Fic: Life's Disappointments (Scorpius), PG-13, Part 2 of 2
Recipient: nopejr
Title: Life’s disappointments are harder to take when you don’t know any swear words
Characters: Charlie and Scorpius
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mostly gen with a wee bit of angst (a little heartbreak before joy always makes it that much sweeter), and a whiff of pre-slash
Summary:A child’s imagination can be a wonderful thing, but it is often forgotten in favour of growing up.
Word Count: ~11,500
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author’s notes: nopejr I hope you enjoy this fic as I wrote it just for you. I admit to trolling your site and seeing you were a Calvin and Hobbes fan. It inspired me to write about my favourite subject: childhood fantasy. All quotes come directly from Calvin and Hobbes, written by Bill Watterson. For all of you unfamiliar with Calvin and Hobbes, do not despair, this fic is only inspired by, and not a direct connection to, the original work. Thank you to all those that helped me: w, t, t, b and n. I have the best friends in the world.
The Return
I've got to start listening to those quiet, nagging doubts.
Charlie enjoyed being a professor.
"Morning, Professor!"
Looking down at the tiny third year, Xavier, who despite his miniature frame was desperate to ride a dragon one day, Charlie smiled and took a mental note to include a story from his dragon reserve days in next week’s lesson.
"Good morning, Professor Weasley!"
Waving at the flock of sixth year girls who had sing-songed his name while batting their eyelashes, Charlie tried desperately not to roll his eyes. He hadn’t the heart to dash their dreams, but he hadn’t the stomach for their frivolous fawning, so he hurried past them towards his seat at the head table in the Great Hall.
"Good morning, Charlie. Did the Hufflepuff girls give you any trouble?"
Charlie smirked at Neville’s knowing stare as he accepted a plate of toast, grabbing four slices. "Just the usual wave this morning, thank goodness. Can’t believe you married one, Nev. They are a crazed lot."
Neville dropped three cubes of sugar into his tea, ignoring Charlie’s quip about his wife. "You think the girls would have figured it out by now, oh perpetual bachelor, that they aren’t exactly your type."
Pointing to his nose, Charlie leaned in and replied in a stage-whisper voice. "Ignorance is bliss my friend, utter bliss."
There was a cough from behind them that made both Charlie and Neville jump. No matter how old Charlie was, he always grew nervous hearing the sound of the Headmistress's coughing, feeling the same way he felt his first year at Hogwarts after being caught running in the halls.
"Good Morning, Headmistress Kensington," the men said in unison, their faces radiating false innocence.
The Headmistress lifted a single eyebrow but smiled none the less. "I’m sorry to inform you that Professor Vector has had a family emergency. She will be on leave for the rest of the term."
"Oh dear, is everything all right?"
"Everything is fine, Neville. Her daughter is having a bit of trouble with her first pregnancy and she wants to be there for her. She is understandably worried about her daughter and her first grandchild, as any of us would be. Luckily, she knows of someone who would be willing to replace her. This evening we will have a new Professor join us. Professor Weasley, I ask that you see him at the gate and show him to his quarters. He will be taking the ones next to the Quidditch locker rooms."
Charlie wrinkled his nose at the prospect of living next to the sweat box known as the Quidditch locker rooms. No doubt the smell of socks and un-deodorized teenagers would be overwhelming.
"What did the poor man do to deserve those rooms?" Charlie quipped.
The Headmistress gave Charlie a hard look, stopping his laughing immediately. "Those were the only quarters available at such short notice. If the man has any complaints then I will let him know that you have offered to switch. He will arrive at eight o’clock. Be on time."
Headmistress Kensington bowed slightly and continued on her way.
"Neville, why do I always have to greet the new professors? You know he’s going to be a right swot. No one normal willingly studies Arithmancy, let alone teaches it."
Neville hummed as he buttered his toast. "I thought both your brothers Bill and Percy were quite good at it?"
"And they are both swots." Charlie stood, wiping off the crumbs from his leather trousers. "I’m off to introduce our kiddies to Bowtruckles. Wish me luck."
Charlie winked and then headed off, his mind immediately forgetting his task of welcoming the new professor in favour of imagining what trouble the children could get into during his lesson.
Luckily, at ten minutes to eight, the Headmistress helpfully stuck her head through the Floo and loudly reminded Charlie of his task while he sipped a hot toddy in his cabin after a long day of classes, causing Charlie to spill most of it down his front.
Charlie carelessly threw on a jacket and headed out towards the front gate, the keys to the castle jingly on his hip as he ran to greet the new professor on time.
The man was already waiting, trunk floating behind him, when Charlie arrived. His garb was modest, black trousers, simple black shoes, dark cotton shirt, but he wore a long dark cloak with a hood hiding most of his face. Charlie reached for the trunk in a lame attempt at being helpful, but was swiftly denied when the trunk began to float towards the castle and the new professor followed it, Charlie racing to catch up.
"Did you have any trouble getting here?"
"No." The man replied, his voice calm and cool.
Charlie shoved his hands into his pockets. "Did you have to travel far?"
The man continued his brisk walk, never turning his head in his replies. "Not particularly."
He was clearly not interested in small talk. Unfortunately, Charlie couldn’t help but fill in the gaps of silence as they entered Hogwarts and made their way to the new professor’s quarters.
"You’ll be living next to the Quidditch locker rooms, so I would suggest you cast a few extra Sound Barrier charms and maybe light some scented candles - not that your rooms will need it, but just in case. Never know with teenagers, their sounds and smells seem to permeate even the strongest wards."
His joke received not one laugh, not even an amused chuckle. Charlie was right, the new professor was a swot. When they reached the front door, Charlie fumbled with the keys, unable to find the right one.
"Once inside you can key your wand into the room’s wards so only you will have access to them, and of course the Headmistress, in case of emergency. If you need anything, help with moving furniture, tips on handling the students, just let me know. I’m not the oldest professor here, but I’ve been teaching for a while so I think I do okay. So please, do not hesitate to ask if you need anything."
The man stood in the centre of the room, his trunk bobbing behind him. Charlie ran a hand through his unruly red hair, feeling as though he had forgotten something important. The two men just stood there, in the middle of the living room, staring at each other.
Finally, after a few moments, the man ended the charm on his trunk and it landed on the floor with a thud. Then, the young man lifted his hands and released his hood.
Underneath the black material was a familiar head of shiny blonde-white hair and a pair of blue-grey eyes Charlie hadn’t seen in ten years.
"Good evening, Professor Weasley. I think I can take things from here."
Charlie hesitated before responding, worried that perhaps he was recognizing the wrong person. "Scorpius?"
The young man smiled a small polite smile before nodding. "Professor Malfoy, now, if you don’t mind. I prefer to be addressed in the correct way."
"Of course. I’ll just take my leave. Good night, Professor Malfoy."
Charlie briskly left Professor Malfoy’s quarters in a bit of a daze. He hadn’t seen or heard from Scorpius since that fateful day in Headmistress Kensington’s office; the boy had never returned after his father yanked him out of school. That would make Scorpius twenty-one, barely old enough to be a professor, let alone one of Arthimancy. Charlie rubbed his temples and hoped the Headmistress knew what she was doing. The Scorpius Charlie remembered preferred creating fantasies rather than crunching numbers. The two did not go together at all.
Although, what did Charlie know of Scorpius today? A lot could change in ten years, and from the looks of it, they certainly had.
The Change
"Nobody asks me how things oughta be! I've got tons of ideas!"
"Professor Weasley, you have to do something about Professor Malfoy! He’s evil!"
Charlie sighed. This had been the fifth complaint today. The students all complained to him, save for the first years and second years that thankfully did not take Arthimancy yet.
"He’s given so much homework that I’ll have to stay up all night to finish!"
"He made Janice stand in the front of the class the entire period just for talking!"
"He caught Sophie passing a note to Theresa and he read it aloud!"
"There’s a test every week!"
"There was a test the first day!"
"He doesn’t care that we have Quidditch practice. He doesn’t even like Quidditch!"
"Please, Professor Weasley, you have to do something!"
Staring down at his class, thoroughly uninterested in the Nifflers he had brought, Charlie realized he was going to have to pay Professor Malfoy a visit. Students always complained about homework and tests, especially to him as he was one of the more approachable adults, still looking young, even at fifty-five, but never to such a degree as he had witnessed in the past month.
The next day, as Charlie watched a group of students pile onto a magically engorged tree twig and shoot down the snow covered hills, he was surprised to see Scorpius approaching the children. Charlie took the opportunity to observe how Professor Malfoy really interacted with his students, choosing to watch rather than intervene.
Scorpius waved his wand at the sled and it turned back into a twig.
"Continue with this and you will break your necks. I know you all have work to do. Stop wasting your day and get to work."
Charlie sighed. Things were worse than he thought.
He had hoped to get reacquainted with Scorpius during meals and staff meetings, wanting to find out what the man had been doing for the last ten years, but Scorpius kept a polite distance from everyone, students and professors alike, and often preferred to eat in his own quarters rather than the Great Hall and refused to speak about anything non-work related in the staff room. Scorpius had always been a loner, but, if Charlie’s memory served, was a happy loner, his eyes shining with mysterious mischief. Now, those same eyes looked lifeless and bland and his face never changed from his standard well-bred demeanour.
As a boy, Scorpius had looked like a miniature copy of his father, his nose and chin were pointy and his hair carried the same elf-like quality being both white-blond and thin. His eyes were almost the same colour as his father’s except for a faint blue that surrounded the iris. But now, that blue had permeated more clearly throughout the eyes and his chin had grown more round. The arrogant stance of Draco Malfoy, and all the Malfoys before him, was utterly gone in Scorpius. He was cold, but didn’t appear to be arrogantly judging those around him, he just refused to acknowledge anyone else’s presence.
But there was something to Scorpius's unfeeling aura that made Charlie want to run and ruffle his hair. Perhaps because he knew Scorpius as a young creative boy, his mind had trouble putting the pieces together. Charlie’s eyes were constantly drawn to the young man, studying him, observing him, trying to figure out what had changed. Even though Scorpius was not the sort of man Charlie would usually associate himself with, he wanted to, wanted to sit next to him and converse with him, just as comfortably as any of the other professors, maybe even more.
And then there was the issue of the cockatrice.
Charlie still had the doll in his cabin, near his desk, high up enough that the few animals he brought into his cabin wouldn’t find it and use it as a chew toy. After Scorpius’s father had thrown the doll into the wall after discovering his son’s delusions, Charlie had picked it up and taken it back to his cabin, making a horrid attempt at sewing the right claw that had ripped in the struggle.
Charlie thought for sure he had lost his job that day, and believed he only retained it because the Headmistress had been sympathetic to Charlie’s good intentions. He had only been the Head of House a few years, and as a rookie, he had allowed his compassion towards the quiet outcast to outweigh his good sense.
Looking at the doll now, its black eyes hung low, its red and gold feathers looking dull and covered in dust, the reason why Charlie had allowed the ruse to continue fell clear into his mind. Scorpius had been deliriously happy that evening caught after hours, proudly showcasing his find to Charlie. He had never seen such a smile on anyone before, and that smile stayed on the boy's face day after day. It was brighter than the look the twins had when they pulled off a prank, more radiant than the look his brothers Bill, Percy and Ron wore when they had married their wives, and Charlie was sure he himself had never seemed so happy in all his life.
He wanted to know what that felt like, to be so overjoyed that the mind threw away all reason. And, even more pressing, he wanted to know how he could see that look again on Scorpius's now stone-like face.
Without rationally thinking of his actions, Charlie grabbed the cockatrice and headed towards the Castle. First, he was going to tackle the students' complaints, second, he was going to return the cockatrice, and third, if all went well, he would attempt to forge a friendship that could last for years. Or perhaps, Charlie thought, he should approach the man the other way round.
When he knocked on Scorpius's door, Charlie was taken aback at his casual attire. Scorpius, freshly bathed, smelling of pine and soap, dressed only in a white oversized terry-cloth robe, opened the door, his face flushed and his hair loosely falling about his face. All memory of Scorpius as a small boy was wiped clean from his memory and replaced with this wet blond Adonis in front of him. Charlie attempted to keep himself under control, but it was proving quite difficult.
"Good evening, Professor, do you mind if I come in?"
"No, I don’t think…"
It didn’t matter what Scorpius thought as Charlie was determined to come in regardless, so he did so, much to the annoyance of Scorpius whose polite smile turned into a frown.
"I don’t believe I invited you in. Do you realize what time it is?"
Charlie threw a roguish grin over his shoulder, the kind that allowed him to get away with murder, as a way to beg for forgiveness. The grin failed to enlist any change in Scorpius’s angry demeanour, but Charlie wasn’t one to give up so easily. He had, in fact, not realized the time, having left his cabin in a rush of inspiration. A quick glance at a large clock on the wall made him think perhaps the late hour was not the best time to forge a new friendship.
"I’ve come to give you a proper greeting, as our first meeting was less than satisfactory. I thought we could talk, get to know each other better. I’m sure you’d like an ally in this place, someone to lean on when the goings get tough, and I’m offering myself to be that person. I am here to for you."
Scorpius stared, and Charlie could see his presumptuous olive branch wilting underneath his look. Scorpius rolled his eyes and pulled his robe tighter. "I have no interest in whatever you are offering, Professor Weasley."
"Please, call me Charlie."
Charlie grinned so his pearly white teeth shone, just as his mother had taught him when trying to make a good first impression.
"I’d prefer it if we didn’t call each other by our given names, Professor Weasley. I’d like to keep things professional."
His grin began to fade.
"I’m very busy right now, so if you don’t mind leaving, I have papers to grade and a test to prepare, so please leave my quarters immediately."
Charlie took a deep breath and willed his tongue away from any scathing retorts. Scorpius's cold response to his usual tried and true friendly demeanour allowed his mind to clear and remember his original task.
"Actually, I came to speak to you on just that. Do you mind if we sit? I promise it’s about professional business. I’ve had a few complaints I’d like to speak to you about."
Scorpius gave Charlie a hard look before he acquiesced and gestured for Charlie to sit on his settee.
"If you would excuse me a moment while I change, I am not properly attired to receive guests."
"I think you look just fine for entertaining." Charlie stupidly remarked, regretting it instantly seeing the hard look that crossed Scorpius's face. "I’m sorry. I just meant you didn’t need to change on my account."
"You may be comfortable wearing your birthday suit, but I am not. Excuse me, Professor."
Scorpius stormed off into his bedroom, but for a moment, Charlie could have sworn there was a faint blush creeping across Scorpius’s cheeks. Scorpius was beginning to show different expressions. This was progress, Charlie thought, very slow, painstaking progress.
The Confrontation
"Now, a lifetime of experience has left me bitter and cynical."
While Scorpius took his time dressing, Charlie stood and walked around, amazed at room’s transformation. All of Scorpius’s furniture was made of dark wood, with ornate carvings and sophisticated designs. There was a small round table in the corner with two old chairs, a vase of dark blue orbs sitting in the centre, each faintly glowing. The settee, the lightest coloured item in the room, was powder blue, the downy cushions matching well with rest of the décor. In front of the settee was an old Willow patterned china tea set with blue and white scenes of the Chinese countryside flowing around it. Across from the settee was an old leather high backed chair that looked well worn, the cushion subtly falling inward. Above the mantelpiece of the large fireplace sat only a single picture of Scorpius and his family, taken recently, his father’s hand on his shoulder, his mother smiling faintly beside him.
But the largest item was the massive baroque desk covered in parchment, inkwells, and books, with the letter M carved on every side. Proudly showcased on the wall over the desk were several certificates of learning from famous masters in Potions, Arithmancy, and Astronomy. Most people only had one, if any, certificates of learning, and only after years of study. It was almost unheard of for someone so young to have been able to receive them.
"Once my father pulled me out of Hogwarts he hired only the best to tutor me. I was proficient in
Potions and Astronomy by the time I was seventeen. Afterwards, I took up Arithmancy and have been pursuing the study of that art every since."
Charlie turned to see Scorpius had donned his usual garb, his green and black professor’s robe and his tall black wizarding cap with a faint green sheen.
"What about the other subjects, Herbology, Divination, Care of Magical Creatures? I know you liked that subject."
Scorpius squirmed, ever so slightly. "I was taught the basics in each field, enough to earn my O.W.L.s, but my father thought it would be best that I focus my studies afterwards to only the most prestigious fields."
"What about the N.E.W.T.s?"
"The N.E.W.T.s are only necessary for a C.V. As I had already procured an apprenticeship with a few masters, it seemed redundant."
Charlie shook his head. "I have to admit you never struck me as the studying type."
Scorpius bristled. "Things change."
And wasn’t that the heart of the matter. The pair sat, Charlie back on the settee and Scorpius in his leather chair, looking like an old wizard already atop the worn leather, his pristine white face with rosy cheeks the only indication that this man was twenty-one years young. Charlie realized he was completely out of his depth, and had no idea how to proceed.
"Tea?"
"Oh, yes please."
As Scorpius reached for the tea kettle he paused, his hand still outstretched, as his eye grew wide, his gaze focused on Charlie’s hip.
Charlie looked down, unsure what could enlist such a reaction on his person. What he saw was the stuffed cockatrice sitting forgotten beside him.
"Oh, I believe this is yours."
Scorpius did not move nor did he look away.
"I tried to fix it, but I’m pretty terrible at sewing. You might want to redo the stitching around the leg. It’s also a bit dusty, so you might want to give it a good wash too. I was too afraid if I washed it the colours would fade. I’m sorry I never mailed it to you, but I had hoped you would be back for school the next year and I’d give it to you then. After that, I’m not sure. I think, for some strange reason, I thought I would see you again."
He picked up the doll and lifted it out for Scorpius to take. Scorpius moved then, but not to take the doll, instead he retreated from it.
"What’s the matter?"
"Get it out of here."
Charlie looked at the doll and then looked back at Scorpius. "Scorpius, you used to love this guy. What was his name again? I could never remember."
"Berkeley," Scorpius whispered in a frightened breath.
"Berkeley! That’s right! Quite a posh name for a bird, don’t you think?"
Scorpius shook his head. "Please, Professor Weasley, please take him away."
Charlie grew concerned. Scorpius was really, truly frightened. He hid the bird behind his back and Scorpius relaxed slightly.
"I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to return what was yours. I thought it would make you happy to see it again."
Suddenly, Scorpius's frightened face turned to anger. "Happy? You think seeing the object of my previous delusion would make me happy?"
"Well, yes…"
"Why in the world would you want to remind me of the worst part of my life? Have you come to mock me? Come to point fingers and relive that glorious day when you got even with the Malfoy family?"
"Get even? When did I…?"
"Oh yes, my father told me all about how your family hates ours, so much so that you would stoop to such levels as confuse a poor lonely boy who just wanted your approval!"
Scorpius stood, his hands in tight fists, just like his father back in Headmistress Kensington’s office all those years ago.
"Well I won’t let you trick me now. I’m a grown man, a responsible man, a fellow professor, and I demand that you treat me with the respect I deserve."
Charlie stood as well, his hands raised in a vain attempt to calm the angry young man.
"Scorpius, I in no way intended to trick you…"
"Didn’t you? It felt like you tricked me when I realized I had wasted a year of my life talking to a stuffed doll all so I could become a great Magical Creature expert like you!"
Scorpius was out of breath, his hair was in disarray and his cheeks were bright red. Charlie had truly messed up. How foolish had he been to think he could strike up a friendship with the boy whose life he had watched fall apart? To Scorpius, Charlie probably seemed the epitome of evil. And in some ways, Charlie deserved that opinion. He hung his head and allowed the guilt to run through him.
"I just wanted to see your happy face again, Scorpius. I missed it." Charlie expressed, his eyes firmly focused on Scorpius’s oriental rugs.
That statement earned Charlie only silence in return, leaving him unsure how to make amends.
"You were such a happy child, back then, always smiling and laughing and full of interesting questions. I’ve never known anyone as enthusiastic about magical creatures as you were back then, be it about Dragons or Mokes or Jarveys. Seeing you now, it’s not the same. I’ve not seen you laugh or joke or smile since you got here, not once. I just thought Berkeley might bring that childish smile back, just a little. I liked that smile, quite a lot."
Scorpius blushed at Charlie’s compliment, but still remained silent, his eyes never softening from their angry glare.
"I didn’t mean to trick you, Scorpius. I honestly thought it was just a temporary confusion that would go away in time. I saw it year after year, first years doing strange things to counteract their sudden thrust into life without the care and guidance of their parents. I didn’t realize you still believed the cockatrice was real. I thought it was just a bit of childhood whimsy. I myself had a toy horse on a stick that I called Dragon and I used to ride it, believing I was riding a real dragon. Even though I know it’s not real now I still love that toy. I’m sorry, I let you down. There is not much I can say that can adequately express my regret at that."
Charlie waited for a response, but when it became clear there was none forthcoming, he lowered his head and gave up. He walked out of Scorpius's chamber, leaving the doll on the settee for Scorpius to do with as he wished, wondering how he could even call himself an educator when he had ruined such a life.
The Acceptance
Life’s disappointments are harder to take when you don’t know any swear words
Scorpius sat at his desk with the cockatrice doll staring right back at him.
"You are not real."
Scorpius waited for any reaction for the doll but it sat, lifeless, on the hard wood.
Looking at the doll’s cloth covering and misshapen proportions, Scorpius wondered how he had ever believed this doll to be a real animal.
"I prefer tea, now."
He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but this bird had a funny way of pulling words out of his mouth.
"Hot chocolate has too much sugar to drink every day, but I do imbibe the stuff on special occasions."
Scorpius twirled his quill.
"Professor Weasley didn’t take very good care of you."
He pointed to the tear in the right leg with his quill.
"And you are filthy. I should just chuck you in the bin and be done with you."
Using the feather part of the quill he began to poke at the doll, hoping the gesture would give him an idea of what to do next. It didn’t.
He scrunched up his face and ran a hand through his hair. "What am I doing talking to you? It’s almost as if I want you to talk to me." He sighed. "But that would mean I was crazy again, and I’ve grown quite attached to my sanity."
Scorpius began to replay the words Professor Weasley had spoken to him. He had said he wanted Scorpius to smile. No one had ever said that to him, or even half the things Professor Weasley had said to him. It made him blush just to think about it.
"He is the most presumptuous man I have ever met. Imagine, forcing his way in and demanding to be friends. Is there a brain in that large head?"
His face felt flushed. "He tricked me. That man tricked me and now he wants us to be chums."
The bird stared right back. "Okay, so maybe he didn’t realize he was tricking me. Maybe my father is a tad sore about the war and may or may not have misread the situation. But Professor Weasley still encouraged me to continue talking to a stuffed animal as if it was real. That means you, Berkeley."
He dropped his head onto the desk. "I probably should stop talking to you."
Scorpius rested on the desk for a few minutes, staring into space.
"He is quite a jovial man, I suppose. He seems to get along with the other professors quite well, especially the females. I guess he’s an attractive man, in a way."
The bird still did not reply. Scorpius lifted his head and turned the animal around, unwilling to look at it any more.
His first year at Hogwarts had been awful. The students had hated him, the professors had hated him. He had missed the ease of home life and hated the expectations everyone seemed to have of him, to care about things like homework and social rules. He just wanted to play, and laugh, and eat turkey sandwiches.
Once he had been dragged out of school, his loneliness had quickly become less important as he was bombarded with tutors and work, lessons and meetings. At least at Hogwarts he could have had breaks, summer hols and Christmas travels, but instead, at the Manor, he had worked every month, without a break. And, without ever realizing it, he had stopped missing play time and turkey sandwiches, preferring to read his textbooks rather than dig for worms, and write extra feet on his papers rather than draw out epic battles of pirates on the high seas.
But had he forgotten how to truly smile? Had he lost the ability?
He quirked his lips up in an awkward mockery of one. He began to laugh at the thought of someone walking in and seeing his absurd face. Professor Weasley came to mind. What if he saw Scorpius's attempts? What would he say?
Suddenly a large rumble came from the right side of his chamber. It rattled his walls and knocked over his trunk, sending textbooks and pieces of parchment flying around the room. Quidditch practice must have just finished, Scorpius ruefully thought as he tidied the mess. Fitting everything neatly back into the trunk, Scorpius fondly remembered his mother pulling the case out of the attic, deeming it fitting for Scorpius to use it again now that he was returning to Hogwarts.
Scorpius ran a hand over the old wood and leather. This had been the same trunk his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had used when they were students. Scorpius hadn’t paid attention to that fact when he originally used it, back in first year, but now he could feel the weight of that history heavy on his shoulders.
What would have happened had Scorpius continued his days at Hogwarts? Would things be different? His early mastery of Arthimancy was a great source of pride for himself, and his family. Would that have happened had he stayed? Would he still have his parents' pride, or would he still believe in his own self delusions, talking to an inanimate object as if it were a real animal? He was pleased with his life, pleased with the professional success he had been able to achieve and the relationship he maintained with his family, but, and this question clawed at him like a prickle in the back of his throat, would he have been happier barely scraping by at Hogwarts and living out his life with Berkeley at his side?
As he ran his hand down the inside of the trunk, a compartment he had forgotten about opened, the contents falling out into his hand. It was a small book he didn’t recognize, its pages folded and well worn. He pulled it open and began to examine it, unsure of its contents. As he opened it, he saw the writings of a child, his own writings, describing the many adventures of the cockatrice.
Berkeley is a cheat. No matter how many times we play checkers he always beats me. I think he uses magic to win, but I’m not sure. I’ll report later what I find.
Scorpius thumbed through the pages and stopped at one of the last entries.
While drinking hot chocolate, Berkeley decided to write a poem. I think poems are for girls, but he told me to write it down.
I made a big decision a little while ago.
I don't remember what it was, which prob'ly goes to show
That many times a simple choice can prove to be essential
Even though it often might appear inconsequential.
I must have been distracted when I left my home because
Left or right I'm sure I went. (I wonder which it was!)
Anyway, I never veered: I walked in that direction
Utterly absorbed, it seems, in quiet introspection.
For no reason I can think of, I've wandered far astray.
And that is how I got to where I find myself today.
I’m not sure what all that means, but Berkeley says it’s from the heart and that’s all that matters. I’m so glad I met Berkeley. He’s my best friend in the whole world. We’ll never be apart because life would be dull without him!
Feeling a bit lost, Scorpius sat down again in his desk chair, the journal in his hand.
After a few moments, Scorpius picked up his quill again and began to twirl it, a bad habit he always had when he was nervous. He looked around the room and then the back of the cockatrice doll. He stared at that for a few moments as well, twirling the feather back and forth.
Then, as if inspiration struck like lightning, Scorpius grabbed a blank piece of parchment and began to write, furiously. He wrote until his hands were sore and then he picked up the sheet and began to examine the contents. The phrases were disjointed and then spelling was poor. Scorpius scratched out most of his work before he took a deep breath, turned the cockatrice doll around again, and began to write with a more calm and determined demeanour.
The cockatrice is a surprisingly simple animal. He enjoys turkey sandwiches on a warm summer day and a good cluck amidst a dandy wagging of his snake-like tail.
For the first time in his life, Scorpius was no longer angry at Professor Weasley. In all his resentful feelings he had forgotten that it was Scorpius himself who had found the cockatrice. His mind had felt Scorpius needed a companion, and had helpfully provided one for him. Professor Weasley had just wanted to see him happy, and for a short time Scorpius had been.
Scorpius was going to finish that report, and then he was going to send it to Professor Weasley. And hopefully, if he still wanted to be friends, they could read it together and Scorpius would do his best to smile.
The End.
Title: Life’s disappointments are harder to take when you don’t know any swear words
Characters: Charlie and Scorpius
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mostly gen with a wee bit of angst (a little heartbreak before joy always makes it that much sweeter), and a whiff of pre-slash
Summary:A child’s imagination can be a wonderful thing, but it is often forgotten in favour of growing up.
Word Count: ~11,500
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author’s notes: nopejr I hope you enjoy this fic as I wrote it just for you. I admit to trolling your site and seeing you were a Calvin and Hobbes fan. It inspired me to write about my favourite subject: childhood fantasy. All quotes come directly from Calvin and Hobbes, written by Bill Watterson. For all of you unfamiliar with Calvin and Hobbes, do not despair, this fic is only inspired by, and not a direct connection to, the original work. Thank you to all those that helped me: w, t, t, b and n. I have the best friends in the world.
The Return
I've got to start listening to those quiet, nagging doubts.
Charlie enjoyed being a professor.
"Morning, Professor!"
Looking down at the tiny third year, Xavier, who despite his miniature frame was desperate to ride a dragon one day, Charlie smiled and took a mental note to include a story from his dragon reserve days in next week’s lesson.
"Good morning, Professor Weasley!"
Waving at the flock of sixth year girls who had sing-songed his name while batting their eyelashes, Charlie tried desperately not to roll his eyes. He hadn’t the heart to dash their dreams, but he hadn’t the stomach for their frivolous fawning, so he hurried past them towards his seat at the head table in the Great Hall.
"Good morning, Charlie. Did the Hufflepuff girls give you any trouble?"
Charlie smirked at Neville’s knowing stare as he accepted a plate of toast, grabbing four slices. "Just the usual wave this morning, thank goodness. Can’t believe you married one, Nev. They are a crazed lot."
Neville dropped three cubes of sugar into his tea, ignoring Charlie’s quip about his wife. "You think the girls would have figured it out by now, oh perpetual bachelor, that they aren’t exactly your type."
Pointing to his nose, Charlie leaned in and replied in a stage-whisper voice. "Ignorance is bliss my friend, utter bliss."
There was a cough from behind them that made both Charlie and Neville jump. No matter how old Charlie was, he always grew nervous hearing the sound of the Headmistress's coughing, feeling the same way he felt his first year at Hogwarts after being caught running in the halls.
"Good Morning, Headmistress Kensington," the men said in unison, their faces radiating false innocence.
The Headmistress lifted a single eyebrow but smiled none the less. "I’m sorry to inform you that Professor Vector has had a family emergency. She will be on leave for the rest of the term."
"Oh dear, is everything all right?"
"Everything is fine, Neville. Her daughter is having a bit of trouble with her first pregnancy and she wants to be there for her. She is understandably worried about her daughter and her first grandchild, as any of us would be. Luckily, she knows of someone who would be willing to replace her. This evening we will have a new Professor join us. Professor Weasley, I ask that you see him at the gate and show him to his quarters. He will be taking the ones next to the Quidditch locker rooms."
Charlie wrinkled his nose at the prospect of living next to the sweat box known as the Quidditch locker rooms. No doubt the smell of socks and un-deodorized teenagers would be overwhelming.
"What did the poor man do to deserve those rooms?" Charlie quipped.
The Headmistress gave Charlie a hard look, stopping his laughing immediately. "Those were the only quarters available at such short notice. If the man has any complaints then I will let him know that you have offered to switch. He will arrive at eight o’clock. Be on time."
Headmistress Kensington bowed slightly and continued on her way.
"Neville, why do I always have to greet the new professors? You know he’s going to be a right swot. No one normal willingly studies Arithmancy, let alone teaches it."
Neville hummed as he buttered his toast. "I thought both your brothers Bill and Percy were quite good at it?"
"And they are both swots." Charlie stood, wiping off the crumbs from his leather trousers. "I’m off to introduce our kiddies to Bowtruckles. Wish me luck."
Charlie winked and then headed off, his mind immediately forgetting his task of welcoming the new professor in favour of imagining what trouble the children could get into during his lesson.
Luckily, at ten minutes to eight, the Headmistress helpfully stuck her head through the Floo and loudly reminded Charlie of his task while he sipped a hot toddy in his cabin after a long day of classes, causing Charlie to spill most of it down his front.
Charlie carelessly threw on a jacket and headed out towards the front gate, the keys to the castle jingly on his hip as he ran to greet the new professor on time.
The man was already waiting, trunk floating behind him, when Charlie arrived. His garb was modest, black trousers, simple black shoes, dark cotton shirt, but he wore a long dark cloak with a hood hiding most of his face. Charlie reached for the trunk in a lame attempt at being helpful, but was swiftly denied when the trunk began to float towards the castle and the new professor followed it, Charlie racing to catch up.
"Did you have any trouble getting here?"
"No." The man replied, his voice calm and cool.
Charlie shoved his hands into his pockets. "Did you have to travel far?"
The man continued his brisk walk, never turning his head in his replies. "Not particularly."
He was clearly not interested in small talk. Unfortunately, Charlie couldn’t help but fill in the gaps of silence as they entered Hogwarts and made their way to the new professor’s quarters.
"You’ll be living next to the Quidditch locker rooms, so I would suggest you cast a few extra Sound Barrier charms and maybe light some scented candles - not that your rooms will need it, but just in case. Never know with teenagers, their sounds and smells seem to permeate even the strongest wards."
His joke received not one laugh, not even an amused chuckle. Charlie was right, the new professor was a swot. When they reached the front door, Charlie fumbled with the keys, unable to find the right one.
"Once inside you can key your wand into the room’s wards so only you will have access to them, and of course the Headmistress, in case of emergency. If you need anything, help with moving furniture, tips on handling the students, just let me know. I’m not the oldest professor here, but I’ve been teaching for a while so I think I do okay. So please, do not hesitate to ask if you need anything."
The man stood in the centre of the room, his trunk bobbing behind him. Charlie ran a hand through his unruly red hair, feeling as though he had forgotten something important. The two men just stood there, in the middle of the living room, staring at each other.
Finally, after a few moments, the man ended the charm on his trunk and it landed on the floor with a thud. Then, the young man lifted his hands and released his hood.
Underneath the black material was a familiar head of shiny blonde-white hair and a pair of blue-grey eyes Charlie hadn’t seen in ten years.
"Good evening, Professor Weasley. I think I can take things from here."
Charlie hesitated before responding, worried that perhaps he was recognizing the wrong person. "Scorpius?"
The young man smiled a small polite smile before nodding. "Professor Malfoy, now, if you don’t mind. I prefer to be addressed in the correct way."
"Of course. I’ll just take my leave. Good night, Professor Malfoy."
Charlie briskly left Professor Malfoy’s quarters in a bit of a daze. He hadn’t seen or heard from Scorpius since that fateful day in Headmistress Kensington’s office; the boy had never returned after his father yanked him out of school. That would make Scorpius twenty-one, barely old enough to be a professor, let alone one of Arthimancy. Charlie rubbed his temples and hoped the Headmistress knew what she was doing. The Scorpius Charlie remembered preferred creating fantasies rather than crunching numbers. The two did not go together at all.
Although, what did Charlie know of Scorpius today? A lot could change in ten years, and from the looks of it, they certainly had.
The Change
"Nobody asks me how things oughta be! I've got tons of ideas!"
"Professor Weasley, you have to do something about Professor Malfoy! He’s evil!"
Charlie sighed. This had been the fifth complaint today. The students all complained to him, save for the first years and second years that thankfully did not take Arthimancy yet.
"He’s given so much homework that I’ll have to stay up all night to finish!"
"He made Janice stand in the front of the class the entire period just for talking!"
"He caught Sophie passing a note to Theresa and he read it aloud!"
"There’s a test every week!"
"There was a test the first day!"
"He doesn’t care that we have Quidditch practice. He doesn’t even like Quidditch!"
"Please, Professor Weasley, you have to do something!"
Staring down at his class, thoroughly uninterested in the Nifflers he had brought, Charlie realized he was going to have to pay Professor Malfoy a visit. Students always complained about homework and tests, especially to him as he was one of the more approachable adults, still looking young, even at fifty-five, but never to such a degree as he had witnessed in the past month.
The next day, as Charlie watched a group of students pile onto a magically engorged tree twig and shoot down the snow covered hills, he was surprised to see Scorpius approaching the children. Charlie took the opportunity to observe how Professor Malfoy really interacted with his students, choosing to watch rather than intervene.
Scorpius waved his wand at the sled and it turned back into a twig.
"Continue with this and you will break your necks. I know you all have work to do. Stop wasting your day and get to work."
Charlie sighed. Things were worse than he thought.
He had hoped to get reacquainted with Scorpius during meals and staff meetings, wanting to find out what the man had been doing for the last ten years, but Scorpius kept a polite distance from everyone, students and professors alike, and often preferred to eat in his own quarters rather than the Great Hall and refused to speak about anything non-work related in the staff room. Scorpius had always been a loner, but, if Charlie’s memory served, was a happy loner, his eyes shining with mysterious mischief. Now, those same eyes looked lifeless and bland and his face never changed from his standard well-bred demeanour.
As a boy, Scorpius had looked like a miniature copy of his father, his nose and chin were pointy and his hair carried the same elf-like quality being both white-blond and thin. His eyes were almost the same colour as his father’s except for a faint blue that surrounded the iris. But now, that blue had permeated more clearly throughout the eyes and his chin had grown more round. The arrogant stance of Draco Malfoy, and all the Malfoys before him, was utterly gone in Scorpius. He was cold, but didn’t appear to be arrogantly judging those around him, he just refused to acknowledge anyone else’s presence.
But there was something to Scorpius's unfeeling aura that made Charlie want to run and ruffle his hair. Perhaps because he knew Scorpius as a young creative boy, his mind had trouble putting the pieces together. Charlie’s eyes were constantly drawn to the young man, studying him, observing him, trying to figure out what had changed. Even though Scorpius was not the sort of man Charlie would usually associate himself with, he wanted to, wanted to sit next to him and converse with him, just as comfortably as any of the other professors, maybe even more.
And then there was the issue of the cockatrice.
Charlie still had the doll in his cabin, near his desk, high up enough that the few animals he brought into his cabin wouldn’t find it and use it as a chew toy. After Scorpius’s father had thrown the doll into the wall after discovering his son’s delusions, Charlie had picked it up and taken it back to his cabin, making a horrid attempt at sewing the right claw that had ripped in the struggle.
Charlie thought for sure he had lost his job that day, and believed he only retained it because the Headmistress had been sympathetic to Charlie’s good intentions. He had only been the Head of House a few years, and as a rookie, he had allowed his compassion towards the quiet outcast to outweigh his good sense.
Looking at the doll now, its black eyes hung low, its red and gold feathers looking dull and covered in dust, the reason why Charlie had allowed the ruse to continue fell clear into his mind. Scorpius had been deliriously happy that evening caught after hours, proudly showcasing his find to Charlie. He had never seen such a smile on anyone before, and that smile stayed on the boy's face day after day. It was brighter than the look the twins had when they pulled off a prank, more radiant than the look his brothers Bill, Percy and Ron wore when they had married their wives, and Charlie was sure he himself had never seemed so happy in all his life.
He wanted to know what that felt like, to be so overjoyed that the mind threw away all reason. And, even more pressing, he wanted to know how he could see that look again on Scorpius's now stone-like face.
Without rationally thinking of his actions, Charlie grabbed the cockatrice and headed towards the Castle. First, he was going to tackle the students' complaints, second, he was going to return the cockatrice, and third, if all went well, he would attempt to forge a friendship that could last for years. Or perhaps, Charlie thought, he should approach the man the other way round.
When he knocked on Scorpius's door, Charlie was taken aback at his casual attire. Scorpius, freshly bathed, smelling of pine and soap, dressed only in a white oversized terry-cloth robe, opened the door, his face flushed and his hair loosely falling about his face. All memory of Scorpius as a small boy was wiped clean from his memory and replaced with this wet blond Adonis in front of him. Charlie attempted to keep himself under control, but it was proving quite difficult.
"Good evening, Professor, do you mind if I come in?"
"No, I don’t think…"
It didn’t matter what Scorpius thought as Charlie was determined to come in regardless, so he did so, much to the annoyance of Scorpius whose polite smile turned into a frown.
"I don’t believe I invited you in. Do you realize what time it is?"
Charlie threw a roguish grin over his shoulder, the kind that allowed him to get away with murder, as a way to beg for forgiveness. The grin failed to enlist any change in Scorpius’s angry demeanour, but Charlie wasn’t one to give up so easily. He had, in fact, not realized the time, having left his cabin in a rush of inspiration. A quick glance at a large clock on the wall made him think perhaps the late hour was not the best time to forge a new friendship.
"I’ve come to give you a proper greeting, as our first meeting was less than satisfactory. I thought we could talk, get to know each other better. I’m sure you’d like an ally in this place, someone to lean on when the goings get tough, and I’m offering myself to be that person. I am here to for you."
Scorpius stared, and Charlie could see his presumptuous olive branch wilting underneath his look. Scorpius rolled his eyes and pulled his robe tighter. "I have no interest in whatever you are offering, Professor Weasley."
"Please, call me Charlie."
Charlie grinned so his pearly white teeth shone, just as his mother had taught him when trying to make a good first impression.
"I’d prefer it if we didn’t call each other by our given names, Professor Weasley. I’d like to keep things professional."
His grin began to fade.
"I’m very busy right now, so if you don’t mind leaving, I have papers to grade and a test to prepare, so please leave my quarters immediately."
Charlie took a deep breath and willed his tongue away from any scathing retorts. Scorpius's cold response to his usual tried and true friendly demeanour allowed his mind to clear and remember his original task.
"Actually, I came to speak to you on just that. Do you mind if we sit? I promise it’s about professional business. I’ve had a few complaints I’d like to speak to you about."
Scorpius gave Charlie a hard look before he acquiesced and gestured for Charlie to sit on his settee.
"If you would excuse me a moment while I change, I am not properly attired to receive guests."
"I think you look just fine for entertaining." Charlie stupidly remarked, regretting it instantly seeing the hard look that crossed Scorpius's face. "I’m sorry. I just meant you didn’t need to change on my account."
"You may be comfortable wearing your birthday suit, but I am not. Excuse me, Professor."
Scorpius stormed off into his bedroom, but for a moment, Charlie could have sworn there was a faint blush creeping across Scorpius’s cheeks. Scorpius was beginning to show different expressions. This was progress, Charlie thought, very slow, painstaking progress.
The Confrontation
"Now, a lifetime of experience has left me bitter and cynical."
While Scorpius took his time dressing, Charlie stood and walked around, amazed at room’s transformation. All of Scorpius’s furniture was made of dark wood, with ornate carvings and sophisticated designs. There was a small round table in the corner with two old chairs, a vase of dark blue orbs sitting in the centre, each faintly glowing. The settee, the lightest coloured item in the room, was powder blue, the downy cushions matching well with rest of the décor. In front of the settee was an old Willow patterned china tea set with blue and white scenes of the Chinese countryside flowing around it. Across from the settee was an old leather high backed chair that looked well worn, the cushion subtly falling inward. Above the mantelpiece of the large fireplace sat only a single picture of Scorpius and his family, taken recently, his father’s hand on his shoulder, his mother smiling faintly beside him.
But the largest item was the massive baroque desk covered in parchment, inkwells, and books, with the letter M carved on every side. Proudly showcased on the wall over the desk were several certificates of learning from famous masters in Potions, Arithmancy, and Astronomy. Most people only had one, if any, certificates of learning, and only after years of study. It was almost unheard of for someone so young to have been able to receive them.
"Once my father pulled me out of Hogwarts he hired only the best to tutor me. I was proficient in
Potions and Astronomy by the time I was seventeen. Afterwards, I took up Arithmancy and have been pursuing the study of that art every since."
Charlie turned to see Scorpius had donned his usual garb, his green and black professor’s robe and his tall black wizarding cap with a faint green sheen.
"What about the other subjects, Herbology, Divination, Care of Magical Creatures? I know you liked that subject."
Scorpius squirmed, ever so slightly. "I was taught the basics in each field, enough to earn my O.W.L.s, but my father thought it would be best that I focus my studies afterwards to only the most prestigious fields."
"What about the N.E.W.T.s?"
"The N.E.W.T.s are only necessary for a C.V. As I had already procured an apprenticeship with a few masters, it seemed redundant."
Charlie shook his head. "I have to admit you never struck me as the studying type."
Scorpius bristled. "Things change."
And wasn’t that the heart of the matter. The pair sat, Charlie back on the settee and Scorpius in his leather chair, looking like an old wizard already atop the worn leather, his pristine white face with rosy cheeks the only indication that this man was twenty-one years young. Charlie realized he was completely out of his depth, and had no idea how to proceed.
"Tea?"
"Oh, yes please."
As Scorpius reached for the tea kettle he paused, his hand still outstretched, as his eye grew wide, his gaze focused on Charlie’s hip.
Charlie looked down, unsure what could enlist such a reaction on his person. What he saw was the stuffed cockatrice sitting forgotten beside him.
"Oh, I believe this is yours."
Scorpius did not move nor did he look away.
"I tried to fix it, but I’m pretty terrible at sewing. You might want to redo the stitching around the leg. It’s also a bit dusty, so you might want to give it a good wash too. I was too afraid if I washed it the colours would fade. I’m sorry I never mailed it to you, but I had hoped you would be back for school the next year and I’d give it to you then. After that, I’m not sure. I think, for some strange reason, I thought I would see you again."
He picked up the doll and lifted it out for Scorpius to take. Scorpius moved then, but not to take the doll, instead he retreated from it.
"What’s the matter?"
"Get it out of here."
Charlie looked at the doll and then looked back at Scorpius. "Scorpius, you used to love this guy. What was his name again? I could never remember."
"Berkeley," Scorpius whispered in a frightened breath.
"Berkeley! That’s right! Quite a posh name for a bird, don’t you think?"
Scorpius shook his head. "Please, Professor Weasley, please take him away."
Charlie grew concerned. Scorpius was really, truly frightened. He hid the bird behind his back and Scorpius relaxed slightly.
"I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to return what was yours. I thought it would make you happy to see it again."
Suddenly, Scorpius's frightened face turned to anger. "Happy? You think seeing the object of my previous delusion would make me happy?"
"Well, yes…"
"Why in the world would you want to remind me of the worst part of my life? Have you come to mock me? Come to point fingers and relive that glorious day when you got even with the Malfoy family?"
"Get even? When did I…?"
"Oh yes, my father told me all about how your family hates ours, so much so that you would stoop to such levels as confuse a poor lonely boy who just wanted your approval!"
Scorpius stood, his hands in tight fists, just like his father back in Headmistress Kensington’s office all those years ago.
"Well I won’t let you trick me now. I’m a grown man, a responsible man, a fellow professor, and I demand that you treat me with the respect I deserve."
Charlie stood as well, his hands raised in a vain attempt to calm the angry young man.
"Scorpius, I in no way intended to trick you…"
"Didn’t you? It felt like you tricked me when I realized I had wasted a year of my life talking to a stuffed doll all so I could become a great Magical Creature expert like you!"
Scorpius was out of breath, his hair was in disarray and his cheeks were bright red. Charlie had truly messed up. How foolish had he been to think he could strike up a friendship with the boy whose life he had watched fall apart? To Scorpius, Charlie probably seemed the epitome of evil. And in some ways, Charlie deserved that opinion. He hung his head and allowed the guilt to run through him.
"I just wanted to see your happy face again, Scorpius. I missed it." Charlie expressed, his eyes firmly focused on Scorpius’s oriental rugs.
That statement earned Charlie only silence in return, leaving him unsure how to make amends.
"You were such a happy child, back then, always smiling and laughing and full of interesting questions. I’ve never known anyone as enthusiastic about magical creatures as you were back then, be it about Dragons or Mokes or Jarveys. Seeing you now, it’s not the same. I’ve not seen you laugh or joke or smile since you got here, not once. I just thought Berkeley might bring that childish smile back, just a little. I liked that smile, quite a lot."
Scorpius blushed at Charlie’s compliment, but still remained silent, his eyes never softening from their angry glare.
"I didn’t mean to trick you, Scorpius. I honestly thought it was just a temporary confusion that would go away in time. I saw it year after year, first years doing strange things to counteract their sudden thrust into life without the care and guidance of their parents. I didn’t realize you still believed the cockatrice was real. I thought it was just a bit of childhood whimsy. I myself had a toy horse on a stick that I called Dragon and I used to ride it, believing I was riding a real dragon. Even though I know it’s not real now I still love that toy. I’m sorry, I let you down. There is not much I can say that can adequately express my regret at that."
Charlie waited for a response, but when it became clear there was none forthcoming, he lowered his head and gave up. He walked out of Scorpius's chamber, leaving the doll on the settee for Scorpius to do with as he wished, wondering how he could even call himself an educator when he had ruined such a life.
The Acceptance
Life’s disappointments are harder to take when you don’t know any swear words
Scorpius sat at his desk with the cockatrice doll staring right back at him.
"You are not real."
Scorpius waited for any reaction for the doll but it sat, lifeless, on the hard wood.
Looking at the doll’s cloth covering and misshapen proportions, Scorpius wondered how he had ever believed this doll to be a real animal.
"I prefer tea, now."
He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but this bird had a funny way of pulling words out of his mouth.
"Hot chocolate has too much sugar to drink every day, but I do imbibe the stuff on special occasions."
Scorpius twirled his quill.
"Professor Weasley didn’t take very good care of you."
He pointed to the tear in the right leg with his quill.
"And you are filthy. I should just chuck you in the bin and be done with you."
Using the feather part of the quill he began to poke at the doll, hoping the gesture would give him an idea of what to do next. It didn’t.
He scrunched up his face and ran a hand through his hair. "What am I doing talking to you? It’s almost as if I want you to talk to me." He sighed. "But that would mean I was crazy again, and I’ve grown quite attached to my sanity."
Scorpius began to replay the words Professor Weasley had spoken to him. He had said he wanted Scorpius to smile. No one had ever said that to him, or even half the things Professor Weasley had said to him. It made him blush just to think about it.
"He is the most presumptuous man I have ever met. Imagine, forcing his way in and demanding to be friends. Is there a brain in that large head?"
His face felt flushed. "He tricked me. That man tricked me and now he wants us to be chums."
The bird stared right back. "Okay, so maybe he didn’t realize he was tricking me. Maybe my father is a tad sore about the war and may or may not have misread the situation. But Professor Weasley still encouraged me to continue talking to a stuffed animal as if it was real. That means you, Berkeley."
He dropped his head onto the desk. "I probably should stop talking to you."
Scorpius rested on the desk for a few minutes, staring into space.
"He is quite a jovial man, I suppose. He seems to get along with the other professors quite well, especially the females. I guess he’s an attractive man, in a way."
The bird still did not reply. Scorpius lifted his head and turned the animal around, unwilling to look at it any more.
His first year at Hogwarts had been awful. The students had hated him, the professors had hated him. He had missed the ease of home life and hated the expectations everyone seemed to have of him, to care about things like homework and social rules. He just wanted to play, and laugh, and eat turkey sandwiches.
Once he had been dragged out of school, his loneliness had quickly become less important as he was bombarded with tutors and work, lessons and meetings. At least at Hogwarts he could have had breaks, summer hols and Christmas travels, but instead, at the Manor, he had worked every month, without a break. And, without ever realizing it, he had stopped missing play time and turkey sandwiches, preferring to read his textbooks rather than dig for worms, and write extra feet on his papers rather than draw out epic battles of pirates on the high seas.
But had he forgotten how to truly smile? Had he lost the ability?
He quirked his lips up in an awkward mockery of one. He began to laugh at the thought of someone walking in and seeing his absurd face. Professor Weasley came to mind. What if he saw Scorpius's attempts? What would he say?
Suddenly a large rumble came from the right side of his chamber. It rattled his walls and knocked over his trunk, sending textbooks and pieces of parchment flying around the room. Quidditch practice must have just finished, Scorpius ruefully thought as he tidied the mess. Fitting everything neatly back into the trunk, Scorpius fondly remembered his mother pulling the case out of the attic, deeming it fitting for Scorpius to use it again now that he was returning to Hogwarts.
Scorpius ran a hand over the old wood and leather. This had been the same trunk his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had used when they were students. Scorpius hadn’t paid attention to that fact when he originally used it, back in first year, but now he could feel the weight of that history heavy on his shoulders.
What would have happened had Scorpius continued his days at Hogwarts? Would things be different? His early mastery of Arthimancy was a great source of pride for himself, and his family. Would that have happened had he stayed? Would he still have his parents' pride, or would he still believe in his own self delusions, talking to an inanimate object as if it were a real animal? He was pleased with his life, pleased with the professional success he had been able to achieve and the relationship he maintained with his family, but, and this question clawed at him like a prickle in the back of his throat, would he have been happier barely scraping by at Hogwarts and living out his life with Berkeley at his side?
As he ran his hand down the inside of the trunk, a compartment he had forgotten about opened, the contents falling out into his hand. It was a small book he didn’t recognize, its pages folded and well worn. He pulled it open and began to examine it, unsure of its contents. As he opened it, he saw the writings of a child, his own writings, describing the many adventures of the cockatrice.
Berkeley is a cheat. No matter how many times we play checkers he always beats me. I think he uses magic to win, but I’m not sure. I’ll report later what I find.
Scorpius thumbed through the pages and stopped at one of the last entries.
While drinking hot chocolate, Berkeley decided to write a poem. I think poems are for girls, but he told me to write it down.
I made a big decision a little while ago.
I don't remember what it was, which prob'ly goes to show
That many times a simple choice can prove to be essential
Even though it often might appear inconsequential.
I must have been distracted when I left my home because
Left or right I'm sure I went. (I wonder which it was!)
Anyway, I never veered: I walked in that direction
Utterly absorbed, it seems, in quiet introspection.
For no reason I can think of, I've wandered far astray.
And that is how I got to where I find myself today.
I’m not sure what all that means, but Berkeley says it’s from the heart and that’s all that matters. I’m so glad I met Berkeley. He’s my best friend in the whole world. We’ll never be apart because life would be dull without him!
Feeling a bit lost, Scorpius sat down again in his desk chair, the journal in his hand.
After a few moments, Scorpius picked up his quill again and began to twirl it, a bad habit he always had when he was nervous. He looked around the room and then the back of the cockatrice doll. He stared at that for a few moments as well, twirling the feather back and forth.
Then, as if inspiration struck like lightning, Scorpius grabbed a blank piece of parchment and began to write, furiously. He wrote until his hands were sore and then he picked up the sheet and began to examine the contents. The phrases were disjointed and then spelling was poor. Scorpius scratched out most of his work before he took a deep breath, turned the cockatrice doll around again, and began to write with a more calm and determined demeanour.
The cockatrice is a surprisingly simple animal. He enjoys turkey sandwiches on a warm summer day and a good cluck amidst a dandy wagging of his snake-like tail.
For the first time in his life, Scorpius was no longer angry at Professor Weasley. In all his resentful feelings he had forgotten that it was Scorpius himself who had found the cockatrice. His mind had felt Scorpius needed a companion, and had helpfully provided one for him. Professor Weasley had just wanted to see him happy, and for a short time Scorpius had been.
Scorpius was going to finish that report, and then he was going to send it to Professor Weasley. And hopefully, if he still wanted to be friends, they could read it together and Scorpius would do his best to smile.
The End.