Losing Harry Chapter 21
Story: Losing Harry
Chapter: Twenty-One
Word Count: 3,575 (chapter only)
Rating: PG
Warnings: occasional and/or eventual strong language, mild violence, scenes of a sexual nature
Characters: Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Draco, Albus, Scorpius, Lorcan, Lysander, James, Lily, etc. Genre: Mystery, Drama, Romance Summary: A wizard has disappeared, and the Ministry is refusing to investigate; Albus Potter is in the Hogwarts Infirmary, and Ginny and Hermione are arguing over Harry's peculiar behavior. All is not as it should be. HPDH+Epilogue compliant.
Written: 4, 21 October 2009
Notes: Written in British English. Thanks to the awesome beta-action from cymonie . Also thanks to Aline for her French beta-ing.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 |
--
“’Ere are some Galleons and some Euros. Eet is ze French Muggle monee. Eet should be enough for ze time,” Amélie Delacour said to Albus as he and Scorpius stood in the chilly ocean breeze, just outside of a short, squat bank Amélie had exited from. They were in a small seaside village where the Beauxbaton students often took weekends or holidays, with permission and escorts, of course. They had agreed by owl to meet up with Albus’s cousin there again, after returning from their trip up the French Mediterranean coast.
Al gathered his jacket around his neck, barring the cool wind, and felt Scorpius inch closer to him. “Thanks, Amélie. We spent most of the money I exchanged in Paris.”
“And how did ze French officials like your Eenglish?” Amélie smiled knowingly. Her blonde hair blew on the breeze and she quickly pulled it back from her face.
“I did all right in Paris, but we didn’t speak to anyone along the coast,” Albus told her.
“No, zey would not understand you, mon ami,” Amélie laughed, touching Albus’s arm. “But tell me, did you find anysing?”
“Just a lot of seaside,” Scorpius replied, shaking his head.
“We saw tons of birds, even a few of the kind that fit the one I’m looking for. But nothing of my dad, or his dad,” Albus filled in, using his hand to gesture toward Scorpius.
“Oh, chéri,” Amélie replied in sympathy, “eet will be okay. Your papa is somewhere, and where, you will see.”
“I’m glad you have confidence in us,” Albus said, though his disappointment lingered in his voice.
“If you need anysing, you write to me. Eet is, of course, our seecret. But you must tell me always that you are okay, or I will worry. And your maman too, and our family.”
“I’ll keep in touch,” Albus promised.
“We should get going so we don’t miss our train,” Scorpius said quietly. Al nodded. He hugged his cousin, who adorned both his cheeks with kisses. They said goodbye and Albus and Scorpius headed off toward the village’s tiny train station. They had decided to catch the last train into Marseilles proper and stay the night there, before heading on into Paris the next day. Albus wasn’t sure where they would go next, but they had the train ride and that whole night to continue thinking about it.
Their searches along the coastal regions of France had been long, laborious, and had turned up nothing. They had stopped in all the places Mrs Scamander’s map had pointed out as having large populations of Medahedion Lesser Crested Terns. They found the miniscule wizarding villages located up and down the coast and asked about appearances of Harry Potter or Draco Malfoy in the area. They had scoured all the local papers in the same cities - both Muggle and wizarding - whenever they could find them in English, that is. More often, they sent the articles and papers in owls to Amélie, sometimes exchanging correspondence as many as six times a day with questions, translations, and directions.
The most disappointing part of the adventure, aside from not finding either of their fathers, was that, for all their efforts, the grand plan turned into nothing but a run up and down the coast. Albus felt rather defeated as they walked away from Amélie that evening. They had concocted a great scheme that had turned out to be not-so-great after all. Albus didn’t just feel disappointed. He felt like a disappointment.
Scorpius didn’t seem to be doing much better. They had spent two and a half weeks along the coast. They had stayed in abandoned sea cottages, empty hotel rooms, and had even camped a few evenings, paying for rooms only sparingly, as they were quickly running out of money. Riding the train to Marseilles that evening under cover of Scorpius’s invisibility cloak, they were exhausted, grumpy, and in need of a shower after the last four nights camping.
“We can use the money Amélie gave us to get a proper room tonight,” Scorpius said. Albus nodded numbly, staring out the window at the dark sky.
He was stupid to have thought that he, a mere fourth year, could solve the mysteries that even the Ministry Aurors were struggling with. If it were as easy as searching the French coast, his aunt and uncle would have found his dad already.
“I’m sorry, Scorpius,” Al said quietly. It was late enough in the evening that they had managed to find an empty train compartment for themselves. There was no worry about disembodied voices coming from under their cloak.
“Why?” Scorpius asked back, frowning.
“I dragged you out here-”
“You didn’t drag me-” Scorpius returned with some edge, but Albus spoke over him.
“You didn’t even think-”
“Stop it already,” Scorpius cut him off, grabbing his arm over their shared armrest for emphasis. “I’m here because I want to be.” He paused and Albus slowly met his eyes. “So we didn’t find our dads in the first place we looked. They didn’t just disappear. We’ll sleep tonight and look at everything with fresh eyes tomorrow.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Albus nodded.
“And stop saying you’re sorry! If you turn Gryffindor on me, I swear I’ll hex your toes off!” Scorpius threatened.
Albus steeled himself, glaring at the seat in front of him, then averting his eyes out the window again. Scorpius released his grip on Al’s arm and crossed his own arms over his chest. They rode in silence for the next twenty minutes
..:..
“Come on, this will do,” Scorpius said, leading the way toward an old inn fashioned very much in the style of the Renaissance. Amélie had directed them to the small wizarding neighbourhood in Marseilles. She said there they would find an inn, a pub, a few stores, and even a couple of residential streets.
Over the inn hung a sign that said, “L'auberge du Maléfice.”
Inside, the inn was dark, lit by only a few candles in what Albus assumed was the dining area. Aside from a lone wizard having a drink there, the place seemed deserted. Scorpius walked right up to the front desk and cleared his throat.
They heard the click of shoes coming down unseen stairs, and then through a doorway behind the desk a witch entered.
“Puis-je vous aider?” she asked curtly.
“Une chambre, s'il vous plaît,” Scorpius said in broken French. The witch eyed them both with a raised eyebrow, then gave a brusque nod and retrieved a key from the cabinet behind her.
“Ça va être six Gallions, une Mornille et dix-neuf Noises,” the witch said.
“Excusez-moi?” Scorpius asked, faltering.
The witch ran her tongue over her teeth, and then rolled her eyes over to a sign on the wall, turning her body as well, and with one hand gestured to a plaque hanging there. It appeared to have several languages on it, each line repeating the same message. Albus found the English translation.
1 Room: 6 Galleons, 1 Sickle, 19 Knuts
Al dug deep in his pockets for the money Amélie had given him. Lucky for them, it seemed wizarding money worked the same throughout the world - or at least throughout Europe. He finally found the correct change and parted with it half-heartedly, setting the coins on the desk. The witch nodded and then slid the key across to them, turning to indicate a staircase in the back corner of the ground floor. She pointed up, then pointed at the numbers on the key.
The boys nodded and Albus led them across the dining area, glancing at the wizard who appeared too drunk to pay any attention to them. Their room was on the third flood and they climbed the steps wearily, carrying their rucksacks with them until they finally found their room halfway down the hall.
The train they planned to take the following day was set to depart for Paris just after half past eleven. It would give them time to get plenty of rest, have breakfast, and be in Paris before evening - to do what, Al still wasn’t sure.
He closed the door to their room, the two of them quieter than normal, probably due to the amount of time they were spending together, and the tiredness they were both feeling.
“I’m showering first,” Scorpius stated, dropping his rucksack next to the bed.
The bed.
“There’s only one bed,” Albus pointed out, staring at it and then blinking once or twice, as if the bed would suddenly double itself.
“Yeah, well, do you want to go ask for two beds in French?” Scorpius asked him as he dug through his bag looking for something. He pulled his disguise amulet off over his head, laying it safely to the side of his rucksack. Al watched for a moment as Scorpius’s own features shifted back onto his face. It was comforting to see him looking like himself again.
“Er…no,” Albus muttered quietly. It was a bed, anyway, after sleeping on the ground, so he supposed he couldn’t complain. Luckily it was large enough that sharing wouldn’t be a problem. Really, compared to camping without the luxury of magic - which resulted in sleeping in a small tent they had nicked, and nearly freezing to death - having a bed at all was Heaven.
Albus moved to the opposite side of bed and sat down on it, pulling his bag into his lap, removing his own disguise medallion and storing it in a zippered pocket. He tugged his jacket off and tossed it a few feet across the room so it landed on a chair in the corner. The room was small, after all. He kicked his shoes off and was reaching for the bottom of his shirt when Scorpius gathered up the things he’d pulled out of his bag and turned toward the bathroom door, shutting it firmly behind himself.
Al stayed in his underclothes as he waited his turn for the shower. He sincerely hoped he didn’t smell. Amélie hadn’t mentioned it, but perhaps it wasn’t the sort of thing she would draw attention to. He really liked his cousin and her help had been invaluable. He hoped they would see each other again soon. Maybe when this was all over, he could spend a summer with her family in France. Maybe Scorpius would want to come.
When it was all over.
Albus nodded to himself, trying to bolster the thought in his mind. He needed to believe it, needed to press on, strong, fierce, and determined. He wasn’t giving up after three weeks.
It was late by the time both boys had their showers and were climbing into the large bed that filled most of the space in the small room.
“Who in their right mind would give two boys a room with only one bed?” Albus asked as he snuggled down into the blankets. They weren’t soft or velvety, nor did they smell like fresh cotton. But they were real blankets, warm and fitted to a bed. It felt perfect.
“Maybe they only have rooms with one bed,” Scorpius suggested from his side of the bed. Albus felt him shifting and turning, and Scorpius’s arm brushed against his own before it was pulled away quickly.
“That’s ridiculous. Do you think all the other rooms were full?” Al asked, fixating on this issue because it was something easier to handle than all the other questions that had been swimming in his head for weeks.
“Maybe.” Scorpius yawned. He reached for the lamp that still lit their room and clicked it off. Albus had had to explain to Scorpius, the first time he had encountered a lamp in their room, how to turn them on and off properly.
“Maybe she was worried about us being cold,” Albus thought, more awake than he ought to have been.
“What?”
“You know, more body heat, you stay warmer. Isn’t that what you said in the tent?” Albus answered.
“Y-yeah, but we’re in a building. They have proper heat, don’t they?” Scorpius said.
“Still, it worked in the tent. That night it rained, we stayed warm enough, yeah? And the tent kept us dry,” Albus rambled on, yawning.
Scorpius was quiet and Al nudged him.
“What?” Scorpius asked, voice unreadable.
“You’re not asleep already, are you? You always take ages to fall asleep.”
“I’m tired,” Scorpius insisted.
Albus rolled toward him on the bed, finding his arm in the dark. “Amélie is fit, isn’t she?” Al said, thinking of his cousin again. “She looks like my aunt a bit. I heard someone say my auntie was part Veela, so I wonder if that means Amélie is, too?” he questioned.
“I dunno.” Scorpius shrugged, and Albus felt it through the grip he still held on his friend. He slowly let go, turning onto his back again. “I prefer dark hair, myself,” Scorpius mumbled.
“Yeah?” Al asked. “Blonde’s all right, though. Definitely not red. I’ve seen enough red hair to last me my whole life time,” he swore.
Scorpius was quiet again and Albus frowned.
“You all right?” he asked.
“I’m sleeping,” Scorpius stated.
“You wouldn’t be talking if you were sleeping!” Al argued humorously.
“I would be sleeping if you weren’t talking!” Scorpius insisted.
“Oh, come on, you like bedroom talk,” Albus said, laughing loudly and kicking Scorpius under the blankets. Scorpius chuckled and slowly the room fell into quietness again.
“G’night,” Albus said into the dark.
“Goodnight, Al,” Scorpius echoed softly.
..:..
The next morning they woke late, but no later than they had expected. Through many nights camping and sharing sleeping space, Albus was learning he was a bit of a burrower, and he wasn’t sure Scorpius liked it. They never talked about it, but Al just had a weird feeling. He didn’t do it on purpose. Apparently, he just…migrated when he slept. His mum had mentioned it once, explaining that as infants, he and James had been separated during nap times. He had always thought it was an embarrassing story, but living it out as a fourteen-year-old was even more embarrassing.
They decided to have breakfast at the inn, keeping as low a profile as possible. Though they wore their disguise charms any time they were around other people, or chanced being around other people, they still didn’t want to make a scene of two students hiding in the back alleys of wizarding villages.
At breakfast, they ate quietly and were surprised when two different owls interrupted their meal one right after the other. Scorpius went immediately for his bag, where they’d packed the Beaker Sweets that morning.
“Wait,” Albus said, catching Scorpius’s arm. “There’s no trace tag on these owls.”
Scorpius narrowed his eyes and scanned the birds over.
“Remember, Lysander said his mum told him the trace-owls always have tiny purple tags on their ears. We saw them on the last few owls, but these don’t have ‘em,” Al said.
“Wonder who they’re from,” Scorpius mused.
Both letters were for Albus. Even as he removed the letters from their owls, he immediately recognized the handwriting on both - one vaguely familiar, the other very much so. He opened the first with some hesitation.
Dear Albus,
I am glad you are safe, but I am certainly not happy that you and Scorpius Malfoy have run away from Hogwarts. I know you are somehow protecting yourselves from your Uncle Ron’s attempts to track you down. I would like to ask that you stop, but if I know you, you won’t. I know you believe that you have to do what you are doing, but I promised you I had not (nor will I ever) give up looking for your father. Nevertheless, while you refuse to take my advice, please at least continue sending us owls so that we know you are okay. Your mum is sorely upset and wishes you’d return to school. Take care of yourself and Scorpius, and don’t think for a moment that my leniency here will keep you from a severe scolding and punishment when you do return.
With Love from,
Aunt Hermione
P.S. We recently learned that your father sent Christmas owls to you and your siblings, but the Ministry has confiscated them. I thought you should know.
The second he knew was from Lily. Her writing was unmistakable, as it was scribbled on drawings all over their home, along with many, many notes she had written to Albus since the age when she first learned to write.
Al,
I don’t know where you are, and I’ve asked Lorcan and Lysander a thousand times. James pretends he doesn’t care, but I know he does! Why didn’t you tell me what you were going to do? I miss you a lot, and I need to talk to you. So I’m writing you this letter. I had tea with Hagrid like Daddy always said we should, and he let it slip that he was at the Ministry doing paperwork for some creature when he saw Aunt Hermione there, shouting at someone. Hagrid says the Ministry is holding owls that Daddy sent to Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. I asked Rose if she knew about it, and when she asked Aunt Hermione, she said it was true. They had only just heard about it this week. So Aunt Hermione is badgering the people at the Ministry.
So then Rose helped me Fire-call home, because I wanted to talk to Mum about you and Dad, but when I saw the sitting room, Mum was sitting there with tea and cakes and candles and some man I’ve never seen! Mum said he was just a friend, and I didn’t know what to say. I asked James and he told me to butt out and he blew me off. What do you think it all means? Does Mum have another boyfriend? Does Dad have another girlfriend? Are they going to get divorced? And why won’t Dad come home?
Please write me back.
Love,
Lily
..:..
They were riding on the train to Paris two hours later when Scorpius dug deep into his bag to pull out several parchments they had folded up and buried deep inside.
“What’re you doing?” Albus asked him, glancing over.
“I want to read over the information from Mrs Scamander again. Maybe we missed something,” he answered.
“We’ve read it like ten times,” Albus said.
“Still, fresh eyes, remember? Maybe something will hit me,” Scorpius insisted.
“I’ll hit you,” Albus mumbled, but apparently Scorpius caught it.
“You’ll what?” Scorpius had stopped rustling with the parchment and was staring at Albus with challenging amusement.
“You heard me,” Albus teased bravely, keeping a straight face. They stared at each other for a moment, the train continuing its repetitive sway.
“That sounded like a challenge to me,” Scorpius taunted back calmly, raising an eyebrow.
Al considered him with a calculating gaze, wondering for a moment if they were going to wrestle right there in the middle of the train, but they both chuckled instead, the subject dropped as if they understood it would be picked back up at a more opportune time. Scorpius turned back to the paper work and Albus tried to write out a letter to Lily.
Ten minutes later, Scorpius hit Albus on the arm.
“Ow, what?” Albus asked.
“What about Italy?” Scorpius asked.
“What?”
“Maybe your dad is in Italy,” Scorpius said.
“Maybe he’s in the Mediterranean or Australia!” Albus rolled his eyes.
“Okay, wait, listen,” Scorpius began. “Maybe the broom, it was sent by whoever is your dad’s enemy. So maybe the feather is actually a signature, like it has something to do with the wizard or witch who sent it.”
“Wha-”
“No, I was thinking about this. I read about witches and wizards who used to have some kind of call sign or signature sign. Think about it. Like what we’ve heard about the Dark Mark. Everyone knew who had been there, right? So once upon a time, it wasn’t uncommon for wizards to have a signature.”
Al sat up. “Okay, yeah, maybe.” He nodded, cottoning on. “So…maybe this is a Mediterranean wizard we’re dealing with? Or a wizard who likes the coasts?” Albus suggested. “But how does this help?”
“Well,” Scorpius said, obviously thinking. “Maybe it doesn’t have to do with their native country, but maybe it’s about where the bird was bred. Accidentally bred, which would tie into the non-native part.”
“What are you getting at?” Albus asked in confusion.
“France and Italy,” Scorpius answered.
Albus stared at him. “Bolivia and Kenya.”
“What?” Scorpius asked.
“You’re just naming countries at me!” Albus accused. “What are you talking about?”
“Look, look at the pages!” Scorpius pointed at the parchment in his hands. There Albus saw the mention of France and Italy as the locations were the Medahedion Lesser Crested Tern had been bred by Medahedion herself.
“So, maybe for some reason the witch or wizard adopted this symbol as their call sign. Maybe that means they’re connected to France and Italy somehow. Do we know any wizards who know your father and my father both and who are in some way both French and Italian?” Scorpius asked. “You have an aunt who’s French right? But any relatives who are Italian?”
Albus thought hard, but couldn’t come up with anyone. Neither could he work out why any relative of his would abduct Mr Malfoy and Al’s dad.
“Okay,” Albus said, still thinking. “If we think France and Italy should be somehow related to all this, and we think our dads’ disappearances are linked, then maybe whoever is behind it is someone who knew both of our dads.”
“Yeah,” Scorpius nodded.
“So my best guess would be someone who went to school with them. Did you say our dads were in the same year?” Scorpius nodded. “So, it’s the most probable connecting factor. Let’s go through the old student records and see who went to school with our dads,” Albus finished.
“But how? Do we go back to Hogwarts?” Scorpius asked, looking uncomfortable. Albus guessed he wasn’t thinking about the consequences they faced, but instead about how they would get out again, since their task was still unfinished.
“No.” Albus shook his head. “I’ll get Rose to owl me the records from the library. She can check them out for us. The records are public.”
Al nodded to himself, partially still needing to be convinced. Then he thought of a catch. “But wait, isn’t it against the rules to take the books out of Hogwarts?”
“What other choice do we have? What are they going to do about it?” Scorpius asked.
Albus nodded. He was right. Besides, they were Slytherins, and what were rules to them when they had already broken so many? It wasn’t as if the school had tracing spells attached to their books. Albus couldn’t think of any students who regularly nicked books from the library.
“But why Rose?” Scorpius asked, interrupting his thoughts. “Why not Lorcan and Lysander?”
“You read Lily’s letter. The professors must be watching them like hawks,” Albus reasoned.
“Do you suppose that means they’re reading their owls?” Scorpius asked, as if the idea had just occurred to him and it was something terribly atrocious.
“It’s possible, but… I don’t know, it doesn’t seem very…right,” Albus said, frowning. “Still, why don’t we ask Rose to send us the records, and then we can write a coded letter to the twins and get them to start looking through anything else in the library that might lead back to the signature signs. Maybe there’s a new report somewhere or some old textbooks that talk about them. That way, we only tell Rose about the student rosters, but she won’t know anything else to report home, and the twins can do the real research. And if we are on the right track about some enemy our dads went to school with, then, if Rose does report home like I’m sure she will, maybe it’ll get Aunt Hermione on the right track, too.”
Scorpius nodded, following and expressing his agreement by not voicing any rebuttals.
“But what do we do?” Albus asked him, turning more toward Scorpius. The train slowed for a minute but then continued on its way, accelerating again.
“I suppose we find a place to stay in wizarding Paris until we hear back from Hogwarts. There must be a book shop or library we can scour while we’re there,” Scorpius answered.
They had a new plan, and maybe it was no better than the last, but Albus couldn’t help feeling as if they were getting closer. Maybe it was only because he needed to believe it, but it was enough to keep them going.
Next: Chapter 22
Chapter: Twenty-One
Word Count: 3,575 (chapter only)
Rating: PG
Warnings: occasional and/or eventual strong language, mild violence, scenes of a sexual nature
Characters: Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Draco, Albus, Scorpius, Lorcan, Lysander, James, Lily, etc. Genre: Mystery, Drama, Romance Summary: A wizard has disappeared, and the Ministry is refusing to investigate; Albus Potter is in the Hogwarts Infirmary, and Ginny and Hermione are arguing over Harry's peculiar behavior. All is not as it should be. HPDH+Epilogue compliant.
Written: 4, 21 October 2009
Notes: Written in British English. Thanks to the awesome beta-action from cymonie . Also thanks to Aline for her French beta-ing.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 |
--
“’Ere are some Galleons and some Euros. Eet is ze French Muggle monee. Eet should be enough for ze time,” Amélie Delacour said to Albus as he and Scorpius stood in the chilly ocean breeze, just outside of a short, squat bank Amélie had exited from. They were in a small seaside village where the Beauxbaton students often took weekends or holidays, with permission and escorts, of course. They had agreed by owl to meet up with Albus’s cousin there again, after returning from their trip up the French Mediterranean coast.
Al gathered his jacket around his neck, barring the cool wind, and felt Scorpius inch closer to him. “Thanks, Amélie. We spent most of the money I exchanged in Paris.”
“And how did ze French officials like your Eenglish?” Amélie smiled knowingly. Her blonde hair blew on the breeze and she quickly pulled it back from her face.
“I did all right in Paris, but we didn’t speak to anyone along the coast,” Albus told her.
“No, zey would not understand you, mon ami,” Amélie laughed, touching Albus’s arm. “But tell me, did you find anysing?”
“Just a lot of seaside,” Scorpius replied, shaking his head.
“We saw tons of birds, even a few of the kind that fit the one I’m looking for. But nothing of my dad, or his dad,” Albus filled in, using his hand to gesture toward Scorpius.
“Oh, chéri,” Amélie replied in sympathy, “eet will be okay. Your papa is somewhere, and where, you will see.”
“I’m glad you have confidence in us,” Albus said, though his disappointment lingered in his voice.
“If you need anysing, you write to me. Eet is, of course, our seecret. But you must tell me always that you are okay, or I will worry. And your maman too, and our family.”
“I’ll keep in touch,” Albus promised.
“We should get going so we don’t miss our train,” Scorpius said quietly. Al nodded. He hugged his cousin, who adorned both his cheeks with kisses. They said goodbye and Albus and Scorpius headed off toward the village’s tiny train station. They had decided to catch the last train into Marseilles proper and stay the night there, before heading on into Paris the next day. Albus wasn’t sure where they would go next, but they had the train ride and that whole night to continue thinking about it.
Their searches along the coastal regions of France had been long, laborious, and had turned up nothing. They had stopped in all the places Mrs Scamander’s map had pointed out as having large populations of Medahedion Lesser Crested Terns. They found the miniscule wizarding villages located up and down the coast and asked about appearances of Harry Potter or Draco Malfoy in the area. They had scoured all the local papers in the same cities - both Muggle and wizarding - whenever they could find them in English, that is. More often, they sent the articles and papers in owls to Amélie, sometimes exchanging correspondence as many as six times a day with questions, translations, and directions.
The most disappointing part of the adventure, aside from not finding either of their fathers, was that, for all their efforts, the grand plan turned into nothing but a run up and down the coast. Albus felt rather defeated as they walked away from Amélie that evening. They had concocted a great scheme that had turned out to be not-so-great after all. Albus didn’t just feel disappointed. He felt like a disappointment.
Scorpius didn’t seem to be doing much better. They had spent two and a half weeks along the coast. They had stayed in abandoned sea cottages, empty hotel rooms, and had even camped a few evenings, paying for rooms only sparingly, as they were quickly running out of money. Riding the train to Marseilles that evening under cover of Scorpius’s invisibility cloak, they were exhausted, grumpy, and in need of a shower after the last four nights camping.
“We can use the money Amélie gave us to get a proper room tonight,” Scorpius said. Albus nodded numbly, staring out the window at the dark sky.
He was stupid to have thought that he, a mere fourth year, could solve the mysteries that even the Ministry Aurors were struggling with. If it were as easy as searching the French coast, his aunt and uncle would have found his dad already.
“I’m sorry, Scorpius,” Al said quietly. It was late enough in the evening that they had managed to find an empty train compartment for themselves. There was no worry about disembodied voices coming from under their cloak.
“Why?” Scorpius asked back, frowning.
“I dragged you out here-”
“You didn’t drag me-” Scorpius returned with some edge, but Albus spoke over him.
“You didn’t even think-”
“Stop it already,” Scorpius cut him off, grabbing his arm over their shared armrest for emphasis. “I’m here because I want to be.” He paused and Albus slowly met his eyes. “So we didn’t find our dads in the first place we looked. They didn’t just disappear. We’ll sleep tonight and look at everything with fresh eyes tomorrow.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Albus nodded.
“And stop saying you’re sorry! If you turn Gryffindor on me, I swear I’ll hex your toes off!” Scorpius threatened.
Albus steeled himself, glaring at the seat in front of him, then averting his eyes out the window again. Scorpius released his grip on Al’s arm and crossed his own arms over his chest. They rode in silence for the next twenty minutes
..:..
“Come on, this will do,” Scorpius said, leading the way toward an old inn fashioned very much in the style of the Renaissance. Amélie had directed them to the small wizarding neighbourhood in Marseilles. She said there they would find an inn, a pub, a few stores, and even a couple of residential streets.
Over the inn hung a sign that said, “L'auberge du Maléfice.”
Inside, the inn was dark, lit by only a few candles in what Albus assumed was the dining area. Aside from a lone wizard having a drink there, the place seemed deserted. Scorpius walked right up to the front desk and cleared his throat.
They heard the click of shoes coming down unseen stairs, and then through a doorway behind the desk a witch entered.
“Puis-je vous aider?” she asked curtly.
“Une chambre, s'il vous plaît,” Scorpius said in broken French. The witch eyed them both with a raised eyebrow, then gave a brusque nod and retrieved a key from the cabinet behind her.
“Ça va être six Gallions, une Mornille et dix-neuf Noises,” the witch said.
“Excusez-moi?” Scorpius asked, faltering.
The witch ran her tongue over her teeth, and then rolled her eyes over to a sign on the wall, turning her body as well, and with one hand gestured to a plaque hanging there. It appeared to have several languages on it, each line repeating the same message. Albus found the English translation.
1 Room: 6 Galleons, 1 Sickle, 19 Knuts
Al dug deep in his pockets for the money Amélie had given him. Lucky for them, it seemed wizarding money worked the same throughout the world - or at least throughout Europe. He finally found the correct change and parted with it half-heartedly, setting the coins on the desk. The witch nodded and then slid the key across to them, turning to indicate a staircase in the back corner of the ground floor. She pointed up, then pointed at the numbers on the key.
The boys nodded and Albus led them across the dining area, glancing at the wizard who appeared too drunk to pay any attention to them. Their room was on the third flood and they climbed the steps wearily, carrying their rucksacks with them until they finally found their room halfway down the hall.
The train they planned to take the following day was set to depart for Paris just after half past eleven. It would give them time to get plenty of rest, have breakfast, and be in Paris before evening - to do what, Al still wasn’t sure.
He closed the door to their room, the two of them quieter than normal, probably due to the amount of time they were spending together, and the tiredness they were both feeling.
“I’m showering first,” Scorpius stated, dropping his rucksack next to the bed.
The bed.
“There’s only one bed,” Albus pointed out, staring at it and then blinking once or twice, as if the bed would suddenly double itself.
“Yeah, well, do you want to go ask for two beds in French?” Scorpius asked him as he dug through his bag looking for something. He pulled his disguise amulet off over his head, laying it safely to the side of his rucksack. Al watched for a moment as Scorpius’s own features shifted back onto his face. It was comforting to see him looking like himself again.
“Er…no,” Albus muttered quietly. It was a bed, anyway, after sleeping on the ground, so he supposed he couldn’t complain. Luckily it was large enough that sharing wouldn’t be a problem. Really, compared to camping without the luxury of magic - which resulted in sleeping in a small tent they had nicked, and nearly freezing to death - having a bed at all was Heaven.
Albus moved to the opposite side of bed and sat down on it, pulling his bag into his lap, removing his own disguise medallion and storing it in a zippered pocket. He tugged his jacket off and tossed it a few feet across the room so it landed on a chair in the corner. The room was small, after all. He kicked his shoes off and was reaching for the bottom of his shirt when Scorpius gathered up the things he’d pulled out of his bag and turned toward the bathroom door, shutting it firmly behind himself.
Al stayed in his underclothes as he waited his turn for the shower. He sincerely hoped he didn’t smell. Amélie hadn’t mentioned it, but perhaps it wasn’t the sort of thing she would draw attention to. He really liked his cousin and her help had been invaluable. He hoped they would see each other again soon. Maybe when this was all over, he could spend a summer with her family in France. Maybe Scorpius would want to come.
When it was all over.
Albus nodded to himself, trying to bolster the thought in his mind. He needed to believe it, needed to press on, strong, fierce, and determined. He wasn’t giving up after three weeks.
It was late by the time both boys had their showers and were climbing into the large bed that filled most of the space in the small room.
“Who in their right mind would give two boys a room with only one bed?” Albus asked as he snuggled down into the blankets. They weren’t soft or velvety, nor did they smell like fresh cotton. But they were real blankets, warm and fitted to a bed. It felt perfect.
“Maybe they only have rooms with one bed,” Scorpius suggested from his side of the bed. Albus felt him shifting and turning, and Scorpius’s arm brushed against his own before it was pulled away quickly.
“That’s ridiculous. Do you think all the other rooms were full?” Al asked, fixating on this issue because it was something easier to handle than all the other questions that had been swimming in his head for weeks.
“Maybe.” Scorpius yawned. He reached for the lamp that still lit their room and clicked it off. Albus had had to explain to Scorpius, the first time he had encountered a lamp in their room, how to turn them on and off properly.
“Maybe she was worried about us being cold,” Albus thought, more awake than he ought to have been.
“What?”
“You know, more body heat, you stay warmer. Isn’t that what you said in the tent?” Albus answered.
“Y-yeah, but we’re in a building. They have proper heat, don’t they?” Scorpius said.
“Still, it worked in the tent. That night it rained, we stayed warm enough, yeah? And the tent kept us dry,” Albus rambled on, yawning.
Scorpius was quiet and Al nudged him.
“What?” Scorpius asked, voice unreadable.
“You’re not asleep already, are you? You always take ages to fall asleep.”
“I’m tired,” Scorpius insisted.
Albus rolled toward him on the bed, finding his arm in the dark. “Amélie is fit, isn’t she?” Al said, thinking of his cousin again. “She looks like my aunt a bit. I heard someone say my auntie was part Veela, so I wonder if that means Amélie is, too?” he questioned.
“I dunno.” Scorpius shrugged, and Albus felt it through the grip he still held on his friend. He slowly let go, turning onto his back again. “I prefer dark hair, myself,” Scorpius mumbled.
“Yeah?” Al asked. “Blonde’s all right, though. Definitely not red. I’ve seen enough red hair to last me my whole life time,” he swore.
Scorpius was quiet again and Albus frowned.
“You all right?” he asked.
“I’m sleeping,” Scorpius stated.
“You wouldn’t be talking if you were sleeping!” Al argued humorously.
“I would be sleeping if you weren’t talking!” Scorpius insisted.
“Oh, come on, you like bedroom talk,” Albus said, laughing loudly and kicking Scorpius under the blankets. Scorpius chuckled and slowly the room fell into quietness again.
“G’night,” Albus said into the dark.
“Goodnight, Al,” Scorpius echoed softly.
..:..
The next morning they woke late, but no later than they had expected. Through many nights camping and sharing sleeping space, Albus was learning he was a bit of a burrower, and he wasn’t sure Scorpius liked it. They never talked about it, but Al just had a weird feeling. He didn’t do it on purpose. Apparently, he just…migrated when he slept. His mum had mentioned it once, explaining that as infants, he and James had been separated during nap times. He had always thought it was an embarrassing story, but living it out as a fourteen-year-old was even more embarrassing.
They decided to have breakfast at the inn, keeping as low a profile as possible. Though they wore their disguise charms any time they were around other people, or chanced being around other people, they still didn’t want to make a scene of two students hiding in the back alleys of wizarding villages.
At breakfast, they ate quietly and were surprised when two different owls interrupted their meal one right after the other. Scorpius went immediately for his bag, where they’d packed the Beaker Sweets that morning.
“Wait,” Albus said, catching Scorpius’s arm. “There’s no trace tag on these owls.”
Scorpius narrowed his eyes and scanned the birds over.
“Remember, Lysander said his mum told him the trace-owls always have tiny purple tags on their ears. We saw them on the last few owls, but these don’t have ‘em,” Al said.
“Wonder who they’re from,” Scorpius mused.
Both letters were for Albus. Even as he removed the letters from their owls, he immediately recognized the handwriting on both - one vaguely familiar, the other very much so. He opened the first with some hesitation.
Dear Albus,
I am glad you are safe, but I am certainly not happy that you and Scorpius Malfoy have run away from Hogwarts. I know you are somehow protecting yourselves from your Uncle Ron’s attempts to track you down. I would like to ask that you stop, but if I know you, you won’t. I know you believe that you have to do what you are doing, but I promised you I had not (nor will I ever) give up looking for your father. Nevertheless, while you refuse to take my advice, please at least continue sending us owls so that we know you are okay. Your mum is sorely upset and wishes you’d return to school. Take care of yourself and Scorpius, and don’t think for a moment that my leniency here will keep you from a severe scolding and punishment when you do return.
With Love from,
Aunt Hermione
P.S. We recently learned that your father sent Christmas owls to you and your siblings, but the Ministry has confiscated them. I thought you should know.
The second he knew was from Lily. Her writing was unmistakable, as it was scribbled on drawings all over their home, along with many, many notes she had written to Albus since the age when she first learned to write.
Al,
I don’t know where you are, and I’ve asked Lorcan and Lysander a thousand times. James pretends he doesn’t care, but I know he does! Why didn’t you tell me what you were going to do? I miss you a lot, and I need to talk to you. So I’m writing you this letter. I had tea with Hagrid like Daddy always said we should, and he let it slip that he was at the Ministry doing paperwork for some creature when he saw Aunt Hermione there, shouting at someone. Hagrid says the Ministry is holding owls that Daddy sent to Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. I asked Rose if she knew about it, and when she asked Aunt Hermione, she said it was true. They had only just heard about it this week. So Aunt Hermione is badgering the people at the Ministry.
So then Rose helped me Fire-call home, because I wanted to talk to Mum about you and Dad, but when I saw the sitting room, Mum was sitting there with tea and cakes and candles and some man I’ve never seen! Mum said he was just a friend, and I didn’t know what to say. I asked James and he told me to butt out and he blew me off. What do you think it all means? Does Mum have another boyfriend? Does Dad have another girlfriend? Are they going to get divorced? And why won’t Dad come home?
Please write me back.
Love,
Lily
..:..
They were riding on the train to Paris two hours later when Scorpius dug deep into his bag to pull out several parchments they had folded up and buried deep inside.
“What’re you doing?” Albus asked him, glancing over.
“I want to read over the information from Mrs Scamander again. Maybe we missed something,” he answered.
“We’ve read it like ten times,” Albus said.
“Still, fresh eyes, remember? Maybe something will hit me,” Scorpius insisted.
“I’ll hit you,” Albus mumbled, but apparently Scorpius caught it.
“You’ll what?” Scorpius had stopped rustling with the parchment and was staring at Albus with challenging amusement.
“You heard me,” Albus teased bravely, keeping a straight face. They stared at each other for a moment, the train continuing its repetitive sway.
“That sounded like a challenge to me,” Scorpius taunted back calmly, raising an eyebrow.
Al considered him with a calculating gaze, wondering for a moment if they were going to wrestle right there in the middle of the train, but they both chuckled instead, the subject dropped as if they understood it would be picked back up at a more opportune time. Scorpius turned back to the paper work and Albus tried to write out a letter to Lily.
Ten minutes later, Scorpius hit Albus on the arm.
“Ow, what?” Albus asked.
“What about Italy?” Scorpius asked.
“What?”
“Maybe your dad is in Italy,” Scorpius said.
“Maybe he’s in the Mediterranean or Australia!” Albus rolled his eyes.
“Okay, wait, listen,” Scorpius began. “Maybe the broom, it was sent by whoever is your dad’s enemy. So maybe the feather is actually a signature, like it has something to do with the wizard or witch who sent it.”
“Wha-”
“No, I was thinking about this. I read about witches and wizards who used to have some kind of call sign or signature sign. Think about it. Like what we’ve heard about the Dark Mark. Everyone knew who had been there, right? So once upon a time, it wasn’t uncommon for wizards to have a signature.”
Al sat up. “Okay, yeah, maybe.” He nodded, cottoning on. “So…maybe this is a Mediterranean wizard we’re dealing with? Or a wizard who likes the coasts?” Albus suggested. “But how does this help?”
“Well,” Scorpius said, obviously thinking. “Maybe it doesn’t have to do with their native country, but maybe it’s about where the bird was bred. Accidentally bred, which would tie into the non-native part.”
“What are you getting at?” Albus asked in confusion.
“France and Italy,” Scorpius answered.
Albus stared at him. “Bolivia and Kenya.”
“What?” Scorpius asked.
“You’re just naming countries at me!” Albus accused. “What are you talking about?”
“Look, look at the pages!” Scorpius pointed at the parchment in his hands. There Albus saw the mention of France and Italy as the locations were the Medahedion Lesser Crested Tern had been bred by Medahedion herself.
“So, maybe for some reason the witch or wizard adopted this symbol as their call sign. Maybe that means they’re connected to France and Italy somehow. Do we know any wizards who know your father and my father both and who are in some way both French and Italian?” Scorpius asked. “You have an aunt who’s French right? But any relatives who are Italian?”
Albus thought hard, but couldn’t come up with anyone. Neither could he work out why any relative of his would abduct Mr Malfoy and Al’s dad.
“Okay,” Albus said, still thinking. “If we think France and Italy should be somehow related to all this, and we think our dads’ disappearances are linked, then maybe whoever is behind it is someone who knew both of our dads.”
“Yeah,” Scorpius nodded.
“So my best guess would be someone who went to school with them. Did you say our dads were in the same year?” Scorpius nodded. “So, it’s the most probable connecting factor. Let’s go through the old student records and see who went to school with our dads,” Albus finished.
“But how? Do we go back to Hogwarts?” Scorpius asked, looking uncomfortable. Albus guessed he wasn’t thinking about the consequences they faced, but instead about how they would get out again, since their task was still unfinished.
“No.” Albus shook his head. “I’ll get Rose to owl me the records from the library. She can check them out for us. The records are public.”
Al nodded to himself, partially still needing to be convinced. Then he thought of a catch. “But wait, isn’t it against the rules to take the books out of Hogwarts?”
“What other choice do we have? What are they going to do about it?” Scorpius asked.
Albus nodded. He was right. Besides, they were Slytherins, and what were rules to them when they had already broken so many? It wasn’t as if the school had tracing spells attached to their books. Albus couldn’t think of any students who regularly nicked books from the library.
“But why Rose?” Scorpius asked, interrupting his thoughts. “Why not Lorcan and Lysander?”
“You read Lily’s letter. The professors must be watching them like hawks,” Albus reasoned.
“Do you suppose that means they’re reading their owls?” Scorpius asked, as if the idea had just occurred to him and it was something terribly atrocious.
“It’s possible, but… I don’t know, it doesn’t seem very…right,” Albus said, frowning. “Still, why don’t we ask Rose to send us the records, and then we can write a coded letter to the twins and get them to start looking through anything else in the library that might lead back to the signature signs. Maybe there’s a new report somewhere or some old textbooks that talk about them. That way, we only tell Rose about the student rosters, but she won’t know anything else to report home, and the twins can do the real research. And if we are on the right track about some enemy our dads went to school with, then, if Rose does report home like I’m sure she will, maybe it’ll get Aunt Hermione on the right track, too.”
Scorpius nodded, following and expressing his agreement by not voicing any rebuttals.
“But what do we do?” Albus asked him, turning more toward Scorpius. The train slowed for a minute but then continued on its way, accelerating again.
“I suppose we find a place to stay in wizarding Paris until we hear back from Hogwarts. There must be a book shop or library we can scour while we’re there,” Scorpius answered.
They had a new plan, and maybe it was no better than the last, but Albus couldn’t help feeling as if they were getting closer. Maybe it was only because he needed to believe it, but it was enough to keep them going.
Next: Chapter 22