20/04/21
Don't Lie
Don't lie, I want them to know
God's loves die young, are you ready to go?
It's the last time running through snow
Because the fire can't last and the winter's cold
I want to know, does it bother you?
The low click of the ticking clock
There's a lifetime right in front of you
And everyone I know
It had happened in the meadowy backyard of Hecate Hall, perennial flowers growing neatly in the beds and the lawns cut short by Ministry staff, which would soon fall into overgrown disarray under the care of the manor's new inhabitants. The summer sun had been setting overhead, and he and Ginny and Ron and Hermione had shared a cheap bottle of wine and a kidney pie that Ginny's parents had dropped off for them.
It was their first night in Hecate Hall, and inside the manor their possessions were still in boxes and their few pieces of furniture sat in the hallway waiting to be arranged.
It had seemed that day, Harry remembered, that it was both the beginning and end of something. The beginning of his life with Ginny, but the end of that purgatory period of mourning and grief and solitude in which they could be excused for ignoring what was ahead of them and not speaking of what was behind them.
It was as if they all knew this – that they couldn't ignore it for much longer - but it was Ron who said it first, once they had exhausted the conversation about the new house and Hermione's coming return to Hogwarts in September and the small wedding that he and Ginny had planned for the following month.
'Have you thought about what you're going to tell people?' Ron had asked him. 'About the wand?'
The thought had crossed his mind several times over the preceding months, as had the question of where he was going to live and what he was going to do and when he was going to return Kingsley Shacklebolt's letters, but he had pushed it all aside, focusing instead on Ginny. It had been so much easier to allow her to fill his head.
'I don't know,' Harry had replied. 'Do we need to tell anyone anything?'
Ron had shrugged, not wanting to push him, and Hermione had answered instead. Harry remembered feeling that they may have rehearsed it together before arriving.
'We've got that meeting with Kingsley next week,' she had reminded him. 'He's going to want to know. It's been talked about in the Prophet since May – all this speculation about why Voldemort returned to Hogwarts.'
'Tell him it's none of his business,' Ginny had dismissed, and Harry's chest had rushed with pride. For the last few months Ginny had jumped to his defence at every opportunity, looking for any moment to let her residual anger over the war and everything else have its release.
'Yeah, right, I'm sure the Minister for Magic's going to love being told that the reason behind the war is none of his business,' said Ron dryly.
'Harry defeated Voldemort,' snapped Ginny. 'He deserves his privacy. Personally, I don't know why you're even meeting with Shacklebolt. It's been months. The war's over. What does it matter anymore?'
'I think it might be a bit hard for us to ignore him once we start the Auror Training Programme,' said Ron.
'And it's not just Kingsley,' added Hermione. 'Journalists hound us every time we go out in public and when we don't answer they just speculate for themselves.' She had then turned to Harry with wide, pleading eyes. 'Enough people were at the battle to hear what Voldemort said – "The Elder Wand is mine". If people know that it's real, sooner or later somebody else will try to use it, and if somebody finds out where it –'
'I'm not moving it,' said Harry flatly. 'His coffin's already been opened once. I'm not doing it again.'
At this Ron and Hermione had been silent, but Harry saw them glance at each other. He could remember that Hermione had reached for Ron's hand, perhaps to bolster her own courage to challenge him, before she asked, 'What do we tell Kingsley, then?'
Harry was silent at this. He had turned away from them to gaze over the sloping garden of Hecate Hall. The township of Godric's Hollow was visible in the distance, cast alight by the setting sun. Birch trees were drooping on the edge of the hill with heavy, green branches. He imagined Ginny standing beneath the naked trees in the coming winter, and in the green grass in the following spring, and how she would look in the garden every year after that, and how their children would look at her side, and he didn't want to think about Albus Dumbledore's coffin.
'We tell him it's gone,' said Harry, not taking his eyes off the waving trees. 'That it was destroyed. All the background – Grindelwald and why Voldemort wanted it – that can be the truth. But we don't tell him that the other Hallows are real, and we tell him it that the wand was destroyed in the battle, and that can just be the truth for everyone but us.'
He felt Ginny reach for him and slip her hands around his arm, leaning into him, and he shifted closer to her. He didn't need to look around to know that Ron and Hermione watching him, uncertain.
'But, Harry,' began Hermione, 'if somebody ever opens the coffin…'
'We won't let anybody touch it again,' he told her. 'It's already got protective charms around it, but we'll strengthen them.'
'But...' Hermione stopped, choosing his words, careful not to rile him, 'perhaps it would be safer… with the Ministry.'
'Hermione, I already said this,' Harry told her. 'We're not touching the coffin.'
And that had been it. That hot day in mid-July, head full of mead and Ginny, he had told them that was how it was going to be.
Ginny had supported him fully, unquestioningly, as she had done about everything when they were first married, and Ron and Hermione had been too cautious of his temper to challenge him, and so the wand had been left with Albus Dumbledore's bones, and he had never allowed himself to question whether he had been right to do so.
He had been so young then, the same age as James was now. He tried to conjure an image of James sitting with his friends in his own house, trying to decide the fate of something so immense, and the memory of how wise he thought he had been back then now seemed so juvenile.
As Neville told them what Rose and Scorpius Malfoy had reported to him, he could feel Ron and Hermione's panicked eyes shift to him, but they would be unable to speak freely until Neville was gone. Even their closest friends knew nothing about the Elder Wand's enduring existence.
'The Malfoy boy was with her?' Ron asked, when Neville had finished explaining. 'What was he doing up in the castle during the Quidditch match? You don't think he might be helping the Slytherins, do you?'
'I don't believe so,' said Neville. He paused, frowning in thought, before he said, 'I think she and Albus have become friends with him.'
'With Scorpius Malfoy?' said Hermione, sounding shocked. 'How did that happen?'
'Well, I see Scorpius pair up with Albus a lot in herbology,' said Neville. 'They seem to get along well. I think they practise Quidditch together.'
'Albus has never told me he's friends with him,' said Harry.
'No, well, I believe it's only happened this year but they're nearly inseparable now,' said Neville. The professor glanced around at the three of them, apparently sensing their unease, for he said, 'Scorpius isn't a bad kid, from what I've seen. And Rose and Albus…' Neville paused, choosing his words, before he continued. 'The two of them stick to themselves a lot. I think it's good for them to be making new friends.'
Harry could see Ron clenching his fists in his chair and didn't miss Hermione giving his arm a gentle squeeze. He knew he needed to get rid of Neville so they could speak freely.
'You told them they weren't allowed to share this with anyone, right?' said Harry.
'Of course,' replied Neville. 'But well… you know how we were at their age. They'll confide in their friends. I'm sure they'll tell Albus and Chandra, and Scorpius will probably tell his girlfriend.'
'Who is his girlfriend?' asked Ron, and Harry knew he was wondering if she was a Slytherin.
'Zaina Faheem.' Neville seemed to know what Ron was wondering to, because he added, 'She's in Ravenclaw.'
'The Faheems are Purebloods,' said Ron, as if in argument.
'Ron, we're Purebloods,' said Neville, sounding exasperated.
'I'm sure Rose will understand to keep this to herself,' said Hermione, although Harry felt more inclined to believe Neville.
'Rose maybe, but who knows about Scorpius Malfoy,' grumbled Ron.
'We could erase their memories,' said Harry matter-of-factly. 'Theirs, Albus's, Chandra's.'
Ron, Hermione and Neville all turned to him, looking aghast.
It was Hermione who voiced all of their protests. 'Harry, we can't do that to them. There are laws around erasing memories –'
'Exactly,' said Harry. 'The Ministry allows aurors to erase people's memories if the information they have poses a danger to national security.'
'Not without the approval of the Wizemgamot,' said Hermione curtly. 'And, regardless of the laws, I can't erase my daughter's memory and then carry on as if nothing happened. I value my children's trust.'
'It wouldn't be violating her trust because she'd have no memory of it. That's the point,' replied Harry. 'There's a reason we've always agreed our children shouldn't know more than they need to.'
Hermione gave him a dark look, but when Harry glanced at Ron he could see from his frown that we was torn between agreeing with his wife and agreeing with Harry.
'Look, I don't think Rose and Scorpius are our main concern,' said Neville. 'I think we need to be focusing on who connected the Floo Network to the school. Presumably somebody within the Ministry?'
Knowing it was best to drop the topic of memory erasure, Harry said to Neville, 'Alicia Jordan works in the Department of Magical Transportation. I'll have her check the school's connection to the Floo network first thing tomorrow. She can do it with no questions asked. But finding out who did it is going to be more difficult.'
'And what about the Slytherins and this new assignment?' said Neville. 'If they go looking for the Elder Wand…'
'They won't find anything,' said Harry with conviction.
'But they could put themselves or others in danger if they get desperate to find something,' said Hermione. 'And, if they don't find anything, whether August Selwyn will try to breach the school himself and go looking for it.'
'Security around the school has never been stronger,' said Harry. 'And, Neville, I trust that you can keep an eye on the Slytherins? Make sure they don't get in over their heads?'
'Of course,' said Neville. 'But … you don't think that perhaps we should address the rumour about the Elder Wand? Reassure the public that it was destroyed during the war?'
'Acknowledging the rumour is only going to fan the flames,' said Harry firmly. 'For all the public knows, August Selwyn is dead, and whatever interest he has in the Elder Wand is neither here nor there. What we need to be concerned with is who within the Ministry knew that the school has been connected to the Floo Network.'
Harry could see that Neville wanted to protest further, but didn't know how to proceed. Harry took advantage of this and said, 'You should go, before anyone at the school notices that you're gone.'
Neville hesitated, his eyes shifting between the three of them, but Harry knew that Ron and Hermione were wearing the same look of finality that he was and Neville decided not to contest their united front. He gave a nod and got to his feet.
'I'm sure you know what's best,' said Neville as he pulled on his cloak. 'I'll keep my eye on the Slytherins. Let me know if you find out anything.'
'Of course,' said Harry, leading Neville from the drawing room and into Hecate Hall's entrance hall. 'Thank you for coming.'
'Of course,' said Neville. He gave a smile, but then it faltered, and he said, 'Look, before I go… Maybe now's not the best time, but it's about James.'
This wasn't a phrase Harry was unaccustomed to: years ago it might have made him panic, but it was too ordinary now. He thought he had heard it all when it came to James and, guilty as it made him feel, he didn't have time for it now. 'Oh, yes?'
'I… Look, it was a hard decision,' said Neville slowly, looking sheepish, 'but I've had to take him off the Quidditch team.'
Harry felt something akin to relief – the politics of inter-house Quidditch teams was no cause for alarm. And yet Neville was looking at him expectantly, so he said, 'Right. What's he done this time?'
'He… well, he attacked the Slytherin captain at the game today,' said Neville. 'I wasn't there when the fight began so I'm not sure who started it, but James got physical and – and it's become a policy amongst the other heads of house to remove students from the Quidditch team for poor behaviour. I don't like the rule, but I can't have Gryffindors getting off lighter than other students. I didn't want to do it but…'
'But it's your job,' Harry finished for him.
Neville gave a shrug, seeming unconvinced. 'Yes, well… I'm sure James won't see it that way. I'll check in with him but… but I just thought you should know in case you want to write to him.'
'Right, I will,' said Harry. He took a step towards the door, opening it for Neville. He knew he was pushing him out, but there were more pressing matters at hand. Discussing James could wait. 'Well, I'll see you, mate.'
'Yes, see you,' said Neville, and he raised a hand in farewell before stepping out of the front door.
Harry pushed it shut, resealing it with the usual protective charms, before he turned back to Ron and Hermione. They were both hovering in the doorway of the drawing room, Hermione watching him with large, fearful eyes and Ron looking somewhere between angry and scared.
Harry knew what they were going to say, but he nevertheless tried to curtail it. 'You two should be going as well. Ginny will be back soon and she'll be tired after the match.'
'Harry,' said Hermione in her usual warning voice, 'we can't just ignore this –'
'How am I ignoring it?' Harry cut across her. 'Hogwarts will be disconnected from the Floo network tomorrow. We've already got aurors stationed there-'
'But the wand, Harry!' said Hermione, her voice shrill with exasperation. 'It's not safe at the school! Nobody's guarding it–'
'It's got some of the most powerful charms known to wizards protecting it.'
'That we cast when we were seventeen!'
'We've strengthened them since then. And it's not just our charms protecting it. Hogwarts is one of the most protected places on earth,' said Harry, more sternly now. 'The only people who will even get close to the wand are school children, and none of them will be able to raise the coffin from beneath the lake.'
'But it's not just children, Harry! This August Selwyn had enough allies in the ministry to connect the school to the Floo network. He could have allies in the Auror Office as well,' she told him. 'Mikhael Rowle could be supporting them for all we know. God knows he's been doing all he can to meddle with the investigation.'
At this, Ron gave a heavy murmur as if in revelation, and Harry heard him swear under his breath.
'Remember Urquhart and Flint's attempted break-in the night before the school year began?' continued Hermione breathlessly. 'Didn't their deaths strike you as off? I mean, why would they want to kill themselves? An attempted break-in wouldn't have gotten them more than a few years at Azkaban. What if they were instructed to test the school's defences so whoever is behind this knew what they were up against and then they were killed by whoever made them do it to keep them quiet?'
This was enough to give Harry pause, but he refused to relent. His tiredness and anxiety made it easy for his temper to rise, and he seized upon it to bite back at her. 'And so what if it was? What would you have us do with the wand, Hermione? It's not going to be any safer where it is.'
'We need to destroy it,' Ron answered for her. 'Like we ought to have done after the war, but you wouldn't listen.'
'Ron…' warned Hermione, but it was in a voice that told Harry she agreed with him.
'You had no problem letting me make that choice back then,' Harry snarled back at Ron. 'It's all very easy to decide what should and shouldn't have happened when you're not making the choices, isn't it?'
'You didn't want to hear it, mate, and you don't want to hear it now,' said Ron, standing his grand. 'But you know I'm right. It needs to be destroyed, the sooner the better.'
'I'm not opening the coffin.'
'Harry, I know it's hard… ' began Hermione gently.
He gritted his teeth. He didn't want to hear her gentle voice: he didn't need to be soothed. He wasn't seventeen anymore and he refused to let her think that the prospect of opening the coffin still scared him as it once did.
'It's not hard,' he snapped at her. 'We can't raise the coffin without all of the Hogwarts Staff and probably countless students finding out about it. We can't walk up to the school and bring a coffin out of the lake, open it up, take something from it, and put it back under the water. Any idiot is going to know exactly what we've taken from it, and then any trust we have with the public is gone. We've been lying to them for years, and they're going to start asking what else we've lied to them about. They won't trust us, and they won't trust Kingsley, and come November we're going to have Mikhael Rowle as Minister for Magic. Do you want to imagine how that's going to be for Muggleborns and Half-bloods?'
Ron and Hermione were silent at this, watching him with weary, hostile eyes. He knew they wanted to argue with him, but they both seemed too startled by the truth of what he had said.
'The wand stays where it is,' he said, 'and when the school is empty in the summer and we can access it without anyone knowing, we'll destroy it.'
Ron and Hermione gazed at him, before they looked back at each other. Harry could see them mulling the proposition over in their heads, their eyes fixed on each other in silent debate, before Ron gave a resolute sigh. He turned back to Harry and said, 'If that's the way it has to be.'
There were many things in life that James Potter hated.
He hated going home for the summer.
He hated losing at Quidditch.
He hated when girls he liked didn't like him back.
He hated whenever Finlay started dating someone new.
Perhaps one of his most hated things was when anybody told him that he reminded them of anybody else. It didn't matter who it was that he supposedly resembled – his father, his mother, his father's father, his father's godfather, his uncles – but he hated it. Because he wasn't any of those people – he was James Potter.
Another eligible contestant for James's most hated thing was being pitied. It didn't happen often, which perhaps was why he hated it so much, because he was so unaccustomed to it. People didn't really want to pity him, because he was cruel and harsh and largely unworthy of pity. And that was why, when it happened, he hated it all the more, being so unaccustomed to it.
H hadn't spoken to anyone since Sunday morning, when he remembered stumbling into the common room and saying a few words to Albus, about what he couldn't remember. After waking several hours later, he had found himself on one of the armchairs in the common room, his head throbbing and his stomach churning, and had managed to drag himself up to bed before anybody tried to talk to him. He spent the rest of the in bed, fighting off fits of wakefulness and then retreating back to sleep to escape his shame and his hangover. When he woke on Monday, he had no intention of going to class: he would pretend to sleep and then, once he knew that the corridors would be empty, he would go to the kitchens in search of food.
But he couldn't stick to that resolution: his mind was too focused on the argument with Finlay two days earlier, on the look on Finlay's face when they fought, on the way Finlay had grabbed a fistful of his robes.
He ate breakfast alone in the empty Great Hall, filling his gnawing stomach with everything he could to make up for forty-eight hours of emptiness. The thought of arriving late to class made his skin crawl: not because he cared about missing class, but because he knew all eyes of the pitying students would be upon him. This reluctance, however, was matched by his eagerness to speak to Finlay, and so when he arrived at the classroom for Defence Against the Dark Arts he didn't hesitate and wrenched the door open.
Professor Doge had been mid-lecture, writing on the chalkboard, and when the door opened he turned to look at James. James recognised it immediately – the pity on the professor's face.
'Mr Potter,' said Professor Doge, gentler than he usually would when a student arrived half an hour late to class, 'nice of you to join us. Care to tell me where you've been?'
On any other day, he probably would have had a more curated response, but today his only thoughts were of reconciling with Finlay. 'I overslept, Professor.'
Professor Doge gave a sigh. 'Well, I appreciate your honesty. We're continuing with last week's discussion on long-lasting protective charms. Take a seat and turn to page 234.'
He then returned to his lecture, and James started across the classroom. He could feel the eyes of his classmates turn to look at him, the same pitying gazes repeated all across the room, but he refused to meet of them. There was only one set of eyes not upon him: Finlay was sitting at the back of the classroom with their dorm-mates, Linus Stebbins and Julian Jiang, and James hurried over to join them.
'Good game on Saturday, James,' Julian whispered to him as he took a seat.
'Shit luck about what Longbottom did, mate,' Linus offered in condolence.
James ignored them both. He wasn't going to take any of their pity – he had no need for it. He dropped into a seat beside Finlay, but the beater gave him no acknowledgement: he kept his eyes fixed ahead, taking down notes from the chalkboard, ignoring James with such a ferocity that James knew it must be taking all of his attention.
'Morning,' James hissed at him. 'What page were we on?'
It was a pointless question – James had no intention of turning to the correct page, and even if he did it wouldn't have mattered because he hadn't bothered to bring any of his books. He had only wanted to prod Finlay into speaking to him. Finlay, however, gave no sign of hearing.
'Fin,' James tried again, 'I didn't bring my books. Can we share?'
Once again he received no response, and he felt his chest pang with anger and hurt and frustration. He wanted to grab Finlay by the shoulders and force him to look at him, but his pride wouldn't allow it. Instead, he merely reached for Finlay's book and tried to ease it closer to him.
The reaction was immediate: Finlay placed his palm on the book, pinning it in place so James couldn't take it.
'Oi,' James whispered at him, 'do you mind –'
'Don't,' warned Finlay, still refusing to look at him.
'Fin, I don't have my book.'
'I don't care,' Finlay hissed back. 'Borrow somebody else's.'
In all their years of friendship, in all their rows and their quarrels and all of the things James had done to infuriate him, this was a first from Finlay. Neither of them had the determination to hold grudges, and their arguments were usually forgotten about the next day.
James, therefore, had to improvise how to respond. He rolled his eyes, smiling, but Finlay wasn't looking at him, so he had to add a huff of laughter to tell the beater that he wasn't going to take him seriously. 'Honestly, Fin, don't be so dramatic-'
Finally, Finlay looked at him, and it was the first time James had seen his bright, brown eyes absent of any warmth. 'You're not worth my time right now,' Finlay said to him in a low voice. 'You're too exhausting. Our exams start in a month. You can talk to me again when it's over.'
James cast a look at the classmates sitting close to them. He knew Linus and Julian were within earshot and could sense the curious glances they were sending their way, and his need to hold onto his pride forced him to keep his voice light.
'Fin,' he began, trying to sound amused, 'you're not serious-'
'I am serious,' warned Finlay. 'When I want to speak to you, I'll come to you. Until then just leave me alone, okay?'
James could feel the panic rising in his chest. 'Finlay, come on…'
'Mr Potter and Mr Jordan,' came Professor Doge's voice from the front of the room. 'You should be taking this down. Don't make me separate the two of you.'
'I'm sorry, professor,' replied Finlay. 'I'll move seats.'
James knew Doge hadn't really intended to separate them, but he nonetheless gave Finlay an approving nod, before he returned to writing on the chalkboard.
James watched as Finlay gathered up his quill and his books, and then Finlay get to his feet and start away from him, and it was if he was watching him walk away for the last time, and he remembered the way he had felt as a child when his parents left him alone in his dark bedroom telling him to go to sleep.
And James knew that was that: Finlay didn't need him that way James needed him. Finlay had other friends, other people that he was close to, in a way that James didn't. It was hard not to like Finlay – because he was gentle and kind and just – while it was easy not to like James, because James was none of those things.
People certainly liked James, or at least liked his company: they liked his dramatics and his boisterousness and his carelessness and roguishness, and James knew people liked this, and he coveted it. He knew people would have liked to call him their friend, regardless of whether they liked him or not, but James knew deep within himself that if he was going to list his friends, he could only truthfully list one person.
And now that one person was done with him.
'I can't do it anymore,' Albus proclaimed.
Scorpius looked up from his History of Magic textbook, raising his eyebrows. 'Do what?'
'Study. I'm going in insane. I woke up about three times last night because I kept dreaming that I was late for my exam.'
'I dreamt that you got kicked off you Quidditch team and then I had to fill in for you in the final,' mused Scorpius, 'and all your cousins were yelling at me and telling me that I didn't belong on the team. Is this symbolic or something?'
'I don't know, ask Chandra,' dismissed Albus impatiently, clearly eager to return to the topic of himself. 'I don't even know why I'm bothering studying, you know? I know I'm going to fail all my exams. I should just throw myself off of the astronomy tower and be done with it.'
'Don't do that. Then who will I have to distract me from my essay?'
Albus gave him a venomous look. 'That was a very Rose thing to say.'
Scorpius returned the look, but with more venom. 'Take that back.'
'No, I will not,' said Albus. 'And don't act like that bothers you. You two are friends now. Just accept it.'
This, finally, made Scorpius set down his quill and shut his book, which he knew was Albus's intention, but he couldn't allow such an inflammatory accusation to go unchallenged. 'No, we are not. I'm just trying to be civil with her because you keep telling her to come study with us.'
Albus shrugged. 'Well, what would you have me do? Tell her not to come? She's the only thing stopping me from failing my Defence exam.'
'I could help you with your Defence revision, you know,' said Scorpius callously. 'I got an O on my last essay from Professor Doge.'
'Yes, you've told me,' said Albus. 'Several times, actually.'
'Oh, shut up. I'm ignoring you now until I finish my essay.'
Laughing, Albus held his hands up in surrender. 'Okay, okay, fine. I need to go meet Mei anyway.'
At this, Scorpius looked up, annoyed. 'Oh, so you're leaving me here with Chandra and Rose?'
For the last couple of weeks, as their OWLs drew nearer, he and Albus had taken to spending their afternoons in the library for study sessions. Study sessions was a generous term, as it usually deteriorated into games of exploding snap or discussions about the Quidditch final between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor or planning for the summer break. To combat these deviations, Albus had begun inviting Rose and Chandra along, as if he believed Scorpius would study harder to try to outdo Rose which, Scorpius was ashamed to admit, worked quite well.
'Oh, come on,' sighed Albus. 'You've been studying with them pretty much every afternoon since the last Quidditch match. You can't pretend to hate them.'
'I don't hate them, but you're the glue,' said Scorpius glumly. 'I don't know what to talk to them about when you're not here.'
'Well, that's good – that's the point of studying. You're not supposed to talk,' said Albus. 'And anyway, you seemed to have a lot to say to Rose after the Quidditch match.'
This wasn't the first time Albus had attempted to probe into what it was he and Rose talked about when he wasn't around, but Scorpius had no interest of discussing this with Albus – partly because a large topic of conversation was their dislike for Mei Zhao.
'I told you,' he said impatiently. 'I just went with her to get a drink from the party.'
Albus gave him an I don't believe you kind of smile, and he looked like he was going to inquire but, luckily for Scorpius, it was at that moment that Chandra appeared. She arrived in a flurry of sleek black hair and stray parchment, collapsing into the seat beside Albus.
'Oh my goodness,' she sighed, 'I've had the worst day.'
Scorpius refrained from rolling his eyes. It seemed Chandra reported to them that she had had the worst day rather frequently.
Albus, however, never seemed to share Scorpius's frustration with Chandra. 'What happened?' he asked.
Chandra gave a bracing sigh, before she launched into an explanation of how she couldn't manage to curl her hair properly that morning, which made her late for divination, which made Firenze reprimand her, which she hated because she adored Firenze, to have it topped off with being given a merciless amount of homework from Professor Blotts for Potions.
'That sucks,' said Albus in consolation. 'I can help you with Potions, if you like.'
Chandra turned wide, praising eyes to Albus. 'Oh, thank you, Al. You're so sweet. Oh, I'm being such a brat… I didn't even ask you how your days were.'
Scorpius gave a huff of annoyance. He had become familiar with Chandra's apologies in this manner, though it didn't stop her repeating the offence. He often thought of reporting this vagueness and self-interest to Zaina, who he knew would have appreciated, but the prospect of it made him feel too guilty. Rose and Albus never seemed to share in his annoyance for Chandra, and he could only surmise it was because Chandra never intended to be careless.
'Oh, mine was fine,' Albus told her. 'Although this revision is killing me. I keep having these dreams about being late to my exam, and then I go running through the school and I can't find the classroom, and then when I finally get there they tell me I can't go in because I'm too late.
'Oh my God, me too,' squealed Chandra. 'Everyone in my dorm is getting so mad at me. Apparently I keep talking in my sleep about how I've forgotten my parchment and I need to go get it before the exam starts.'
'Well, I think the examiners provide the parchment, so at least we can cross that one off the list,' said Albus.
Chandra nodded. 'Yeah, that's what Rose said.'
'Where is Rose?' asked Scorpius. 'I thought she was coming after Ancient Runes?'
'Oh, she should be here,' said Chandra, as she begun to unpack her book-bag, withdrawing from it the square of folded silk that Scorpius had grown familiar with. 'We can do our spreads while we wait for her. Who wants to go first?'
When Scorpius had first been introduced to Chandra's tarot cards, he had responded with derision, but after several warning looks from Albus and outright insults from Rose he had learnt to tolerate it, and had even allowed her to do a reading for him a few times. He was beginning to realise that his life was far easier when he didn't go out of his way to irk Rose.
'I will,' said Albus. 'I should go soon and meet Mei.'
Scorpius watched Chandra shuffling her cards and, just as she lay them before Albus, Rose arrived. She took a seat beside Chandra, the farthest from Scorpius she could be: he was used to this, though it still irritated him.
'Hi, Rosie,' said Albus as he cut the tarot deck. 'How was Ancient Runes?'
'Painful,' replied Rose tersely. 'Here's the book you wanted.'
She reached into her book-bag and placed a heavy-looking book on the table before Albus. The cover read Acing Your OWLs: How to Stay Calm and Keep Studying.
'You wouldn't believe how pleased my mum was when I asked for it,' said Rose, sounding grumpy. 'She's been waiting sixteen years for this bloody book and I told her I'd never read it, and now thanks to you she thinks I've caved.'
'Don't worry, I'll tell her it's for me,' Albus promised her, watching Chandra arrange the tarot cards into a spread.
As their OWLs approached, Albus and Chandra had taken to putting in requests with Rose to have her mother mail them books on whatever topic they had at hand, and it appeared Hermione Granger had a book on everything.
As he had watched the influx of books arriving by owl, he had conjured an image in his head of Rose and her parents in their regal London home. He had imagined Rose inside it, strolling through corridor after corridor of the huge house plucking books off of neat, oak bookshelves, and settling down in an armchair in a white-walled sitting room filled with light.
Thinking of this – the pretty house in Islington full of sun and books - made him annoyed with Rose, and though he knew it wasn't fair he relished the angry feeling. Rose liked to believe that she had been dealt a harsh hand when it came to families, but in truth it wasn't nearly as hard as his own, and her doting mother mailing books to Hogwarts seemed to prove that. Because come the end of June, Rose would return to London with her adoring, angelic parents, while he would return to the cold emptiness of Malfoy Manor, with his skulking father and a new sibling he didn't want and his mother, who in his head was growing sicker and sicker as she grew closer and closer to having the baby.
'It's a ridiculous book, you know?' Rose informed him. 'The time you spend reading it could be better spent actually revising for your OWLs.'
'Yes, Rosie, I get it: you're very smart and you don't fall apart under pressure,' said Albus. 'We're very proud of you.'
'Ooh, the Four of Cups,' said Chandra as she turned over the first card in Albus's spread. 'That means restriction and contemplation. It must be talking about your studying, Albus.'
'Wow, now we all know that Albus has been studying,' said Scorpius. 'Thank goodness for these cards. They sure are a window into the unknown.'
'Chandra believes in tarot, you believe playing Quidditch makes you interesting,' said Rose coolly. 'We all live with our misconceptions.'
Ignoring them, Chandra turned over the second card. 'Oh, and the Magician. That means skill and concentration. See, Al, your revision is paying off, you know?'
As Chandra continued with her reading, Scorpius picked up the book Rose had delivered to Albus. He flicked through the pages, not because he was interested but as an excuse to raise the topic with Rose. 'How come you'll give Albus whatever ridiculous book he asks for, but you haven't let me borrow any books since Mrs Dalloway?'
'Because my mum trusts Albus,' replied Rose.
'Well, can't you just tell her they're for you?'
She sighed. 'What will I get in return?'
'You can borrow my Defence notes,' he offered. 'I got an O on my last–'
'Yes, you got an O on your last exam,' finished Rose. 'I'm aware. We're all aware.'
Scorpius could see Albus start to laugh at this, and he glared at him. 'Well, it's better than what you got.'
'How do you know what I got?' she demanded.
'I saw it on your paper when they were handed out. It was an E.'
'Scorpius, that's really sad,' said Rose, opening up her textbook. 'Do you not have anything better to do than take note of who scored below you so you can use it as a bartering tool to borrow books? Books you could just buy yourself, none the less.'
'I can't buy them! They're for Muggle Studies! We have to compare Muggle literature, and as I've already explained neither of my parents would go to a Muggle bookshop.'
'Oh, I could have my grandmother buy them for you,' said Chandra. 'She's a Muggle. She wouldn't mind.'
Scorpius didn't have a good reason to refute this offer, so he sufficed to say. 'No, that's not the point. The point is Rose should lend them to me. Come on, Rose, I can give them back as soon as I've read them.'
Rose let out of huff of frustration. 'Alright, fine, I'll do it if you promise to be quiet while I'm trying to read, okay?'
'Woah, Chandra,' said Albus, grinning. 'Did you hear that? Rose is lending Scorpius a book. She's actually doing something nice. Do you think she's alright?'
'Oh, Rosie's always nice,' said Chandra fondly.
'To you, maybe,' said Scorpius, before he turned back to Rose. 'I need Brave New World and 1984 and, if she has something, I need to write about Muggle transportation. Like, a book on cars or aeroplanes or something like that.'
'I don't think my mother has any books on cars,' drawled Rose, as if he had just insulted her, 'but I can probably get the novels. But then I want to borrow two of your books.'
'You don't make these two barter when you loan them books,' he retorted, casting an accusatory hand at Albus and Chandra.
'Albus and Chandra aren't as annoying as you,' said Rose. 'It's my final offer.'
Reluctantly, Scorpius agreed, just as Chandra turned over the last card in her spread. 'Look, the Three of Swords.'
'That one's bad, right?' said Albus. 'It means like – grief or something, right?'
'There are no bad cards, Al,' Chandra told him, as if he had just suggested that the sky was red. 'They're just trying to inform us of different things – what's coming and how we're going to feel about it. And we can use that to prepare ourselves and make peace with it before it happens. So perhaps you might come across a question in your exam you haven't prepared for…'
Albus gave a heavy grown and slumped his head down on the table. 'Stop. You're making me relive my nightmares.'
'No, Al, really,' said Chandra, patting his arm soothingly. 'I'm doing the reading and I don't think it means anything bad, okay? In fact – in fact I think it's telling us how… how we're all going to miss each other once we go home for the summer, okay?'
'Albus, it's a slip of paper,' Scorpius told him. 'The time you just spent doing the tarot reading, you could have continued revising and then you'd have one less question you're unprepared for.'
Albus ignored him, however, continuing to bury his face in his arms. It was only when a new voice said his name that he looked up.
'Albus?'
It was Mei. She had arrived at the table, standing behind Albus, her arms folded. She was surveying the situation – Chandra patting Albus's arm and the tarot cards spread out of the table – with distaste.
'Oh, hi,' said Albus brightly, standing to kiss her cheek. 'Sorry, I lost track of time – were you waiting for me?'
'Well, yes,' said Mei, and then she looked around at Albus's study companions. 'Hello, you three.'
'Hi, Mei,' said Chandra brightly.
Scorpius merely gave her a half-hearted wave, while Rose ignored her completely.
'Albus, shall we go?' Mei asked her boyfriend.
'Yeah, I need a break from studying,' said Albus, and he began to gather up his things. 'We're going to go for a walk by the lake. Would you three want to come?'
He said this casually, though Scorpius knew it was orchestrated. He could understand Albus's motivation. Mei seemed to have been avoiding her boyfriend's friends since the spat they had had two weeks ago, and surely it would be much easier on everyone if he could get his two best friends and his girlfriend to be civil with each other. He had done much the same by trying to force Rose and Scorpius to be friends. In this case, however, Scorpius felt that it was a losing battle; he himself was reluctant to be friends with Mei, and if he was reluctant he could only imagine Rose was hellbent against it.
Despite this, Chandra responded with the same eagerness she had for most things. 'Oh, yes, it's such a lovely day. It would be wonderful to spend it outside.'
Mei was looking unhappy with such a suggestion, but Albus nodded appreciative and said, 'Rose, Scorpius, will you guys come too?
'I'm studying,' said Rose flatly.
'Come on, you can do that later,' Albus insisted. 'Scorpius, what about you?'
The desperation in Albus's eyes was too much for Scorpius to handle, and so before he gave himself too much time to think he shut his book. 'Yeah, alright.'
Albus's surprise was clear on his face, but he recovered quickly and grinned. 'Cool. Alright, well… I guess we'll see you later, Rosie.'
'Bye,' was all Rose said.
Albus and Chandra gathered up their revision notes and started towards the exit with Mei. Scorpius made a show of struggling to fit everything into his book-bag until he was convinced the other three were out of earshot. He looked down at Rose, who was pretending not to notice he was still there, poring over her textbook with her bouncy red hair trailing against the pages.
He stooped down to say at her, 'Do me a favour and come with us.'
Rose looked up at him, blinking her brown eyes slowly, faux clueless. 'Oh? And why would I do you favour? I believe I'm already doing you one by getting you the books.'
'Okay, not me. Do Albus a favour.'
'And what's that favour?'
'Make him feel like he can pretend he's a normal person whose best friend can be civil to his girlfriend.'
'Well, then he should have chosen a less irritating girlfriend.'
'Or a less irritating best friend, perhaps?' suggested Scorpius.
'I don't think he finds you that irritating.'
'I meant you,' he told her, scowling. 'Look, come on. Don't leave Chandra alone with the two of them. Mei's always rude to her and she never stands up for herself.'
At this, Rose gave a sigh. 'Alright, fine. But I'm doing it for Chandra – not for Al and certainly not for you.'
She quickly gathered up her books and they set off across the library. Once in the corridor, they caught sight of Albus, Mei and Chandra ahead of them, and started after them.
Scorpius realised, as they walked, that this was the first time that they had been alone together since the Quidditch match two weeks ago. This wasn't because of his own design, but Rose had a funny habit of slipping away if there was any suggestion that she may be left alone with him.
'You excited to see your parents tomorrow?' he asked her.
Tomorrow was the second of May, and there was a sense of anticipation around the school. The memorial was treated by most of the student body, particularly the older students, as a day off: attendance at the memorial was expected, but not enforced, and it was easy to hide in common rooms and dormitories and enjoy the absence of classes.
Scorpius knew, however, that Rose and her cousins were not afforded the same opportunity. Their parents would all be arriving at the school tomorrow, along with all the families of the Order and those who fought in the war. Although Scorpius had never met Rose's mother, interviews he had read and Rose's own testimony made him sure that she wouldn't allow her daughter to miss the service.
When he posed this question to her, he heard her give a soft groan. 'No. It's always so bloody depressing, and my parents take it so seriously every year, and my mum always cries after she gives her speech, and I never know what to say when people are crying.'
'Yeah, well, nobody does,' said Scorpius. 'I usually just like… pat them on the head and hope for the best.'
Rose frowned at him, but she looked amused. 'Pat them on the head?'
'Well, metaphorically,' he said. 'Come on, you must look forward to seeing them a little. They're coming up from London – all the way from Wales.'
Rose rolled her eyes. 'Oh, God, not that joke again.'
'Oh, come on, you enjoy it,' he told her.
'I really can't express how much I don't like it,' she told him.
They had reached the entrance hall now, and Chandra, Mei and Albus were striking distance ahead. They could have caught up to them now if they wanted, but Scorpius felt himself hanging back and could sense Rose was doing the same. Although he wouldn't admit it to Albus, Rose was a much better walking companion than Mei.
'Will your parents come?' Rose asked him.
He gave a laugh. 'I think you know the answer to that.' She gave him a curious look, and he continued. 'Come on, it's reported in the Prophet every year. A nice little article snuck into the back – Where is Draco Malfoy today? Draco Malfoy absent from the Second of May Memorial. I'm sure that doesn't go unnoticed by your parents. What do that have to say about it?'
Rose gave a shrug. 'I don't know. I've sort of stopped listening to what my parents have to say about things.'
'Such a rebel, you are.'
'Clearly,' she said as they left the entrance hall and stepped into the bright courtyard. 'And what about you? I don't remember ever seeing you there.'
'I went in first year,' he told her. 'And… I don't know. Perhaps I was being self-involved, but I kept feeling that day like people were watching me… Like, looking at me like it was my fault.'
'That is very self-involved,' she agreed. 'Nobody cares what some kid is doing at a memorial. There are a lots of Death Eater's kids at school. The world doesn't revolve around you, you know.'
'I know that, Rose,' he said grumpily. 'I'm not saying it makes sense. I'm just telling you why I don't go. Can you get off my back?'
'God, relax,' she sighed. 'All I was saying if that if you want to go you should.'
'Yeah, you make it sound so appealing. If even you find it depressing must be really fucking depressing.'
'What's that supposed to mean?' she asked.
'Well, you're not exactly… sensitive, are you?'
'I can be,' she said, and he was surprised to hear a defensiveness in her voice. 'I just don't like having to go every year. I mean, obviously it's important, and obviously the Order deserves our respect. My dad's brother died and… and it's sad to see my dad sad. But my family is so… it's still so raw for them, even after all this time, and when I can't match their level of grief I feel kind of… fucked up.'
'It's not fucked up,' he assured her. 'Your parents probably don't want you to feel as sad as they do, you know?'
She gave a shrug. 'I don't know. My parents are weird.'
Once through the courtyard, they followed the path of trodden-down grass towards the lake, following Chandra, Albus and Mei at a distance. Trudging through the overgrown grass left them out of breath, and so they didn't talk as they walked. He wasn't in a hurry to reach them, and he took his time down the slope, and it seemed Rose was doing the same. They walked in stride, leaving a few feet's distance between then, and he was content with their silence.
The dark green grass of spring was paling a little as summer approached, but the Hogwarts grounds were alight with colour. Dotted around them were wildflowers, the brightest of which was the violet of the bluebells, and he remembered the flower he had given Rose that she had promised to press for him.
He wondered how long it took to press flowers – surely it couldn't take this long? Perhaps she had forgotten, and he ought to remind her about it, but the thought of doing so was humiliating. He felt that, on that evening, he had let her into something private – ugly and dark and secret that he knew he couldn't reclaim, so he may as well bury it and hope she did too. Of all the people he could have chosen to confide in, he didn't know why he had selected Rose Weasley.
He glanced up to make sure they were still following the right path, and saw that Albus, Mei and Chandra had chosen to sit by the shore of the inky black lake. As he drew nearer, he saw that Chandra had once again drawn out her tarot cards and had apparently roped an unhappy-looking Mei into a reading.
'Oh, the Three of Swords,' Chandra was saying as Rose and Scorpius sat down on the grass on either side of her. 'Albus got that today too – you two are so connected!'
'Perhaps you didn't shuffle the deck well enough,' said Mei.
'Oh, yes, maybe,' said Chandra, nodding.
At the disheartened look on Chandra's face, Scorpius suddenly felt a flush of annoyance at Mei. Was that how he sounded when he teased Chandra?
Chandra, however, shook off the uncertainty and moved onto the next card. 'The Knight of Pentacles. Oh, I can see that in you, Mei. Albus tells me your birthday's January seventeenth, is that right?'
Mei looked taken aback by this, and she cast Albus a questioning look, and he gave a shrug. She turned back to Chandra. 'Yes, that's right.'
'So you're a Capricorn, and Capricorn and Pentacles' element are Earth,' Chandra explained. 'And the Knight of Pentacles represents efficiency and careful planning. Yes, I think that's definitely you.'
'Right,' said Mei. 'I see.'
'Ooh!' said Chandra brightly, as if in revelation. 'Do you know what time you were born? I should do a natal chart for you. I've done them for Rose and Albus and it tells you so much.'
'Oh… I'm not really sure,' mumbled Mei.
'Oh, well, that's okay,' said Chandra, a little forlorn. 'What about you, Scorpius?'
'No idea,' he said flatly, until he saw the warning look Rose was giving him, and then he added, 'But I'll ask my mum next time I write to her.' And to annoy Rose, he said to her, 'What does Rose's say?'
From the corner of his eye he saw Rose cast him a venomous look, but he managed to disguise his smirk as an interested smile.
'Well,' said Chandra, thrilled that he was interested, 'she's Libra Sun with an Aries Moon – obviously. That's what makes her so temperamental. And a Virgo Ascendant.'
'Right. And Albus?'
'Al's a Libra too, but his Moon and Ascendant are in Cancer. Can you believe that?'
'Wow, Al,' said Scorpius, giving him a clap on the back. 'Moon and Ascendant in Cancer? Well, I'll be damned. I had my suspicions.'
'I know, it blew me away,' said Albus. Perhaps sensing Mei's patience was running short, he said instead, 'So, are you three going to come to the World Cup this year? Mei and I are going and we were thinking we could all camp together.'
'Oh, yes!' trilled Chandra. 'That sounds fun! Will you come, Rosie?'
Rose gave a shrug. 'My dad doesn't give me much choice in the matter. He makes our whole family go every year.'
'He doesn't make you go, Rosie,' corrected Albus. 'It's not like he puts a wand to your head. Come on, we have a good time when we go with Xan and Fred and stuff.'
'Do we? You spent all of last year in your tent crying over Cassandra.'
Albus immediately turned pink, and shot a nervous glance towards Mei, but Mei seemed unbothered. She said instead, 'I love going. I don't play much myself, but it's great to see players with so much skill.'
'Will you go, Scorpius?' asked Chandra.
He gave a shrug. 'I don't know. We usually do but… I don't know. My mum's – er – having a baby in July, so…'
He had, of course, confided in Zaina, Rose and Albus about his mother's pregnancy, but never had he shared that news so publicly. He reasoned, however, that if he was to continue to be friends with Albus then by extension that made him friends with Chandra and Mei, and they were bound to find out sooner or later. He said it as quickly as he could, as if hoping they would miss it, but of course they didn't.
Chandra gave a shriek of delight and clapped her hands to her mouth. 'Oh, Scorpius, that's so exciting!'
'Congratulations,' said Mei.
'Is it a boy or a girl?' asked Chandra eagerly.
He knew that this would happen whenever he shared the information, and he knew he wouldn't be able to feign excitement. 'I don't know. I don't know much about it, really.'
Chandra looked like she had more questions, but before she could ask them Albus interrupted.
'Well, if your parents don't go you can come with me,' he told Scorpius. 'If you don't mind sharing a tent with James. It's not too bad. Finlay usually stays with us so he keeps James in line. Although, seeming they're not talking maybe that won't happen this year…'
Albus then launched into a recount of all the annoying things James had done while sharing a tent with Albus over the years the Quidditch World Cups: bringing back newly made and thoroughly drunk friends to the tent at three in the morning to "keep the party going"; having a loud and visceral argument with an equally drunk Teddy about who was England's best Chaser; sneaking in girls from school and assuring them noisily, 'don't worry, my brother's asleep'.
Scorpius nodded along, feigning interest, but of course Albus had already told him these stories, and Albus had already extended the offer of camping together. Scorpius knew what Albus was doing: changing the topic from his mother to spare Scorpius having to talk about it, and in that moment Scorpius swelled with gratitude.
'I imagine the security at the Cup will be extreme this year,' said Mei. 'And of course that's necessary, but it might not be as fun as in other years.'
'Well, if it ends up being a let-down you could all come stay at my place for a few nights in the summer,' said Chandra. 'It's in Cornwall, right by the beach. We'd have plenty of room for you all.'
'That's really nice, Chandra,' said Albus. 'That would be great.'
Scorpius saw Albus give Mei a questioning look, and she said quickly, 'Oh, yes. I'd … that would be great.'
Grinning, Albus looked at Scorpius. 'What about you?'
Scorpius tried to imagine it: stuck in a house with Chandra, Mei and Rose in Cornwall. In all honesty, it sounded like he was setting himself up for disaster, but the look of genuine excitement on Albus's face made it hard to say no. It seemed that Albus was delighted that, for seemingly the first time, his friends were getting along with Mei, and Scorpius wasn't going to ruin it. He needed an excuse.
'I don't really go to the beach,' was all he could think to say.
'Too many commoners?' asked Rose.
'Well, you should come this year,' Chandra assured him. 'Cornwall's beautiful.'
Albus perhaps sensed that the prospect of coming to Cornwall wasn't appealing to Scorpius, and to curtail the conversation he said, 'Anyone fancy a game of exploding snap? I brought my cards down.'
Scorpius knew that this was Albus's plea to stop any further debates or arguments amongst the group, and it seemed Rose knew this too, for she agreed to the game without further argument.
And so that was how they spent the evening of the first of May: on the shore of the Hogwarts Lake, playing game after game of exploding snap with Rose Weasley, Mei Zhao and Chandra Thomas, and Scorpius knew, much to his own dismay, that it was looking increasingly likely that this would be how he would spend some of his summer.
Sometime in the early hours of the second of May, storm clouds had rolled in over the clouds and began drizzling over the Hogwarts grounds. The blue sky and warm weather from yesterday had been replaced by a sheets of grey and a chilling breeze.
He had the window open, and the rain was coming in, but he didn't care. He stood slumped at the windowsill, cigarette in one hand and a bottle of firewhiskey in the other, watching the black lake in the distance ripple as the storm got heavier.
The memorial would begin, as it always did, with the procession of veterans through carriages to the Quidditch pitch – the Great Hall wasn't large enough to accommodate all of the attendees. There, the veterans would meet students and members of the public and pack into the stands of the pitch, and the service would begin. They would be afforded some shelter from the rain while in the Quidditch stands, but that would be followed by the slow march towards the Hogwarts lake, where wreaths made of vines and flowers would be laid in the water, one for each life lost in the battle.
He was going to get fucking soaked.
He stubbed out the butt of his smoke on the windowsill and left it in the corner where a collection of soggy cigarette ends had been accumulating, and then withdrew his rolling tobacco and lit another cigarette.
He didn't know if he felt like another cigarette. He didn't really feel like anything anymore. It seemed that all of things he liked (all of the things that made school tolerable like Quidditch, the duelling club, his friendship with Finlay) had slipped away.
He had woken that morning, as he did every morning, with the same drumming mantra that had plagued him for years.
What's the point? What's the point? What's the point?
There had never really been any point, he reasoned, but there had always been things to distract from that. And now there was nothing.
He heard the door of his dormitory open and he looked around, hopeful, just as he did whenever he heard movement in the dormitory lately. But it wasn't Finlay – it was only Linus Stebbins and Julian Jiang returning from breakfast.
'Morning,' greeted Julian.
'Morning,' replied James.
'Mate, do you have to smoke in here?' asked Linus. 'It stinks.'
James raised his flask of firewhiskey. 'You can't expect me to drink without a cigarette.'
You're drinking?' asked Julian. 'Aren't you supposed to be going to the memorial?'
'Jules, that's why I'm drinking,' said James, and he held out the bottle in offering. 'You can join me if you like.'
Linus considered this for a moment, before saying. 'Why not?' He conjured himself a glass and filled it with the offered firewhiskey. 'Aren't you supposed to wear dress robes if you're going?'
James, who was wearing jeans and a baggy Quidditch sweater, gave another shrug. 'I'm a trend setter.'
'Well, I guess what you're wearing is better than dress robes to get rained on,' said Linus. 'Enjoy it.'
'And I suppose you two are going to be up here doing fuck all?' asked James bitterly.
'Well, if Longbottom asks the official line is "studying",' chortled Julian. 'Hey, aren't you going to be late? Sinistra said last night that everyone who wants to attend should be in the courtyard at eleven.'
'What time is it now?' asked James.
'Er… eleven.'
'Damn,' said James, with no regret whatsoever in his voice. 'Guess I better get moving.'
This would be the sixteenth memorial he would attend, and there was very little deviation between each year. They all blurred into one: the procession towards the Quidditch pitch, the rigidity of the audience as he sat fidgeting in his dress robes, the speeches made my Ministry officials and veterans.
This year, however, the process was far more convoluted. Aurors were checking each student as they left the castle, ticking names of the list and prodding them with secrecy sensors. This was sending the first and second years, on whom the novelty of the memorial was still fresh, into a state of exhilaration, and there was a lot of giddy chatter and excitement amongst the crowd as they left the Great Hall.
He walked with Mei, hand in hand, at the front of the crowd, the rain pelting down upon them. He, his cousins and any other children of veterans were expected to arrive at the memorial service first in order to meet the procession that their families would be making up to the Quidditch Pitch. He usually made the walk alone, as Rose had a habit of arriving later to avoid being recognised by members of the public and, in Rose's absence, Chandra would instead walk with her other dorm-mates.
This year, however, Mei had promised to walk with him. It was a simple gesture, and yet one he appreciated immensely. He knew what to expect as they approached the pitch: hundreds of witches and wizards convening to attend the memorial, lining the sides of the pathway, pointing at him and his siblings as they were recognised as Harry Potter's children.
He didn't have as much time to prepare for this as he usually did, as through the heavy rain and the dim light he could only see a few metres in front of him. It was only when he heard calls of greeting and excited whispering start up that he realised they had reached the edge of the crowd around the Quidditch pitch.
'Look!' he heard a witch call in the distance. 'There they are!'
Without realising he was doing it, he tightened his grip on Mei's hand, and in return she gave it a squeeze. He turned to look at her: while the rest of the rain-soaked students were shivering and dishevelled, Mei looked as pristine as always in scarlet dress robes. While he and most of the students their age looked awkward and out of place in their dress robes, they seemed to suit Mei very well.
'Does this happen every year?' she asked him.
'Yep,' he said. 'I'm sorry you had to come with me.'
'I wanted to,' she assured him.
As they hurried towards the Quidditch pitch, he tried his best to ignore the shouts and waves of the public directed at him. As always, there were aurors standing on the side-lines to keep the crowds back, but this year their presence had increased ten-fold. It seemed that there was an auror for every three members of the public.
'There's so much security,' he observed aloud to Mei. 'I wonder if the Reclamation Army threatened to do anything.'
'I'm sure they'd like to, but the school is way too secure,' said Mei. 'I'm sure it wouldn't have gone ahead if there was any danger.'
As the students passed through the members of the public, Albus could see them ducking out here and there to hug their parents. Some of them joined the crowd, choosing to stand with their families, while others continued down the pathway towards the Quidditch pitch.
Albus wondered what it would be like to be part of the former group, and thinking of this he asked Mei, 'Are you going to sit with your parents or your friends?'
'My parents, if I can find them,' said Mei. 'They said they'd try to get near the gate so I can find them easily.'
And certainly enough, as they approached the gate of the Quidditch pitch, they heard their names being called.
'Mei! Albus! Hi!'
They stopped and twisted in their spots, peering through the crowd for Mei's parents. They spotted her step-father, tall and waving at them, and Mei took his hand to lead him over to them.
Albus stood aside as her parents hugged her and then – catching him off guard – they pulled him into a hug as well.
'Good to see you again, Albus,' said Adalric, clapping him on the back. 'How have you been?'
'Er, good thanks,' said Albus. 'How about you?'
'Oh, the same, the same,' said Adalric jovially. 'I hear we're meeting your parents today?'
Albus cast a look at Mei. He didn't realise she had shared their intentions with her parents ahead of time. 'Oh, yeah, I mean… If that's okay.'
'Oh, of course, we're delighted to!' said Yun warmly.
'Seems like we might attract some attention,' said Adalric, sounding amused, and he cast a look around at the witches and wizards standing nearest to them, all of whom were staring at Albus and watching the exchange eagerly.
'Yeah… Sorry about that,' muttered Albus.
'Oh, not at all, darling,' said Yun, and she added quietly. 'You must hate it.'
'Oh, you know…' said Albus awkwardly. 'I'm kind of used to it now.'
Yun gave him a sympathetic smile, before she turned back to her daughter. 'Those robes look lovely on you, darling. How have you been?'
Mei began to recount for her mother her time at school since Christmas, explaining the detail of every exam and paper she had taken since then. Albus stood by, unsure of whether he ought to join in and aware of the eyes upon them.
'Mei tells us that Gryffindor's made the finals,' Adalric said to Albus after a moment, giving him an encouraging smile. 'Are you looking forward to it?'
'Er… kind of,' said Albus, and because he felt he ought to offer more in the way of conversation, he added, 'I get kind of nervous before Quidditch matches. And my brother used to be captain but – er – he's not going to play in the final, and I'm not sure how we'll go without him.'
'If you managed to catch the Snitch once you can manage again,' said Adalric encouragingly.
'Yeah, I guess… Do you like Quidditch?'
'Oh, love it. When Mei was young we'd often go to Quidditch matches together,' continued Adalric. 'Though of course that stopped when she went off to Hogwarts and I started at the Ministry.'
Albus already knew that Adalric worked at the Ministry, but he thought it was a good topic of conversation. 'Oh, you work for the Ministry?'
'Yes, in the Department of Ministry.'
'Do you – er – like it?'
Adalric gave him a smile. 'Oh, you know. I like the work. I work with experimental magic, you see. Creating spells, potions. But… well, let's just say I don't always agree with the management.'
Albus didn't know what to say to this, before Adalric seemed to remember who he was talking to, and the man added, 'Not from Kingsley Shacklebolt, of course. I admire the Minister a great deal.'
'Oh… right,' muttered Albus.
'No, it's the – er – rising stars I have issues with,' said Adalric with a grim smile. 'Mikhael Rowle, to name names.'
'Oh, you… you don't like Rowle?'
'He's been asking us to work on things that we ought not to be working on,' said Adalric. 'Asking for the development of spells that could be used for dark magic.'
Albus's heartbeat quickened. He felt that he ought not to hear this, but he was also eager to learn more. Trying to sound casual, he said, 'Oh… what kind of things?'
Adalric opened his mouth to answer, but stopped himself. When he spoke again, his voice was much more hesitant. 'Well, it's… it's Ministry business. I shouldn't really speak about it.'
'Right… yeah.'
Adalric seemed to survey him, before he said, 'You'll keep that to yourself, won't you, Albus?'
'Oh… Oh, yeah, of course,' Albus assured him.
Adalric gave an approving nod, but he still looked regretful. 'I appreciate that, Albus.'
Albus felt Mei's hand close around his arm, and he turned to see her looking at her watch. 'It's nearly half past eleven. Shouldn't you get to the front with your cousins?'
'Oh, right…'
Albus cast a look towards the gates. Through the rain he could see his cousins huddled together, talking amongst themselves. He could see members of the public straining to get a look at them, waving at Lily in particular, who was standing behind Xan in an attempt to conceal herself. James, however, was conspicuously absent.
He looked back at Mei, her bright eyes watching him, and her parents smiling gently at him. He decided where he would rather be.
'I think I might stay with you guys,' he said. 'If… if that's okay, that is.'
Yun looked surprised, before she smiled again. 'Oh, absolutely, dear. If you'd rather be stuck here with us missing the excitement up there.'
'I'd much rather be here,' said Albus truthfully.
'Albus, are you sure that's alright?' said Mei sternly. 'Your parents will be here in a minute.'
'I can find them afterwards,' said Albus. 'Otherwise I won't be able to find you guys again through the crowd.'
Mei seemed to consider this, hesitant, before she gave a nod. 'Okay.'
'Students, keep moving,' Neville called from the front of the crowd. 'And mind your step – the grass is wet.
Rose rolled her eyes. What a useless warning. It wasn't hard to miss the rain bucketing down upon them. She and the older students had their wands held aloft, casting shield charms in an attempt to keep themselves dry, but the weather was so fierce that the rain was coming in almost horizontally.
'Nice robes.'
She glanced around, surprised to hear the voice of Scorpius Malfoy.
She hadn't heard him approaching over the sound of the rain and hundreds of Hogwarts students, but he had managed to sidle up beside her. Just like her, he had cast a shield charm over his head to keep off the rain, and just like her own it was only partially protecting him from the rain. The ends of his navy-blue dress-robes were drenched and his shoulder-length blonde hair stuck to his neck with water, but he was smiling at her.
'Why are you looking at me like that?' she demanded.
'Nothing, you just look funny all dressed up.' He gestured to the baby-pink dress-robes she was wearing. 'That colour kind of clashes with your hair, don't you think?'
With one hand still clutching her wand, she was unable to fold her arms to show her annoyance. Instead, she sufficed to put her free hand on her hip. The robes she was wearing had been made for someone a lot shorter than her and with a much bigger chest, and she was aware that it was creating the effect that she was swimming in an over-sized shirt. 'They're Chandra's.'
'Ah, I was wondering why they're a foot too short for you,' he said, looking amused. 'Don't you have your own? I thought your mother would have made sure you look presentable for such an occasion.'
'I forgot to pack them. And what are these?' With her wand-free hand, she took a handful of his navy-blue robes and ran it between her fingers. 'Ooh, silk. How luscious. How much did Daddy pay for these?
'No idea, Daddy wouldn't allow his only heir to worry about money,' he replied. 'That sort of nonsense is for people like the Weasleys.'
'Of course. What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you wanted to avoid the thousands of people who have gathered here to get a glimpse of Scorpius Malfoy?'
He gave a shrug. 'I thought I ought to give it another go. Perhaps you're right – perhaps they're not all here to see me.'
'And what are you doing back here slumming it with the commoners?' he asked her as they trudged down the water-logged pathway. 'Shouldn't you be at the front of the crowd waiting to be applauded?'
'I don't like having my picture taken,' she said in explanation.
He raised his eyebrows at her. 'And who would be taking your picture, exactly? No offence, but the robes aren't doing you justice.'
'The press, obviously.'
He frowned. 'I thought the press wasn't supposed to come to the memorial?'
'They're not, but they always do,' said Rose. 'And then there's my stupid face in Witch Weekly.'
'Oh, I see! So the thousands of people here aren't here to see Scorpius Malfoy,' he said, slapping his hand to his forehead in mock revelation. 'They're here to see Rose Weasley! And here I was thinking this was about a memorial or something.'
Scowling, she took a few seconds to choose her words – or as careful as Rose could ever be, which perhaps wasn't careful enough. 'Your self-involvement is delusional. Mine isn't.'
He rolled his eyes. 'Honestly, Rose.'
'Well, I'm sorry, but have you ever had pictures of you and your parents in the Daily Prophet?'
'Well, not the Daily Prophet, but there's sometimes tabloids about my parents in Witch Weekly. We're not important enough for real journalists.' There was a hint of bitterness in his voice, but he seemed not to want to dwell on it, because he said quickly, 'So where have Chandra and Albus gotten to?'
'Probably down at the pitch. They left before me.'
'I see. And have you heard the exciting news?'
She looked at him to see him smirking at her. It would have annoyed her at a time, and it still annoyed her today, but she found herself intrigued. 'And what's that?'
'Albus says he's introducing Mei to his parents today, and then they'll introduce their parents to each other.'
'Yes, so I've heard,' said Rose, and then she sighed. 'I suppose I need to give up on my hope that they're going to be breaking up anytime soon. I should probably get used to having her around.'
'It wasn't so bad yesterday,' he told her, but he didn't sound so certain, and when she glanced at him he saw her watching her, as if waiting for her confirmation. 'I had a good time,' he added.
'What, despite Chandra's tarot readings?' asked Rose. 'How very tolerant of you.'
Scorpius shrugged. 'I don't know. She's alright once you get to know her. I mean, she's exhausting, but she's alright. I think if I'm friends with Albus then I'm going to have to get used to Mei and Chandra. And you, of course.'
'So you'll be coming to Cornwall in the summer, then?'
'Maybe. I hear Ireland's nice this time of year.'
She rolled her eyes. 'Please stop.'
'No, it's funny. You just don't get it. Your knowledge of geography is lacking.'
A clap of lightning sounded overhead and a few of the younger children gave affronted shrieks.
'Keep moving, keep moving,' Professor Fancourt was calling, holding her illuminated wand aloft to guide the students through the rain. 'We're nearly there.'
They were drawing closer the Quidditch pitch now, and along the pathway witches and wizards were coming into view, calling their greetings and waving hello to the students.
Instinctively, Rose bowed her head to avoid being recognised as they passed by the witches and wizards. She had hoped this would go unnoticed by Scorpius, but to her dismay she saw him glance at her. She waited for him to say something mocking – to tell her she was egotist – but it didn't come. Instead, without a word, he stepped ahead of her as if to help obscure her from view.
The teachers were waiting for them at the gate of the Quidditch pitch, directing students to stand on either side of the pathway. At the edge of the gate, veteran's children had been neatly arranged side-by-side. With the Second Wizarding War being as far-reaching as it had been, there were a large number of students whose parents had been Order members, a DA members, or had fought in the Final Battle, and so it took a moment to notice if anyone was as late as she was. Chandra, Finlay, her brother and all of her cousins were already there, spare for (predictably) James and (less predictably) Albus.
Scorpius apparently noticed this too, for he remarked, 'Where's Albus gotten to?'
'Fifty galleons says he's with Mei,' sighed Rose.
Just as she said this, she saw the flash of a camera shine over the faces of the veteran's children. Rose, as well as the teachers, glanced around for the source of the flash, but whichever reporter was responsible had apparently disappeared into the crowd so as to avoid having their camera confiscated.
She turned to Scorpius, giving him an I-told-you-so smile. 'See?'
He gave her a grimace. 'Alright, I'm sorry I doubted you. But don't worry – I'm sure nobody will want to take your photo wearing those robes.'
'Thanks.'
'Or,' he said to her, 'you could stay here and hide from the cameras with me.'
She considered this, before casting a look back at the other veteran's children. She imagined her mother and father stepping out of the carriage as it arrived at the gate and finding her absent, and then she remembered the plunging feeling she had felt as she had opened the Prophet to read the article about her father's return to the Auror Office.
She looked back at Scorpius. 'Okay.'
And together, they stepped off of the pathway to move to the back of the crowd.
The carriage ride from the school's front gate was conducted mostly in silence. It was easy to pretend that this was because of the deafening sound of rain pelting down on the carriage's roof, but he knew it wasn't because of that: they were all too preoccupied with the day ahead of them to speak much.
Hermione and Ron were sitting across from him, their bodies bouncing with the motion of the moving carriage. Between them, their hands were laid on the seat of the carriage, their fingers intertwined.
He looked beside him towards Ginny, who had her hands folded in her lap. She had her back to him as she leant towards the window, her long, red hair falling over her shoulders. He followed her gaze out the window to the castle in the distance, it turrets dark and looming through the rain, the lights flickering in its windows from fires that had been lit to stave off the chilly weather.
It was customary for the veterans to arrive at the school after the members of the public. The Ministry officials and veterans would then be transported from the school's front gates in the school carriages for the veteran's procession to the Quidditch pitch. His carriage would be the last to arrive, as it had for the last twenty-four years since the first memorial. He hadn't wanted such a spectacle, the formality of the procession, but when it became clear how many people would be attending the memorial the Ministry insisted that they needed to structure the day in such a way for the purpose of security.
'I don't want a spectacle,' he had told Kingsley when he was eighteen-year-old.
'People want a spectacle,' Kingsley had replied. 'It gives them a sense of stability. It makes them feel safe.'
Now, it was one of the few days that the Wizarding population got to see Harry in public with the rest of Dumbledore's Army, and they delighted in it. He knew that the majority of attendees weren't here to pay their respects to the fifty lives lost: they were here to Harry Potter, and the thought of it sickened him.
He could hear the sounds of cheering and applause growing louder as they approached the Quidditch pitch, and Ginny pulled away from the window so as not to have them see her through the window. He heard her give a sigh as she leant back in her seat.
It was a tired sigh, and not the kind of tired that came from lack of sleep: it was the type of tired that one acquired from years and years of this kind of life.
'A lot of people this year,' Ron observed as the carriage began to roll through the crowd.
Harry didn't want to look out the window, so he decided to take Ron's word for it.
'I hope Hugo's okay,' said Hermione quietly. 'It's the first year he hasn't arrived with us.'
'Oh, darling, he's fine,' said Ron soothingly, giving her hand a pat. 'He loves the excitement of it. He was always trying to run off in the crowd and now he can finally do it.'
'He better not,' said Hermione seriously. 'We've told the aurors to keep the public back from the school children as much as they can.'
Harry remained silent. He trusted the safety of the school: they had increased the auror presence ten-fold, placed literally hundreds of anti-secrecy spells at the school's gate, and initiated a strict identification system for all attendees. He doubted, however, the ability to keep the students anything close to orderly. The memorial attracted so many people, so much emotion, and so much energy that it was hard to keep track of where anyone was throughout the day.
As the crowd grew louder and the carriage began to slow, Ginny spoke for the first time since they had arrived at the school. 'We're here.'
The carriage came to a halt and the four of them sat in rigid silence, waiting for an auror to open the door of their carriage, which they did after a moment's wait.
Harry watched Ron and Hermione exchange smiles – the same smile he had watched them exchange every year on the first of May. A kind of encouraging, reassuring promise to each other, and then Ron had gotten to his feet to leave first.
As he stood in the carriage's doorway, raising his hand in greeting to the crowd, the cheering intensified. He stepped out of the carriage, guiding Hermione by the hand as she too stepped out, waving.
Harry took a steadying breath, before he extended a hand to Ginny. 'Ready?'
'Yes.'
She ignored his offered hand and got to her feet, stepping out of the carriage, waving at the crowd. This was the first year that she abandoned the display of affection, allowing him to leave the carriage first and then hold her hand as he helped her down the steps just as Ron had done. He knew that the press wouldn't miss that, and in his mind the headlines of tomorrow's Prophet flashed before him.
Trouble in paradise? Ginevra Potter leaves carriage first as she arrives at Hogwarts
It was a ludicrous thing to report on and if somebody had suggested to him twenty years ago that such a thing was going to be pointed to as evidence of his failed marriage, he would have laughed. Now he wasn't so sure.
He stepped out of the carriage to be met with the familiar thundering crowd, waving and calling his name. The flashes of cameras, advised against but not illegal, danced in his glasses. He forced the smile he had learnt to maintain and raised his hand in greeting, before he turned towards the pitch. He didn't want to look at the crowd for longer than he had to.
The Ministry officials were already present, waiting to greet him, and Kingsley stepped forward, flanked by an auror on either side.
The Minister for Magic offered bis hand, and Harry shook it. 'You never quite get used to it, do you?' Kingsley said to him was a wan smile.
'I still don't know if I'm smiling right,' Harry mused.
'Don't worry, you're passing.'
After Kingsley, he moved through the Ministry officials, shaking hands with the Heads of Department and the most prominent Wizengamot members, and then he reached the other veterans who had arrived in earlier carriages. Many of them were his old school mates, warn and greying and shivering in the rain.
Then, at last, he turned to look towards the group of veteran's children standing beside the gate. His in-laws had already arrived in the earlier carriages and reunited with their children, and the Potter-Weasley clan was easy to pick out through the crowd.
He could see Lily in amongst them, standing beside Xan as she spoke to George and Angelina. The thirteen-year-old was wearing the golden robes that she had begged her parents for the previous summer, and Harry could see that since Christmas she had apparently learnt to apply lipstick and eyeshadow. Despite this, drenched from the rain, she still looked tiny.
Lily smiled and waved at him as he met her eye, but he could see, as he had in other years, that she was trying to shrink into Xan's side in an attempt to shield herself from the eager eyes of the public. A hot, sick feeling reared inside him at the sight of his daughter's discomfort.
He waited for Ginny to join his side, and then the two of them crossed over to their daughter. Ginny reached her first, pulling her into her arms with a kind of urgency, as if she was being offered water after walking through the desert.
He allowed them a moment to hug each other while he greeted his nieces and nephews and wished Victoire a happy birthday. Lily had always been closer to her mother than she was to him. They fought more, certainly, but with the fighting came a certain honesty and knowledge of each other that he had never had with his daughter.
When Ginny finally let go of her, Lily turned to him and gave him a hug, much briefer than the one she had given her mother.
'Hi, Lil.'
'Hi, Dad.'
'I've missed you. How are you?'
'Soaked,' she said through gritted teeth. 'Can we get into the seats yet?'
'Soon, I promise,' he told her. 'Where are the boys?'
'I dunno,' said Lily.
He had noticed the absence of his sons immediately, and it had sparked two conflicting emotions. James never missed the memorial, but his lateness was to be expected. The predictability of it riled Harry: it was one day of the year when his children were expected to be mindful, respectful, modest, and James couldn't even manage that.
Albus's absence, however, was more concerning. Albus wasn't one to be late. He could usually be found beside Rose, looking even more uncomfortable than his sister.
Ginny, apparently, was thinking the same thing. 'What about Albus?' asked Ginny. James, apparently, wasn't worth inquiring about. 'You haven't seen him?'
'I just said I haven't,' said Lily, irritated. 'Can I please go inside? I'm freezing.'
'Rose isn't here either,' he heard Hermione's voice at his side, and he turned to look at her. She was still holding hands with Ron with Hugo at her other side.
'That's Rosie for you,' said Ron. 'She's been late before.'
Hermione looked dissatisfied with this. 'Chandra's here, though, and she says she hasn't seen them.'
'She's a teenager, love, it's what they do,' said Ron. 'She and Albus are probably just trying to avoid the crowd.'
Hermione considered this, before saying, 'Lily, Hugo, why don't you go sit in the pitch? There's no point in all of us getting soaked.'
'Can't I help find Rosie?' asked Hugo.
'No, she'll be here soon,' said Hermione. 'You two go with George and Angelina.'
Angelina, who had been within earshot, gave Hermione a knowing nod and placed a hand on Hugo and Lily's shoulders. 'Come on, you two, let's get inside.'
They departed, along with the rest of the family, leaving Harry standing with Ron, Hermione and Ginny. An auror approached them and muttered to Harry, 'Mr Potter, I believe the Minister wants to get everyone inside the pitch.'
'I'm waiting for my sons,' Harry replied. 'You can start bringing the crowd through. I'll wait.'
The auror nodded and raised his wand to signal to his colleagues with a flash of blue sparks from his wand. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny stood aside as, guided by the aurors, the veterans and the Ministry staff were led through the gates to the Quidditch pitch, followed by Hogwarts's students, and finally followed by the public.
'Mum! Dad!'
His heart leapt at the sound of Albus's voice, and he twisted in his spot to see his son, pushing his way through the crowd to reach them. He was looking bedraggled from the rain, but otherwise happy to see them, and Harry's anxiety was immediately replaced with frustration: he thought Albus knew better than to worry him by making him wait.
The aurors who had been standing sentry around the four of them stepped aside to let them through, and Albus stopped to guide three people past the protective wall of aurors. One of them was a tall girl in scarlet robes; the second was a small woman with the same long, black hair as the girl; and the third was a tall, bearded man who was grinning broadly.
When Albus reached them, Ginny seemed to melt into him the same way she had melted into Lily, sinking down to hug him. Albus returned the hug, but didn't tolerate it for as long as Lily, presumably because of the presence the three people he had brought with him.
'Mum, Dad,' said Albus breathlessly, too excited to even hug his father before he spoke, 'This is Mei.'
And he ushered forward the tall girl he had dragged along with him. Harry knew that she was a sixth year, but she looked older and more sophisticated than that. She had high cheek bones and bright skin, and when she spoke her voice had a calmness and confidence that was rare in teenagers.
'Hi, Mr and Mrs Potter,' she said, shaking hands with him and then Ginny. 'It's lovely to meet you at last.'
Ginny seemed taken aback, before she quickly recovered and said, 'Oh, and lovely to meet you two, Mei. You can call me Ginny.'
Mei nodded at this, but Harry was sure she was going to continue calling them Mr and Mrs Potter.
'And this is her mum, Yun, and her stepdad, Adalric,' said Albus.
'Hi, Harry,' said the woman called Yun, and without hesitation she pulled him into a hug, before letting go of him and doing the same to Ginny. 'I'm so pleased we can meet you and – and thank you for what you both did on this day.'
Once, many years ago, Harry would have been used to hearing this, but after losing patient with crowds and interviews both he and Ginny were out of practise with being spoken to so frankly about the war.
They were saved from answering, however, by Yun's husband stepping forward. He had a gentle, kind face and he smiled warmly at them as he shook their hand. 'I'm Adalric Everhart. It's nice to meet you finally. I believe we may have crossed paths at the Ministry…'
'Oh, yes,' said Harry, feigning recognition: he very rarely took notice of anyone at the Ministry. 'You're in the Department of…'
'Mysteries,' said Adalric, seemingly unbothered by Harry's lack of recognition. 'In the Experimental Magic Unit.'
'Right, of course,' said Harry, but something through the crowd had caught his attention.
Two students had apparently hung back from the rest of the school children, dawdling in the back rows, and were now entering the pitch with the last stragglers in the crowd. They were easy to spot because of their hair: crimson and bright blonde. He looked towards Ron to make sure he had seen them too, and Ron gave him a nod before he and Hermione started through the crowd to catch them.
'… and you all should come visit us in Aberdeen over the summer,' Adalric was saying to Ginny. 'We'd love to have you over, and meet your other children.'
'Yes, that would be lovely,' said Harry, not entirely sure what he was agreeing too. 'I'm very sorry, I just need to check in with our head of logistics before the service begins. You should head inside and get out of the rain.'
Knowing he would be punished later by Ginny for his abrupt exit, he placed a hand on Albus's shoulder and muttered to him, 'Can we have a word?'
He didn't give Albus a chance to respond, but merely pushed him forward, steering him away from his girlfriend and her parents. He could feel Albus twist in his grip to look back at Mei, like a puppy being dragged away from its owner, before he looked up at his father.
'Dad,' said Albus, uncertain, 'what are you…'
Harry ignored him and hurried after Ron and Hermione, who were in hot pursuit of Rose and Scorpius Malfoy. He saw them call to their daughter and, bellowing over the rain, on the third time they succeeded in getting her attention. He saw Rose turn to face them and then, seeing who it was, she looked back at the blonde boy beside her.
Harry didn't know what Rose had said, but the Malfoy boy looked back at her parents and then back at her. He seemed to be challenging her, raising a hand in exasperation, but Rose was, as Harry knew, unwavering. She shook her head at Malfoy with an air of finality and the Ravenclaw seemed to relent, pushing his blonde hair back from his face in exasperation, before he leant towards Rose. He muttered something in her ear, something that made Rose glower at him, before he finally turned to go and moved hurriedly through the rain towards the gate.
Harry reached Rose a few seconds after Hermione and Ron did as they were both giving their daughter a hug, but, once they let go of her, Hermione immediately launched into reprimanding her daughter.
'Rosie, what kept you so long?' she asked beseechingly. 'It's a memorial. You shouldn't be wandering off.'
'With the Malfoy boy, none the less,' said Ron.
'How can I be wandering off when I'm here, aren't I?' Rose snapped back, with the usual Rose Weasley drawl.
'Rose, don't be smart with me,' warned Hermione. 'It's not that hard for you to arrive on time. You've held us up –'
'Well then we ought to get inside, oughtn't we?' retorted Rose.
Harry was, not for the first time, grateful that reprimanding Rose wasn't his responsibility.
'Not yet,' said Hermione through gritted teeth, and she shared a glance with Harry and Ron. 'We need to talk to you.'
'To both of you,' Harry added, looking at Albus.
Albus, who had until now looked bewildered, suddenly looked perturbed. 'Dad, we left Mei and her family–'
'They've gone inside now,' said Harry. 'You can see them afterwards.
Not only Mei and her family, but all of the other attendees had hurried inside out of the rain. Apart from a dozen or so aurors standing guard at a distance, they were now the only ones left outside of the Quidditch pitch. Despite the good twenty feet between them and the closest auror, this didn't stop Hermione from withdrawing her wand and casting Muffliato around them.
They had rehearsed this before arriving: he, Ron and Hermione getting Albus and Rose along to talk to them. He hadn't, however, anticipated their lateness or the awkwardness of extracting them from the rest of the group; they had been planning a quiet word when they arrived at the pitch while the rest of the family were preoccupied catching up. He knew Kingsley would be waiting for them before beginning his speech, which put something of a time limit on the conversation, and so he reasoned he ought to dive into it.
'We know what you two have been doing,' said Harry. 'First following the Slytherins to the Shrieking Shack back in January, and then stopping that rogue bludger in March, and then two weeks ago following them to the library.'
Rose and Albus were silent, gazing up at him with wide, blank eyes. Though neither of them looked at each other, Harry could sense a shared indignation between the two of them. He knew that this was how he, Ron and Hermione must had looked once upon a time, and he knew how Albus and Rose would be feeling.
'And we're here to tell you that that's going to be the last of it,' he finished.
It took a moment for either of the teenagers to respond. Albus had never been one to challenge his parents. Even Rose, who he knew had no qualms bickering with Ron and Hermione, had always seemed to consider herself too mature to retort to other adults.
It appeared, however, that this would be the exception.
'If I hadn't followed the Slytherins then you wouldn't have known that the school was connected to the Floo network,' said Rose coolly.
'And if I hadn't gone to the Shrieking Shack then you wouldn't know that August Selwyn was still alive,' added Albus.
'We know, and we appreciate that,' said Hermione, 'but this isn't your responsibility, and by making it your responsibility you're putting yourselves and others in danger.'
'Who else exactly are we putting in danger?' Rose asked curtly.
'How about your old mate Scorpius Malfoy?' asked Ron, and Harry knew he had been waiting to throw that name into the mix. 'Would you like to explain to us why he seems to be skulking around after the pair of you whenever either of you are doing something you shouldn't?'
Rose seemed to hesitate at this, but Albus jumped in. 'He's my friend. He's trying to help us.'
'I'd choose carefully who I choose to confide in,' said Harry. 'You never know what somebody's true motivations are.'
'I know what his motivations are,' insisted Albus. 'He doesn't like the Slytherins any more than we do.'
'Did he tell you that, did he?' asked Ron darkly. 'Very convenient for him to know where you two will be and what you've heard.'
'It is convenient, seeming he's the one who recognised August Selwyn's voice in the Shrieking Shack and realised that bludger was cursed and probably saved Albus's life,' said Rose hotly.
'Look, Scorpius Malfoy is beside the point,' sighed Hermione. 'Our point is that you two are forbidden from trying to put yourselves in the middle of this nonsense, alright? These Slytherins, whatever it is they want –'
'We know what they want,' snapped Rose. 'They want the Elder Wand. And yes, we both know what the Elder Wand is, so don't try and pretend you don't know what we're talking about.'
Harry had expected to be met with the usual roll of eyes he had grown used to with three teenage children, but he hadn't expected to see such a display of vindication from his son and niece. It seemed, in Rose's voice, there was anger at something much deeper than being told not to get involved with the Slytherins.
Hermione seemed to sense this too, for she was taken aback for a moment, before she recovered and said, very sternly, 'Well, perhaps that's what they do want, but they'll be sorry to know that the wand was destroyed before any of them were even born. So this wild good chase they've embarked on is futile and, frankly, not worth your time. They're going to discover sooner or later that they've been misled by a juvenile delinquent trying to make a name for himself, and the two of you traipsing after them trying to be heroes is going to do nothing but add fuel to flames of this ludicrous rumour.'
Her voice had grown shriller as she had continued talking, and after she finished Albus was left looking at her apprehensively.
Rose, however, seemed undeterred, and she bit back quickly, 'It doesn't matter if there's a wand or not, Mum! The point is that somebody's trying to steal it! And they've got powerful people behind them! And instead of pulling the Slytherins out of school to ask them what they know, you're here telling us to behave. We're not children. We're both going to be seventeen in October.'
Albus gave a nod, clearly wanting to show a united front with Rose, and said loudly, 'Yeah!'
'Seventeen or not, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into,' growled Ron. 'And if you don't screw your head on straight, mind your own business, and keep that tone out of your voice then don't think I can't make it so you're home schooled until you graduate, alright?'
The harshness in his voice seemed to surprise all five of them, even Ron. Ron usually left the disciplining to Hermione, preferring to stand back and give his children a wink and a reassuring pat on the back after their mother was finished with them. It seemed, however, that he had reached the end of his rope when it came to Rose.
'Now, we've wasted enough of our time on the pair of you,' snapped Ron, trying hard to maintain the sternness of his voice. 'It's absolutely pissing down and I'm not staying out here a minute longer. Get inside.'
And then to put and end to the conversation, Ron marched forwards towards the gates. Rose, apparently unaccustomed to this new side of her father, looking surprised, before she managed to roll her eyes, fix her freckled face into the most scathing looking Harry had ever seen her manage, and then turn on her heels and start marching towards the gates. Hermione started after her, leaving Albus and Harry to trudge in together behind them.
'So, you and Scorpius Malfoy are friends?' Harry asked him as they walked.
He had asked this lightly, in an attempt to start conversation, but Albus seemed reluctant. He replied through gritted teeth: 'Yes.'
'How did that happen?' he asked his son.
'We had detention together,' said Albus coolly, and then he looked up at his father. 'Why did you have to talk to me about this now? Why couldn't it wait until after you spoke to Mei's parents?'
Harry didn't need to consider this: it had already been decided amongst him, Ron and Hermione. 'There wouldn't have been a chance after the service. Your grandparents and the rest of the family would be with us on the walk to the lake.'
'But they wanted to meet you,' said Albus, and Harry only now realised how riled he sounded. 'And I wanted you to meet Mei.'
'I wanted to meet her too,' insisted Harry. 'And I did meet her. She seems like a very nice girl. But… but these things take precedence.'
As they passed through the gates to the Quidditch pitch, Harry felt Albus turn to look at him. 'What does Mum think about this stuff?'
'What stuff?' asked Harry.
'You know. All of it. August Selwyn, and the Elder Wand, and me and Rose being involved.'
He could feel Albus's eyes upon him, and he turned to meet them. The same bright green eyes that he saw when he looked in the mirror – that he saw whenever he saw a picture of his mother – blinked up at him. He somehow knew that Albus already knew the answer.
'She doesn't know,' Harry told him. 'It would only worry her.'
It was if this was what Albus had been waiting for. His face seemed to harden. They started up the stairs to the stands and Albus muttered to him, 'I didn't think so.'
Like every other year, a stage had been raised in the centre of the pitch for the service with a podium at its centre. At the edge of the stage, fifty wreaths made of tangled vines and spring flowers had been laid out to represent each life lost in the Final Battle. The Quidditch stands had been divided into sections with the veterans and the Ministry officials grouped together in the easterly section, the school students in the centre, and the public to the west. In other years, however, this division was loosely enforced and the public and students mingled in amongst the veterans, but today there was a clear line of aurors separating the groups.
It was customary for Kingsley to make the first speech of the day, and by the time Rose, Harry, Albus and her parents arrived he had already stepped onto the podium. Aurors were hovering around him, casting protective charms to shield him both from the rain and any potential threat from the crowd. Kingsley, as always, seemed unfazed by the fuss as the aurors prepared the podium.
As they stepped under the rafters of the pitch, she was at last shielded from the rain, but she her robes were so soaked through that it didn't do anything to improve her comfort. Her family always sat to the back of the stands and she could see that the other Weasleys and Potters were already seated, Hugo at the centre of them. As she climbed the stairs towards them, her grandparents and aunts and uncles waved animated hellos, which she forced herself to return as she took a seat beside her brother.
'Where were you guys?' Hugo whispered to her as she sat down.
'Don't worry about it,' Rose replied.
Hugo looked rather pleased, and said eagerly, 'Ooh, Rosie's in trouble.'
Rose wrapped her arms around herself, shivering, and turned away from her brother.
She resisted the temptation to announce, loudly and furiously, what had transgressed with her parents. Hugo wasn't an idiot: he had to know of the public conflict between Rowle's supporters and Kingsley's supporters; he had to know what the Reclamation Army was capable of; he had to know that their parents weren't being honest with them. But he was, apparently, still too young to share the same anger with them as she had.
And yet hadn't she been his age when she started to question their secrecy? Perhaps it wasn't a matter of age as so much a matter of character: she was callous, and Hugo was not. She wanted to make him understand how their parents lied – how they expected so much of them and yet treated them like children.
But then how would that look? Her carefully curated façade of apathy, her long-held position of disregard for the Ministry and her parents' work, would disappear and her frustration would be on full display. Her anger at her parents was culminating with her anger at herself for losing her temper in front of them.
'Hello to all of you,' Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice echoed, magically magnified, around the pitch. 'I'm honoured to be with you for the twenty-fourth year as we pay our respects to the lives lost to the tyranny and violence of the Second Wizarding War.'
A hushed, mournful silence fell over the crowd as Kingsley began to speak. It was a familiar feeling: the austerity of the day, the gloominess of the crowd, today seemingly exacerbated by the miserable weather.
But Rose couldn't stay focused on the Minister's speech. Her mind was preoccupied with wondering what Scorpius would say if he could see how angry she was feeling. The satisfied smirk he would give her, the drawl of his that he delighted using on her.
'Oh, so you do care?' he would say. 'I thought that was beneath you.'
She wished she had stayed with him – pretended she hadn't heard the calls of her parents and had just walked away into the Quidditch pitch to disappear into the anonymity with the students like he had. He had been reluctant to leave when they had seen her parents approaching, having wanted to stay and ask them what they knew, but she had told him it was useless, and of course she had been right.
'You should go,' she had warned him. 'They won't say a word about any of this in front of you.'
'But I want to know–'
'No,' she had bit at him. 'Seriously, you don't want to be here. They'll eat you alive.'
He had stared at her for a moment, a knot between his eyebrows, before he had let out a sigh of defeat and run a hand through his hair. 'Fine.' And then he had leant towards her, saying quietly so that her approaching parents couldn't hear, 'Don't forget to ask her if I can borrow those books.'
She never thought Scorpius Malfoy was easy, but she would rather argue with him than with her parents. Scorpius made her feel a lot of things, but at least he didn't make her feel small and stupid and powerless.
She found herself looking for him the grandstands, and after a moment she located him in the back row of the student section. She had expected to find him there, knowing he would want to remain out of sight where he could look over the crowd without being looked at. This put them at the same heigh as each other, allowing her to watch him with only a slight turn of her head, subtle enough to go unnoticed by her parents.
He wasn't looking at her, but was facing forward, his blonde hair dripping from the rain and his grey eyes narrowed in thought. Unlike her, he seemed to be listening intently to what Kingsley Shacklebolt was saying. She expected as much from him and it annoyed her – she ought to be listening too.
She turned back to the front, tuning into Kingsley's words, but she knew she had missed the body of the speech, and there was an air of finality to what he was saying.
'For those of who didn't live through it, we can never truly understand the sacrifices of those who were so young during the war and yet gave so much,' Kingsley's voice echoed around the pitch. 'We can only listen to their stories and keep their bravery and their selflessness in our minds, and let it guide us forward in this time of uncertainty. And so, to share her experiences, wisdom, and insight, I welcome forward Hermione Granger.'
When she was young, she could remember that it was Harry who always gave a speech after Kingsley. He would step onto the podium with his tired eyes and scars, speaking calmly and coolly, but even then she had known that he was somehow distant. She knew that it was because he detested it, and for at least the last five years her mother had stepped forward to take his place.
At Kingsley's introduction, a round applause thundered around the stadium, and from beside her she felt her mother get to het feet. Rose kept her eyes forward, hugging her arms around herself against the cold, as Hermione climbed onto the stadium and raised her wand to her throat to magnify her voice.
'Thank you, Minister, for those insightful words,' Hermione said. 'And thank you to all of you for gathering here to mourn with us for another year and to look back on the damage that the war inflicted on so many people – so many families – and promise we won't allow that to happen again.'
Her mother had a type of composure that Rose could never match. Her pale, blue dress robes were made all the more divine in contrast with her dark skin. Her thick, bushy hair framed her face in a way that gave it character, a sort of strength and essence, as opposed to the untidiness that Rose's bushy red hair gave her. Hermione held herself high, face infallible, her voice calm – there was nothing to suggest then fifteen minutes ago she had been arguing with a petulant sixteen-year-old.
Rose didn't want to listen - didn't want to hear her mother's rehashed speech. She looked away again, her teeth chattering in the chill, and her eyes fell back on Scorpius. She hadn't intended them to, but they did, and now their eyes had met.
She didn't know why he was looking at her. She stared back, as if in defiance, waiting for him to look away but he didn't, and so she raised her hand under the pretence of pushing her hair behind her ear, and ever so slightly gestured to him as if to say, 'What do you want?'
She saw him give her a smirk, and then nodded towards her mother down on the podium, and then mouthed wordlessly, 'Go ask her about the books!'
Rose bit her lip to stop herself from laughing, which immediately made her annoyed at herself. She shouldn't be laughing – she was supposed to be outraged. She turned back to her mother, frowning as if to prove her seriousness.
'… If the war taught us anything,' Hermione was saying, 'it's that we need to understand the value that every individual – every creature of every ability – brings to Wizarding Britain. We need to remember this in the coming months, when political tensions and disagreements threaten to erase that memory…'
It was hard not to find yourself wanting to believe her mother's words, wanting to nod your head to show that you understood, to show that you were as bright and as valiant as she was, and to have her nod back at you approvingly.
But Rose didn't want her mother's approval: she wanted her trust.
Around her, the crowd seemed enraptured by what her mother had so say. Even the prominent Ministry officials, many of whom Rose knew had voiced their public support for Mikheal Rowle in the coming election, seemed unable to tear their eyes away from her. It seemed that it was only Rose who didn't want to look at her. She looked away from her mother and her eyes, as if trained to do so, flittered back to Scorpius, to find him looking at her again.
She felt something stir in her chest, but she wasn't sure what it was - confusion or annoyance or anticipation. Why was he looking at her?
She chose to overlook the fact that she was looking at him just as much as he was looking at he. She felt that it wasn't the same for them - he could look anywhere he wanted, but she was trying hard not to look at her mother, and now he had ruined that for her, so she turned back to the podium.
Her mother was still speaking, in her cool and calm voice, in her voice so unlike Rose's. She didn't want to watch this, but she didn't want to see Scorpius see her look away again, and she was sure he was still looking at her. She could feel his eyes on her like a beam of light, sending goosebumps down her arms. She wondered how dishevelled she looked from the rain and how much she was shivering. She wondered what he was thinking as he looked at her.
And suddenly she couldn't sit there anymore, feeling so other from everything around her. She found herself getting to her feet, too. She could feel the eyes of her family upon her and she shuffled past her brother towards the stairs she heard him hiss at her, 'Where are you going?'
Her father echoed the sentiment, sounding concerned, perhaps worried that his first expedition into raising his voice with his daughter had been too harsh. 'Rosie, where are you off to?'
Even if she had wanted to answer their questions, she wouldn't have been able to because she wasn't certain herself. All she knew was that she would rather be anywhere else than listening to her mother's speech, feeling tiny and awful and angry.
She didn't look at her mother as she climbed down the stairs, not wanting to know if she had noticed her departure, but as she reached the bottom of the stairs she couldn't help her eyes from trying to find Scorpius again, and when she did her heart gave a jump. He too had gotten to his feet and was navigating his way past the other students in his row, muttering apologies and stooping as if he could make himself less tool. She thought she could have stood there watching him, surveying the way his tall, lean body moved, but she didn't want anyone to see her watching, so she hurried out of the grandstand.
Aurors were standing sentry along the pathway, but they paid her no mind. It wasn't unusual during the memorial for people to excuse themselves to shed their tears out of view.
She wasn't sure where she thought she was going, or where would be the best place to wait out the rest of the service, but she knew she didn't want to go far. She made her way over to the low stone fence that lined the pathway back to the castle and perched herself upon it. Her feet trailed off the ground and leant over herself to rub the bare skin below her knees, trying to bring some feeling back into them, wondering again how dishevelled she looked in the cold and the rain.
And then she saw him, and when she saw him she wasn't surprised. She had somehow known he was going to come find her, that he would look for her, but she didn't want him to think that she had been hoping that he would, and so she was careful to frown at him as he approached, as if the sight of him confused her.
She drank in the sight of him walking towards her, with his head bowed and his hands in his pocket, the uncertain way he carried himself that she had become familiar, almost as if he was apologising for being there. His pale skin and blonde hair looked all the paler against his damp, blue dress robes and the darkness of the stormy day. The greyness of the sky overhead seemed to be bringing out the colour of his eyes, and she enjoyed feeling him looking at her as he approached. He smiled a bit as she got closer.
'Waiting for me, are you?' he asked her.
She didn't smile back, but replied, 'Looking for me, are you?'
He smiled more when she said this. Without a word, he pulled out his wand and, non-verbally, cast a shield charm over them. It helped against the rain but didn't do anything against the cold. She pulled herself up to sit on the stone fence.
'So,' he said to her.
'So, what?'
'So,' and he asked very seriously, 'did you ask your mum for the books?'
She couldn't help but smile back at this, and then to recover from it she rolled her eyes. 'No. We had an argument.'
'You? An argument? How unlike you.'
She knew he was teasing her, but she didn't have the energy to be annoyed by it. She was too preoccupied with thinking about her parents. She felt a sense of urgency to tell Scorpius what had happened, as if telling him would somehow help her make sense of it all.
'They told Albus and I not to get involved,' she informed him. 'And they told us not to trust you.'
The smile Scorpius was wearing faltered a bit and he looked away from her. She wondered, surprised by herself, if that had insulted him. She felt a pang of guilt: she very rarely took the time to consider what she should and shouldn't say to somebody.
'Right,' he muttered. 'Weren't you expecting that, though? You keep saying how your parents don't want you to know about this stuff.'
'I suppose I was expecting it,' she told him. 'But I don't know. For some reason this was… worse than usual. I got angry. It was all I could think about while I was sitting in the stands.'
'So, you weren't listening to Shacklebolt's and your mum's speeches?'
She shook her head. 'What were they about?'
'What you'd expect,' said Scorpius. 'About unity and all that. About loving each other, and empathy, and fighting against totalitarianism.'
'You sound like that annoys you, but I could see you hanging off his every word.'
'That's a good use of your time – watching me watching the Minister,' he mused, and she rolled her eyes. He continued: 'I'm not annoyed by what he's saying – I agree with what he's saying. I just… I don't know. I've listened to what Purebloods say behind closed doors, you know? I know how my father and his parents think. It's not like they'd consider themselves to be fundamentally opposed to empathy and big fans of totalitarianism. But they have a way of life and they think that equality for Muggle-borns threatens that. They think they're better than Muggle-borns because that's the way it's always been, and they're not ready to give that up. And that's why Rowle's going to win the election in November.'
'You're a political analyst now, are you?'
He gave her a shrug. 'Look, I hope I'm wrong. But I don't think I am. Purebloods feel abandoned, and Rowle is promising to return to them what they used to have. I don't know why they would say no to that.'
They sat in silence for a moment, the rain overhead hitting Scorpius's shield charm and creating a watery shroud over their heads.
'Why'd you walk out on your mum's speech?' he asked her.
'She gives the same speech every year. Why did you leave?'
He shrugged. 'You kept looking at me and it was freaking me out. I wanted to know why.'
She rolled her eyes. 'You kept looking at me.'
'Yeah, well, I wanted to know what you'd spoken to your parents about.'
'That couldn't wait?'
'I didn't want to wait.'
From the direction of the pitch, a thunderous applause echoed towards them, signalling the end of Hermione's speech. Soon, the veterans would lead the march towards the Hogwarts lake, the families of the dead carrying wreaths to lower into the loch.
'I suppose I should leave,' he said to her. 'Your parents probably wouldn't like seeing you with me twice in a day, right?'
'They don't care what I think, so why should I care what they think?' replied Rose.
Scorpius hesitated, and she could feel him watching her, before he said slowly. 'Okay, then. So, I should just… what? Stay here?'
'If that's what you want.'
And so they waited as the distant sound of footsteps drew nearer. When the crowd rounded the corner of the grandstand, she immediately caught sight of Harry and her parents at the front of the crowd, Ginny, Albus, Lily and Hugo following in their stride, and then her grandparents, and then her aunts and uncles, and then Chandra and her family, and then Finlay and his parents, and then the rest of the veterans.
Her parents were staring at her as they approached the gate, and she stared right back. She knew they wouldn't try to approach her now, not with their extended family and hundreds of followers in tow, and so she and Scorpius hung back by the gate.
She could feel her family looking at her as she sat atop the stone fence, their eyes lingering on Scorpius beside her, but nobody tried to approach them until Albus reached her. He broke away from his mother's side, crossing towards them, and when Chandra saw him doing, so she bid her parents goodbye and hurried after Albus.
As Chandra neared her, Rose could see that she was wiping her eyes, and when she was close enough she threw her arms around Rose. 'Oh, Rosie,' she murmured into Rose's hair. 'Your mother's speeches are always so beautiful. I cry every year.'
'I don't think we're allowed to say anything positive about Rose's mother right now,' Scorpius warned her.
Chandra looked between the three of them, frowning. 'Why? What's happened?'
'We'll tell you on the walk down,' said Albus. 'We should hurry. I don't want them to make another scene.'
'They wouldn't with so many people around,' Rose told him. 'They've got to save face, don't they?'
Just as she said this, a camera's flash went off somewhere within the crowd, aimed at them. She was dazzled for a second, before she looked around for the source of the photograph, but whoever had taken it had slipped back into the crowd unnoticed.
'See,' Scorpius said to her, and she turned to look at him. 'Everyone wants to get a photo of me.'
'It must be those shoes,' said Rose, and she jumped down off of the fence.
Chandra took her hand and the four of them sat off, side by side. They had fallen out of step with their families and so were able to blend back in with the other students. The crowd was lacking the excitement they had had on the way down to the Quidditch pitch, Kingsley and Hermione's speeches having sobered them, and they oppressive rain beat down on the slow, sombre crowd.
Once away from the pitch, Rose led the way off of the trodden-down pathway that led to the lake, taking them through the thicker grass where they would be able to talk without risk of being overheard. She had no interest of retelling what had transgressed with her parents, and so she allowed Albus to explain to Chandra what had happened.
When he was finished, Chandra looked unhappy. Rose knew that she respected both of their parents a great deal and seemed reluctant to say anything unsavoury about them.
'Oh, Al, Rosie, I'm sorry,' she murmured. 'But they're just trying to keep you safe, I guess…'
'I don't object to them trying to keep us safe,' said Rose. 'I object to how detached they are from reality. And how little faith they have in us.'
'They just… I feel like we're a chore for them,' said Albus.
There was a stiffness in his voice that Rose didn't hear often: she wondered if he was as angry as she felt.
'I brought Mei and her parents over to meet him and Mum, and I could tell he just… just didn't care. How hard would it have been to just pretend to be interested? And then… and then…' Albus's usual soft voice gave a dangerous shudder. 'I asked him what my mum thought about this and he told me she doesn't know. And that telling her would only make her worry. He's lying to her about it. How can you do that to your partner? Somebody who's supposed to be able to trust you?'
'Albus, you lie to Mei all the time,' Rose told him tiredly.
'I do not.'
'Yes, you do. She doesn't know half the stuff about August Selwyn.'
'No, I do not,' he bit at her. 'Not in the same way.'
'How is it different?' she asked.
Scorpius, seeming to sense Albus's growing anger, intervened. 'It's different. Albus is their son. If his dad's going to make these big decisions about what Albus is and isn't allowed to know then she should have input.'
'Exactly,' said Albus bitterly, his voice shaken. 'It just… it made me so mad.'
Chandra's hand seemed to give an involuntary twitch, squeezing Rose's fingers tighter, and Rose glanced at her friend. Chandra was watching Albus with wide, sorry eyes as he trudged ahead, as if she had stumbled across a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest and she wanted to help it but was too scared to touch it.
They reached the edge of the hill and came to a halt where it sloped away. The crowd was congregating around the lake, families of those lost to the war standing on the edge of the shore ready to lower their wreaths into the water. Her own family was easy to spot at a distance because of its size and the red hair. She could see her uncle George at the front of the group, clutching a wreath to his chest.
'We should get down there,' she said to Albus and Chandra.
Albus gave her a nod, though he looked sullen.
'I guess I'll see you later, then,' Scorpius said.
'You should come down,' Albus said to him. 'It won't take long. I don't want to talk to them more than I need to.'
Scorpius didn't respond, and Rose knew that he was imagining the horror of trying to integrate himself into their family while their parents mourned their uncle. She didn't blame him for looking reluctant.
Albus, seemingly recognising this, said, 'The memorial doesn't belong to our family. You're allowed to be there. Other students go every year.'
'Yeah, but…' said Scorpius awkwardly, 'I didn't know anyone who…'
'You can come with me if you like, Scorpius,' offered Chandra. 'My parents won't be bothered. We didn't lose anyone in the battle.'
Chandra pointed down the hill to where, a short distance away from the Weasleys, Chandra's parents and her sisters were standing with the Longbottoms, the Scamanders, and the Finnegans. They had no wreaths to lay in the water and so they maintained their respectful distance.
Scorpius looked hesitant, but she saw him take a look at Albus, which seemed to make up his mind. 'Okay. I'll see you in a bit, then.'
And the four of them started down the hill, Albus and Rose towards their family and Chandra and Scorpius towards her parents.
The office was silent for perhaps the first time that she could remember. Her quill scratched along the parchment, the clock ticked overhead, memos fluttered half-heartedly around the room.
When she had arrived at work that day, the Ministry had been nearly deserted, spare for the security wizards in the atrium and a few aurors on call wandering aimlessly down the corridors. The lack of people meant there was very little for her to do, and boredom was creeping it, but she would have taken a week alone locked in the Auror Office than a day at Hogwarts with Teddy and Victoire.
The second of May was, of course, the memorial, but it was also Victoire's twenty-second birthday. The day was so full of grief for her family – her grandmother's tears, her father's distance, her mother's anxiousness – and yet, for as long as she could remember, there had always been happiness reserved for Victoire.
Victoire would arrive at the memorial, looking ethereally beautiful in a new pair of dress robes and much more appropriately mournful than any of her cousins, who seemed not to have the grace or the humility to confront their parents' mourning with such openness. Victoire was always present, solemn, understanding of their family's trauma, while Dominique shrunk away from it, like the rawness of it was somehow indecent. And yet, as Victoire comforted her grandmother and took her grandfather's hand, they were always able to muster a smile and wishes of happy birthday for her.
'Oh, Victoire,' her grandmother would say, beginning the same story she told every year, 'you were born just when we needed you. You kept us going, beautiful girl.'
And Victoire would be modest, unassuming, but attentive, nodding appreciatively as Molly lathered her with compliments.
And then of course there would be Teddy. Beautiful, kind, doting Teddy, who would follow Victoire around for the day, nodding stoically as she comforted her grandparents. But Dominique would see, when they thought nobody was listening, him and Victoire smiling together, making their plans for that evening. The thought of it made Dominique feel ill.
And so, after bolstering up all the courage she could muster for weeks leading up to it, she had approached Harry and offered to stay at the office. She had posed it as if it was martyrdom, insisting that there was paperwork that needed to be caught up on (which there was) and telling him she could use the opportunity to organise next month's roster to lighten his load (which he needed).
'Will your mum and dad be okay with that?' Harry had asked her.
'Oh, yes,' Dominique had replied. 'They'll have Victoire.'
At this, Harry had nodded, because even he couldn't deny how much better Victoire was in these situations than the rest of them. She had been right, of course: when she told her parents she wouldn't be coming, they nodded understandingly.
'Good on you for putting your work first, Dom,' her father had told her.
She looked up at the clock across the office. The hours were ticking by. She needed to stop thinking about Teddy and start focusing on her work if she was to finish the roster before Harry returned.
She turned back to the paperwork in front of her, fighting the distaste she had for it, breathed in a sigh, and started writing. But just as her quill touched the paper, the door to the Auror Office was thrown open and in came Dennis Creevey, the senior auror who had been left in charge in Harry's absence.
He marched over to Dominique, his robes billowing behind him, and she offered him a smile he did not return.
'Hi, Mr Creevey. How are–'
'Yes, hi, Dom,' he said, cutting across her. 'You have your apparition licence, don't you?'
She resented the implication that she didn't. She was nearly nineteen, after all. 'Yeah, I do. Why–'
'Okay,' said Dennis bracingly, laying his hands on her desk. 'I need you to go to Hogwarts.'
Her stomach gave an unpleasant turn. 'Oh, er, I was supposed to be working…'
'I need you to deliver a message to Harry and Ron at the school,' he informed her hurriedly. 'We've located Mundungus Fletcher. He's been found in the Dark Arts Quarter of Belfast. He's taken a room at the Horned Serpent Inn.'
Dominique's stomach gave an uneasy churn. 'I… Oh my god. What are we…'
'Usually I wouldn't be able to tell you this, but I need to stay here and get the aurors we've got on call briefed and on their way to Belfast,' Dennis informed her. 'I can't send a Patronus to Harry because I don't know who will be with them when they receive it. We've got all of our experienced hit wizards stationed at the school for the memorial today, so this isn't ideal, but we can't hold off in case he relocates again. I need Harry and Ron back here immediately, understand?'
The idea of arriving at Hogwarts, right as she was sure her family would be letting the wreath go in the lake, was an unsettling thought, but she knew she couldn't refuse.
Nodding, she got to her feet. 'Okay.'
His flask of firewhiskey had been emptied and refilled before he even left his dormitory that morning and now, as he made his way towards the lake, it was nearly empty. He had sipped it as he strode down the to Quidditch pitch, keeping to the back of the group, and then when he had reached the gates he had kept his head down to avoid his parents and slipped inside with the crowd. Then, after the speeches, he stayed at the back of the crowd where nobody would notice him.
The rain has eased up by the time he reached the lake, and he stood on uneven footing atop the sloping hill that led down to the lake, smoking a cigarette. He watched as the people mulled around the lake, his family amongst them. The other attendees were giving them a wide berth, trying to allow them space to send their wreath into the current, but he knew, from experience, that their eyes would be watching them, sending curious glances their way, lavishing the display of humanity that they so really saw, feeling as if they knew them.
It was a bullshit. His family's show of camaraderie, their idolisation from the public, the imagined closeness between him and his cousins, was bullshit. He hardly knew these people, and they didn't know him at all.
He could have turned away – would have turned away – from the pageantry of it, if not for the tall, broad-shouldered figure standing at the edge of his family's group.
For as long as he could remember, Lee and Alicia Jordan had been treated as part of their family when it came to the memorial. Lee and Alicia had known his uncle, after all, and now that Finlay's sister Juniper was dating his cousin it seemed to strengthen the entanglement.
He tossed away the cigarette and started forward. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea, perhaps it was the firewhiskey making his legs move, but he knew that this might be the only chance he had. Finlay was too respectful, too gentle, to risk an argument in front of all of their family.
He could see, as he drew nearer, that several of the group were crying. His grandparents were waiting on the shoreline, their heads bowed with tears, as George stepped into the shallows of the lake, the wreath in his arms. Towards the back of the group, his father was standing alone, looking onwards, his face impassive.
Rose and Albus were standing slightly apart from the group, keeping their distance. This wasn't unusual: Rose and Albus both seemed to squirm away from emotion when they could, and there was a part of him that respected that. They didn't succumb to the pressure cooker that was their family's grief.
As he drew nearer, he saw Albus catch sight of him, turning to look at him. 'James…' he hissed at him, but James didn't stop.
He knew Finlay could see him coming, because he was trying harder than he ought to not to look at him, but James wasn't deterred. And then, when he was only a few feet from Finlay, he felt a hand close around his forearm.
He felt himself flush with anger, fuelled by the firewhiskey, and he looked around at his father's cold, pale face. Harry had stepped forward to intercept him.
'Hello,' Harry hissed at him.
Before James could respond, Harry started back, James's arm still clutched in his grip, drawing him away from the group. James would have liked to throw him off, but he seemed muted by the firewhiskey and the presence of his grandparents: whatever disdain he had for the ritualisation of the memorial, he had no desire to add to Arthur and Molly's distress.
Harry maintained hold of him, keeping him pinned to the back of the group, as George lowered the wreath into the lake. George straightened up, turning away, striding back to meet Angelina, who wrapped her arms around him. The family stood in silence as they watched his uncle's wreath, along with the forty-nine others, drift away from them, taken by the current towards the mouth of the lake where it would then flow into the rivers that ran through the hills, and then across the Highlands, and eventually out to ocean. James conjured an image for himself of the wreath being tossed against the rock faces on the shore of the North Sea, its leaves and orchids flattened and torn.
It wasn't until the wreath was out of sight that the spell over his family seemed to break. He watched as slowly they began to mingle, hugging each other, some smiling while others were crying. His could feel his mother stealing glances at him, but she seemed preoccupied hugging her siblings. His father stayed where he was, pinning James to the spot, but once his grandparents caught sight of him they came to greet him.
'Oh, James…' said his grandmother through her tears, throwing her arms around him. 'You're still getting taller, darling.'
'So are you, Gran,' he told her as he returned the hug. He wondered fleetingly if she would be able to smell the alcohol on him.
She gave a watery laugh and patted his cheek affectionately. 'Thank you for being here, sweetheart.'
There was no irony in her voice, and her earnestness made James's chest pang with guilt, but he fought it back. 'Of course.'
His grandparents then moved away to hug Albus and Rose, who had apparently arrived late just as he had and were now catching up on their greetings.
It was only then that his mother approached him. Her face was stony, but she hugged him tightly when she reached him, and he could feel her relief as she held him in her arms.
'You alright, Mum?' he asked her as he hugged her, though he already knew what she would say.
She let go of him to look him in the eye. 'Yes, I'm fine. Why wren't you at the service?'
'I woke up late, but I was there. Cross my heart.'
Ginny seemed unconvinced, but she nodded. She looked him up and down, surveying his lack of dress robes, but all she said was, 'You look thin, James.'
'Thanks, I've been dieting. Need to look slim for the summer.'
Ginny gave him a steadying look, and opened her mouth, presumably to tell him to be serious, but she never got to it, because from across the group they heard Molly give a little gasp of tears. They looked around at her, seeing her standing beside George, having dissolved back into sobbing. Ginny looked anguished for the briefest second, before she composed herself and hurried over to comfort her mother.
James was now alone with Harry, which seemed to be what his father had been hoping for, as he turned to him and said, 'Where did you sit in the stands?'
'At the back,' said James truthfully, 'with the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.'
'What are their names?'
James knew he was being tested. 'Can't you just be pleased to see me, Harry? I'm here now, aren't I?'
'Their names, please, James.'
'God, I don't know. Marigold Bones. Annabelle Dalal. Some bloke called Algenon or something like that.'
'And who spoke at the service?'
'Kingsley and Hermione. Although if you're trying to trip me up that's not the best way do it, seeing they give a speech every year. Although what doesn't happened every year is you, Ron and Hermione turn up late with Rose and Albus,' James offered as evidence. 'I'm disappointed, honestly. Not a good look, is it?'
Harry eyed him, apparently convinced, before he said, 'I would have appreciated it if you could have sat with us. You've had six years making a point of turning up late. You didn't think, perhaps, that for your last year you might try to be there for your mother's sake?'
James gave a dramatic groan. 'Are you going to tell Albus off too or will he get off as he usually does?'
'I've already spoken to Albus. Now I'm speaking to you,' said Harry. 'You grandparents would have appreciated it if you were there.'
'My grandparents have eleven other grandchildren to fawn over. I know I'm the favourite, but they can manage without me.'
Harry considered him, before giving at impatient sigh. It seemed he was ready to move onto a new line of questioning, for he glanced around for any onlookers and asked, 'Does Albus spend a lot of time with Scorpius Malfoy?'
James felt himself flush with anger. This was so like his father: the distrust, the admonishment, the enlistment of one child against the other. He found himself feeling strangely defensive of his Albus, as if the new found suspicion Harry had against him somehow united the two brothers against their father.
'No idea, Harry. I'm not that concerned with Albus's social life,' James replied. 'You could try asking him, you know?'
James kept his voice level as he said this, but Harry seemed to sense the bite in his tone. He once again abandoned his choice of topic for another.
'I heard what happened,' said Harry slowly, 'with Quidditch.'
The pity. The sickening, overbearing, pity. But he wasn't going to give his father the satisfaction of looking sullen, and so he held his head high. 'Yeah, what about it?'
Harry watched him, quiet, trying to gauge his son. 'I'm sorry, mate. It's shit. It's not fair – '
'It doesn't matter,' he bit back. 'It's just a stupid school game. None of them can play for shit. I don't get any satisfaction from winning.'
'Yes, but I know you worked hard –'
'You actually don't know anything about what I do, Harry,' he told his father, 'and I know you don't want to.'
They eyed each other, calculated, resolute, unshakeable. He knew his father had said all he had to say, and James wanted nothing more from him, and so he turned away, looking for the reason he had ventured towards his family, but Finlay was gone. His parents had moved away from the group to talk to Sally Wood's parents, but his sister was still present, talking to Fred, Xan and Teddy.
'James,' said Teddy eagerly as he reached them. 'There you are!'
Fred clapped him on the shoulder. 'Mate, I didn't think you were going to bother showing up.'
'Wouldn't miss it for the world,' said James dryly. 'Did you guys see where Fin went?'
There was a beat of silence amongst them, and James knew that Xan must have relayed to the group details of their estrangement.
'I think he might have gone back to the castle,' said Juniper. 'He said he wanted to study. I never thought he'd become so boring, but there you go.'
'James,' said Fred, in what was an apparent bid to change the topic, 'since when were Rosie and Al friends with that Malfoy git? They walked down here with him instead of with us.'
James followed Fred's pointed finger a short distance away where Rose and Albus had reconvened with Chandra and Malfoy. They weren't talking, but had instead sat themselves down on the sloping hill, looking morose. It appeared none of them wanted to be here anymore than they did.
James felt himself flush with anger. He once again felt the unusual unity with his brother.
'Don't know,' he said casually, and because he knew this was precisely not what they wanted, he called, 'Oi, Al! Rosie! Get over here?'
Albus and Rose looked around at James. They exchanged hesitant glances with each other. Beside them, Malfoy seemed to try to shrink away, bowing his head.
'Yes, you lot!' James called again. 'Come chat! Thomas, Malfoy, you too!'
Fred, Xan and Juniper did nothing, standing uncomfortably beside each other, but Teddy – like Teddy often did – extended his welcome, raising a hand and waving them over.
Slowly and reluctantly, Rose, Albus, Chandra and Malfoy got to their feet and trudged over. As they did, James looked towards his father, who he knew had been watching the exchange. James was delighted to see his father looking grim at the sight of Malfoy.
'Hello, you lot,' Teddy said to the four fifth-years when they reached them. 'Long time no see.'
'Yeah,' mumbled Albus. 'How are you guys?'
There was a chorus amongst them of "good", before they lapsed into an awkward silence. Scorpius Malfoy wasn't looking at any of them, but had his eyes on his feet.
'Oh, good, good,' said Teddy. 'Hey, Scorpius, how's your Mum going?'
James knew that Teddy was on a first-name basis with Scorpius, their grandmothers were sisters. Despite a lifetime of prodding and poking from the Potter and Weasley children, trying to coax him into telling them damning secrets about Scorpius Malfoy, Teddy had always resisted and been nothing but cordial with his second cousin.
Scorpius looked reluctant to answer under the watchful eyes of Albus's cousins, but he managed a nod. 'She's fine. How's your grandmother?'
'Oh, yeah, good,' said Teddy. 'She wanted to be here today but thought she ought to stay with Narcissa.'
There was an uncomfortable silence after this, and so Teddy continued talking. 'So will you lot be coming to the World Cup this summer? Would be great if we could all go together like we used to.'
'Sorry to interrupt,' came Harry's voice from beside them, and they turned to see that he and Ron had approached them. Harry was looking around at his sons, while Ron had his eyes fixed on Scorpius Malfoy.
James knew that, no matter what they had said, Harry was not sorry to have interrupted. In fact, he knew that that would have been Ron and Harry's first instinct as soon as he saw Scorpius Malfoy join them.
'We were thinking we should be heading off soon,' said Harry, and as if to make it clear that Scorpius was not welcome, he added, 'It would be nice if the whole family could walk to the gate together.
Teddy nodded. 'Oh, yeah, Vicky and I should be off anyway. We have dinner plans.'
'Excellent,' said Harry. 'Well, let's get everyone together and…'
But he stopped talking. The crowd of mourners had started to disperse, beginning to trudge back to the castle or towards the school's front gate, but there were three people making a beeline towards them. Even at a distance, Dominique was recognisable by her long, silvery hair, and she was hurrying towards them, flanked by two aurors.
Harry and Ron both seemed to know, before she reached them, that whatever had brought her here was urgent. They stepped away from their children, coming to meet her a few metres from the group, but they were close enough to be overheard.
'Dom,' his father said as he reached her. 'What's happened?'
'It's Mundungus,' James heard Dominique mutter.
Idiot, James thought furiously. What had Mundungus done now?
'He's in Belfast at an inn called the Horned Serpent,' said Dominique quickly. 'Mr Creevey is getting some aurors together to make an arrest, but he wants you to meet him there–'
Harry held up a hand to silence her and he cast a glance over his shoulder towards the students, eyeing Scorpius Malfoy, before he looked back at Dominique. 'Okay, we'll come now. Give me one moment.'
James watched as both Harry and Ron turned hurriedly away from their niece and moved closer to the lake where their wives were standing together. James could see his mother eyeing his father warningly, and when Harry reached her and whispered in her ear she looked at him beseechingly, before she nodded her head. Harry then moved to where Lily and Victoire were talking, gave Lily and brief hug, while Ron interrupted Hugo and Louis to give his son a hug, and then the two aurors crossed back to Dominique.
'I'll see you,' Harry said to his sons as he passed them. 'Good luck on your exams.'
'See you soon, Rosie,' Ron added to his daughter, pausing briefly to touch her shoulder.
And then they started off, walking briskly with Dominique and the aurors.
'Poor Harry. He's aged about thirty years in the last five,' said Xan, and she added to Albus and James, 'You guys have got that to look forward to.'
'Not me. I plan to die at twenty-five,' said James, taking his tin of tobacco out of his jeans. 'What am I good for once my looks are gone?'
'You'd make a nice hat stand,' Teddy suggested.
James smirked as he rolled his cigarette. 'Alright, Ted, it's a done deal. Once I'm dead you can do with my body what you will.'
He raised his wand to light his cigarette, but was impeded from doing so by the materialisation of his mother at his side. She snatched at his wrist, pulling his wand down to his side, and snapped at him, 'James, not in front of your grandmother.'
'Christ, Ginny. The woman's lived through two wars. She can stand to see me smoke a bloody cigarette.'
There was a chortle of laughter from around James's cousins, and Ginny looked around at her nieces and nephews. 'Stop stroking his ego, you lot.' Her eyes then shifted to Scorpius, who was standing between Rose and Albus, and she thrust out her hand and said, 'I don't think we've met. I'm Ginny.'
'Er… hi,' said Scorpius, and he shook Ginny's offered hand. 'Scorpius.'
'Nice to meet you,' said Ginny evenly, and then she looked around at her sons and their cousins. 'I think we're going to be leaving back to the village soon. Mum and Dad have had a long day – they want to get back to the Burrow. It was nice to meet you, Scorpius.'
Knowing they were being told to start moving, Fred, Xan, Juniper, and Teddy dispersed. Rose, Albus and Chandra hesitated, before Albus said to Scorpius, 'We can meet you in the library when we get back.'
Scorpius gave a nod, raised an uncertain hand to wave goodbye to Ginny, and then started away towards the school.
'Come on,' Ginny said to the rest of them. 'Before it starts raining again.'
And so they set off towards the entrance of the school. The majority of mourners were ahead of them, walking slowly along the sodden pathway. Ginny walked with Lily and Albus, and Hermione came to join Rose and Hugo, and James was able to seize on the opportunity to hang back, smoking the cigarette his mother had denied him earlier.
As he walked, he thought of Mundungus Fletcher. Any owl he sent wouldn't arrive in time to warn him. He could attempt, of course, to cast a Patronus and send it his way, but he had never sent a messenger Patronus as far as Belfast. And even if it did reach him, what if it was too late and Harry recognised it as James's?
He could wait until his family had left and the auror presence had weakened and then sneak out through the Shrieking Shack. But then what? Apparate into Belfast and hope he wasn't walking right into the midst of an auror raid?
No, he would have to sit with it. Mundungus Fletcher wasn't an idiot: he knew how to look after himself, and he knew that loyalty only went so far and that at some point bravery turned into stupidity. James had always known this about Mundungus, and it was a philosophy he admired. It was easy to want to be a good person: what was hard was admitting that sometimes you had to be selfish.
At the gate of the school, his family had reconvened, his aunts and uncles hugging their children goodbye, and strode over to where his mother and siblings were standing with Hermione, Rose and Hugo. He tossed his cigarette away as he reached them, watching Ginny giving Lily a hug goodbye.
'Bye, Hugo,' Hermione was saying, hugging her son. 'I'll miss you so much. I'll see you in June, okay?'
Hugo gave a nod, though he looked uncertain. 'Why did Dad have to leave to quickly?'
'It's just work, darling, nothing unusual,' said Hermione soothingly. She straightened up and extended her arms to Rose. James could see, as they hugged each other, that Rose didn't want to look her mother in the eye. 'Bye, Rosie. Good luck with your exams. And you too, Al.'
Rose didn't answer, but Albus gave a nod. 'Thanks.'
'As long as you both have a study schedule that you can stick to you'll do fine,' Hermione assured them.
'And just remember that doing well in your exams is not the be all and end of all of success,' added Ginny.
Hermione cast her a sideways glance as if she wanted to refute this, but instead she nodded. 'Have you been reading the book I sent you?'
'Al has. I don't need it,' said Rose curtly. 'When you get home can you send me your copies of 1984 and Brave New World?'
Hermione raised her eyebrows. 'Perhaps you should wait until you're home for the summer to reread those. You really should be focusing on your exams.'
'They're not for me. Elena needs them for her Muggle studies exam.'
Looking relieved, Hermione nodded and agreed to send them when she was home.
'Good luck in the Quidditch final, Ducky,' Ginny said quietly to Albus as she hugged him goodbye, but not quietly enough for James not to overhear. 'I know you'll do great.'
Albus gave her a nod, avoiding her eyes. 'Thanks.'
'And tell Mei it was very nice to meet,' she added. 'I'm sorry it was so brief.'
Albus shrugged and Ginny turned to face her eldest son. She seemed to search him slightly, before she stepped forward to wrap around her arms around him. As she did so, she took a step slightly away from the others, putting some space between them. James felt her glance around to make sure Lily, Albus, Hugo and Rose were preoccupied with saying goodbye to their grandparents, before she looked up at him.
'Are you alright?' she asked him quietly.
He bristled in her grip, rolling her eyes. 'Yes, Ginny.'
'I can smell firewhiskey on you.'
'Oh, that's my new shampoo. Do you like it?'
She didn't crack a smile but said, 'If you don't want to talk to me about it you don't have to, but you should talk to somebody.'
'There's nothing to talk about,' James told her.
Ginny watched him for a moment, her bright, brown eyes fixed upon him, before she said quietly, 'I love you very much, James. I want you to be happy.'
'Yeah, well,' he said, 'I'd like it if you were happy too.'
She gazed up at him, her eyes searching, and then she looked quickly away. He wondered suddenly if she was going to allow herself to cry, but of course she wouldn't.
'Well, I should be off,' she told him, avoiding his eye. 'I suppose the next time I see you will be at your graduation.'
'See you.'
She turned away from him to give Albus and Lily one final hug, and then she and Hermione started away. His conversation with Ginny had spared him from having to make the rounds through his extended family, and so the only way of goodbye he gave them was a forced smile and wave as they strode through the iron gates and out of Hogwarts. The aurors moved forward, their wands ready to reseal the protective charms around the school's entrance, and he and his brother and sister turned away.
'Well, that was fun,' said James brightly to Albus and Lily as they walked.
'You're both idiots,' Lily snapped.
'Rude, Lil,' James replied.
'All you had to do was be there for one day,' Lily told them. 'Is it really that hard?'
'I tried to be there,' said Albus defensively. 'Dad didn't have any time for me. I wanted him to meet Mei and–'
'He's got better things to worry than your girlfriend,' said Lily acidly. When she was annoyed, she sounded very much like their mother. 'And why the hell did you have to bring Malfoy along? I know you guys are friends now or whatever, but he's such a creep.'
'You know whose a creep?' demanded Albus. 'Emory Vane, but I can see you and your friends swooning after him whenever he does something idiotic.'
'Oh, fuck off, Al,' Lily snapped at him and pushed past them, speeding up to walk with Rose and Hugo.
'Wow,' said James, sounding impressed. 'I thought she only talked to me that way.'
Albus looked at him, and James realised that this was the first time they had been alone together since before the disastrous Quidditch match. He had been curtailing Albus's attempts to talk to him for the last two weeks, and he momentarily wondered if Albus, just like his parents, would try to probe into his wellbeing.
Albus, apparently, had other concerns, because he said, 'Did you hear what Dominique said when she arrived?'
'Everyone did,' said James. 'Not very subtle, is she?'
'If Mundungus gets arrested, will he turn you in too?'
'Nah, he hates snitches,' James informed. 'Also, I don't think Ron and Harry are interested in underground duelling clubs. They've got bigger things to worry about.'
Albus looked like he wanted to say more but held his tongue. They lapsed into silence, continuing the long walk up to the castle.
'I should be going in.'
'I don't think so. You're not authorised to.'
'Since when have you cared what we are and aren't authorised to do? It's my investigation. I should be the one who brings him in.'
'You were brought back as an investigator,' Harry reminded him. 'Not to deal with arrests. If you get cursed in will be me before the Wizengamot answering questions about why I sent somebody in to approach an armed assailant who wasn't permitted to go in.'
Ron let out a heavy sigh. 'I'd hardly call Mundungus an assailant.'
'He probably will be once we try to arrest him,' said Harry. 'What's the time?'
Ron checked his watch. 'Half past six. If what the innkeeper says is true, he should be back any minute.'
Harry stirred uncomfortably. The waiting had always been the worst part of making arrests. He had never been a patient person, and as he got older whatever patience he had had worn thinner.
'James looked a bit rough today,' he heard Ron say.
Harry resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. Ever since they had entered the Auror Training Programme and they had been put undercover, Ron had had a habit of passing the time with chit chat. Harry enjoyed it, of course: it had made many lonely hours bearable, and when Ron had announced his departure from the Auror Office the companionship was something he missed the most.
Today, however, he wasn't in the mood. Today was too important.
'I don't know,' Harry replied. 'He looks like he always does.'
'He's thinner,' said Ron, as if that hadn't been immediately evident. 'He looked… I don't know. Older or something.'
'He'll be turning eighteen next month.'
Ron seemed to sense he wasn't getting anywhere with the conversation, and so he tried another topic. 'I don't like that slimy little Malfoy git hanging around Rose and Albus the way he was.'
'They seemed to be encouraging it,' said Harry.
'So that makes it fine, does it?'
'I don't know, it depends on his motivation. If they really are friends then I don't see a problem with it. But if Malfoy is like his father, then that could be a problem.'
'I don't trust him,' Ron proclaimed. 'I don't like his attitude. Surly, you know?'
'He reminds me of every other teenager,' said Harry.
'Not our kids,' said Ron defensively.
Harry gave a sharp laugh. 'Yes, our kids. Honestly, Albus and Rose… If looks could kill then you and I wouldn't be standing here having this conversation.'
'Oh, they just didn't like being told what to do. Remember what we were like at their age? We thought we knew everything and everyone else knew nothing.'
'Exactly. Teenagers,' said Harry. 'And you weren't so calm about it today. I've never seen you raise your voice with Rose before.'
Ron looked somewhat bashful. 'Yeah, well… She shouldn't speak to her mother that way. And then she walked out of her speech. I can't beliece her.'
'Did you talk to her about it?'
'No, I didn't get the chance. Do you think I should bother? Know her she's not going to-'
But Harry held up a hand to silence him, and pointed towards the window of the inn they were stationed out the front of.
The old witch who managed the inn had pulled back the curtain of the bar, lighting the old candelabra that sat there. It was the signal that they had agreed upon.
'I'm going now,' Harry told him.
'Just take it easy, won't you?' said Ron. 'Mundungus is a slippery bastard.'
'Yes, I remember.'
And Harry raised his wand, lifting the concealment charm that had obscured him, and started across the street. He held his wand aloft as he did so, signalling for the other concealed aurors to move in. He heard them fall into step behind them and cast Muffliato around them as they moved.
He wrenched open the door of the bar, finding the dingy room empty. The old witch who had tipped them off had retreated to the kitchen, just as they had told her to. Harry moved silently across the bar, leading the twelve other aurors to the staircase and hurrying towards the second floor of the inn.
At the top of the stairs, Harry turned to look back at the aurors. He raised two fingers and, in response, two aurors moved past him to stand on either side of the door at the end of the passageway that they knew Mundungus was staying in. Harry started forward, wand held aloft, drawing nearer to the door, and with his other hand he rapped on the door.
A few seconds passed before he heard movement on the other side of the door. Harry waited, his heart pounding in his chest. It wasn't fear he felt as he waited, but something more akin to guilt: he had no interest in arresting Mundungus.
'Who is it?' came Mundungus's hoarse voice through the door.
Harry held his wand to his throat to imitate the voice of the inn keeper. 'There's a letter for you.'
On the other side of the door, Harry heard the sound of something heavy being scraped along the floor, and then the scratching of fingers as they undid several locks, and then the creak of the door as it opened.
It had been at least five years since Harry had laid eyes on Mundungus and Harry hadn't known what to expect when he saw Mundungus. He had tried to imagine it as he prepared for this day, picturing the man that he used to know but few more scars and bit more gruffness. He wondered if, like so many of the old Order members, Mundungus would look older, greyer, more tired, his face aged and leathery from a lifetime of ale and pipe smoking.
What he saw, however, was not what he expected, because what he saw was not Mundungus.
Instead of the lined face her had been expecting, he saw a much younger face. Handsome, bright, smiling, with brown hair and blue eyes and a darkness in its eyes.
August Selwyn raised his wand and said evenly, 'Avada Kedavra!'
Song credit: Don't Lie by Vampire Weekend.
A/N: If anyone made it through that monster of a chapter thanks so much for reading! And thank you to the kind people who reviewed the last chapter. I really do want to finish this story, but as you've probably realised I'm apparently unable to kill my darlings and therefore my chapters blow out to a crazy length (also not to be too cute but writing scenes between Rose and Scorpius is just too easy).
And just a heads up - you have no idea how much I hate that Rose and Albus are the same star sign, but I needed them to be born in October because it's very important that they turn seventeen early into their sixth year for the sake of the sequel. I'm sorry to disappoint anyone who wanted this story neatly wrapped up at the end of the school year, but there's another overwrought, convoluted, angsty slow-burn in the works.
