(no subject)
Title: Part Deux
Author: SugarHypeQueen
Disclaimer: ...None to speak of right now
Pairings: Albus/Scorpius, hey!
Summary: Hogwarts for Animagus! Scorpius Malfoy and Animagus! Albus Potter. Hopefully much better than my pathetic little summary.
Comments: Posting this has been messy, but I hope you'll show this little project of mine some love. Or any interest whatsoever, that's fine by me. ; ]
La reine le veut: The Queen Wishes It
Albus sat huddled on the soft, emerald colored material of the couch, willing himself not to look as nauseous as he felt. Aunt Hermione was looking at him, brown eyes unnaturally cheerful. She was smirking slightly- like she knew something that he didn’t, but just might, might tell him later...
That look was about to drive him bonkers.
Why did she look so bloody happy? Quick, break out the firewhiskey! As if he isn’t enough of a freak, Albus grew a tail! Mentally, he snorted. If she asked him one more time, though, he really was going to just- just snap-
"Tell me one more time, Albus,"
Albus bit his lip. He didn’t snap, but he had to force himself to drag his eyes away from that smirk. None of this was doing a bit of good for his nausea.
"What exactly were you doing when it happened?"
Instead of ‘snapping’, he found himself answering the question for what had to be the eightieth time, at the very least.
"I was just…"
He sighed. Started again.
"I was just doing what Lily said to do. ‘Be the kitty,’ and all that."
He conveniently forgot to mention Crookshanks- that was its name, he remembered now. It was never a good idea to talk to Aunt Hermione about her old cat. It had lived a full, unusually long life, but it was still a very touchy subject for her, Mum said.
Sweeping a nervous hand through his hair, he cast his eyes over the living room, conveniently avoiding the sight of Aunt Hermione. Or mum. Or dad.
Albus never did do well with large amounts of attention- not like James at all.
Thankfully, he was alone on the sunken (although dreadfully comfortable) couch. Directly across from him, Aunt Hermione sat in a rather crooked armchair, while his mum and dad shared a sky blue little love seat.
He looked over to the window. It was large; on the sill, three milky white lilies budded from the rim of a charming brass pot. Behind the flowers, the light of a descending sun streamed through the clear glass as if it wasn’t there at all, making the flowers and pot appear to glow, as well as forming a radiant yellow square on the floor.
Albus wondered how the scene might look in a watercolor, maybe. He began picking the colors of the palette in his head, still staring at the window…
"…. -I want you to try it again."
"Sorry? What was that?"
Aunt Hermione frowned reproachfully.
Albus blushed. He always chose the worst moments to zone out.
"I said," she repeated, "I want you to try it again. If I’m correct," (She sounded terribly confident of this, he thought,) "You should be able to Change at will. With some practice, it should even be easy. Go on. Give it a go, then."
Albus stared, teeth clenching almost painfully. Then he remembered that he was trying to avoid eye contact at the moment- he looked at his shoes instead. They were a bit on the shabby side, he noted, and a bit too big for him.
Bathump
His heart was suddenly much too loud in his ears, but he was too distracted to dwell on it.
Because… Because surely this was some sort of joke? She couldn’t really want him to try to be… that thing again, just to see if she was right? No, no, no! Because…Well, because what if she was wrong? What if he couldn’t change back? What if he managed to get stuck like that?
The idea of it made him queasy... well, more so than he’d been already.
Albus almost voiced his doubts, but ended up swallowing the words harshly in his throat, half ashamed at himself for not just telling his aunt to Forget it, that the answer was No.
Face pale, he glanced over to his mother- she smiled. The expression was a trace unsure, but kind and reassuring all the same. He looked at his father. Harry was grinning at him, the same confident, careless way that James did… only without a trace of the arrogance.Bathump
Albus swallowed…
-
bathump bathumpbathump
…and closed his eyes.
His heart was still beating so fast. Too fast. Everything was happening too fast, and he couldn’t keep up. They were all- smiling -at him. Which was absolutely wonderful, because now if he didn’t turn into a giant ball of fuzz and teeth, he’d feel like he let them all down. Which was exactly what he needed in his life, thanks.
His eyes clenched together tighter, and he took a deep breath.
OOO
In posse: In Possibility
"Silver birch. Eight inches. Flexible. Siren’s hair."
The witch’s voice was spacey and distant, as if she were recounting a pleasant dream she’d had the other night. Under any other circumstances as nerve wracking and utterly frustrating as this process had been, Scorpius would’ve had to fight the urge to throw something (or, at the very least, say something surpassingly rude) upon hearing another human being sound so very relaxed.
It’d already taken hours ( that felt more like days) of rummaging through box after box, wand after wand- a number of which were less than pleasant in proving that they were not, in fact, meant for him. There was still a rather odd smelling, bright green stain on his robes left from that great oak and dragon heartstring she'd tried on him.
At that moment, however, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
"Thank you," he said.
She smiled her spacey smile, nodded at him and wandered away to the back of the store.
He didn’t even look at her. He was much too enraptured by the object in his palms. It was long, and about the width of his middle finger. The cool, light grey wood was surreally smooth on his skin.
A deep, wintry coolness suddenly pulsed from it, spreading from his hands, up his arms, through his chest, from the top of his head, and all the way down to his feet, making him shudder.
Surprised, he turned his head briefly to peek at his father. Draco Malfoy was seated a few feet behind him, near the entrance to Lovegood’s Specialty Wands.
He lifted a brow at his son, clearly amused, and almost smiling.
Encouraged, Scorpius took hold of it in his right hand, and gave it an experimental little flick. Two seconds passed, and nothing happened. A heavy, sickening feeling began to settle in the boy’s chest.
He’d thought…
It’d felt right before…
A musical little clack, followed by another, and another, and after that still more, knocked him off of his train of thought. He peered down- and his eyes slowly began to widen.
A steady stream of marble sized pearls were spilling from the tip of his wand, plunging down to scatter wildly across the cold stone floor.
"Merlin," he heard his father mutter, springing up and pulling out his own wand.
Draco murmured something quickly under his breath, and soon the tiny luminescent spheres were floating lazily through the air, circling and spinning like stars, forming lustrous constellations around them.
"You’ll have to teach me that one, Scorpius," he said.
Grey eyes flicked from his father to his wand.
Scorpius knew he was smiling rather dopily…but he didn’t mind.
A pearly star floated towards his nose, bumping against it lightly, and then coasting lazily away. He heard someone laugh- it took him a moment to realize it was him.
oOo
Semper eadam: Ever The Same
Albus yawned.
This was by no stretch of imagination unusual… there were, however, some minor abnormalities about this yawn.
For instance, the fangs.
Usually, they weren’t a part of the whole yawning equation for Albus.
But there they were- spectacularly sharp, gleaming white fangs.
"Oh,"
Albus reopened his eyes. What he saw made him blink.
Ginny Potter had made sort of a soft sound, like she’d just remembered something important. Only she hadn’t. She’d just sort of slumped over… and that was that.
His mother had fainted.
But that couldn’t be right, he thought, because his mum didn’t faint.
Ever.
The same thought must have been going through his dad’s mind as well, because there was a slightly panicked edge to his voice as he called her name, gently shaking her.
She remained limp, flopping uselessly onto the loveseat- her hair stretched out on the light blue fabric of the couch, the bold red color of her locks bizarrely resembling flames against a cloudless sky.
"Oh, for goodness-!"
Aunt Hermione nearly fell over herself scrambling off of her chair, simultaneously drawing a glass tube containing a bright yellow substance from within her robes.
He blinked once more.
Slowly, he slid a hind paw behind him, and took a step back. Then another. And another. His mum was now hiccupping rather violently between sneezes (trust Aunt Hermione to walk around with smelling salts), and his dad’s face was well on its way to reaching the same shade as her hair.
The lynx was almost at the door. He continued to slink away, thinking that perhaps this could have its advantages. That was, at least, until Aunt Hermione whipped around, that same nerve wracking look on her face.
"Congratulations, Albus, you’re officially an Animagus. Now be a dear and go get your brother, will you? Tell him to bring me my bag- I‘ve got just the thing for Ginny…"
Abandoning his attempt at stealth, Albus Potter stood up on his two legs, and, sighing, stalked slowly out of the living room. He called for James and, not bothering to wait for a reply, headed for the sanctuary of his room. There was a sketch that he wanted to finish.
oOo
Lapsus linguae: Slip Of The Tongue
Gunmetal eyes gleamed coldly, fierce and steady.
Scorpius frowned at his father.
Draco, however, maintained a perfectly calm expression, not even bothering to meet his son’s icy stare. In fact, his was the posture of perfect relaxation as he sat in the parlor room armchair, leisurely polishing his wand with a starched length of cloth.
He did, however, take a moment to pull a small silver watch from within the folds of his freshly pressed robes, look at it purposefully, and then resume his previous task.
Scorpius frowned harder.
"I don’t understand," he huffed finally, crossing his arms over his chest. A pale lock of hair slid down his forehead, obscuring his left eye. He brushed it aside impatiently.
"It wouldn’t do that so often if you brushed it back, you know," his father commented.
Scorpius was silent a moment, clenching his teeth.
"Why do I need to be registered?" he demanded finally.
"It’s not like I’m a criminal or something,"
He blinked as his father flinched slightly, so briefly that Scorpius almost missed it. A vague blankness had crept into his father’s eyes, and Scorpius paused, the arms crossing his chest loosening and dropping limply down to his sides.
He’d forgotten about the required registry of all Dark Marked not retained in Azkaban.
He looked away, off to the side.
"If I must be registered, why now?" he murmured, voice softer.
"Can’t it wait? I mean- the train leaves tomorrow."
His father smirked, folding the wand cleaning cloth into a neat triangle.
"That, Scorpius, is precisely the reason. It’s for the protection of the students and staff. At the very least, that is what was stated in the Ministry’s letter, and I for one am not willing to give those buffoons further reason to irritate me. Or my son."
He rose gracefully from his seat, resting a single pale hand on Scorpius’s shoulder.
"Perhaps now would be a prudent time to leave?"
Scorpius huffed, and crossed his arms.
"Let’s get this over with," he muttered.
It didn’t come out half as venomously as he would have wished.
Draco Malfoy smirked down at his son. There was a loud crack, and the parlor room was empty.
oOo
In statu quo ante: In The Same State As Before
This was, Albus thought, Aunt Hermione all over again.
The ‘look’ was slightly different, but it made him want to snap all the same.
And the questions, Oh, Merlin, the bloody questions. If these were the type of people who worked in the Ministry of Magic, how did his father possibly manage to survive?
The Man who Lived, indeed.
"- form?"
Albus blinked.
"...Sorry?"
The Ministry worker- a rather plump old gal with a smile that was rather too sweet- patiently repeated the question. Albus fidgeted, wishing he could leave.
This was taking forever.
The Registry operation for Animagi was extremely tedious, in his opinion, as well as embarrassing. The person who registered you got to sit behind a desk and ask you personal questions that the people in line behind you heard, and, worse, heard you answer.
As far as he could tell, they also made you demonstrate the animal you Changed into- which wasn’t quite so bad for him, he mused, but not as well for old Archie Plague, the fellow who’d gone before Albus.
The unlucky wizard, a rather bony middle-aged man, had nearly been stepped on after Changing into a roach and startling a nearby witch.
At least he didn’t know anyone here. There weren’t, as far as he could see, many people his age. Or very many people at all. There were only five registration desks, and none of the lines were very long.
There was, however, one boy that looked to be about his age. Albus couldn’t recall having seen anyone quite so blond before, or quite so pale. He was in standing two lines over, and over the past hour, Albus had found himself craning his neck to see him.
"I asked, dearest, how long have you been able to willingly change form."
Albus snapped his head back to face the witch, then rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck.
"Around three weeks, I guess," he blurted.
She scratched at a sheaf of parchment on her desk with her quill. The feather was long, ragged, and drooping, the tip of it nearly flopping onto the paper. The witch smiled her too sweet smile again, her wrinkled face dusted heavily with make up.
Albus was suddenly nauseas again.
"Have you ever participated in any unlawful magical act while in your form, young man?"
"Er, no."
"Have you ever participated in unlawful magical acts?"
"No… I don’t think so…"
"Do you have any cavaties or fillings?"
"Uhhh... Excuse me?"
"Do you have any cavaties or fillings, darling?"
"... Umm... No... Look, what does that have to do with-"
"Can you control your bowels while in your form? And how much do you weigh?"
Albus just about died.
It went on.... and on.... and on. By the time she’d finished with her questions, Albus wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock and never show his face again.
The witch smiled once more, and he realized with a sinking feeling that there was, logically, one more part left.
"Please demonstrate your form for me, young man."
Albus closed his eyes, blushing a bright scarlet. No one else had had to close their eyes, and he felt incredibly foolish doing so himself. A familiar wave of vertigo struck him.
"Wonderful, dear, that’s very good," he heard her chirp.
Albus opened one slitted emerald eye to see her scribbling furiously at the parchment on her desk. After a time she finished. The smell of her perfume, which had been barely noticeable before, invaded his senses and threatened to give him a headache. He found himself only just barely able to hold back a growl.
"That’s very well, dear," she said, "You’re all done."
Albus closed his eyes, stood up, and ran a hair through his hair.
"Um, thanks, then," he mumbled, and quickly walked away.
As he moved across the smooth grey marble of the floor, towards the Entrance Hall and his father, Albus kept an eye out for the platinum blond hair. Who was he? Maybe Albus would see him again, at Hogwarts. Maybe he was going to be a first year, too. The thought of made Albus feel a bit lightheaded. But in a good way.
By the time he’d reached the door to the Hall, however, he still hadn’t spotted him. He’d probably already left.
He paused, craning his neck and quickly scanning over all the lines one more time to make sure he just overlooked him. He sighed, eye lids drooping in defeat. Why did it even matter? Even if he did see him, he probably wouldn't do anything. And suppose he did. Would the boy really appreciate a total stranger just waltzing up and try to strike up a conversation?
Albus left the Registration Room.
oOo
De regle: Required
Scorpius Malfoy had never been inside of the Ministry of Magic building. It held no positive connotation in his mind. Nothing good in his life was associated with this building, the people inside of it, or what was done here.
The only thing he knew was that his father did not like it, and that whatever registry his father had to participate in put that blankness into his eyes.
Scorpius did not like that.
And so he did not like the Ministry.
In his mind, he pictured it to be a dank and dilapidated place, doors falling off the hinges, chambers and corridors filled with foul smells and fouler secrets.
He imagined there would be mobs of crackpot witches and wizards with no sense whatsoever, who would all do everything in their power to bully him and put blankness into his eyes the moment they found out who he was.
So it was with measurable astonishment that he viewed the Entrance Hall.
There were no rats, no peeling walls. On the contrary, the opulence of the chamber overwhelmed him, making it difficult to keep up with his father as the man strode ahead of him. His eyes seemed to move of their own accord, wide open, darting all around.
Smooth stone walls vaulted up to a grand, arched ceiling above him. All around him, average looking witches and wizards (Well, most of them were within range of normal. There was that one woman with horns sprouting from her head, and he could have sworn that man’s hair hadn’t been purple a moment ago,) hurried to and fro over a vast, black marble floor.
In the center of the room was a huge statue of a several figures- all of whom were completely wrought in gold. There was a witch, a wizard, a centaur, a unicorn, a goblin, and a hippogriff. All of them looked contented and relaxed, lounging around on huge golden boulders with an actual stream of clear, sparkling water trickling at their feet.
Scorpius stared, not realizing his father had halted in front of him until it was too late. He thumped clumsily into Draco’s side with a soft wumph, embarrassed blotches of color leaking onto his features as he stumbled back .
Draco smirked.
"It seems you’re quite taken with the statue," he commented.
Scorpius crossed his arms, frowning reproachfully. His father raised a brow.
"So touchy today. In any case, this is where your registration will take place," he said.
Scorpius blinked, and looked past his father. Indeed, they were standing in front of a large set of open doors which led to a relatively smaller hall. In it, he could see people standing in lines, shuffling and fidgeting impatiently. He wondered how long it would take.
"When the procedure has been completed, I expect you to return immediately. I’ll be waiting for you by the statue- You’ll have no trouble finding that, I presume?"
Scorpius snorted, holding back a smile. He took a step towards the Registry Hall, eyeing it warily. "Wish me luck," he muttered, and prepared to take another step. Then he felt his father’s hand on his shoulder, preventing him from doing so.
"Scorpius, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,"
He turned his head and looked at his father, perplexed.
"You’re a Malfoy. We don’t require luck."
There was a heavy swish of robes, and his father was gone, vanished in a moving forest of puttering witches and wizards. A pale bundle of hair slid in front of his eyes, and he pushed it back.
With the ghost of a smile on his face, Scorpius Malfoy entered the hall of registration.
oOo
Chateaux en espagne: Wishful Thinking
"Look. I swear on Merlin's beard, if you don't stop fidgeting and jumping like a little ninny, I'm going to hex roaches into your ears. Underage or not. I'm not even kidding." It didn't sound like he was, either. In the back of the forest green little Volkswagon (which was far from little on the inside, actually), James' eyes were sharp with irritation. There was nothing of his usual joking, playful demeanor. He was sincerely irritated.
He mumbled something that might've been a sorry- James grunted and proceeded to ignore him, crossing his arms and leaning back in the seat in a manner caught somewhere between cross and utterly bored. Albus turned his eyes to the window. Swarming cars and ruffled pedestrians swept past as the car puttered along.
His eyes raised up to the sky. It was a dark grey, opaque and looming overhead. Albus wanted to sigh, but James was in one of his moods.
He'd be back to normal as soon as he caught up with his stalkers, Albus thought, a small surge of bitterness temporarily overriding his anxiety. James had friends just waiting for him, ready to back him up and laugh at everything he said even though most of it wasn't funny in the least, really. But they weren't really friends, Albus reminded himself. Just stalkers. A stupid, pathetic bunch of stalkers.
The sky was growing darker.
The next few moments passed in a blur of traffic and anxiety- Well, what seemed to be a few moments. It must have been more than that, because almost immediately afterwards Albus found himself hurrying to keep up with his parents and brother across the vast marble floor of King's Cross Station. As far as Albus was concerned, his trunk was purposefully resisting his pull, and the bloated hide bag was trying to slip off his shoulder every several seconds.
A devious little thought suddenly whispered into his ear, and Albus stumbled slightly, watching distractedly as his family moved a little farther away from him. He could, the thought whispered, just slip away. There it was. That easy.
Albus continued to drag the recalcitrant trunk forward, frowning lightly.
They wouldn't notice, would they? There were loads of people around. His parents were already out of sight in front of him, even. He shrugged his bag higher onto his shoulder, thinking. He could do it. He could hide out with Uncle George. Uncle George would never snitch- he would understand, right?
"Oi, Harry!"
Too late. Albus sighed, and hurried towards the voice that'd just called his father's name. Surely enough, a head of bright red hair appeared like magic, the bold color like a beacon amongst the crowd. He trudged toward it.
"Ginny- you alright? Hermione told me what happened, and I dunno about you coming out here-"
"Shut it, Ron!"
Albus heard his father laugh. He quickly edged his way past a pudgy old man, the sneaky little thought slithering away and leaving him feeling rather ridiculous. What had he been thinking? He wasn't James. Idiotic schemes weren't his thing.
Suddenly, something tickled at the back of his neck.
Albus froze.
He whirled around, eyes wide, breath stuck in his throat. A girl his own age stared back at him. Two neat sections of hair framed cheeks lightly dusted with freckles, the rest of which was braided into a thick, wine colored braid reaching down to her waist. Her quiet, dark brown eyes were narrowed slightly in amusement. He let out a long breath, slapping his free hand onto his chest and feeling the frantic beating of his heart. Albus smiled, shaking his head.
"Hi, Albie."
"You've got to stop doing that, Rose."
Her mouth curved upwards, and her dark eyes shone. She lifted a delicate, long fingered hand and ruffled his hair, quickly sending the dark locks into a state of complete disarray. Albus usually hated when anyone ruffled his hair- but he didn't mind when Rose did it. Or Uncle George. With most people, it was just irritating, even condescending. But when Rose did it, you just felt special that she felt comfortable enough with you to do it, and with Uncle George, you knew he was only doing it because he thought you were really his kinda guy, adult or not.
"Cut it out," he laughed, playfully batting away his cousin's hand.
Rose giggled, the sound so quiet as to be nearly inaudible to Albus.
"Where's Lily?" she queried.
It was nice, Albus thought, to hear her voice again. It was very soft, and often hard to hear, but he didn't mind. You just had to listen with Rose, was all.
"Your mum's watching her," Albus said.
Rose opened her mouth to reply, but never got the chance.
"Are you two deaf? It's out turn to go through. Make sure you got your stuff, and whatever you do, don't chicken out at the wall. If you do, I'll be forced to tell everyone I'm not related to you."
James paused, looking thoughtfully at his brother.
"Scratch that. I'm telling everyone we're of no relation either way, Al. Got it? Now come on, they've already gone through."
With that, James glanced quickly glanced around, as if to check no one was looking. Then he dashed away, his trunk rolling thunderously behind him. He was headed in the direction of a brick wall- he seemed about to crash into it, but at the point where his body should have smashed into the hard material, he appeared to just vanish.
"Show off," Albus muttered.
He turned to his cousin.
"Do you want to run or walk?" he asked.
"Let's... Let's run."
"Alright. Are you ready?"
She nodded.
Albus jerked his trunk to face the direction of the wall, a dreadful feeling suddenly welling up in his stomach. This was it. It was too late to run. He was officially doomed, anyway he looked at it. His professors would expect him to be another James, or just like his father. In Gryffindor he'd be in his brother's shadow, in Ravenclaw he'd be called stupid, in Hufflepuff... he'd be in bloody Hufflepuff, and in Slytherin he'd be eaten. Absolutely nothing good was waiting on the other side of that wall, he was pos-
"Albie?"
He shook his head, and ran his free hand through his hair.
"Sorry, Rose. Come on. Let's get this over with."
oOo
C'est la vie: That's Life
"You'll write?"
"Yes, Scorpius."
"As much as I want?"
"Yes, Scorpius."
"Even if I end up in Hufflepuff?"
"Yes, Scorpius."
"You swear?"
"I swear. Now are you quite finished?"
"No. You'll remember what I look like?"
"...I can't say. You haven't quite inherited my good looks, you know. You've got quite a forgettable face."
"Father!"
"Son."
"You're not funny,"
Draco smirked, ignoring his son's comment. The two of them walked slowly along the long stretch of scarlet metal, killing time. From the front of the train, thick white smoke puffed up to swirl about in the air above them.
They passed fussing mothers and crying younger siblings- Draco named some of the witches and wizards he recognized, and Scorpius did his best to avoid eye contact. He felt like everyone was looking at him- or at least at his father. He could only wish, however, that he could act as nonchalant as the older wizard. He hoped it wouldn't be like this at Hogwarts. He hoped-
"Scorpius. Look at that lot over there."
He blinked, stumbling to a halt when he realized his father had stopped walking. Puzzled, he peered in the direction his father was staring. He didn't see- oh, there. A black haired man, a woman with hair like flames, and two dark haired boys, one looking two be about his age. There was also a tall wizard- he also had bright red hair -and a girl with darker red hair.
"Those are the Potter-Weasleys. You see the girl? Beat her in all your tests. The boy, too, though I daresay that won't be too difficult considering who his father is."
"Wait, wait," Scorpius said, raising a brow at his father, "You mean, that's Harry Potter? And those boys- those are his kids?"
"If I'm not terribly, horribly mistaken, then yes, that's exactly what I mean."
Scorpius stared at the group. Suddenly, the black haired man (Harry Potter, Scorpius thought. That was really him?) looked in their direction. He caught his father's eye, nodded, and his father nodded back. An odd look was on both of their faces. He didn't know what to make of that. The rest of the Potter-Weasleys were looking at them too, now. The tall wizad with the red hair was almost glaring at him. Scorpius swallowed.
He felt his father's hand fall onto his shoulder, pushing him towards a nearby scarlet colored door. He was all to happy to oblige. Draco opened the door and watched as he climbed the miniature set of steps to stand inside the doorway.
Draco just stood there for a long moment, staring, expressionless. Nervous, Scorpius frowned at his father, crossing his arms obstinately.
"You promise not to forget what I look like?"
A slow smirk spread across his father's face.
"Yes, I promise. Scorpius..."
The man trailed off uncertainly, a frustrated furrow appearing between his eyebrows. He sighed, and placed a hand on Scorpius's shoulder. Draco became calm once more, and continued.
"You know things might be harder for you than they should. You know that, correct?"
He nodded, crossed arms slowly dropping to his sides.
"You cannot... You must not... Scorpius. Remember who you are, and who you will become. Never be ashamed."
A pale lock of hair slipped over the his forehead, and obscured his left eye. He quickly brushed it aside. Draco smirked.
"And for goodness sake, do something manageable with your hair. The last thing the wizarding world needs," he said, patting his son's shoulder before turning away, "is another generation of disastrous hair."
Scorpius couldn't help but to grin, even as he watched his father disappear into the swarming crowd of parents and siblings. A shrill whistle shrieked- he felt it vibrate throughout his body. With one last glance out at the subsiding crowds, Scorpius stepped back into the train and closed the door.
oOo
I feel like it's too short... I'm working on more, though.