Owls swooped through the Great Hall like performers in a free-flight aviary show. Most quickly dropped off their post and then returned to the owlery for refreshment. Maleficus, Grandfather Lucius's owl, swooped down to the Slytherin table with outstretched wings, dropping the packet he carried to reach for his prey: Scorpius's newspaper. Once Maleficus ripped the Daily Prophet to shreds with his talons and beak, he accepted an owl treat and launched himself into the air. A snowy feather landed in Scorpius's teacup.

 

"You should poison that bird brain." On Scorpius's left, Guy Willoughby flicked a scrap of newsprint off his otherwise spotless tie. "I mean it. He's done this shit for six years. It's getting old."

 

Maleficus is jealous that Grandfather loves me best. Scorpius took the owl's maliciousness as a compliment. He told Willoughby, "Ill pass along your suggestion to my grandfather."

 

Willoughby's face lost colour. "I was only taking the piss."

 

On Scorpius's right, Edgar Goyle muttered, "In his trousers."

 

Scorpius chuckled.

 

"What's so funny?" Willoughby demanded.

 

If Scorpius didn't have to occupy the same dorm as Willoughby, he would have told him. "Private joke."

 

Willoughby looked past him. "That right, Goyle?"

 

Edgar shook his head. Scorpius blinked in surprise. Was today the day his best mate stopped pretending to be another Gregory Goyle? Edgar opened his mouth and said in his gravelly voice, "See food."

 

Willoughby sneered. "How is that amusing? There's no pun if you're not eating seafood."

Scorpius rose from the bench. "He's saying you're crabby." He retrieved his packet and left the Hall. Everyone else could finish stuffing their faces and natter on about their plans for Easter Holiday. Scorpius only had two hours before he and the other Prefects would begin directing ickle firsties to finish packing and board the carriages taking them to the station. He intended to make every second count.

He ducked into the room off the Great Hall that seemed to have no use other than as the holding pen where first-years milled around and listened to instructions before they filed into the Hall for Sorting. Scorpius sat in a chair in the back corner of the room that was shadowed enough to conceal his presence from anyone who might enter. He opened the rectangular packet and withdrew a note.

 

I don't know why you and Stevens felt you had to hide your little hobby from me. I skimmed your picture book and must say, I approve that the so-called villains are the cleverest and most interesting characters. Almost as clever as my grandson and my valet.

 

Stevens and his wife ran Malfoy Manor. Grandfather must have caught the major-domo owling the packet to have called him a valet. Scorpius turned over the note and placed his hand on the parchment. He lifted his hand. Words appeared and then slowly faded.

 

Arrangements made and items received, Master Scorpius.

 

Scorpius returned the note to the packet and slid out the newest addition to his Creevey wizard comic book collection.

 

Enchantress Secret Files and Origins . . . . The Enchantress was the love interest and sometimes adversary/sometimes ally of The Green Knight, Scorpius's favourite character. She wasn't a true villain, because she only robbed Dark wizards and greedy business tycoons, but she was clever and talented and beautiful. When Creevey drew her kissing the Green Knight, her long, wavy brown hair would flow around them, the highlights as red as her lips.

 

He'd just started reading about the Enchantress's teenage years when Rose Weasley slipped into the room. The Prefect Most Likely to be Head Girl leaned against the back of the door, eyes closed, chanting, "I will not read it, I will not read it."

 

She had a letter crumpled in her hand.

 

Scorpius told himself that he wasn't staring at Weasley because he cared that she was upset. He was just noticing the odd coincidence that she and the young Enchantress were both dressed in emerald green jumpers and blue jeans. He looked down at the comic book. The young thief, Gwyn, had shimmers of red burnishing the unruly waves of her hair. Scorpius looked at Weasley. Her reddish brown hair appeared to have been brushed semi-recently.

 

She tore open the envelope. "I can do this because I don't care." Weasley read the letter silently and then gave a short laugh. "Forgot to say thanks for the Christmas card when I saw you New Year's Eve? Vic says hi? That's all you have to say?" She cursed inventively, first at the object of her wrath, then at herself.

 

Scorpius's eyes flickered to the girl hexing a Dark wizard on a comic book page. Her eyes were electric blue. Weasley's eyes were too far away to judge precisely, but he was sure that they were an ordinary shade of vivid bright blue. The girls were nothing alike.

Weasley tore the letter to bits and stuffed them in her pocket. "There," she said, "Crush officially over." She marched out of the room on long slim legs.

 

"Yours are longer," Scorpius told the comic book character who stared up at him, delicate eyebrow arched, a smirk on her mouth. "Yes, I can do the math and prove it." But he wouldn't, because he was already acting mental enough talking out loud like Weasley.

 

And while he was on the subject of Rose Weasley, exactly who had killed her crush by sending that idiotic letter? It's someone on her Christmas card list. A person who would attend a family New Year's Eve party. A person who would relay the greetings of Vic--short for Victoire, the oldest daughter of Bill and Fleur Weasley. Blonde and boring. Scorpius curled his lip.

 

The idiot letter writer was Teddy Lupin, Victoire Weasley's boyfriend.

 

Mystery solved, he replaced the comic in its protective packet. He didn't feel like reading anymore. There were Slytherin first-years to herd out of the castle.

 

.

Scorpius volunteered for patrol duty on the train. He needed to walk the corridors, focus on something other than the thought of what he planned to do during Easter Holiday. It was anticipation that caused his restlessness. Not Rose Weasley's slight resemblance to the woman of his favourite character's dreams. To prove it, he patrolled all the way to the last compartment in the last carriage. He cracked open the doors to glance inside.

 

Rose Weasley sat by the window reading a book. She looked . . . sad . . . with the corners of her mouth turned down. Like the young Enchantress after she fled her abusive father to live on the streets.

 

No. Weasley was a silly girl pining over an idiot. Scorpius shut the door and walked away.

.

 

Grandfather had booked the penthouse floor of the Salazar for Easter holiday. He had a business to run in London, and Grandmother wanted to shop for spring fashions. Scorpius's parents had taken a holiday from their perfumery business to spend time with him, and Stevens and Mrs. Stevens travelled with the family as usual because his grandparents didn't trust hotel staff.

 

On the third morning of holiday, while his grandfather was at Malfoy Enterprises, his grandmother was sleeping in, and his parents were off viewing yet another botanical garden, Scorpius lounged in bed reading Enchantress Secret Files and Origins. He raced to open his door when he heard a knock.

 

"The items you requested, Master Scorpius." Stevens, who could match his employer in regal aloofness, smiled a little as he handed Scorpius a black rucksack. "I believe you will find everything in order."

 

"You--you must have cast a Capacious Spell to fit it all in." Scorpius tried to speak calmly. His heart was pounding. "Thank you."

 

"My pleasure."

 

Scorpius itched to open the rucksack, but he had to ask, "Grandfather wasn't too unpleasant, I hope, about the comic?"

 

"A few days of cleaning without spells and a new inventory of the silver." Stevens tilted his head and bowed slightly. "Enjoy your Comic Con, Master Scorpius."

 

Scorpius grinned. "I will."

.

 

The second annual Creevey Comic Con was held in the empty building next to the junk shop at the west end of Diagon Alley. Last year, Scorpius had attended as Professor Doom. He'd worn a store-bought mask, not custom fit, and skulked from booth to booth sneering at people. This time, he felt like he owned Comic Con. His costume was perfect. He'd used a Plain Jane potion to stay unrecognised if he decided to push back the hood of his cloak, but it was too much fun seeing the awed reactions to the Impenetrable Shadows Charm concealing his face. No one could rival him unless the Green Knight himself stepped out of the pages of a comic.

 

One couple--an uncannily good Super Wizard look-alike and a LaVeela--had put in a respectable amount of thought and effort into their costumes. He let them enter the Cosplay contest unchallenged. He didn't need an award to prove that he was the best.

 

Booths promoting upcoming comics were the most popular. Scorpius ran into the look-alike Super Wizard in front of LaVeela V The Enchantress.

 

"That battle is going to be epic," Super Wizard said. His voice sounded exactly like Harry Potter's.

 

Scorpius nodded. "Of course the Enchantress will win." The voice changer spell on the bandana he'd tied around his throat made the statement menacing.

 

Super Wizard laughed. "You would say that."

 

"It's true."

 

"In your dreams." Super Wizard gestured to the poster of LaVeela shattering windows. "Vee took down Warlock Zod."

 

"Gwyn outsmarted Mastermind."

 

"Vee unmasked Gold Goblin."

 

"Gwyn saved the world from Professor Doom. She might be awarded the Order of Merlin." That shut up Super Wizard.

 

But only for a moment.

 

"Vee runs a fashion magazine in Paris, her family winery in Champagne, and supports a dozen orphans!"

 

"Yeah, but Rose is better." Scorpius froze. What had he just said?

 

Super Wizard's green eyes changed to black. "What?"

 

"Gwyn is better." He realised that Super Wizard's eyes were still black because he was a metamorphmagus. Scorpius was arguing with Teddy Lupin!

 

A look of relief crossed Lupin's Harry-Potterfied face. "I suppose we'll have to agree to disagree."

 

Scorpius nodded and went to peruse another booth.

 

"Beg pardon," a man said. "I don't normally approach fans. I prefer us to admire each other from a distance, actually. It's the germs. No matter how many sanitising spells I cast, I can't bring myself to shake hands, but I had to tell you that your costume is absolutely brilliant."

 

Scorpius turned and his jaw went slack. Dennis Creevey was talking to him.

 

"I'm shorter than you expected, aren't I?" Creevey said. "Not much to look at, how did he snag a Veela? Anyway, your suit is exactly the way I imagined it. All the little details, the spells. Please tell me you got Permanent Shield and Concealment Charms."

 

"I did."

 

Creevey beamed. "You even have his voice." He looked Scorpius over. "I suppose it would cost me a vault if I wanted one of those."

 

"Half a vault," Scorpius admitted.

 

Creevey sighed. "If I didn't have an expensive wife and all those orphans. Ah, well, I couldn't pull it off. I'm not tall and fit."

 

"You're the greatest artist of all time." The praise sounded embarrassingly Hufflepuff, but Scorpius meant it.

 

"Thank you very much. It's been a pleasure talking with you." Creevey ducked behind the curtain that kept the public out of staff only areas. A second later, he poked his head back out. "Look," he said, "when a fan spends half a vault making one of my dreams a reality, he deserves more than a thank you." He smiled. "How would you like to give the Enchantress a middle name? Fans are pestering me. They like to know those kinds of things."

 

Scorpius's mind went blank. "Uh, erm . . . . "

 

"Lily's a nice name," Creevey said. "Harry Potter's mother was named Lily."

 

Gwyneth Lily was a nice name, but it wasn't the name of an enchantress. "No," Scorpius said. "Rose is better."