Lucius Malfoy’s hands shook as he stared in horror at the empty desk drawer. “My wand… it’s gone,” he whispered in a terrified voice.
“Well of course it is! I told you already, the Aurors have it!” snapped Draco. “Now, what have you done with the Weasley girl?”
“I haven’t done anything to any Weasley girl!” shouted Lucius.
Narcissa had gone quite pale, her eyes darting questioningly between her son and husband.
Draco still had his wand drawn but was doing his best to master his emotions. “It won’t be long before the Aurors discover whose wand was found at the scene of the crime. I suppose the fact that it was bought in America will slow them down. It will be easier for you to confess now; I expect Ron Weasley will kill you himself if he has to track you down to find his daughter.”
An ugly look came over Lucius’s face. “And when they trace my wand, who will it be traced back to?”
“I bought you that wand when no one would sell you one!” bellowed Draco. Lucius dodged under his desk as the jet of red light hit it.
“Stop it! Both of you!” screamed Narcissa, brandishing her own wand at her son.
Both men froze. Narcissa continued in a pleading tone, “Please, Draco, this is ridiculous. Lucius couldn’t have done anything; he’s been here all day.”
“Did you actually see him, Mother?”
Narcissa bit her lip.
“I didn’t think so. Do you really expect me to believe that he isn’t trying to frame me so that he can take Scorpius away from me?”
Lucius was about to say something, but Narcissa held up her hand. “I won’t let him,” she said quietly.
Draco and Lucius stared incredulously. Narcissa was shaking as she took a deep breath. “I… I don’t know what to believe. But, Draco, I won’t let you be framed. I would never let anyone take Scorpius from you… n-not even Lucius.”
Tears began to roll down her cheeks. “If the Aurors trace the wand back to you, I’ll tell them that it was Lucius’s.”
Scorpius followed Albus up the boys’ staircase and into their dormitory. Scorpius had been hoping to talk to his friend, but Albus made a beeline for his bed and pulled the hangings shut. Before Scorpius had a chance to say anything, he heard footsteps approaching the door and decided that pulling his own hangings shut might not be such a bad idea.
Within moments, Mike and Josh entered the room, deep in a conversation about the kidnapping.
“I want to know what the clues Albus and Scorpius gave the Aurors were,” grumbled Mike.
“Maybe they have to keep it a secret,” suggested Josh.
“Do you?” Mike asked the twin sets of drapery.
After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Scorpius mumbled, “I don’t know. Albus?”
“Whatever the official statement is, it’ll be in the Prophet tomorrow,” answered Albus dully. “That’s what happens with all of Dad’s cases.”
Scorpius wasn’t particularly looking forward to reading tomorrow’s paper, or to what was going to be said about him and his father.
“Do you think it could make the Evening Prophet?” Mike asked eagerly.
“Maybe,” replied Albus.
“Come on Mike, I think they’ve had a long enough day,” Josh hinted.
“Oh, er, right. Sorry.”
Albus made a noncommittal noise as Mike and Josh left the room. Scorpius continued to lie in bed, staring up at nothing in particular. Every now and again he could hear a sort of gasp from Albus’s bed. Scorpius suspected his friend was crying and decided to give him his privacy. He felt like he had no tears left, as though everything had been drained out of him. Having nothing else to do, Scorpius left to find a different place to be alone. As he walked through the common room, many heads turned but Scorpius headed straight for the exit.
Once outside Gryffindor Tower, he didn’t really know where he wanted to go. After about twenty minutes of wandering he found himself climbing the stairs to the Astronomy Tower. It was still too light out to see any stars, but the sun was beginning to set. Scorpius couldn’t help but remember the first time his dad had taken him star gazing.
Draco had taken his son to a grassy hill early in the evening. It was Scorpius’s seventh birthday and Draco had promised him a night of camping. They had been roasting marshmallows over a campfire and Scorpius had asked for a story.
“Do you see those stars just there?” Draco asked, pointing at a cluster.
“Yeah,” replied Scorpius.
“That’s your constellation. It’s a scorpion that has followed the hunter around the skies for thousands of years.”
“It never catches him?”
“No, I suppose it’s a very determined scorpion,” added Draco, smiling.
“Like me?”
“Very like you,” laughed Draco. “After all, you did insist we build this campfire the Muggle way.”
Scorpius grinned. “And we did it!”
“Yeah, after going through how many of those matchstickies?” Draco had agreed that they could camp Muggle style. Scorpius had come across a book on how some wizards had spent two weeks camping as Muggles and had been obsessed with Muggle camping ever since.
“Only a few boxes. I think the marshmallows taste better this way,” added Scorpius.
Draco laughed. “That would be because we worked up an appetite setting up the tent, chopping wood and then spending two hours trying to start a fire without magic.”
“But it was fun,” argued Scorpius.
Draco smiled down at his son. “Yeah, it definitely was. Just don’t tell your grandparents.”
“Did you and Grandfather ever go Muggle camping?”
Draco snorted. “No, we definitely didn’t. We had a tent when we went to the World Cup, back when I was fourteen, but that wasn’t really camping.”
“Oh.”
They both stared into the flames for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts.
“So do you have a constellation?” asked Scorpius.
Draco pointed up again. “See that one there? That’s Draco, the dragon.”
“Dragon? Cool! What does it do?”
“It’s circumpolar.”
“Circ-umm-polar,” replied Scorpius, sounding out the new word.
“It means it’s always there,” Draco explained. “Most constellations rise and set, but Draco never sets; you can see it all night long. If it weren’t for the sun being so bright, you could see it all day too. It will always be there, just like I’ll always be here for you.”
Scorpius stayed until the sun finished setting, waiting until the dragon constellation was visible. He was still worried about what was going to happen to his dad. Rosie’s father and Professor Macmillan seemed pretty intent on arresting him. Scorpius had been so relieved when his dad had saved him from Mr Weasley. He’d also felt a surge of pride when his dad had volunteered to give them the ransom money. No matter what anyone said, Scorpius was proud of his father. Now he just hoped that Rosie would be alright.
Merlin flew to Scorpius’s side and blinked at him a few times. Scorpius petted the little owl absently for over an hour, eventually realizing that he was shivering from the cold. He felt stiff as he got up to leave. Giving Merlin a final pat, Scorpius started back to Gryffindor Tower.
“It’s after curfew,” growled Professor Proudfoot.
Scorpius had completely forgotten about the time. “I- I’m sorry, Professor. It’s just that…”
“It’s alright, Malfoy,” the grizzled teacher informed him. “I’ll escort you back to your common room, but I don’t think it’s a time to be taking points. Besides, from what I’ve read, you Disarmed at least one of the kidnappers.”
“What you read?” asked Scorpius in confusion.
“It made the Evening Prophet,” explained Professor Proudfoot. “It’s obviously not Harry Potter or Ron Weasley who gave the interview, which does leave the question of who leaked the story to the press.”
Scorpius gulped.
“I wasn’t suggesting it was you, Malfoy; some idiot teacher gave them other information too. Besides, you haven’t had time to be giving interviews.”
Scorpius thought about pointing out that he had been up on the Astronomy Tower for at least two hours.
As though he’d read his student’s mind, Proudfoot clarified, “The Evening Prophet was printed about an hour and a half ago. Someone blabbed right after the staff meeting.”
“Do you have any idea who?”
Proudfoot considered this a moment. “Not yet, but I expect they’ll be sulking about. I doubt they realized what angle the reporter wanted to use.”
“Oh.” Scorpius bit his lip. “Will the article make it harder for the Aurors to get Rosie back?”
Proudfoot considered the question for a few moments. “Based on the article, I don’t think it will make things more difficult. It explains that two wands were confiscated, but whoever did it obviously knew that. But it will mean a lot of crackpots and ‘concerned citizens’ will be owling the Auror Office non-stop with their theories of who’s behind it all.”
“I guess it’s a good thing you taught us that spell in class,” added Scorpius.
“It is a highly useful spell,” agreed Proudfoot. “I would have preferred it if you hadn’t needed to use it so soon.”
“Me too.”
Just as they arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, Proudfoot took Scorpius aside. “I’ve noticed in class that you’re friendly with the younger Potter boy.”
Scorpius braced himself for another round of questioning.
Proudfoot continued, “He’s going to need a good friend now, and don’t take it personal if he’s angry with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“That article wasn’t kind to him.”
Before Scorpius could ask any more questions, his teacher had left. Upon entering the common room, all thoughts of Professor Proudfoot’s words left him. There was a crowd of Gryffindors and they were clapping, for him.
“What’s going on?” Scorpius asked.
Mike stepped forward. “It’s in the Prophet about how you Disarmed one of the kidnappers! You’re a hero!”
Wood, the sixth year Prefect, came over and clapped him on the back saying, “You’re the hero of Gryffindor Tower tonight!”
“Most first years wouldn’t have been able to do that,” added someone else.
In an attempt to escape the unwanted attention, Scorpius made his way back to the dormitory. He wanted to talk to Albus, but the hangings were still pulled shut and Josh was also in the room.
“I just finished reading the article in the Prophet,” supplied Josh.
“Oh?”
“Have you read it yet?”
“Er, no.”
“Here,” replied Josh. “You can borrow my copy.”
Scorpius accepted the offered paper and went over to his bed before glancing at it.
Rose Weasley, daughter of the well known heroes Ron and Hermione Weasley, has been the victim of a kidnapping. This afternoon she was taken from Hogwarts by three Death Eaters.
The only clues the Auror Office currently has are those which were provided to them by an eleven year old, who came to Miss Weasley’s defence. Harry Potter’s youngest son, Albus Potter, was also present but failed in his attempt to duplicate his father’s signature spell. It is expected that Mr Potter, head of the Auror Office, also Miss Weasley’s uncle, will make every effort to trace the wands as soon as possible.
Mr Potter refused to comment on the possibility of the Death Eaters raising a new army. However, a staff member of Hogwarts has given his assurances that the school’s security is no longer inadequate. Centaurs are currently being questioned by members of staff…
Scorpius was too disgusted to continue reading. Now he understood what Professor Longbottom had meant about how a person could twist the truth into something ugly. Curious, he checked to see who had written the article: Rita Skeeter. Scorpius crumpled the paper into a ball.
“Hey! That was mine!” exclaimed Josh.
“It’s rubbish!”
“Well yeah, it is now,” grumbled Josh.
Scorpius didn’t feel up to arguing and pulled his hangings shut again, but it was hours before he managed to fall asleep.
The weekend passed by horribly slowly for Scorpius. There were numerous articles in the Daily Prophet, none of them remotely helpful. The vast majority either attacked the competency of Mr Potter and Mr Weasley, the staff at Hogwarts (particularly Professor Hagrid), or the general trustworthiness of centaurs. There were also several more jabs at Albus not living up to his father. One particularly scathing article referred to him as “the boy who did nothing.”
To make matters worse, Scorpius’s reputation was still being positively affected by the news clippings. It seemed incredibly ironic to him that he’d spent so long wishing that everyone didn’t hate him; now he was the most popular first year in the school and he’d gladly go back to being shunned if it meant Rosie’s safe return and Albus not being dragged through the mud. Monday morning, half his wish came true.
Scorpius sat down to breakfast and sensed that something had changed. The kids who had been nice to him the day before no longer looked at all friendly. Albus, who’d barely spoken to anyone in days, was staring dejectedly at his untouched oatmeal.
“Pass the orange juice?” asked Scorpius in as light a tone as he could manage.
Bernard shoved the jug towards him, slopping some on Scorpius’s robes.
“Oops,” he added in a mocking tone as some other kids snickered.
“Would someone like to tell me what’s going on?” Scoprius asked angrily.
In answer, yet another Daily Prophet was put in front of him.
Aurors arrested Lucius Malfoy this morning after tracing a wand used in the Rose Weasley kidnapping. The wand in question was purchased by Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius, in America, which is why it took Aurors three days to trace. While the wand was bought by Draco, his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, wife of Lucius, has testified that it is in fact her husband’s wand. However, a letter was found in the possession of Draco Malfoy, sent by his son, detailing where Rose Weasley would be at the time of the kidnapping.
All three former Death Eaters are currently being questioned with regards to the kidnapping of the daughter of Ron Weasley, but as of yet only one arrest has been made…
The paper was snatched away from Scorpius before he had a chance to read any more.
Bernard said in a carrying voice, “I told you all that he was scum, didn’t I? If only Rosie had listened to me, maybe she would still be here.”
“Asinusonorous!”
Scorpius hadn’t even seen Alice Longbottom approaching the Gryffindor table. Bernard looked thoroughly dumbstruck.
“How dare you say that?” demanded Alice. “Everything in the Prophet lately is rubbish! Look at the horrible things they’ve said about Hagrid and Albus!”
Bernard tried to speak in his own defence but could only bray.
Alice continued, “My father knows that whatever that Skeeter woman writes is pure poison! He’s told me that he thinks it’s disgraceful that she’s even allowed to do this! Do you even care that Rosie’s gone? Or do you just want to make Albus and Scorpius feel worse?” Alice turned defiantly to the Gryffindor table. “You’re all Gryffindors; you should be supporting each other instead of acting like this!”
Several of the Gryffindors looked abashed. Scorpius took the opportunity to go change his robes before Potions class. As he hurried out of the Great Hall, he couldn’t help but notice that Alice and James seemed to be on speaking terms again. Even though he ran, Scorpius barely made it into the dungeon classroom on time.
“Five points from Gryffindor for being late, Mr Malfoy.”
“But I’m not late!”
“Another five points for talking back, and five more for not addressing me with due respect. Do you want to make it an even twenty?” asked Professor Macmillan in a stern voice.
“No, sir,” muttered Scorpius, furious.
Albus raised his hand. “Sir! He really wasn’t late though, there’s still a minute before class starts.”
“Fine,” snapped Professor Macmillan. “Only ten points from Gryffindor. Now if there aren’t going to be any more interruptions, I’d like to continue with the lesson.”
Once they’d been given instructions on what to brew, Albus leaned over and whispered, “What’s with Macmillan?”
Scorpius shrugged, glad at least that Albus was speaking to him again. “I dunno. He probably read the Prophet this morning.”
“I’m sorry about your family being questioned,” mumbled Albus.
“Thanks,” sighed Scorpius.
The pair worked in silence for a few minutes and then Albus accidentally knocked a jar of pickled toads off the desk.
“That will be detention, Malfoy,” barked Professor Macmillan.
“It wasn’t him, it was me!” snapped Albus.
“If you’re so intent on always covering for him, Potter, then you can join him in detention tonight,” added Professor Macmillan. “Come down here at six o’clock, sharp!”
Scorpius couldn’t believe the unfairness of the situation. His classmates seemed shocked too, but none dared to anger their teacher further. However, criticism for Professor Macmillan was quite loud throughout lunch.
“I can’t believe he did that!” exclaimed James in disgust, once Albus had finished telling him the story.
“You ought to go to Professor Longbottom about it,” advised Fred.
“I think Unlce Neville has enough on his mind right now,” pointed out Albus miserably.
“Yeah, he and Macmillan were practically shouting at each other in the hall yesterday. Professor Proudfoot and Unc-Professor Longbotton accused Macmillan of being the one to talk to the reporters,” explained James.
“Was it him?” asked Scorpius.
“Probably.” Albus shrugged. “It would explain why he’s been in such a rotten mood.”
“At least we get to do detention together though,” pointed out Scorpius. He’d quite missed Albus’s company.
“Yeah, I just hope we don’t have to dissect anything,” added Albus, making a face.
“Any real news?” James asked Fred, who was still reading his copy of the Prophet.
Fred sighed. “No, I saw an article with the name ‘Weasley’ in it, but it’s about Auntie Hermione; doesn’t have anything to do with Rosie.”
“Figures. Sprout would have made an announcement if there’d been any progress,” agreed James. “So… do you guys want us to do anything to Macmillan for you? Fred and I still have a bunch of stuff from the joke shop and you’ll be in detention, giving you a perfect alibi…”
As ordered, Albus and Scorpius went to the dungeon for their detentions that night; Professor Macmillan was waiting impatiently.
“I want you to sort through that tub of pickled Flobberworms, put the good ones in jars and throw out the bad ones. I’ll be back in a few hours to check on your progress. I simply don’t have time to supervise every detention.” With a flourish of his robes, Professor Macmillan left, snapping the door shut behind him.
“Gross!” said Albus, gagging.
“I really really wish we’d thought to bring gloves,” commiserated Scorpius, gingerly prodding a pickled Flobberworm.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” complained Albus.
“I think that one looks like Professor Macmillan,” added Scorpius, pointing out an obviously rotten Flobberworm.
Albus couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He pointed out another rotten one, “That one looks more like Bernard.”
“Now I really don’t want to touch it!”
Albus looked around the room. “Here! There’s a pile of newspapers, we can at least pick up the rotten ones with these.”
He handed a bunch of the newspapers to Scorpius. Scorpius began to fold over the newspaper when he noticed an advertisement:
House a mess? Have a disgusting job to do? Look no further: rent an elf!
“Wish we had a house-elf around now,” grumbled Albus, reading the advertisement too. “My family has Kreacher, but Mum and Dad have been using him as a family messenger; he won’t come when James or I call him lately.”
“Maybe we could rent one to do this for us? I’ve got plenty of pocket money” pointed out Scorpius. He continued to scan the advertisement.
All of Smith’s Cleaning house-elves are well behaved…
“Hey! I bet that’s Bernard’s family’s business. Slimy git. I wouldn’t want to rent a house-elf from him,” grumbled Scorpius.
“Doesn’t much matter. My Auntie Hermione would have a fit if she knew we were even talking about it.”
“Why?”
“She does all sorts of house-elf rights stuff,” explained Albus, shrugging. It had been accepted long ago in his family that Auntie Hermione was a bit fanatical when it came to house-elves.
Something clicked in Scorpius’s mind. “Is today’s Prophet in that pile?” he asked suddenly.
Scorpius had asked with such force that Albus dropped ‘Professor Macmillan’ the Flobberworm onto the floor.
“Er… it might be. Is it important?”
“Very!” exclaimed Scorpius. “Quick! Help me look!”
After a few minutes of scrambling through the papers, and Albus nearly being sick after Scorpius slipped on ‘Professor Macmillan’, they found the right paper. Scorpius flipped through it until he found the headline he wanted.
Due to the stress from her daughter’s kidnapping, Madam Weasley has announced plans to excuse herself from the Wizengamot, indefinitely. Her decision to leave on the eve of her controversial house-elf act has left many surprised. It is doubtful that the act will be passed without the strong support of Madam Weasley…
“Look!” exclaimed Scorpius. “The kidnapper chose the ransom to be the same day as this house-elf act hearing! That’s why they kidnapped Rosie!”
“But who would care that much about a house-elf protection act?” asked Albus doubtfully.
“How about the Smiths?” asked Scorpius, jabbing an accusatory finger at the advertisement.
Albus looked doubtful. “Look, I know Bernard is a git, but I don’t see how his family could have anything to do with this.”
“Hasn’t Bernard been trying to be friendly with Rosie ever since we got here?” pointed out Scorpius. “I bet his parents told him he had to so that they could know when Rosie would be outside!”
Albus still didn’t look convinced. “Okay, well… even if that’s why he keeps bugging us, we haven’t been hanging out with him. You were the one we told about Hagrid’s, and I know that you didn’t send that letter soon enough for your dad to have done anything,” he added hastily.
Scorpius thought about this for a while. “Bernard was there when you and Rosie invited me. And he was writing a letter at the time! That has to be it! Besides, how many other house-elf rental places are there?”
“I don’t know of any,” admitted Albus, beginning to share Scorpius’s excitement. “And you’re right, the ransom is the same day as the beginning of the hearing… Oh! Bernard was bragging about how his family live on the edge of Hogsmeade! That’s the direction the kidnappers went in!”
“Rosie’s probably being held at his house!” finished Scorpius. “We have to tell someone, right away!” He rushed over to the door, only to wrench uselessly at the handle. “That idiot locked us in!”
“What?”
Scorpius yanked at the door a few more times. “That stupid bully of a teacher locked us in! Now what do we do?”
“I guess we have to wait for him to come back,” groaned Albus.
“No! It might be too late! We need to go rescue Rosie ourselves!”
“And how do you suggest doing that?” asked Albus sarcastically. “The door’s locked.”
“With this!” answered Scorpius triumphantly, withdrawing a velvet pouch from his pocket.
“What’s that?” asked Albus.
“My dad gave it to me. It can get us out of the school from any part of the dungeons. Here, let’s try it!”
Scorpius put on the ancient ring and said in a carrying voice, “Great Slytherin, help us escape!”
The two boys looked about eagerly, waiting for something to happen.
“Maybe it only works for Slytherins,” suggested Albus.
Just then, a sound of moving stone was heard and an archway opened up in the wall. The force of it nearly knocked Albus into the Flobberworm tub, and several jars fell off their shelves, the slimy contents of which splattered on the stone floor.
“Well, now we need to get out of here anyway,” joked Albus. “There’s no way I’m going near any more slimy things.”
The two friends walked through the archway, the entrance sealing itself behind them.
“That didn’t sound good,” admitted Scorpius.
“Lumos!” exclaimed Albus. He very nearly dropped his wand; they were at the beginning of a winding stone hallway, filled with live snakes.