I are on the team.'

'I don't know – I heard Marigold Bones got made captain,' said Finlay thoughtfully. 'She knows what she's doing.'

'Oh, and don't I know it? Her prowess isn't limited to the Quidditch pitch, let me tell you.'

Finlay rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. 'You're a dick.'

'Can you two listen?' demanded Albus. 'Why didn't you tell them what happened? I mean, Montague tried to use the Cruciatus Curse on you, James! He's insane!'

'Oh, he did not,' dismissed James. 'And even if he did, it hardly would have done anything – I've seen that kid in class. He can barely cast a summoning charm. And besides, I'm not going to snitch. It will become a whole thing and then Montague will get expelled and then Fin and I won't have anyone to annoy when we're bored.'

'But that's really bad,' insisted Albus. 'That's dark magic. And did you two hear what they were talking about before they found us?'

'I try not to listen to them speak if I can help it,' said Finlay.

'Yeah. I can feel my braincells actively capitulating at the sound of it,' agreed James.

'Well, I did,' snapped Albus. 'They said the school might be watching them. There was that attempted break in last night. What if they know something about it?'

James gave a heavy groan. 'Tell me, Ducky, do you get tired of living in a constant state of anxiety? Just give it a rest, would you?'

'I really wouldn't worry about it, Al,' said Finlay gently. 'I mean, I don't see how the Slytherins could be involved in the break in. They were all coming back to school today – why would they need to break in? They've probably just got plans to like … I don't know. Hex the doorknob of the Muggle Studies classroom again, you know? They're all dickheads, but they're pretty uninventive.'

'Yeah, listen to Fin, Ducky. Fin is smart. Anyway, I'll bid you two goodnight.'

They had made it to the central staircase and Albus and Finlay had started up the stairs to Gryffindor tower, while James had started down the flight that would lead him downstairs. Albus turned to look at him, frowning.

'Where are you going?'

'I've got some things to catch up on. Well, actually, it's just one thing. Lydia Thomas. She wants a word down by the lake.'

Albus blinked at him. 'A word? A word about what?'

James tucked his cigarette behind his here. 'Use your imagination, Al.'

'Are you serious? You're sneaking out on the first night back at school?'

'Al,' said James very seriously, 'if you don't change your attitude, you're going to die a virgin, okay? I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep tight.'


It was nearing midnight by the time the memo arrived at his desk. He read it over twice, making sure he understood, before he set down his quill, pulled on his azure Auror's cloak, and left his office. Dominique was still at the reception desk, scribbling away at a heavy-looking scroll of parchment, and she looked up at him when he shut the door.

'Do you need –'

He held up his hand. 'I don't need anything. Go home, Dom. You can finish that tomorrow.'

Dominique hesitated, seeming tempted. 'Are you heading off?'

'Nearly. Gamp's elf is ready to give a statement. I'll speak to her and then go home after that.'

'Oh, well, I can wait …'

'No, don't wait. I won't be long. If you're still here when I get back, I won't be happy, okay?'

Dominique gave a feeble smile. 'Alright. Thanks, Harry.'

'Night, Dom.'

Dennis Creevey was waiting for him at the door of the first interview room. His eyes were baggy and he looked unhappy. 'Evening.'

'Evening. Let's try to make this quick.'

'You don't need to tell me. We've been waiting for her to pull herself together all day. Who knows how long we've got before she starts weeping again.'

Dennis wrenched the door open and the two Aurors stepped inside. The room was identical to the dozens of interrogation rooms manned by the Auror Office, occupied by a single cedar-wood desk and two stony-faced Aurors flanking the door. The only discrepancy was the tiny house elf that sat at the desk, knobbly elbows at the table and her long ears poking out between her long fingers as she buried her face in her hands.

'Leave us,' Harry told the guards, and they obeyed, leaving him and Dennis to take seats at the desk across from the elf.

'Hello, Lula,' Harry told her, with as much warmth as he could muster at this late hour. 'It's very nice to meet you. My name's Harry Potter. I'm the Head of the Auror Office.'

There was a murmur from behind the elf's hands so slight that he almost missed it.

'I'm sorry?'

The elf lowered her fingers ever so slightly to allow Harry to gaze into a pair of bulging, blood-shot blue eyes. 'I know who you is.'

There was a time when this recognition that this statement may have embarrassed him, but he had been doing this job too long. It was now annoying more than embarrassing.

'Good. And this is my colleague Dennis Creevey. We're here to ask you a few questions about last night and see if we can help find out what happened to Mr Gamp.'

At the mention of his name the elf gave a great squeak of despair and buried her face back deeply into her hands.

Harry held in a sigh. 'Now, Lula, I understand this is a very tough time for you, but we really want to know who did this to Mr Gamp. You want to help us do that, don't you?'

Lula gave a great shudder before emitting a long, high sob. 'Oh, my master … my poor master …'

'Yes, Lula, I know,' said Harry, struggling to keep the impatience out of his voice. 'But you told my staff that you had seen who had attacked him …'

'I did! I did! I know who done it! Bad mad done it!'

'Yes, and we want to catch this bad man,' urged Dennis. 'Had you ever seen him before, Lula?'

'Oh, master … my master … gone …'

'Yes, Lula, but that's why you have to talk to us,' insisted Harry. 'Your master – who hurt him?'

'Can't say … can't say. Lula must not.'

'Lula, we give you permission,' Harry assured her. 'And I'm sure Mr Gamp would say it's okay …'

'It is not okay! Not okay for Lula to say!'

Harry considered the elf, watching her shaking in her seat. 'Has someone ordered you not to tell?'

'Not allowed … shouldn't tell … oh, my master …'

'Lula, please. You don't need to punish yourself. If someone has told you not to tell then they're going to be in trouble, and so we can explain that you didn't have a choice. You know you'd be helping your master if you tell us who came to the house last night. Do you think you can do that?'

Lula hesitated before giving a slow, shuddering nod.

'Thank you, Lula. So can you tell us who did this?'

The elf took her hands away from her face, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath. She looked up at Harry with red, bleary eyes. 'My … my master.'

'Yes, Lula, exactly. But …'

'It was him! He is hurting him!'

'Yes, but who?'

'My master!'

'Yes, Lula, we know.' He was struggling to keep his voice even. 'But we need to know who did it.'

'I is telling you! He did it! My master!'

'Gamp killed himself?' asked Dennis incredulously. 'Are you sure?'

'No!' snapped Lula, her voice quivering with anger, and she raised a shaking hand to brandish it at Harry. 'My master – my old master!'

Harry saw Creevey turn to him to exchange looks of revelation, but Harry kept his eyes fixed upon the elf. 'Your former master killed Mr Gamp?'

'Yes!'

'But who's your former master?'

Lula shook her head furiously before bringing it down to hit it heavily against the table. 'Can't tell. Shouldn't tell.'

'Lula, please, who was your old master?'

The elf pressed her eyes shut, colour rising in her grey face as if she was threatening to burst, before she opened her mouth a shrieked, 'Malfoy! Mr Malfoy!'

Harry gazed down at the elf in astonishment, lost for words, before the elf raised her hand to the ceiling, and first there was a creak, and then there was a shuddering sound of snapping, and then with a monstrous crash and a cascade of bricks and plaster Lula had brought the ceiling down upon them.


Song credit: This Devil's Workday by Modest Mouse.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Reviews would be utterly adored!