A Credit to Their Houses, Chapter 3: Three Little Purses
A Credit to Their Houses
By dracontia
Chapter 3: Three Little Purses
Characters: Scorpius Malfoy, Albus Severus Potter, Rose Weasley, James Sirius Potter, Louis Weasley, Lysander Scamander, Lorcan Scamander, Draco Malfoy, Asteria Greengrass-Malfoy, assorted canon & original characters
Rating: G
Summary: Two little wizards and one little witch meet in the Hogwarts Express on their way to their first school term. This story can absolutely, positively stand alone, with no reference to any other fanfiction; however, it was written with the intent of taking up the narrative from the end of ‘In Your Debt,’ as the title implies.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling’s characters are on completely unpaid leave in my imagination.
Not yet beta-read; not yet posted to any archive.
Chapter 1: One Little Wizard
Chapter 2: Two Little Cousins
Chapter 3: Three Little Purses
Scorpius was jarred out of mentally composing his letter home-literally-by Al bouncing in the seat. Both Scorpius and Agate were in some danger of being upended. He tried to steady her cage with one hand while bracing himself against the wall with the other, wondering what sort of etiquette governed asking a friend or God-cousin to cease and desist.
This was evidently Rose’s area of expertise. “Al, settle down or go find the loo or SOMETHING, but quit fidgeting!” Her voice rose to a yell by the end of the sentence.
Agate fluttered in distress. Scorpius tried to make soothing sounds at her but she only hunkered down in the bottom of the cage and looked unhappy.
“You say Scorpius can’t be a God-cousin but you don’t have any trouble pretending to be Mum,” Al complained. He did grip the edge of the seat, though, as if to try to stop himself bouncing.
“What are you so worked up about, anyway?” Rose asked, a little calmer now herself.
“How’m I supposed to settle down when I don’t know what House I’ll be in?” Al drummed his heels against the bench. The noise and vibration easily rivaled anything that the train did when going over points. Scorpius almost wished that he would go back to bouncing.
“I’m not worried. Weasleys are Gryffindors. We sort into Gryffindor, we marry other Gryffindors, and our children are in Gryffindor.” Scorpius thought that Rose sounded remarkably like Father holding forth on what Malfoys Did and Did Not Do. “You’re part Weasley, so quit fretting.”
“Except that Uncle Bill married Aunt Fleur, who went to Beauxbatons, and only Louis sorted into Gryffindor. Nicky and Vicky are both Ravenclaws,” Al pointed out. “And Molly’s a Hufflepuff, however that happened.”
“If Aunt Fleur hears you calling Victoire and Dominique ‘Vicky’ and ‘Nicky,’ she’s going to pitch a fit,” Rose warned.
Albus looked around the compartment in an exaggerated manner. “I don’t see her about. I think you’re dodging the issue.”
Scorpius clutched nervously at the insides of his pockets. Al was articulating one of his very concerns. “I don’t know if there’s any way to tell what house we’ll be in,” he said, just barely managing to keep from hunching over with anxiety. Speaking of things Malfoys Do Not Do… “I wish there was. All I really have to go by is that Father says we’ve always been Slytherins.” He decided not to mention Mum having been in Ravenclaw. Scorpius liked to read well enough, but he loathed all the studying that Grandmother set for him in his daily lessons. Somehow, he doubted that Ravenclaw was the place for him.
“I’ve heard something to that effect.” Rose’s tone was rather cool.
“Maybe you also heard Dad when he said that one of the bravest men he ever knew was a Slytherin,” Al fired back at her. “He was good enough for Dad to name me after him, any rate.”
Scorpius had the uncomfortable feeling that they were somehow arguing about him as much as they were discussing houses. “I… I don’t know much about Slytherin except that Malfoys have always been Sorted there. Father did say that Severus Snape was one of the heroes of…” He trailed off. “So you’re named after him,” he said. He turned to Al with renewed interest. Should I mention Father’s wand?
Al looked self-conscious and rubbed his hair into yet more chaos. “Yeah,” he said awkwardly. “I’m named after two Headmasters of Hogwarts; and, well, they also did all the War stuff. It seems like a lot to live up to, but… I reckon I have to try.”
“Everything comes back to the War for grownups,” Scorpius said. This time he spoke aloud, though barely. “But nobody will ever say why.”
Rose spoke up with sudden vehemence. “Exactly! All you hear is ‘the War this’ and ‘back in the War so,’ but they don’t tell us anything about it,” she said. “You overhear a name here, something about Houses there; you can read Hogwarts: A History until you’re blue but they only give the barest outlines. You may as well depend on bloody Chocolate Frog Cards!” Her volume rose with her frustration, leaving the compartment uncomfortably silent when she was done speaking.
They all spent a few moments not quite looking at each other. Agate made a sound like a 4-inch-tall pony whinnying and tucked her head under her wing to hide from the tension. Scorpius wished for a wing of his own to hide under.
This time Al tried to re-start the conversation. “Speaking of Chocolate Frogs, where’s that tea-trolley?” He stared wistfully at the door to the compartment.
“You have to eat proper food first,” Rose said.
“Except that James ran off with mine as well as his,” Al pointed out. He didn’t seem unhappy about it but patted his pockets, which jingled much more heavily than Scorpius’ little pouch. “I reckon I’ll just see what the Tea Trolley Lady has,” he said cheerfully.
“You’ll have some of mine rather than stuff yourself with sweets,” Rose said in clear warning. She peered into the pouch at her side. “Oh, joy. Must Mum always pack Muggle peanut butter, like we’re making some kind of statement or something?”
“Peanutbutter? Really?” Scorpius gazed at the bag in fascination. “I’ve heard of Peanutbutter from Cousin Teddy but never tried it.” Aunt Andromeda always seemed to be trying to impress them or some such when they came over. She never offered any Muggle food, not that he knew of. He looked into his pocket and tried to contain his disappointment. “I have quince paste from our garden, on wholemeal.” He liked quince well enough but the Quince tree had overproduced the last two years. He was frankly rather weary of the stuff.
“Quince?” Rose almost seemed to prick up her ears. “I’ve read about that in books. Mum won’t buy it because it’s too sweet.”
They gazed wistfully back and forth between their respective lunches.
“Blimey, why don’t you two just trade?” Al said. Clearly, Rose hadn’t cornered the market on exasperation.
“You sound like Dad when you say that,” Rose laughed at her cousin.
“Would you? Trade, I mean,” Scorpius said. He spared a moment to worry about his grammar.
Rose hesitated. “But what about Al’s lunch? I… I mean it-you have to eat something besides sweets,” she directed the last bit at Al directly, though she sounded a lot less certain than before.
“I’ll be fine,” Al insisted. “Besides, it’s not just sweets from the cart. Pumpkin Pasties are a… vegetable.”
Before Rose could jump all over that, Scorpius intervened in. “He can have some of mine, too,” Scorpius said.
“’Salright, I’ve got enough for a feast,” Al said, clearly unwilling to give up his dreams of sugar-coated oblivion. He hefted his fat little coin pouch again. Scorpius tried not to feel a pang of envy. Even if the contents were all Knuts, Al was probably a lot better funded than Scorpius was.
You’re not supposed to be jealous of friends. Father had been quite firm on that point when Scorpius had asked if he minded Mum spending so much time with her friend Gus.
“Albus Severus Potter! How much money are you thinking of spending on CANDY?” Rose sounded absolutely scandalized. Scorpius was a little too, if he was perfectly honest with himself. It did seem wasteful, if rather glorious.
“Not sure. Depends on how much I have,” Al said, carelessly dumping the contents of the pouch into his lap. Scorpius goggled at the preponderance of Sickles and Galleons, and the careless way that Al let the Knuts roll over the edge of his leg and onto the floor and seat. "Looks like everything from the cart will be my treat!" he said, smiling bemusedly at the pile.
"You've got to get organized." Rose was the picture of fretfulness as she gathered rolling coins. "Stack them in fives so we can get a count."
“Do they even have eight galleons, eleven sickles, five knuts worth of candy on the tea trolley?” Scorpius asked in astonishment. His head fairly spun. That was more than his entire school kit had cost, allowing for the fact that he had hand-me-down robes and Potions equipment and used books to stretch resources.
Rose stopped cold in the middle of helping Al gather the coins into piles. Her eyes flickered across the assembled coinage. She tapped each pile quickly with one finger, mouthing as she silently counted, and when she was done she gaped. “But that’s completely accurate!” Rose spluttered. “Unstacked, no rounding, all the Sickles combined into Galleons and the Knuts into sickles!” She stared at Scorpius with a look that was half-admiring, half-envious.
“Wow. Can you be my accountant?” Al asked.
“It’s rude to take the mickey like that,” Rose scolded as she scooped coins back into the pouch.
“I’m serious,” Al said. “Even Uncle Bill can’t count money that accurately without actually touching it.”
Scorpius preened a little. “Well, my father used to work for Gringotts. Though only with documents, not money,” he hastened to add. Al seemed pretty easygoing, but he was unwilling to take the chance that Rose would see an honest ambiguity as a lie. “It’s much easier since they simplified the money, even if it was devalued a bit. Grandmother seems to think that money isn’t to be discussed, but Father says I need to learn it well if I’m to look after it.”
“Very sensible,” Rose said. For the first time she sounded approving. “I remember how Daddy howled when they simplified the money-said we lost a good two months’ pay without a coin ever leaving the bank. I’m a little surprised that he gave me anything for the trolley, especially since Mum didn’t want me buying sweets at all.” She patted her own money pouch-smaller than Al’s stash, to be sure, but still generous-almost guiltily.
The Devaluation was a memorable occasion for Scorpius as well. Mum and Father had stayed up late in tense, whispered discussions. The next day, Grandmother had taken over Scorpius’ lessons so that Father could work longer hours.
“Lucky for us I guess that Dad took most of ours out of Gringotts,” Al said. “I don’t understand it all myself. Just looking at money makes my head ache.”
“I can explain it if you like,” Scorpius offered eagerly. “It would be only fair, since you’re letting me borrow Agate.” He felt of the little pouch in his pocket, keenly aware that he hadn’t much money of his own to count. About eleven sickles, seven knuts he thought, evaluating the weight and shape of it. He smiled despite himself. Never had such a fortune been under his control, no matter that it was a pittance compared to Al's resources. Someday, I'll have enough money that I won't have to worry anymore. Then the sweets will be my treat.
“Have you given any thought to how you’re going to share an owl and a budget and whatnot if you’re sorted into different Houses?” Rose asked.
“And here we are come round to that again,” Al said with a huge sigh.
“Oh, Al-”
Whatever Rose had been about to say was interrupted by the compartment door popping open. Sadly, it was not the Tea Trolley Lady but the twin boys who had left with James earlier.
“Just wanted to see if you lot were all right,” one said, his bulging gray eyes taking in the three occupants of the compartment.
“Thank you, Lysander. As you can see, we’re quite well,” Rose said, sounding a bit lofty. Albus shook his head at her. Scorpius didn’t mind; Father and Grandmother sometimes talked like that. Mum always found it funny.
“To be exact, I’m Lysander, that’s Lorcan,” the other boy said. “James was worried about you,” he added.
“Actually, I think he was worried about the amount of grief he’d catch if something happened to you,” the one identified as Lorcan said.
“You’re probably right,” Lysander conceded.
“You can tell the wanker that we were eaten by dragons,” Albus Severus said sulkily.
“Language, Al!” Rose admonished. Scorpius just giggled.
“You were the one taught it to me,” Al reminded her.
Rose muttered something that contained the word ‘Dad,’ though it was drowned out by Lorcan speaking over her. “That’s highly implausible. The only dragon that might actually fit in a train compartment is a Peruvian Vipertooth, though only just,” he said thoughtfully.
Scorpius thought it might be educational to listen to Rose’s father some time. It seemed likely he had a good grasp of all the sort of words that Rudy had been charmed to say until Grandmother had cast a very durable Silencing Spell on him.
Father had never really forgiven Gus for the gift of Rudy.
“But you might plausibly be eaten by a Blood-Sucking Bugbear,” Lysander said. “Would it suit if we told him that-”
“Just tell him we’re FINE, no thanks to him,” Rose said.
“Really? Because you look a bit anxious to me.” Evidently it was Lorcan’s turn to speak.
“We’re worried about where we’re going to be sorted,” Albus Severus admitted. Scorpius nodded.
“I’m not worried,” Rose repeated, though her frown belied her words. “Mum and Dad were both Gryffindors, so I’m sure I will be as well. And your mum, dad, and brother are all Gryffindors, Al, so I really don’t know what you are so fussed about.”
“I hate to contradict a lady-” Lorcan began.
“No, you don’t, brother,” Lysander corrected.
“You’re right, I was just being polite,” Lorcan admitted, “but still, I meant to say-that doesn’t mean very much.”
“Everyone is an individual,” Lysander continued.
“Even twins,” they finished in unison.
“Mum was a Ravenclaw, and so was Dad in his time,” Lysander explained.
“Yet, look at us,” Lorcan continued. “Hufflepuffs both.”
“Fits us like a glove,” Lysander said.
“Loyalty is our pride,” Lorcan asserted.
“See, that’s the problem,” Albus Severus said, frustrated. “It’s the Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill thing all over again. I don’t know how you can tell.”
“You can always ask the Hat,” Lorcan said.
“It worked for us,” Lysander added.
“What? You can’t tell the Hat where to sort you,” Scorpius said, aghast.
“Sure you can,” Lysander said. “Lorcan went to Hufflepuff. The Hat asked if I wanted to stay with my brother and I said I did.”
“And here we are,” Lorcan said.
“Maybe it was just because you’re twins,” Al said doubtfully.
“No,” Rose said, slowly. “I mean, it might have made a difference in their case… but the Hat doesn’t have to do it that way. I overheard Mum talking to Aunt Ginny. She had joked that Mum should have been in Ravenclaw, and Mum admitted that the Hat gave her a choice of Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, and she chose Gryffindor. I think there were some twins in their year who were in different houses from each other, as well.”
“You see,” Lysander said placidly, “the Hat will let you have a say. Why do you think the Hat sings a song before the first years are sorted?”
“The hat sings?”
“Certainly.”
“A different song every year,”
“Our Mum taught us all the songs from her years there.”
“She has a phenomenal memory.”
"It's like watching table tennis," Al murmured. Scorpius’ eyes flickered back and forth between twins and decided that, whatever Table Tenners was, it was dizzying.
“And we remember the songs from our years, too.”
“Would you like to hear one?”
“Or maybe all of them?”
“I think one representative song will do,” Rose interrupted hastily.
The twins took a deep breath. One (Scorpius thought it was Lysander) hummed a note to start, and suddenly both began to sing:
A thousand years or more ago
when I was newly sewn,
there lived four wizards of renown,
whose names are still well known:
bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,
fair Ravenclaw, from glen,
sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,
shrewd Slytherin, from fen.
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,
they hatched a daring plan
to educate young sorcerers
thus Hogwarts School began.
Now each of these four founders
formed their own house, for each
did value different virtues
in the ones they had to teach.
By Gryffindor, the bravest were
Prized far beyond the rest;
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest
would always be the best;
For Hufflepuff, hard workers were
Most worthy of admission;
And power-hungry Slytherin
loved those of great ambition.*
Scorpius felt a prickle of excitement at the word ‘ambition.’ It was almost enough to overcome his internal cringing at what passed for a tune. Either the Hat was at best a modest composer, or the twins were no particular singers, or both.
“So, think about the Hat’s song; does being brave make you less industrious? Can’t you be both ambitious and wise? Or hard-working and clever?” Lysander asked.
“Courage, ambition, loyalty, intelligence; none of these are mutually exclusive. Everyone has qualities of every house in them,” Lorcan said.
“Well, we’ll leave you with that,” Lysander said.
“Yes, time we were back to our compartment,” Lorcan added. “We don’t want to miss the tea trolley.”
“You just have to decide which ones you value most,” they finished in unison before leaving the compartment.
Scorpius blinked at the place they’d been, wondering for a moment if they’d Apparated. “They don’t stand on ceremony, do they?”
“Nope,” Al said with a grin. “They take after their Mum. She’s my sister Lily’s Godmother, you know.” He frowned. “I wonder if Godparents have anything to do with what House you’re in…”
“Right. Well, no sense worrying about Houses when there’s lunch that needs eating,” Rose said. Scorpius’ stomach applauded her practicality. “Let’s divide the sandwiches between us and each put in… four sickles for the tea trolley,” she said. Before Al could protest, she added, “and I think I hear it now.”
Scorpius shot her a look of pure gratitude. Four sickles he could spare. Rose gave him a sort of half-smile in return. He carefully counted out four little silver coins, noting with satisfaction that he had, indeed, correctly judged the amount of money that Uncle Crius had given him. He and Rose helped Al to count up twenty Knuts in place of one of Al’s sickles to help use up some of the mass of tiny coins.
“Will you be having anything, dearies?” A kindly witch who looked like precisely as Scorpius imagined a baker should peeked in the door.
Soon they were happily picking out candy. Al warned them away from the Fizzing Whizbees, and they generally agreed that Jelly Slugs did not look at all appealing; but they stocked up on Cauldron Cakes and Chocolate Frogs, with a couple of Pumpkin Pasties each for good measure. Rose declared that it was tradition to buy at least one bag of Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavored Beans so they did, resolving to save any dodgy-looking ones for James and Louis. In a burst of daring, Scorpius chose Fizzy Strawberry Cream, a drink with Muggle antecedents, rather than Pumpkin Juice to drink. Al selected a handful of Sugar Mice, only to find that the squeaking drove Agate to distraction.
Rose found them rather distracting as well. “What did you buy those for?”
“To eat, I’m guessing,” Scorpius shocked himself by saying. He hadn’t made jokes around anyone but family before and he was temporarily embarrassed.
If the heat that Scorpius felt in his cheeks showed, Al didn’t seem to notice. “Good one, mate,” he chuckled. Agate fluttered in her cage, and Al’s amusement abated. “Might have a point there, Rosie; Agate sure doesn’t like them. Can I change them for-”
“Once you touch it, you’ve bought it,” the Tea Trolley Lady said quite firmly.
“Hide them in the lunch sack till we can eat them?” Al turned beseeching eyes on Rose.
“Honestly,” Rose said, the very epitome of exasperation. However, she snatched the offending sweets from Al and began muffling them under the sandwiches. “Daddy had the wrong end of the stick; I think you’re going to be a bad influence on Scorpius.”
Scorpius had no time to process the implications of that muttered remark. Quick as a wink, Al had a couple more sickles out and rapidly chose two more handfuls of goodies. He winked at Scorpius and shoved one handful of sugary loot into his pocket while he passed the other to Scorpius. It took him a second, but he darted a glance of realization at Rose and hastened to stow his share away as well. Al shot him a quick conspirator’s grin at him before schooling his expression to pretend interest in Rose’s choice of drink. Scorpius answered with a little grin of his own, slightly guilty but mostly excited. Even being a relatively well-behaved small boy, Scorpius had his share of Things He Had Got Away with, predominately of the reading-past-bedtime-, sneaking-extra-biscuits-, and sliding- down-forbidden-bannisters- variety. He hadn’t realized how much more satisfying it was to have an accomplice.
Once Rose settled up for her own fizzy drink, the Tea Trolley was considerably lighter-as was Scorpius’ heart. The compartment was silent, save for the sounds of eating, drinking, and wrappers crinkling, for a good while. They picked over the Bertie Bott’s Beans carefully, saving out more for James and Louis than they ate. Scorpius cautiously sniffed at a red bean. While it didn’t prove to be blood-flavored, as Al had warned it might be, Scorpius was still not at all prepared for the taste of pickled ginger.
Al washed down a Cauldron Cake with a swig of pumpkin juice. He made quick work of his share of the sandwiches despite his protestations. “This is the life,” he said with a contented sigh.
Scorpius heartily agreed. “I wonder if they serve peanutbutter at school,” he said with a longing look at the last crust in his hand. He finished it slowly, savoring the toasty, sticky, nuttiness.
Rose lingered over the quince. “I don’t suppose… if I asked Mum to send along some peanutbutter… you might ask your mum to send quince? You know… so we could trade again?”
“Oh, surely,” Scorpius hastened to assert. There were jars of it in the pantry. He couldn’t imagine any reason not to spare one or two. For the first time in their limited acquaintance, Rose smiled-properly smiled-at him. Her face lit brightly with the blue twinkle in her eyes and the gleam of her shining clean (if slightly large) teeth; Scorpius revised his opinion of Flossing Stringments upward. He was also suitably impressed with the magical powers of food in general, which seemed to put Rose in a very peaceful frame of mind. And why not? It’s very good food. Scorpius thought with a pleased sigh of his own.
The quiet was shattered by a belch of truly epic proportions.
“Al!” Rose exclaimed. Whatever scolding she had planned dissolved into laughter. Scorpius joined her; the hilarity of bodily functions was too overpowering a force for his newly forged loyalty as a ‘mate’, partner-in-crime, and quasi-cousin to contain.
“I have it from Uncle Charlie,” Al said, his face cherry-red and setting off the green of his eyes to good effect, “that burping is considered a compliment to the food in some countries.” Rose and Scorpius just giggled harder. “Fine, then-see if I help you spell away the crumbs.”
“You’d do it anyway, just to show off,” Rose finally managed to gasp. “You know more spells than any of us.” She didn’t seem as sulky about it as she had earlier.
“Only cleaning spells that James teaches me because he doesn’t like to tidy up,” Al said. Still, he carefully pointed his wand at each wrapper and crumb. “Evanesco,” he pronounced. It even worked more often than not. Once again, Scorpius fought back envy. Still, now was perhaps the time to bring up wands.
“What’s your wand-I mean, what sort of wood is it?” Scorpius silently lamented his tumbled-tongued ways. At least he hadn’t stuttered.
“Holly-with Unicorn hair,” Al said. “They had to dig into the old stock at Ollivander and Frost’s to find it.”
“I’ll say they did. Dad was climbing the walls and Mum was actually finished with the book shopping by the time they dug that one out of the basement. It must have been pre-War,” Rose added her own flourishes to the account. “We were beginning to wonder if you were a Squib.”
“Ha, ha,” Al expressed his lack of amusement. “It’s only that they didn’t have to think about your wand-just hand you the first rosewood one they came to.”
Rose made a brushing-off gesture. “Whatever. So, what’s your wand then?” She directed her question at Scorpius.
He drew it carefully out of his sleeve. “Hawthorn and Unicorn hair,” he said. He couldn’t resist resting one hand on it, pressing it close to his heart for a moment in a sort of hug. “It was my dad’s, but he stopped using it when he inherited Professor Snape’s wand.”
“He has Professor Snape’s wand? Are you related, then? Has he told you anything about him?” Al ‘s green eyes shone with curiosity.
“I don’t think we were related. I only know that he was one of the heroes of the War, and that he did a lot for our family,” Scorpius said. He shrugged apologetically. “I wish I knew more, myself.”
Meanwhile, Rose had already turned her attention back to food and its accoutrements. She tore into a Chocolate Frog wrapper. “Ech, another Artemesia Lufkin. Politics are boring. I dunno what Mum sees in that stuff.” She tossed the card aside, bit the hind legs off the frog to keep it contained, and grabbed another packet in a practiced way. Scorpius caught the card out of the air.
“Nice,” Al noted the catch.
An “Aha!” from Rose caused Scorpius to abandon the hard-faced witch on the seat next to Agate’s cage. “Listen up! Severus Snape: 9 January, 1960-1 May, 1998. Head of Slytherin House 1980-1997, Headmaster of Hogwarts 1997-1998,** sometime Potions and Defense Against Dark Arts Professor. Death Eater-turned-spy for Albus Dumbledore. One of ’Those Who Won the War’ according to Harry Potter.” Rose read aloud from the back of her Chocolate Frog Card.
Al and Scorpius leaned in eagerly to study the picture on the card while she read. Fathomless black pin-points stared into the middle distance from a knife-edge face topped with inky strands of hair. He deigned to give the boys a sidelong glance which turned into a full-on stare. Tiny eyebrows furrowed as he switched his gaze from one boy to the other and his thin lips mouthed something that looked like ‘What the…?’ Then abruptly, he whirled around in a cloud of black robes and disappeared from the frame.
“Blimey, Rose, you’ve got all the luck with these cards,” Al said.
“How curious,” Scorpius said. “Did he look… a little confused to you?”
Rose flipped the card around. “Bother, he’s gone already. He’s one of the hard-to-find ones-even when you have his card.”
“Headmaster Snape-Sir-m-may we have a word?” Scorpius addressed the card.
Al scratched his head. “Um, they don’t talk, you know-even if he does come back.”
“Oh.” Scorpius’ only experience with Chocolate Frog Cards was from Mum’s and Father’s old collections and he thought that they might have changed a bit in the intervening years. Cousin Teddy had given him Chocolate Frogs a few times for his birthday; but the first time they’d melted a bit and Mum had disposed of all the damped cards before Scorpius could look at them. The other time they’d been Boxed Frogs without the cards.
Snape peeked into the frame again, his not inconsiderable nose preceding the rest of him. He studied the three children for a moment, those expressive brows climbing into an expression of incredulity. Scorpius thought that they looked like particularly emphatic punctuation marks in his parchment-pale face. He opened his mouth and all three children could clearly imagine the sort of ‘Hah!’ sound that he would have made before he vanished again.
“Well, that was something, at least,” Rose said. “The Slytherin cards are really rare. And I have all of them now, unlike Hugo,” she said with satisfaction.
“They don’t usually mention on the card what House a wizard was in, so how d’you know if they’re rare?” Al asked.
Scorpius ignored the incipient argument by opening one of his own Chocolate Frogs. Perhaps he would be fortunate enough to find one of those elusive Slytherins.
Instead he was surprised by a pair of familiar green eyes blinking at him from behind clunky-framed spectacles. Only the eyes were familiar, though; this person was much older than Al and much too young to be the Mr. Potter Scorpius had met. His face was subtly yet distinctly different in shape from Al’s though their features were otherwise similar. This young version of Mr. Potter also differed in that, in place of Mr. Potter’s kindly, slightly crooked smile, he frowned at Scorpius as though he wasn’t sure what to expect from him but suspected that it wouldn’t be good. It gave Scorpius a very unhappy feeling. As distracted as he was, his hand popped up reflexively to catch the frog before it hopped away. I knew Mr. Potter was important, but… a Chocolate Frog Card? Scorpius felt a little overwhelmed by the magnitude of it.
“I think-I think I found your father!” he said to Al. He turned the card to show his friend and felt silly for qualifying his statement as soon as he noted the confirming text on the reverse side.
Harry Potter
1980-
The Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, defeater of Voldemort. Recently Chief Auror.
Scorpius had the feeling that the card was waiting for Mr. Potter to do something else that it could discuss and was rather disappointed that he hadn't as yet. The frown on the card changed from suspicious to puzzled when Al looked over.
“Dad hates those things. He hasn’t gone so far as to ban them from the house but he and Mum never buy them for us. James has a few from the tea-trolley each trip to and from school, but he knows better than to leave them lying about. I sort of see why; it’s weird to see Dad younger than Cousin Teddy. He doesn't even recognize us or anything. Uncle Ron used to like having one of his own until he started finding them all bent and smudged in suspects’ pockets,” Al said. He gave Scorpius a sort of half-smile, as if apologizing for the strangeness of having family on Chocolate Frog Cards.
Scorpius returned the expression. Al was such a regular fellow-likable was the word that came to mind- that it helped offset how much a disadvantage Scorpius felt. He likes me even though I don’t have a lot of money or a famous family or anything like that. The thought warmed away the unpleasant feeling from being frowned at by the picture-version of Mr. Potter.
“Yeah, Dad went off them after that. Mum absolutely hates her Frog Card picture-how funny,” Rose said, interrupting herself. She studied Scorpius until he felt fidgety. “You have the same odd sort of smile as Al and Uncle Harry.”
“Must be a God-cousins thing,” Al whispered it to avoid re-igniting that argument with Rose. Scorpius stifled a giggle. Al grinned sideways at him from behind another Chocolate Frog package. “Let’s see what I’ve got, then.” He carelessly tossed the wrapping aside and Scorpius again caught the escaping frog with little effort.
“Show off,” Rose snorted, but she was smiling at the same time so Scorpius took it to be meant in a friendly way. Al was silent. Rose poked at his shin with her toe. “So, what’ve you got? Another Celestina Warbeck? We can add it to the collage for Grandmum.”
“No.” Al’s voice went so queer that Scorpius and Rose both stared at him. “Scorpius… is someone in your family named Draco?”
A sort of dread came over Scorpius. The last time he’d felt that way was when Great-Uncle Crius showed up at the Manor suddenly and unannounced, his normally ruddy face pale and solemn. A bad feeling had slipped between Scorpius’ shoulder blades and squirmed in his stomach for a second just before the words, ‘I’m sorry, Story; your granddad’s gone,’ had left Uncle Crius’ mouth. “That’s my father’s name,” he said.
“There’s no one else… an uncle or something?” Al’s eyes asked Scorpius to answer ‘yes’ even as Scorpius shook his head.
“Look at the bloody date, Al,” Rose pushed her toes against the thin carpet and stared out the window, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. “He’s the same age as Dad and Uncle Harry.”
“But… my father makes toys. Why would he have a Chocolate Frog Card?” Even as Scorpius protested, he felt as if he could hear Cousins Laurel and Phoebe whispering, the only word that came through the sibilance being ‘War.’
Al handed him the card. Scorpius almost didn’t want to look, but Al touched the back of his hand, and it didn’t feel like pity from Aunt Daphne or awkwardness, but like…
Like a friend. Scorpius gathered his courage to look down.
Draco Malfoy
1980-
His wand was used by Harry Potter to defeat Voldemort. Avoided prison owing to having been underage and thus not genuinely Marked; also because he acted under threat of harm to his parents. Involved in the creation of GaMP Wolfsbane.
“Marked?” Scorpius asked. He felt blank and wrong all over. “What does that mean?”
“Every Death Eater had a mark on their arm like a tattoo,” Rose said, her voice low. “Voldemort used it to call them. I heard Mum and Dad talk about it the night they took away my Draco card. I pulled it out of the rubbish bin after they went to bed.”
“It says he wasn’t really marked,” Al pointed out. “That means he wasn’t a Death Eater.”
Scorpius heard it all from far away. He wanted Al’s stout defense and Rose’s rescue of the card to reassure him, but he was too stunned to feel much of anything.
Rose knew from the moment I introduced myself. The realization jolted him, got his heart bumping again with a sickening lurch. She said she had all the Slytherins. That's why she behaved so oddly...
He didn’t know the face that looked at him from the card, not really. Like the picture of Mr. Potter, this version of Father was too young, too thin, his eyes too hard. Scorpius had heard the term ‘Death Eater’ before- Aunt Daphne had said it and Mum had taken Scorpius home immediately and not spoken to her sister for months afterward. He knew that Death Eaters had been bad; long ago, when Grandmother and Great-Aunt Andromeda thought that he was napping, Andromeda had cried about Teddy’s mother and father and asked Grandmother ‘Why?’ over and over, and Grandmother’s sweet voice had broken on the words ‘Bella’ and ‘gone wrong’ and that awful word, ‘Death Eater’ and many, many, ‘sorrys’. He even knew that Grandfather and Grandmother… and Father… had been on the wrong side of the war.
Somehow he hadn’t connected all of those things until now.
“Take it,” Scorpius said. The words squeezed painfully out of his tight throat as he held the card out, stiff-armed, towards Al. “He doesn’t recognize me.” It’s so wrong. He couldn’t meet Al’s eyes as the bit of paper slowly passed from his fingers. If they were accusing he couldn't bear it. If they were sympathetic, that would be just as hard. Harder, because it didn't seem right to stay around nice, funny, friendly Al and make him the object of the sort of shifty-eyed whispering that was Laurel and Phoebe's specialty. “I-I should go.” He stood quickly. The door blurred in front of him.
“No!” Al’s hand shot out and caught Scorpius’ sleeve almost as quickly as Scorpius could catch a Chocolate Frog but with a steely grip that Scorpius couldn’t hope to match. He got between Scorpius and the door as quick as a Snitch. “Please-we’re friends, and I just know that we’ll be in the same House, whatever that may be-and all that stuff happened so long ago, why does it matter?”
“I guess it matters even to my mum’s own sister,” he said, keeping his eyes down. It all made horrible sense now, Aunt Daphne never letting Phoebe and Laurel over. “Won’t let her kids go to a Death Eater’s house.”
“That’s not fair!” Scorpius blinked as much at the vehemence in Rose’s voice as at the burning feeling behind his eyes. “Even the stupid Chocolate Frog Card said he wasn’t really one.” She pushed her toe across the carpet again. “And you’re not. You’re-you’re you.”
“You’re all kinds of articulate when you’re giving me an ear-bashing, but not so much at comfort, are you?” Al said to Rose.
Scorpius couldn’t help a sad little hiccup of a laugh. He would miss Al’s curious way of speaking, even if it was a little more informal than he was used to.
“Oh, shut it, you.” Scorpius didn’t need to look to know that Rose’s arms were folded again.
“It’ll mean trouble for you with your family to be around me,” Scorpius said. He thought of Rose’s parents arguing in the night.
“Listen… Professor Snape’s card says that he was a Death Eater, full stop-but he turned around and… and he was good enough for my Dad to name me for him. Maybe that’s why the grownups don’t talk about the war. Maybe… it was so long ago, they don’t want it to matter to us. It won’t matter to Mum and Dad.” Al's voice was so pleading, so appealing. He made Scorpius wish-believe-he could be right.
At some point Rose must have stood up. Scorpius noted that their toes all pointed toward each other, their different shoes peeking out from under the hems of the heavy, blue trousers that seemed to be some sort of Muggle uniform. Rose’s shoes were new and almost shiny-looking, Scorpius’ an old-fashioned pair of Father’s shoes that Grandmother had sentimentally kept, Al’s ratty Muggle shoes tied with strings that looked just like the sort Cousin Teddy liked to wear; yet somehow, they looked right together.
“Al’s sort of weird,” Rose said, and lifted her voice over Al’s protests to add, “but when he’s right, he’s right.” She shuffled her feet. It was obviously a nervous habit. “And… when I said my parents were arguing… Mainly they didn’t want a reminder of the war around. They don't like any of the Chocolate frog cards that show someone they knew. Mum even talked about how your mum and dad helped lots of people. You know, werewolves had pretty rough lives before GaMP Wolfsbane… before our time. They're just kind of loud about, well, everything.” Rose fixed Scorpius with her startlingly bright blue gaze. “Just, stay… okay?”
Al transferred his hand from Scorpius’ sleeve to his wrist and squeezed gently. Scorpius looked up at him and managed to quirk one corner of his mouth up. Al responded in kind.
We do have the same sort of smile. Scorpius thought of Mr. Potter’s kind eyes. He must have known, yet he was kind to me.
“Okay,” he answered Rose.
Al let out a victory whoop and squashed Scorpius in another hug, knocking him into Rose.
“Al, you clumsy troll!” Rose yelled, but she was laughing just as much as the boys. Rose even gave Scorpius a quick half-squeeze. He chanced another look at her face to find that her cheeks were pinked again, which made him feel inexplicably shy.
Why do I feel like that when she blushes?
*The song that Lysander and Lorcan sing is taken from ‘Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire;’ the last verse is left out. This would have been Luna’s 3rd year.
**Dates for Snape’s Chocolate Frog Card courtesy of HP Lexicon.
By coincidence (admittedly easy to arrange when one is writing it), a certain pair of lifelong friends spent exactly the amount that Uncle Crius gave to Scorpius-eleven sickles, seven knuts-on candy on their way to their first term at Hogwarts…
Photo Post: A Glimpse of Scorpius’ world. These are photos that resemble the Manor grounds as Scorpius knows them.
Photo Post: Agate.
Chapter 4: Four the Win
Chapter 5: Five by Five
Chapter 6: Six of One...
...Half-dozen (of an Epilogue)
Comprehensive Fic List
By dracontia
Chapter 3: Three Little Purses
Characters: Scorpius Malfoy, Albus Severus Potter, Rose Weasley, James Sirius Potter, Louis Weasley, Lysander Scamander, Lorcan Scamander, Draco Malfoy, Asteria Greengrass-Malfoy, assorted canon & original characters
Rating: G
Summary: Two little wizards and one little witch meet in the Hogwarts Express on their way to their first school term. This story can absolutely, positively stand alone, with no reference to any other fanfiction; however, it was written with the intent of taking up the narrative from the end of ‘In Your Debt,’ as the title implies.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling’s characters are on completely unpaid leave in my imagination.
Not yet beta-read; not yet posted to any archive.
Chapter 1: One Little Wizard
Chapter 2: Two Little Cousins
Chapter 3: Three Little Purses
Scorpius was jarred out of mentally composing his letter home-literally-by Al bouncing in the seat. Both Scorpius and Agate were in some danger of being upended. He tried to steady her cage with one hand while bracing himself against the wall with the other, wondering what sort of etiquette governed asking a friend or God-cousin to cease and desist.
This was evidently Rose’s area of expertise. “Al, settle down or go find the loo or SOMETHING, but quit fidgeting!” Her voice rose to a yell by the end of the sentence.
Agate fluttered in distress. Scorpius tried to make soothing sounds at her but she only hunkered down in the bottom of the cage and looked unhappy.
“You say Scorpius can’t be a God-cousin but you don’t have any trouble pretending to be Mum,” Al complained. He did grip the edge of the seat, though, as if to try to stop himself bouncing.
“What are you so worked up about, anyway?” Rose asked, a little calmer now herself.
“How’m I supposed to settle down when I don’t know what House I’ll be in?” Al drummed his heels against the bench. The noise and vibration easily rivaled anything that the train did when going over points. Scorpius almost wished that he would go back to bouncing.
“I’m not worried. Weasleys are Gryffindors. We sort into Gryffindor, we marry other Gryffindors, and our children are in Gryffindor.” Scorpius thought that Rose sounded remarkably like Father holding forth on what Malfoys Did and Did Not Do. “You’re part Weasley, so quit fretting.”
“Except that Uncle Bill married Aunt Fleur, who went to Beauxbatons, and only Louis sorted into Gryffindor. Nicky and Vicky are both Ravenclaws,” Al pointed out. “And Molly’s a Hufflepuff, however that happened.”
“If Aunt Fleur hears you calling Victoire and Dominique ‘Vicky’ and ‘Nicky,’ she’s going to pitch a fit,” Rose warned.
Albus looked around the compartment in an exaggerated manner. “I don’t see her about. I think you’re dodging the issue.”
Scorpius clutched nervously at the insides of his pockets. Al was articulating one of his very concerns. “I don’t know if there’s any way to tell what house we’ll be in,” he said, just barely managing to keep from hunching over with anxiety. Speaking of things Malfoys Do Not Do… “I wish there was. All I really have to go by is that Father says we’ve always been Slytherins.” He decided not to mention Mum having been in Ravenclaw. Scorpius liked to read well enough, but he loathed all the studying that Grandmother set for him in his daily lessons. Somehow, he doubted that Ravenclaw was the place for him.
“I’ve heard something to that effect.” Rose’s tone was rather cool.
“Maybe you also heard Dad when he said that one of the bravest men he ever knew was a Slytherin,” Al fired back at her. “He was good enough for Dad to name me after him, any rate.”
Scorpius had the uncomfortable feeling that they were somehow arguing about him as much as they were discussing houses. “I… I don’t know much about Slytherin except that Malfoys have always been Sorted there. Father did say that Severus Snape was one of the heroes of…” He trailed off. “So you’re named after him,” he said. He turned to Al with renewed interest. Should I mention Father’s wand?
Al looked self-conscious and rubbed his hair into yet more chaos. “Yeah,” he said awkwardly. “I’m named after two Headmasters of Hogwarts; and, well, they also did all the War stuff. It seems like a lot to live up to, but… I reckon I have to try.”
“Everything comes back to the War for grownups,” Scorpius said. This time he spoke aloud, though barely. “But nobody will ever say why.”
Rose spoke up with sudden vehemence. “Exactly! All you hear is ‘the War this’ and ‘back in the War so,’ but they don’t tell us anything about it,” she said. “You overhear a name here, something about Houses there; you can read Hogwarts: A History until you’re blue but they only give the barest outlines. You may as well depend on bloody Chocolate Frog Cards!” Her volume rose with her frustration, leaving the compartment uncomfortably silent when she was done speaking.
They all spent a few moments not quite looking at each other. Agate made a sound like a 4-inch-tall pony whinnying and tucked her head under her wing to hide from the tension. Scorpius wished for a wing of his own to hide under.
This time Al tried to re-start the conversation. “Speaking of Chocolate Frogs, where’s that tea-trolley?” He stared wistfully at the door to the compartment.
“You have to eat proper food first,” Rose said.
“Except that James ran off with mine as well as his,” Al pointed out. He didn’t seem unhappy about it but patted his pockets, which jingled much more heavily than Scorpius’ little pouch. “I reckon I’ll just see what the Tea Trolley Lady has,” he said cheerfully.
“You’ll have some of mine rather than stuff yourself with sweets,” Rose said in clear warning. She peered into the pouch at her side. “Oh, joy. Must Mum always pack Muggle peanut butter, like we’re making some kind of statement or something?”
“Peanutbutter? Really?” Scorpius gazed at the bag in fascination. “I’ve heard of Peanutbutter from Cousin Teddy but never tried it.” Aunt Andromeda always seemed to be trying to impress them or some such when they came over. She never offered any Muggle food, not that he knew of. He looked into his pocket and tried to contain his disappointment. “I have quince paste from our garden, on wholemeal.” He liked quince well enough but the Quince tree had overproduced the last two years. He was frankly rather weary of the stuff.
“Quince?” Rose almost seemed to prick up her ears. “I’ve read about that in books. Mum won’t buy it because it’s too sweet.”
They gazed wistfully back and forth between their respective lunches.
“Blimey, why don’t you two just trade?” Al said. Clearly, Rose hadn’t cornered the market on exasperation.
“You sound like Dad when you say that,” Rose laughed at her cousin.
“Would you? Trade, I mean,” Scorpius said. He spared a moment to worry about his grammar.
Rose hesitated. “But what about Al’s lunch? I… I mean it-you have to eat something besides sweets,” she directed the last bit at Al directly, though she sounded a lot less certain than before.
“I’ll be fine,” Al insisted. “Besides, it’s not just sweets from the cart. Pumpkin Pasties are a… vegetable.”
Before Rose could jump all over that, Scorpius intervened in. “He can have some of mine, too,” Scorpius said.
“’Salright, I’ve got enough for a feast,” Al said, clearly unwilling to give up his dreams of sugar-coated oblivion. He hefted his fat little coin pouch again. Scorpius tried not to feel a pang of envy. Even if the contents were all Knuts, Al was probably a lot better funded than Scorpius was.
You’re not supposed to be jealous of friends. Father had been quite firm on that point when Scorpius had asked if he minded Mum spending so much time with her friend Gus.
“Albus Severus Potter! How much money are you thinking of spending on CANDY?” Rose sounded absolutely scandalized. Scorpius was a little too, if he was perfectly honest with himself. It did seem wasteful, if rather glorious.
“Not sure. Depends on how much I have,” Al said, carelessly dumping the contents of the pouch into his lap. Scorpius goggled at the preponderance of Sickles and Galleons, and the careless way that Al let the Knuts roll over the edge of his leg and onto the floor and seat. "Looks like everything from the cart will be my treat!" he said, smiling bemusedly at the pile.
"You've got to get organized." Rose was the picture of fretfulness as she gathered rolling coins. "Stack them in fives so we can get a count."
“Do they even have eight galleons, eleven sickles, five knuts worth of candy on the tea trolley?” Scorpius asked in astonishment. His head fairly spun. That was more than his entire school kit had cost, allowing for the fact that he had hand-me-down robes and Potions equipment and used books to stretch resources.
Rose stopped cold in the middle of helping Al gather the coins into piles. Her eyes flickered across the assembled coinage. She tapped each pile quickly with one finger, mouthing as she silently counted, and when she was done she gaped. “But that’s completely accurate!” Rose spluttered. “Unstacked, no rounding, all the Sickles combined into Galleons and the Knuts into sickles!” She stared at Scorpius with a look that was half-admiring, half-envious.
“Wow. Can you be my accountant?” Al asked.
“It’s rude to take the mickey like that,” Rose scolded as she scooped coins back into the pouch.
“I’m serious,” Al said. “Even Uncle Bill can’t count money that accurately without actually touching it.”
Scorpius preened a little. “Well, my father used to work for Gringotts. Though only with documents, not money,” he hastened to add. Al seemed pretty easygoing, but he was unwilling to take the chance that Rose would see an honest ambiguity as a lie. “It’s much easier since they simplified the money, even if it was devalued a bit. Grandmother seems to think that money isn’t to be discussed, but Father says I need to learn it well if I’m to look after it.”
“Very sensible,” Rose said. For the first time she sounded approving. “I remember how Daddy howled when they simplified the money-said we lost a good two months’ pay without a coin ever leaving the bank. I’m a little surprised that he gave me anything for the trolley, especially since Mum didn’t want me buying sweets at all.” She patted her own money pouch-smaller than Al’s stash, to be sure, but still generous-almost guiltily.
The Devaluation was a memorable occasion for Scorpius as well. Mum and Father had stayed up late in tense, whispered discussions. The next day, Grandmother had taken over Scorpius’ lessons so that Father could work longer hours.
“Lucky for us I guess that Dad took most of ours out of Gringotts,” Al said. “I don’t understand it all myself. Just looking at money makes my head ache.”
“I can explain it if you like,” Scorpius offered eagerly. “It would be only fair, since you’re letting me borrow Agate.” He felt of the little pouch in his pocket, keenly aware that he hadn’t much money of his own to count. About eleven sickles, seven knuts he thought, evaluating the weight and shape of it. He smiled despite himself. Never had such a fortune been under his control, no matter that it was a pittance compared to Al's resources. Someday, I'll have enough money that I won't have to worry anymore. Then the sweets will be my treat.
“Have you given any thought to how you’re going to share an owl and a budget and whatnot if you’re sorted into different Houses?” Rose asked.
“And here we are come round to that again,” Al said with a huge sigh.
“Oh, Al-”
Whatever Rose had been about to say was interrupted by the compartment door popping open. Sadly, it was not the Tea Trolley Lady but the twin boys who had left with James earlier.
“Just wanted to see if you lot were all right,” one said, his bulging gray eyes taking in the three occupants of the compartment.
“Thank you, Lysander. As you can see, we’re quite well,” Rose said, sounding a bit lofty. Albus shook his head at her. Scorpius didn’t mind; Father and Grandmother sometimes talked like that. Mum always found it funny.
“To be exact, I’m Lysander, that’s Lorcan,” the other boy said. “James was worried about you,” he added.
“Actually, I think he was worried about the amount of grief he’d catch if something happened to you,” the one identified as Lorcan said.
“You’re probably right,” Lysander conceded.
“You can tell the wanker that we were eaten by dragons,” Albus Severus said sulkily.
“Language, Al!” Rose admonished. Scorpius just giggled.
“You were the one taught it to me,” Al reminded her.
Rose muttered something that contained the word ‘Dad,’ though it was drowned out by Lorcan speaking over her. “That’s highly implausible. The only dragon that might actually fit in a train compartment is a Peruvian Vipertooth, though only just,” he said thoughtfully.
Scorpius thought it might be educational to listen to Rose’s father some time. It seemed likely he had a good grasp of all the sort of words that Rudy had been charmed to say until Grandmother had cast a very durable Silencing Spell on him.
Father had never really forgiven Gus for the gift of Rudy.
“But you might plausibly be eaten by a Blood-Sucking Bugbear,” Lysander said. “Would it suit if we told him that-”
“Just tell him we’re FINE, no thanks to him,” Rose said.
“Really? Because you look a bit anxious to me.” Evidently it was Lorcan’s turn to speak.
“We’re worried about where we’re going to be sorted,” Albus Severus admitted. Scorpius nodded.
“I’m not worried,” Rose repeated, though her frown belied her words. “Mum and Dad were both Gryffindors, so I’m sure I will be as well. And your mum, dad, and brother are all Gryffindors, Al, so I really don’t know what you are so fussed about.”
“I hate to contradict a lady-” Lorcan began.
“No, you don’t, brother,” Lysander corrected.
“You’re right, I was just being polite,” Lorcan admitted, “but still, I meant to say-that doesn’t mean very much.”
“Everyone is an individual,” Lysander continued.
“Even twins,” they finished in unison.
“Mum was a Ravenclaw, and so was Dad in his time,” Lysander explained.
“Yet, look at us,” Lorcan continued. “Hufflepuffs both.”
“Fits us like a glove,” Lysander said.
“Loyalty is our pride,” Lorcan asserted.
“See, that’s the problem,” Albus Severus said, frustrated. “It’s the Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill thing all over again. I don’t know how you can tell.”
“You can always ask the Hat,” Lorcan said.
“It worked for us,” Lysander added.
“What? You can’t tell the Hat where to sort you,” Scorpius said, aghast.
“Sure you can,” Lysander said. “Lorcan went to Hufflepuff. The Hat asked if I wanted to stay with my brother and I said I did.”
“And here we are,” Lorcan said.
“Maybe it was just because you’re twins,” Al said doubtfully.
“No,” Rose said, slowly. “I mean, it might have made a difference in their case… but the Hat doesn’t have to do it that way. I overheard Mum talking to Aunt Ginny. She had joked that Mum should have been in Ravenclaw, and Mum admitted that the Hat gave her a choice of Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, and she chose Gryffindor. I think there were some twins in their year who were in different houses from each other, as well.”
“You see,” Lysander said placidly, “the Hat will let you have a say. Why do you think the Hat sings a song before the first years are sorted?”
“The hat sings?”
“Certainly.”
“A different song every year,”
“Our Mum taught us all the songs from her years there.”
“She has a phenomenal memory.”
"It's like watching table tennis," Al murmured. Scorpius’ eyes flickered back and forth between twins and decided that, whatever Table Tenners was, it was dizzying.
“And we remember the songs from our years, too.”
“Would you like to hear one?”
“Or maybe all of them?”
“I think one representative song will do,” Rose interrupted hastily.
The twins took a deep breath. One (Scorpius thought it was Lysander) hummed a note to start, and suddenly both began to sing:
A thousand years or more ago
when I was newly sewn,
there lived four wizards of renown,
whose names are still well known:
bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,
fair Ravenclaw, from glen,
sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,
shrewd Slytherin, from fen.
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,
they hatched a daring plan
to educate young sorcerers
thus Hogwarts School began.
Now each of these four founders
formed their own house, for each
did value different virtues
in the ones they had to teach.
By Gryffindor, the bravest were
Prized far beyond the rest;
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest
would always be the best;
For Hufflepuff, hard workers were
Most worthy of admission;
And power-hungry Slytherin
loved those of great ambition.*
Scorpius felt a prickle of excitement at the word ‘ambition.’ It was almost enough to overcome his internal cringing at what passed for a tune. Either the Hat was at best a modest composer, or the twins were no particular singers, or both.
“So, think about the Hat’s song; does being brave make you less industrious? Can’t you be both ambitious and wise? Or hard-working and clever?” Lysander asked.
“Courage, ambition, loyalty, intelligence; none of these are mutually exclusive. Everyone has qualities of every house in them,” Lorcan said.
“Well, we’ll leave you with that,” Lysander said.
“Yes, time we were back to our compartment,” Lorcan added. “We don’t want to miss the tea trolley.”
“You just have to decide which ones you value most,” they finished in unison before leaving the compartment.
Scorpius blinked at the place they’d been, wondering for a moment if they’d Apparated. “They don’t stand on ceremony, do they?”
“Nope,” Al said with a grin. “They take after their Mum. She’s my sister Lily’s Godmother, you know.” He frowned. “I wonder if Godparents have anything to do with what House you’re in…”
“Right. Well, no sense worrying about Houses when there’s lunch that needs eating,” Rose said. Scorpius’ stomach applauded her practicality. “Let’s divide the sandwiches between us and each put in… four sickles for the tea trolley,” she said. Before Al could protest, she added, “and I think I hear it now.”
Scorpius shot her a look of pure gratitude. Four sickles he could spare. Rose gave him a sort of half-smile in return. He carefully counted out four little silver coins, noting with satisfaction that he had, indeed, correctly judged the amount of money that Uncle Crius had given him. He and Rose helped Al to count up twenty Knuts in place of one of Al’s sickles to help use up some of the mass of tiny coins.
“Will you be having anything, dearies?” A kindly witch who looked like precisely as Scorpius imagined a baker should peeked in the door.
Soon they were happily picking out candy. Al warned them away from the Fizzing Whizbees, and they generally agreed that Jelly Slugs did not look at all appealing; but they stocked up on Cauldron Cakes and Chocolate Frogs, with a couple of Pumpkin Pasties each for good measure. Rose declared that it was tradition to buy at least one bag of Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavored Beans so they did, resolving to save any dodgy-looking ones for James and Louis. In a burst of daring, Scorpius chose Fizzy Strawberry Cream, a drink with Muggle antecedents, rather than Pumpkin Juice to drink. Al selected a handful of Sugar Mice, only to find that the squeaking drove Agate to distraction.
Rose found them rather distracting as well. “What did you buy those for?”
“To eat, I’m guessing,” Scorpius shocked himself by saying. He hadn’t made jokes around anyone but family before and he was temporarily embarrassed.
If the heat that Scorpius felt in his cheeks showed, Al didn’t seem to notice. “Good one, mate,” he chuckled. Agate fluttered in her cage, and Al’s amusement abated. “Might have a point there, Rosie; Agate sure doesn’t like them. Can I change them for-”
“Once you touch it, you’ve bought it,” the Tea Trolley Lady said quite firmly.
“Hide them in the lunch sack till we can eat them?” Al turned beseeching eyes on Rose.
“Honestly,” Rose said, the very epitome of exasperation. However, she snatched the offending sweets from Al and began muffling them under the sandwiches. “Daddy had the wrong end of the stick; I think you’re going to be a bad influence on Scorpius.”
Scorpius had no time to process the implications of that muttered remark. Quick as a wink, Al had a couple more sickles out and rapidly chose two more handfuls of goodies. He winked at Scorpius and shoved one handful of sugary loot into his pocket while he passed the other to Scorpius. It took him a second, but he darted a glance of realization at Rose and hastened to stow his share away as well. Al shot him a quick conspirator’s grin at him before schooling his expression to pretend interest in Rose’s choice of drink. Scorpius answered with a little grin of his own, slightly guilty but mostly excited. Even being a relatively well-behaved small boy, Scorpius had his share of Things He Had Got Away with, predominately of the reading-past-bedtime-, sneaking-extra-biscuits-, and sliding- down-forbidden-bannisters- variety. He hadn’t realized how much more satisfying it was to have an accomplice.
Once Rose settled up for her own fizzy drink, the Tea Trolley was considerably lighter-as was Scorpius’ heart. The compartment was silent, save for the sounds of eating, drinking, and wrappers crinkling, for a good while. They picked over the Bertie Bott’s Beans carefully, saving out more for James and Louis than they ate. Scorpius cautiously sniffed at a red bean. While it didn’t prove to be blood-flavored, as Al had warned it might be, Scorpius was still not at all prepared for the taste of pickled ginger.
Al washed down a Cauldron Cake with a swig of pumpkin juice. He made quick work of his share of the sandwiches despite his protestations. “This is the life,” he said with a contented sigh.
Scorpius heartily agreed. “I wonder if they serve peanutbutter at school,” he said with a longing look at the last crust in his hand. He finished it slowly, savoring the toasty, sticky, nuttiness.
Rose lingered over the quince. “I don’t suppose… if I asked Mum to send along some peanutbutter… you might ask your mum to send quince? You know… so we could trade again?”
“Oh, surely,” Scorpius hastened to assert. There were jars of it in the pantry. He couldn’t imagine any reason not to spare one or two. For the first time in their limited acquaintance, Rose smiled-properly smiled-at him. Her face lit brightly with the blue twinkle in her eyes and the gleam of her shining clean (if slightly large) teeth; Scorpius revised his opinion of Flossing Stringments upward. He was also suitably impressed with the magical powers of food in general, which seemed to put Rose in a very peaceful frame of mind. And why not? It’s very good food. Scorpius thought with a pleased sigh of his own.
The quiet was shattered by a belch of truly epic proportions.
“Al!” Rose exclaimed. Whatever scolding she had planned dissolved into laughter. Scorpius joined her; the hilarity of bodily functions was too overpowering a force for his newly forged loyalty as a ‘mate’, partner-in-crime, and quasi-cousin to contain.
“I have it from Uncle Charlie,” Al said, his face cherry-red and setting off the green of his eyes to good effect, “that burping is considered a compliment to the food in some countries.” Rose and Scorpius just giggled harder. “Fine, then-see if I help you spell away the crumbs.”
“You’d do it anyway, just to show off,” Rose finally managed to gasp. “You know more spells than any of us.” She didn’t seem as sulky about it as she had earlier.
“Only cleaning spells that James teaches me because he doesn’t like to tidy up,” Al said. Still, he carefully pointed his wand at each wrapper and crumb. “Evanesco,” he pronounced. It even worked more often than not. Once again, Scorpius fought back envy. Still, now was perhaps the time to bring up wands.
“What’s your wand-I mean, what sort of wood is it?” Scorpius silently lamented his tumbled-tongued ways. At least he hadn’t stuttered.
“Holly-with Unicorn hair,” Al said. “They had to dig into the old stock at Ollivander and Frost’s to find it.”
“I’ll say they did. Dad was climbing the walls and Mum was actually finished with the book shopping by the time they dug that one out of the basement. It must have been pre-War,” Rose added her own flourishes to the account. “We were beginning to wonder if you were a Squib.”
“Ha, ha,” Al expressed his lack of amusement. “It’s only that they didn’t have to think about your wand-just hand you the first rosewood one they came to.”
Rose made a brushing-off gesture. “Whatever. So, what’s your wand then?” She directed her question at Scorpius.
He drew it carefully out of his sleeve. “Hawthorn and Unicorn hair,” he said. He couldn’t resist resting one hand on it, pressing it close to his heart for a moment in a sort of hug. “It was my dad’s, but he stopped using it when he inherited Professor Snape’s wand.”
“He has Professor Snape’s wand? Are you related, then? Has he told you anything about him?” Al ‘s green eyes shone with curiosity.
“I don’t think we were related. I only know that he was one of the heroes of the War, and that he did a lot for our family,” Scorpius said. He shrugged apologetically. “I wish I knew more, myself.”
Meanwhile, Rose had already turned her attention back to food and its accoutrements. She tore into a Chocolate Frog wrapper. “Ech, another Artemesia Lufkin. Politics are boring. I dunno what Mum sees in that stuff.” She tossed the card aside, bit the hind legs off the frog to keep it contained, and grabbed another packet in a practiced way. Scorpius caught the card out of the air.
“Nice,” Al noted the catch.
An “Aha!” from Rose caused Scorpius to abandon the hard-faced witch on the seat next to Agate’s cage. “Listen up! Severus Snape: 9 January, 1960-1 May, 1998. Head of Slytherin House 1980-1997, Headmaster of Hogwarts 1997-1998,** sometime Potions and Defense Against Dark Arts Professor. Death Eater-turned-spy for Albus Dumbledore. One of ’Those Who Won the War’ according to Harry Potter.” Rose read aloud from the back of her Chocolate Frog Card.
Al and Scorpius leaned in eagerly to study the picture on the card while she read. Fathomless black pin-points stared into the middle distance from a knife-edge face topped with inky strands of hair. He deigned to give the boys a sidelong glance which turned into a full-on stare. Tiny eyebrows furrowed as he switched his gaze from one boy to the other and his thin lips mouthed something that looked like ‘What the…?’ Then abruptly, he whirled around in a cloud of black robes and disappeared from the frame.
“Blimey, Rose, you’ve got all the luck with these cards,” Al said.
“How curious,” Scorpius said. “Did he look… a little confused to you?”
Rose flipped the card around. “Bother, he’s gone already. He’s one of the hard-to-find ones-even when you have his card.”
“Headmaster Snape-Sir-m-may we have a word?” Scorpius addressed the card.
Al scratched his head. “Um, they don’t talk, you know-even if he does come back.”
“Oh.” Scorpius’ only experience with Chocolate Frog Cards was from Mum’s and Father’s old collections and he thought that they might have changed a bit in the intervening years. Cousin Teddy had given him Chocolate Frogs a few times for his birthday; but the first time they’d melted a bit and Mum had disposed of all the damped cards before Scorpius could look at them. The other time they’d been Boxed Frogs without the cards.
Snape peeked into the frame again, his not inconsiderable nose preceding the rest of him. He studied the three children for a moment, those expressive brows climbing into an expression of incredulity. Scorpius thought that they looked like particularly emphatic punctuation marks in his parchment-pale face. He opened his mouth and all three children could clearly imagine the sort of ‘Hah!’ sound that he would have made before he vanished again.
“Well, that was something, at least,” Rose said. “The Slytherin cards are really rare. And I have all of them now, unlike Hugo,” she said with satisfaction.
“They don’t usually mention on the card what House a wizard was in, so how d’you know if they’re rare?” Al asked.
Scorpius ignored the incipient argument by opening one of his own Chocolate Frogs. Perhaps he would be fortunate enough to find one of those elusive Slytherins.
Instead he was surprised by a pair of familiar green eyes blinking at him from behind clunky-framed spectacles. Only the eyes were familiar, though; this person was much older than Al and much too young to be the Mr. Potter Scorpius had met. His face was subtly yet distinctly different in shape from Al’s though their features were otherwise similar. This young version of Mr. Potter also differed in that, in place of Mr. Potter’s kindly, slightly crooked smile, he frowned at Scorpius as though he wasn’t sure what to expect from him but suspected that it wouldn’t be good. It gave Scorpius a very unhappy feeling. As distracted as he was, his hand popped up reflexively to catch the frog before it hopped away. I knew Mr. Potter was important, but… a Chocolate Frog Card? Scorpius felt a little overwhelmed by the magnitude of it.
“I think-I think I found your father!” he said to Al. He turned the card to show his friend and felt silly for qualifying his statement as soon as he noted the confirming text on the reverse side.
Harry Potter
1980-
The Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, defeater of Voldemort. Recently Chief Auror.
Scorpius had the feeling that the card was waiting for Mr. Potter to do something else that it could discuss and was rather disappointed that he hadn't as yet. The frown on the card changed from suspicious to puzzled when Al looked over.
“Dad hates those things. He hasn’t gone so far as to ban them from the house but he and Mum never buy them for us. James has a few from the tea-trolley each trip to and from school, but he knows better than to leave them lying about. I sort of see why; it’s weird to see Dad younger than Cousin Teddy. He doesn't even recognize us or anything. Uncle Ron used to like having one of his own until he started finding them all bent and smudged in suspects’ pockets,” Al said. He gave Scorpius a sort of half-smile, as if apologizing for the strangeness of having family on Chocolate Frog Cards.
Scorpius returned the expression. Al was such a regular fellow-likable was the word that came to mind- that it helped offset how much a disadvantage Scorpius felt. He likes me even though I don’t have a lot of money or a famous family or anything like that. The thought warmed away the unpleasant feeling from being frowned at by the picture-version of Mr. Potter.
“Yeah, Dad went off them after that. Mum absolutely hates her Frog Card picture-how funny,” Rose said, interrupting herself. She studied Scorpius until he felt fidgety. “You have the same odd sort of smile as Al and Uncle Harry.”
“Must be a God-cousins thing,” Al whispered it to avoid re-igniting that argument with Rose. Scorpius stifled a giggle. Al grinned sideways at him from behind another Chocolate Frog package. “Let’s see what I’ve got, then.” He carelessly tossed the wrapping aside and Scorpius again caught the escaping frog with little effort.
“Show off,” Rose snorted, but she was smiling at the same time so Scorpius took it to be meant in a friendly way. Al was silent. Rose poked at his shin with her toe. “So, what’ve you got? Another Celestina Warbeck? We can add it to the collage for Grandmum.”
“No.” Al’s voice went so queer that Scorpius and Rose both stared at him. “Scorpius… is someone in your family named Draco?”
A sort of dread came over Scorpius. The last time he’d felt that way was when Great-Uncle Crius showed up at the Manor suddenly and unannounced, his normally ruddy face pale and solemn. A bad feeling had slipped between Scorpius’ shoulder blades and squirmed in his stomach for a second just before the words, ‘I’m sorry, Story; your granddad’s gone,’ had left Uncle Crius’ mouth. “That’s my father’s name,” he said.
“There’s no one else… an uncle or something?” Al’s eyes asked Scorpius to answer ‘yes’ even as Scorpius shook his head.
“Look at the bloody date, Al,” Rose pushed her toes against the thin carpet and stared out the window, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. “He’s the same age as Dad and Uncle Harry.”
“But… my father makes toys. Why would he have a Chocolate Frog Card?” Even as Scorpius protested, he felt as if he could hear Cousins Laurel and Phoebe whispering, the only word that came through the sibilance being ‘War.’
Al handed him the card. Scorpius almost didn’t want to look, but Al touched the back of his hand, and it didn’t feel like pity from Aunt Daphne or awkwardness, but like…
Like a friend. Scorpius gathered his courage to look down.
Draco Malfoy
1980-
His wand was used by Harry Potter to defeat Voldemort. Avoided prison owing to having been underage and thus not genuinely Marked; also because he acted under threat of harm to his parents. Involved in the creation of GaMP Wolfsbane.
“Marked?” Scorpius asked. He felt blank and wrong all over. “What does that mean?”
“Every Death Eater had a mark on their arm like a tattoo,” Rose said, her voice low. “Voldemort used it to call them. I heard Mum and Dad talk about it the night they took away my Draco card. I pulled it out of the rubbish bin after they went to bed.”
“It says he wasn’t really marked,” Al pointed out. “That means he wasn’t a Death Eater.”
Scorpius heard it all from far away. He wanted Al’s stout defense and Rose’s rescue of the card to reassure him, but he was too stunned to feel much of anything.
Rose knew from the moment I introduced myself. The realization jolted him, got his heart bumping again with a sickening lurch. She said she had all the Slytherins. That's why she behaved so oddly...
He didn’t know the face that looked at him from the card, not really. Like the picture of Mr. Potter, this version of Father was too young, too thin, his eyes too hard. Scorpius had heard the term ‘Death Eater’ before- Aunt Daphne had said it and Mum had taken Scorpius home immediately and not spoken to her sister for months afterward. He knew that Death Eaters had been bad; long ago, when Grandmother and Great-Aunt Andromeda thought that he was napping, Andromeda had cried about Teddy’s mother and father and asked Grandmother ‘Why?’ over and over, and Grandmother’s sweet voice had broken on the words ‘Bella’ and ‘gone wrong’ and that awful word, ‘Death Eater’ and many, many, ‘sorrys’. He even knew that Grandfather and Grandmother… and Father… had been on the wrong side of the war.
Somehow he hadn’t connected all of those things until now.
“Take it,” Scorpius said. The words squeezed painfully out of his tight throat as he held the card out, stiff-armed, towards Al. “He doesn’t recognize me.” It’s so wrong. He couldn’t meet Al’s eyes as the bit of paper slowly passed from his fingers. If they were accusing he couldn't bear it. If they were sympathetic, that would be just as hard. Harder, because it didn't seem right to stay around nice, funny, friendly Al and make him the object of the sort of shifty-eyed whispering that was Laurel and Phoebe's specialty. “I-I should go.” He stood quickly. The door blurred in front of him.
“No!” Al’s hand shot out and caught Scorpius’ sleeve almost as quickly as Scorpius could catch a Chocolate Frog but with a steely grip that Scorpius couldn’t hope to match. He got between Scorpius and the door as quick as a Snitch. “Please-we’re friends, and I just know that we’ll be in the same House, whatever that may be-and all that stuff happened so long ago, why does it matter?”
“I guess it matters even to my mum’s own sister,” he said, keeping his eyes down. It all made horrible sense now, Aunt Daphne never letting Phoebe and Laurel over. “Won’t let her kids go to a Death Eater’s house.”
“That’s not fair!” Scorpius blinked as much at the vehemence in Rose’s voice as at the burning feeling behind his eyes. “Even the stupid Chocolate Frog Card said he wasn’t really one.” She pushed her toe across the carpet again. “And you’re not. You’re-you’re you.”
“You’re all kinds of articulate when you’re giving me an ear-bashing, but not so much at comfort, are you?” Al said to Rose.
Scorpius couldn’t help a sad little hiccup of a laugh. He would miss Al’s curious way of speaking, even if it was a little more informal than he was used to.
“Oh, shut it, you.” Scorpius didn’t need to look to know that Rose’s arms were folded again.
“It’ll mean trouble for you with your family to be around me,” Scorpius said. He thought of Rose’s parents arguing in the night.
“Listen… Professor Snape’s card says that he was a Death Eater, full stop-but he turned around and… and he was good enough for my Dad to name me for him. Maybe that’s why the grownups don’t talk about the war. Maybe… it was so long ago, they don’t want it to matter to us. It won’t matter to Mum and Dad.” Al's voice was so pleading, so appealing. He made Scorpius wish-believe-he could be right.
At some point Rose must have stood up. Scorpius noted that their toes all pointed toward each other, their different shoes peeking out from under the hems of the heavy, blue trousers that seemed to be some sort of Muggle uniform. Rose’s shoes were new and almost shiny-looking, Scorpius’ an old-fashioned pair of Father’s shoes that Grandmother had sentimentally kept, Al’s ratty Muggle shoes tied with strings that looked just like the sort Cousin Teddy liked to wear; yet somehow, they looked right together.
“Al’s sort of weird,” Rose said, and lifted her voice over Al’s protests to add, “but when he’s right, he’s right.” She shuffled her feet. It was obviously a nervous habit. “And… when I said my parents were arguing… Mainly they didn’t want a reminder of the war around. They don't like any of the Chocolate frog cards that show someone they knew. Mum even talked about how your mum and dad helped lots of people. You know, werewolves had pretty rough lives before GaMP Wolfsbane… before our time. They're just kind of loud about, well, everything.” Rose fixed Scorpius with her startlingly bright blue gaze. “Just, stay… okay?”
Al transferred his hand from Scorpius’ sleeve to his wrist and squeezed gently. Scorpius looked up at him and managed to quirk one corner of his mouth up. Al responded in kind.
We do have the same sort of smile. Scorpius thought of Mr. Potter’s kind eyes. He must have known, yet he was kind to me.
“Okay,” he answered Rose.
Al let out a victory whoop and squashed Scorpius in another hug, knocking him into Rose.
“Al, you clumsy troll!” Rose yelled, but she was laughing just as much as the boys. Rose even gave Scorpius a quick half-squeeze. He chanced another look at her face to find that her cheeks were pinked again, which made him feel inexplicably shy.
Why do I feel like that when she blushes?
*The song that Lysander and Lorcan sing is taken from ‘Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire;’ the last verse is left out. This would have been Luna’s 3rd year.
**Dates for Snape’s Chocolate Frog Card courtesy of HP Lexicon.
By coincidence (admittedly easy to arrange when one is writing it), a certain pair of lifelong friends spent exactly the amount that Uncle Crius gave to Scorpius-eleven sickles, seven knuts-on candy on their way to their first term at Hogwarts…
Photo Post: A Glimpse of Scorpius’ world. These are photos that resemble the Manor grounds as Scorpius knows them.
Photo Post: Agate.
Chapter 4: Four the Win
Chapter 5: Five by Five
Chapter 6: Six of One...
...Half-dozen (of an Epilogue)
Comprehensive Fic List