Ignite by Slide

Chapter 1: Steam Out
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Chapter 2: Heartburn
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Chapter 3: The Melting Pot
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Chapter 4: Sackcloth and Ashes
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Chapter 5: Like Wildfire
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‘I knew that blowing up the Potions cupboard was likely to have stiff consequences,’ said Scorpius, slinking at the back of the little procession of six people winding their way through the woodlands. ‘I didn’t know horrible death in the Forbidden Forest was one.’

‘Will you stop whining?’ hissed Albus, as irritable as he ever got. ‘You got yourself into this situation, now you’re just going to have to man up and accept it. I have no sympathy for you.’

They had been gone for half an hour now, making their way across the fields, down past the groundskeeper’s hut, and into the outskirts of the woodlands. The skies had been clear, even if the sun had set by then, to keep visibility good - and then they’d made it into the Forbidden Forest, and the lanterns Lockett had passed around became necessary.

‘It’s not going to be dangerous,’ said Rose, a few paces ahead of them, and Scorpius managed to not jump. He’d not realised she was near enough to hear them. ‘You have to go really quite deep to find the nastier creatures these days, and I’m sure Professor Lockett knows what she’s doing.’

Scorpius glowered past Rose to where Professor Lockett, Methuselah Jones and Selena Rourke wandered at the front of the little procession. ‘Getting us killed?’

‘The Forbidden Forest isn’t as dangerous any more as people like to make out,’ said Rose, now not bothering to be quiet, and Scorpius deeply suspected she was just happy to be able to hold court on something she knew about. ‘Not a single centaur or dark creature has been sighted within three miles of Hogwarts grounds in twenty years.’

‘Incorrect,’ piped up Jones, ‘and highly so, considering Professor Firenze, a centaur, was the Divination Professor for ten years.’

Rose wrinkled her nose. ‘You know what I mean, Jones.’

‘It’s not what you said,’ he replied calmly, cool gaze lifted to the sights of the Forbidden Forest looming all around them with his usual air of disinterest. ‘For the Magical Beings Conference in 2002 the centaur delegation passed through Hogwarts.’

Scorpius could tell, from the look on Rose’s face, that she hadn’t known that - and disliked this fact immensely. But she waved a dismissive hand. ‘Of course I was referring to dangerous centaurs, like a marauding herd, not a group passing through.’

‘It’s not what you said,’ Jones repeated.

Selena, walking beside him, gave him a sidelong look. ‘You remembered all that?’

He looked confused by the question. ‘I read it.’

‘But you remembered it. The route the centaurs took. And what year.’ She sounded about as bewildered herself.

‘It was an important conference. The centaurs passing through was historical. And I read it.’

‘Huh.’ Selena fiddled with her hair tie, luxurious blonde hair kept tightly out of the way in an unusual display of practicality. ‘I struggle to remember my class schedule.’

‘You struggle to remember what day it is,’ said Rose bitterly, clearly put-out at having been corrected.

Selena looked over her shoulder with a toss of the head. ‘I’m not the one who was just wrong, Weasley.’

Scorpius knew he couldn’t join in the pile-on against Rose without Albus getting more upset with him, which was the last thing he wanted right then (well, perhaps second-to-last - dying in the Forest was still a concern). But at least he could sit back and enjoy the show as Selena decided to do ten rounds with Rose, with Jones as backup.

Or he could, at least, until Professor Lockett lifted her lantern. ‘Oh, hush, the lot of you. I thought you were meant to be nearly of age?’

‘You teach children, Professor; surely it’s okay for us to act like kids?’ offered Scorpius helpfully.

She harrumphed. ‘I was supposed to be in the Three Broomsticks by now on a Friday night,’ she muttered, and he doubted he was meant to hear that.

‘You put us in detention.’

‘And you blew up a cupboard. And yet I’m suffering for it.’ She came to a halt, moving her lantern to and fro to make shadows dance unpleasantly between the thick, closely-knit trees. ‘Yes, this is a good spot.’

‘Do you even know where we are?’ asked Scorpius as they all stopped, squinting unhappily at their surroundings. ‘Professor.’ It was probably best to try to be polite.

‘Still within Weasley’s correctly-cited three-mile safety buffer,’ Lockett said, and patted a pocket of her coat. ‘I have a map, Malfoy. I do, in fact, know what I’m doing.’

‘I do not, in fact, know how the hell you can navigate in here.’

She pointed upwards. ‘Stars. It’s not so difficult. And it’s a good, bright, clear night, so it should be ideal for getting those Nocturne Mushrooms. Spread out, but don’t go off on your own, and have a look around for some. Gather them up and get them in the bags, and when the bags are full, make sure you seal them.’

Jones looked offended. ‘We know about the gathering and care of Nocturne Mushrooms, Professor.’

‘I don’t,’ said Selena, and moved next to him, sliding her arm into his. ‘So I’ll stick with you.’

Jones looked nonplussed by this development and Scorpius rolled his eyes. Lockett seemed to reach the same conclusion as him, frowning at the pair, and jerked her head. ‘Then best I stick with the two of you, if you’re not sure how to handle the mushrooms, Rourke.’ She jerked her lantern at the others. ‘You three, stick together. Do not get out of sight of our lanterns. If something goes wrong, shoot up red sparks.’

‘But if we can’t see the lanterns,’ Scorpius pointed out, ‘then how will we see the red sparks?’

‘They’ll be higher, and if you don’t believe me, you’ll just have to not wander off and not get into trouble, then, won’t you, Malfoy. I know this is a difficult concept...’

Scorpius had always thought Professor Lockett to be rather decent, though he’d heard she was crabby when irritated and now was discovering this first-hand. So he stayed silent as she, Jones, and Selena headed off the little path they’d been travelling by, searching through the undergrowth for the tell-tale glint of purple from the Nocturne Mushrooms.

He turned to Albus, who was still looking as sulky as he had since Potions, and Rose, who looked about as thrilled with this development as he was, and sighed. ‘Isn’t this going to be a joy.’

Albus pulled the bag from his belt. ‘Let’s just get on with it.’

‘Easy for you to say,’ Scorpius grumbled. ‘If we don’t get it done tonight, you’re not back out tomorrow.’

‘She won’t take us out for two nights in a row,’ said Rose. ‘She won’t want to go out to the Forest for two nights in a row. She’s done this to make a point - nobody’s going to misbehave in her Potions classes if this is the detention they get.’

‘It could be worse,’ said Albus, leading the way, lantern lifted up high. Thick, tall roots of trees were the best places to look for the mushrooms, but they were, of course, dark - that was the whole appeal - and so they were going to have to check every little nook and cranny in the hope of finding a few of the precious mushrooms sprouted. They were such a pain to find and had such a short shelf life that Scorpius suspected Professor Lockett had put these on the list intentionally.

‘How?’ Rose said, being terse with Albus when Scorpius didn’t dare to.

‘They could have written to our parents.’

‘That wouldn’t have been as bad,’ said Rose, peering around the trees and watching her footing. By now they were so far off the path that the darkness, and the tree trunks, were like a cocoon of darkness, the beads of light in the distance that were Lockett, Jones, and Selena flickering in and out of sight as they moved between the trees - but still near enough to not be concerning. ‘It’s not like our parents didn’t get put in detention all the time when they were at school. Even Mum had her share.’

‘Yes,’ said Albus delicately, opting for being tall and standing with a lantern held high so Scorpius and Rose had better peripheral lighting while they checked the crevices and gathered the odd mushroom they found. ‘But they got them usually in the course of saving the world.’

‘I’m happier this way round,’ Scorpius muttered to himself.

But the thick trees made for an echoing effect, and the air around them was so dead that his voice carried, and Rose gave a superior little smirk. ‘Oh, really? So next time you misbehave and get away with it, Malfoy, I should just write to your father?’

In the blink of an eye he’d rounded on her, eyes flashing, and in surprise she actually took a step back. ‘Don’t push me, Weasley.’

‘Rose.’ Albus had actually moved to put a hand on Scorpius’ shoulder, tensing, but there was a note of pleading in his voice. ‘Please.’

Rose looked between them, surprised and confused, but she lifted her hands. ‘It was just a joke,’ she muttered.

Scorpius knew it was the closest thing he was going to get to an apology from her, but it was the second time that day she’d incensed him and so he just turned away, shrugging off Albus’ shoulder roughly, head bowing to look for the mushrooms. He could hear Rose shuffling away, too, his outburst having killed all conversation, and for several long seconds there was nothing but the sound of their footsteps and their breathing.

Then he heard the creak of Albus’ lantern and, when he spoke, he sounded faintly worried. ‘Where are the others?’

Scorpius straightened, looking for the path. ‘They were...’ His heart sank. ‘Over there. You know, in that bit of ominous darkness.’

‘I lost track of them while we were -’ Rose frowned. ‘But we didn’t move... did they...?’

Then they heard the hoofbeats. Just a couple, at first, then more and more, coming together like the deep, dull, thudding of rain. Coming towards them.

‘Is that...?’

Albus’ broad face had folded into a worried frown. ‘Centaurs. Lots of them. Coming fast.’

Despite it all, Scorpius still couldn’t stop himself from looking accusingly at Rose. ‘How’s that three-mile safe zone working out for you, Weasley?’

Rose had moved to Albus’ side, face pale in the lantern light. ‘Centaurs don’t come this close to Hogwarts - I wonder what they want -’

‘I don’t want to find out,’ said Albus, voice stern. ‘Close the hatches - now.’ His own lantern was immediately dimmed and, falteringly, Scorpius and Rose’s followed shortly afterwards, pitching them all into ominous darkness.

For a moment Scorpius looked around blindly - then he felt Albus’ strong hand on his elbow, yanking him along. He heard Rose give a weak yelp of surprise, too, and then they were running, back in the direction - Scorpius thought, at least - of the path, away from the hoofbeats.

Albus’s eyes must have adapted to the darkness quicker, because he didn’t stumble on any of the roots that Scorpius felt tug at his ankles, just kept powering along, all but dragging his best friend and cousin behind him. Trees loomed around them, branches whipped at arms and faces and whistled overhead, the ground was uneven and the undergrowth thick underfoot, but they hurtled along anyway at as fast a pace as they could all manage. There was the sound of a thud and shattering glass, and Rose swore as he guessed her lantern had been dropped and broken, and they still didn’t stop - and neither did the hoofbeats.

Those got louder and louder, and Scorpius risked a glance over his shoulder when he thought he saw a particularly broad gap in the trees before them. Shapes moved in the gloom behind them, tall, broad figures emerging from the darkness, the hulking form of the merge of man and beast that were the centaurs.

But if they’d been directly in their path before, he didn’t think they were now, and at the next huge tree with high, fat roots, Albus yanked them to a halt. ‘Stay down!’ he hissed, pushing them into the hiding place. ‘And don’t move!’

Scorpius all but dived into cover, chivalry dying as he got there before Rose - but then all three of them were huddled in shelter, Albus still with his hands on their shoulders, the only one who dared risk keeping one eye out from their hiding place to make sure they knew if the danger passed, if they’d been noticed, what was going on...

And Scorpius just kept his head down. Stayed low, as flat as he could, and only a lingering sense of dying, dying pride had him opening his eyes when he realised they were screwed shut tight. But he didn’t want to look at Albus’ stern face when it was impossible to know what he was seeing, didn’t dare take a peek himself, and so his eyes fell on Rose.

She was even paler in the gloom of the Forest, where only the few streaks of starlight breaking through the tree cover could show him her face. Absent were any of her frowns of disapproval, her arched eyebrows of disapproval, or, really, any other sign of what he usually saw on her expression: disapproval, often of him.

Just brown eyes wide with fear, lips thin through tension and panic he could tell she was biting back.

He’d have liked to have thought it was through some lingering recollection of hitherto-abandoned chivalry that he did what he did next - but truth be told, it was for his own reassurance just as much, his own need to find something, anything to tether himself to which wasn’t the knot of dread seizing in his gut.

He grabbed her hand and their eyes locked. And though the fear didn’t drain from her expression, they both had something to focus on which wasn’t possible imminent death at the hands, or hooves, of a herd of marauding centaurs. And as he clutched at her hand for dear life, she squeezed back just as tightly.

Even when the hoofbeats - and for a time, when they were loudest, the indecipherable calls of the herd shouting to one another, sounds Scorpius couldn’t identify as being anything but “agitated” - began to quieten and die down, even when they finally faded away, none of them moved. They stayed huddled in their shelter for long moments, ragged, panicked breathing the only thing breaking the silence.

‘They’re gone,’ whispered Albus at last, though his low voice was like a gunshot in the gloom.

Rose yanked her hand from Scorpius’ as if stung, and finally their locked gazes broke as they both looked up. ‘You’re sure?’

Albus rose slowly, big shoulders tense. He wasn’t much more than a silhouette in the darkness, but Scorpius thought he saw him relax as he looked around, if only a little. ‘There’s no sign of them.’

‘They sounded panicked.’ Rose got to her feet, dusting herself down, movements rather jerky and stiff. ‘I thought I heard them yelling at one another to run.’

‘I couldn’t make anything out.’ Scorpius stayed right where he was, if only because his knees didn’t feel like they were going to let him move any time soon. ‘It was just shouting.’

‘In their own language. You don’t hear it very often.’

‘You studied -’

‘We need to get back to Hogwarts,’ said Albus, cutting off Scorpius’ incredulity. ‘Something’s spooked them, and that’s not good, and we’re not safe out here.’

‘A great plan,’ Scorpius agreed, getting to his feet creakily. ‘I just have two questions. One, what about the others? And two, where the hell are we?’

The three of them finally emerged from the shadow of the great tree that had been their shelter and stood in the gloom of the bent boughs and low-hanging branches and leaves that the Forbidden Forest brought in to wrap around and above them. Scorpius finally realised that Albus had abandoned his lantern when he’d grabbed them both, and Rose’s was broken, so he lifted his own, doused lamp. ‘Shall I...?’

Albus nodded. ‘I think we’re safe.’

‘We’re going to need to see,’ Rose pointed out.

‘Yeah,’ Scorpius muttered as he pulled out his wand. ‘See the herd of rampaging centaurs come to trample us to death.’

But he felt better as the lantern sparked into life at his command, and opened up all the flaps to let its illumination spread to their immediate surroundings. The good news was that the trees looked familiar. The bad news was that the Forbidden Forest all looked the same to Scorpius, and there was no path in sight, so this wasn’t especially helpful.

‘Professor Lockett had the map,’ Rose said forlornly.

‘Then we’ll have to navigate back ourselves,’ said Albus, with all of his usual fierce determination. He straightened. And stopped. ‘I have no idea where we’re going.’

‘We went south out of Hogwarts,’ said Rose, and looked up to squint at the trees. ‘If we could get a good look at the sky... maybe one of us could try to climb a tree and see if they could spot the north star, something to roughly navigate by...?’

Scorpius looked between them. ‘That’ll be me, then,’ he said tartly, knowing bulky Albus wasn’t going to have an easy time climbing, and knowing he’d never hear the end of it if he sent Rose up a tree while he sat calmly on solid ground. ‘But bugger looking for the north star, if we’re only couple of miles away from Hogwarts I should think that if I get a good view I’ll be able to see the school.’

Rose looked a bit abashed, but tilted her nose up haughtily. ‘Fine. If you think you can get high enough.’

Clearly the status quo had wasted no time in reasserting itself between the two of them.

‘I don’t see you volunteering to climb,’ muttered Scorpius, eyeing up the nearest tree and beginning to shrug out of his coat so there wasn’t too much for branches to catch on.

‘Perhaps I should; are you even sure you can find the north star if you can’t see the school?’

‘I did get a decent grade in Astronomy, thank you so much,’ he sneered. ‘I can find Ursa bloody Minor. Are you sure Polaris’ less-than-one-degree inaccuracy for due north is going to be something we can compensate for?’

She scoffed, and mercifully Albus interrupted them, sounding surprised. ‘Or we could just head for the others, over there.’

Scorpius blinked, and they all turned to where Albus was looking to, indeed, see a bead of light in the distance. He sighed. ‘Thank Merlin for that.’

‘Merlin’s got nothing to do with it; Al got us away from those centaurs,’ said Rose, and grabbed Albus himself by the sleeve. Scorpius just got a rough shove at the shoulder to move forward, but he couldn’t say he cared - he was too overcome with relief at the notion that they could find the others and get out of the miserable woodland. Whatever had upset the centaurs could wait.

But this relief would prove short-lived, for as they advanced, the bead of light grew bigger and bigger - and it became obvious that this wasn’t just a speck from a lantern. This was something large, and soon enough they could see the flickering to suggest firelight - and a lot of it.

‘Is something on -’

‘That’s a campfire,’ Scorpius interrupted Rose, and it was his turn to grab both her and Albus and yank them back a few steps, into the shadow of the nearest tall tree.

‘What? What’re you -’

‘Are you both nuts?’ Scorpius hissed at their expressions of joint bewilderment. ‘Centaurs run amok for the first time in I don’t care how long, the other three are Merlin knows where, and someone’s out camping in the Forbidden Forest? We do not just go up and say hello!’

Albus frowned. ‘What if that is the others?’

‘What, right after the stampede of centaurs which they had to have heard from here, they decided to light up a big old fire? Lockett’s not that dumb. And something spooked the centaurs.’

Rose looked in the direction of the dull glow of firelight. ‘It’s not spooked these people.’

‘Did it occur to you, Weasley, that they might be what spooked them?’

Silence fell on them, until Albus drew a deep breath. ‘So what do we do? They might have a perfectly good reason to be out here.’

‘Nobody goes into the Forbidden Forest for a perfectly good reason,’ growled Scorpius, and peered around the tree. ‘But something’s going on. You two stay here; I’m going to take a look.’

Rose turned on him. ‘You’re what?’

‘Somebody’s got to find out what’s going on.’

‘But why you?’

‘Because I can run faster than you if it goes wrong,’ said Scorpius, jerking a finger in her direction, ‘and he is not big enough to sneak up on anyone with better eyesight than Professor Flitwick.’ This last was at Albus, who finally looked shamefaced for having cracked a height a sasquatch would be proud of.

Albus shifted his weight. ‘Are you -’

‘Something’s going on out here,’ Scorpius cut him off. ‘We have no idea what spooked the centaurs, no idea where Lockett and the others are, and are we really just going to turn around and head back to Hogwarts ignoring this?’

Albus subsided, looking deeply unhappy, and Rose made a face. ‘Be careful.’

But her voice had dropped and she sounded legitimately, quietly worried, and it was all a little bit too real for Scorpius to happily deal with while his heart was thudding in his chest loud enough for him to hear it.

He smirked. ‘Don’t worry, Weasley. I’ll come back. Every time.’

He was relieved to see her expression give that twitch of disapproval he knew so well, and the familiarity of her dry tone of voice was infinitely welcoming when she responded. ‘I knew my luck was rotten.’

Albus gave him a clap on the shoulder and, thus reassured, Scorpius ducked around the side of the tree and away from them. It wasn’t as if he had particularly more experience of sneaking around other than trying to avoid prefects when stealthing his way along the corridors at nights, but he stood by what he’d said: something was rotten and somebody needed to get to the bottom of it.

It was just logic, rather than nerves, that had him as the one prowling around in the darkness to investigate.

Certainly he’d been right. There was a campfire ahead, a big one, and it was so visible because they were approaching the outskirts of a small clearing in the woodland. Scorpius hunkered down to crawl along the undergrowth, feeling thick and uncomfortable roots underfoot, but it was still enough to keep him as just one more featureless shape in a sea of gloomy featureless shapes.

Then, through the light, in the clearing, he thought he saw movement - people, perhaps, one, two - no, more. People, and the soft sound of voices wafting over in his direction, not talking, far, far too rhythmic for talking.

Chanting. Incanting. Casting.

He froze, putting his shoulder to a tree trunk and hiding in its shadow, wondering if he dared press on. He stood by what he’d said before: nobody had good reason to be in the Forbidden Forest. But was he going to find out anything from looking closer, or was it best to leave, get back to Albus and Rose, head back to Hogwarts, let someone actually halfway responsible deal with it?

While he was still fussing over his options, a smell hit him - and it was enough to almost make him gag. The stench of rotting crept into his nostrils, putrid decomposition crawling down his throat as if the air was permeated with death and decay thick enough to be felt if he reached out his hand. He doubled over, a hand clamping over his mouth to try to fight the stench, to try to fight the roiling in his stomach, and felt his throat open up for a dry heave.

And just as he thought he’d got it over control, just as he thought his body was going to follow his commands instead of be brought low by this all-permeating foulness, he lifted his head to see the light of the campfire growing brighter.

Only it wasn’t flickering orange, now - it was silvery, if silver could be tinged with shadow, and billowing outwards like fire never would, faster than fire ever would, an expanding orb of light rocketing out from the centre of the clearing, over and past the figures and their chanting and through the odour that surrounded him, and right at him.

And the last thing Scorpius remembered from that night was the blinding light and the putrescent stench.

Chapter 6: Afterburn
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Chapter 7: Fever Pitch
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Chapter 8: Hot Pursuit
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Chapter 9: Out of the Frying Pan
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Albus shoved his hands into his pockets as he wandered into the Infirmary to see, to his surprise, only one person left on their feet. ‘...Rose?’

She stood in the middle of the rows of beds, still going through rolls of parchments which shot before her eyes and were deposited into piles - but there were, he noted, no new ones coming in, and fewer overall than there’d been in the middle of the night when students and teachers had still been sending in updates from the dormitories.

Now there were no fresh reports. No updates. No more parchment. And still she was reading the backlog.

‘I’m busy, Al -’

‘I just came from Gryffindor Tower,’ he said, voice a little shaky, and padded over to her. ‘Matthias has taken ill. I just put him to bed.’

It was like someone had put the brakes on her, so suddenly did she let the parchment fall from the air to the floor, so suddenly did she lower her wand. The tension in her face faded, and she brought the back of her hand to her mouth. ‘Matty...’

‘He’s all right,’ said Albus quickly, not knowing what constituted “all right” under these circumstances. ‘He wasn’t too bad, I mean. Just... getting worse. Nauseous. Light-headed. He was a bit stubborn, but I thought it was best he get some rest instead of soldiering on.’

Rose turned away, in the direction of Madam Pheasey’s curtained-off bed, and Albus could see her swatting at her eyes as if he wouldn’t notice. When she turned back she looked pale, her voice watery. ‘Who’s - who’s watching down in Gryffindor Tower?’

Albus winced. ‘Nobody. They’re all - I’ve not done a complete head-count, but nobody was up when I was left, and the beds were pretty full. Look, are you all right, you don’t look so -’

‘I’m not ill,’ she said. ‘But everyone else is, all of the prefects are, Matty was the only one still sending up reports, I’ve not heard anything from Ravenclaw Tower in about two hours, but I can’t - I don’t know if I can leave them alone here -’

Albus looked around the Infirmary. ‘They’re just sleeping.’

‘They are, but there are subtle changes in their symptoms, their temperature, all the time, and I’m trying to - I’m recording it all so we have something to send to Saint Mungo’s as soon as we know what we can and can’t say to the outside world, and how...’ She waved a frantic hand at a quill scribbling on parchment on Madam Pheasey’s desk all by itself.

‘Rose! Rose.’ He crossed the distance to put a hand at her elbow, stop her frenetic gestures. ‘Once the initial symptoms pass, they’re just sleeping. That’s been the case for everyone, maybe they’re hit badly at first but then they just sleep, we can leave them unattended, nobody’s attending on Gryffindor House right now...’ Nobody, he suspected, was looking in on Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin, either, if the state of emptiness of the corridors was anything to go by. ‘Take a deep breath.’

‘And, what, relax?’ She turned, stricken. ‘I can’t relax, somebody needs to keep an eye on things, it’s been hours since I’ve heard from any of the teachers, God knows where Hugo is, I’ve not had a chance to go down and see Hector, and now Matty is ill, and every single second I’m in here and I feel tired, or hungry, or the sun seems a little bit too bright out there I think it’s me coming down with it too, and I can’t afford to -’

For one horrible moment he thought she was going to cry, and despite all of Albus’ calm and considerate nature, he didn’t know what to do about that; he hadn’t seen Rose cry since they were little. Perhaps she would have, too, if the doors to the Infirmary hadn’t slammed open for two figures to stride in, and Albus’ first, unkind thought was that his best friend was the last person to help in this situation.

It just got worse when he saw Scorpius had the unconscious bundle of Hugo Weasley in his arms.

‘We got - he was vomiting blood,’ said Scorpius in a rush, pale and wild-eyed and wild-haired, and the lanky form of Methuselah Jones stepped up beside him and just nodded frantically as if they needed his affirmation.

Rose turned, and Albus wondered if this would all be too much for her - but then she blinked, her gaze sharpened, and with a flick of the wand she sent one of the beds rolling out and over to Scorpius for him to put her brother down on it carefully. ‘When? How long ago?’

‘Er... Twenty minutes? Yeah, about that, we got here as fast as we could,’ said Scorpius, though Rose was clearly only half listening as she grabbed a handful of potions and went to her brother’s side, checking him over with what was already practiced professionalism.

Albus frowned. ‘Where were you that it took twenty minutes to get here?’ He looked them up and down. ‘You’re all covered in mud.’

‘Um,’ said Scorpius, at the same time as Methuselah guilelessly declared, ‘the Forbidden Forest.’

That did get Rose’s attention, her gaze snapping up from her brother, eyes wide and brow furrowed. ‘What? What were you doing in the Forbidden Forest?’ She paused. ‘What were you doing with my little brother in the Forbidden Forest?’

Scorpius flapped his jaw wordlessly, and Methuselah seemed to see fit to help out. ‘Looking for answers,’ he said, though his own gaze was a bit unfocused. ‘We found Dementors.’

Rose’s eyes flashed - Albus could only note, with sinking gloom, that she was looking a lot healthier all of a sudden - and, even though it was Methuselah who’d spoken, she darted around the bed to advance on Scorpius. ‘You went on some mad-cap hunt for imagined answers into the Forbidden Forest, just the three of you, with my brother and you found Dementors?’

‘We didn’t go looking for Dementors!’ said Scorpius, at last finding coherent words. ‘We went looking for that spot out in the woods we found the other night, you know, the place crazy people were doing some sort of ritual and now everything’s going to hell?’

‘The Dementors were there,’ Methuselah supplied helpfully, he, too, backing off in the face of Rose’s fury.

‘And you thought that was still a perfectly fine place to take a fourteen year-old boy?’ Rose shouted, throwing an angry hand at her unconscious brother.

‘Look, he was fine until he got ill, and that was just as we were leaving - he was better than fine, he bloody well saved us -’

‘You needed saving.’ It wasn’t a question, and Rose’s voice was now not loud but low, dangerously low, and Albus found all of a sudden he didn’t know how to deal with this new, unpleasant vista of his cousin’s rage and upset. ‘You went stumbling into something you weren’t at all prepared to deal with, telling nobody where you were, with my little brother. And now you only think it’s just the illness hitting him - as if that wasn’t bad enough.’

Finally Albus stepped forward, lifting his hands. ‘I don’t think now’s the time to throw blame around -’

Rose’s eyes snapped to him, flashing with an anger rarely turned on him - then she wheeled around to return to Hugo’s side. ‘No, no. Now’s the time for you to all leave while I can get back to being the one doing the only passable impression of a responsible adult.’

It occurred to Albus that having a blazing row in the middle of the Infirmary was not the height of mature behaviour in a crisis situation, but he didn’t think pointing that out would help. Scorpius looked stricken, clearly stuck between knowing when to withdraw and being angry or tired enough to be stubborn, and so he stepped forward, grabbing both Scorpius and Methuselah by the elbows.

‘We’ll go,’ he said, steering them both to the door. ‘Let me know how he is, Rose, I’ll be back in a little while.’ But Rose didn’t answer, and Albus wasn’t going to make her as he dragged Scorpius Malfoy and Methuselah Jones out of the Infirmary.

Once in the corridor, once the doors had swung shut between them, Methuselah shook off Albus’ grip and looked at Scorpius. ‘I’ll go write. Record what we saw. Use it for research.’

Scorpius’ lip curled. ‘Yeah, great, Jones, you go write it down. That’ll help,’ he sneered, but Methuselah seemed immune to the irony in his voice, and just gave an eager nod before going to lope off down the corridor, heading either for Ravenclaw Tower or the Library.

Albus turned to Scorpius, brow furrowed. ‘What did you do?’

Scorpius pulled free of his friend’s grasp. ‘Like I said. We went to take a look.’ He scowled, rubbing his temples. ‘That clearing. Only it was dark, like something in there was blocking out the sun. And then there were Dementors and, really, all I can remember is Hugo pulling me into his broom and getting us the hell out of there.’ He gave a rueful look back at the Infirmary. ‘I hope he’s all right.’

‘It really is just the illness?’

‘Mate, he was more fighting fit than either of us. Jones was bloody useless, and I was...’ Scorpius drew a deep, shuddering breath, and shook his head. ‘Well. If I never see those things again in my life, I’ll be happy. Dementors? Within a couple of miles of Hogwarts?’

‘Nothing going on is normal,’ said Albus glumly. ‘But Rose isn’t wrong, that was pretty dumb to go off there.’

‘And what else were we supposed to do? Tell you, so you could tell us not to go, and then we’d be none the wiser? It’s not like you’re in much of a position to conduct a rescue mission - you two are the only people we’ve even seen since we got back, and we’ve been gone for three hours.’ Scorpius bit his lip. ‘Are we the only people who’ve not come down with this illness?’

Albus hesitated. ‘I don’t know. I’ve not done a headcount -’

Then they both jumped as a voice came booming down the corridors, unnatural and unfamiliar and coming as if from the very walls themselves. It was male, deep, and rather foreboding. ‘Students and staff of Hogwarts,’ it intoned, albeit rather blandly. ‘Any still healthy and walking are summoned to the Great Hall.’

Then silence.

Scorpius swore. ‘What the hell was that?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Albus, drawing a deep breath. ‘But unless that was Jones, I guess there’s someone else out there.’

‘It was the emergency summons.’ They jumped again as the door to the Infirmary swung open, and out stepped a rather wan-faced Rose. ‘I don’t know how you activate it, only the teachers are supposed to know, but it’s not normally needed.’

‘Then let’s hope it’s a teacher,’ said Scorpius, ‘and not someone trying to get whoever’s left standing to finish us off.’

Rose just grunted and headed for the stairs, inclined to follow the summons but obviously not wanting to get into anything resembling conversation with either of them. Albus fell into step beside her and went to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shied away.

‘I’m not being negative,’ said Scorpius, who clearly didn’t cope very well with the stiff silence they walked in. ‘I’m just saying, this isn’t all an accident, someone’s up to something and this might be a trick.’

‘That is being pretty negative,’ Albus pointed out. ‘And it’s much more likely it’s one of the teachers.’ For some reason Scorpius didn’t argue with this, even if he looked unhappy, and the silence remained as they made their way down the stairs and into the Great Hall.

The Infirmary was far enough away from the Hall that anyone coming from the common rooms should have got there first. That made it likely, unless someone was out in the grounds, that they were the last people there, though Albus prayed that they weren’t as he saw only three figures stood at the dais right at the back of the huge chamber.

‘Piss,’ said Scorpius eloquently. ‘I guess that answers that, then.’

Albus couldn’t disagree with him at the staggering coincidence before them. Because if this was it - if they were the last to arrive, if nobody else was coming - then the only six people still unaffected by this mysterious ailment were the three of them, Methuselah Jones, Professor Lockett, and Selena Rourke.

Lockett didn’t look best pleased, but she waved her wand to rearrange the seats at the head table. ‘I’m beginning to worry that you’re right, Malfoy,’ she said, and sat down herself - not, Albus noted, at the headmaster’s seat, even if she was the only member of staff left walking in the entire school.

‘What?’ said Selena.

‘The six of us. The only people out in the Forbidden Forest the night before last. Or, perhaps, the only people not in Hogwarts then who are now.’ Methuselah pulled out a chair, and she sat down in it. Albus managed to not smile as he realised, from the look on Methuselah’s face, that this was a miscommunication rather than a display of chivalry.

‘And there’s something out there,’ said Scorpius firmly, slapping his palm down on the table. ‘I saw something the other night, there were people out there, and you all saw this wave of light. And now there are Dementors out there...’

Lockett frowned. ‘Dementors?’

‘Jones and Malfoy decided to take a field excursion with my little brother to pull them out of the fire,’ intoned Rose, who looked like fatigue was catching up with her. ‘They found Dementors at the site myself, Al, and Malfoy stumbled across the other night.’

‘You mean the site I went to investigate -’

‘One thing at a time.’ Lockett spoke quietly, but the five students all fell silent, looking up the table at her.

She wasn’t a big woman, she wasn’t an imposing woman, and right then she looked about as worn and scared as Albus felt, but she was a teacher, and in times of crisis anyone - especially a group of sixteen year-olds - were still going to be inclined to flock to a figure of authority to tell them what to do.

He just desperately hoped she knew what to tell them to do.

‘We can’t fuss about answering what’s going on out in the Forest until we know what’s going on here, at Hogwarts, and have the situation under control. We have several hundred people infected with what looks to be a highly-contagious magical illness. That will need curing, yes, but in the meantime, they will need caring for, and they will especially need to be kept safe if there is something wrong out in the Forest.’

Albus cleared his throat. ‘What’s the latest from the Ministry?’

‘The latest from the Ministry is that I don’t know the password to Professor Stubbs’ office,’ said Lockett with a touch of irritation. ‘And I have yet to figure out an alternate means of getting in touch with the outside world. Madam Pheasey, before she became infected, determined that this is a magical illness, and that physical contact or sharing air are enough to transmit it. So pieces of paper, opening a Floo directly from somewhere that’s been lived-in by the afflicted, maybe even just sending an owl could all lead to this illness spreading.’

‘What about us?’ said Selena, after a few moments of opening and closing her mouth worriedly. ‘I mean, if we’re not infected, can’t we just leave?’ There was a beat, and she shifted in her chair. ‘I don’t mean abandon people, I just mean physically go and tell them what’s going on. It wouldn’t even be me, it would be you, Professor, or Weasley, or Jones, someone smart...’

‘We’re still assuming that we won’t become infected,’ said Rose.

Scorpius scoffed. ‘Are you actually saying that what happened in the Forest has nothing to do with -’

‘Of course I’m not - though we should consider the possibility that it is something else - I’m saying that just because it’s got something to do with what we witnessed doesn’t mean our health couldn’t be a coincidence! Or maybe we’ll become infected in time! Or -’

‘Impossible to discern the nature of our immunity, if any exists,’ said Methuselah, turning to Selena. ‘Even if we remain uninfected we could easily be carriers, just as letters would be. Or perhaps the illness could be in us even if we are not feeling its ill-effects.’

‘Basically, we’re not leaving,’ sighed Albus.

‘Quite,’ said Lockett. ‘But we do need a way for back-and-forth contact with the Ministry now we’ve lost the paintings. However - I’d be surprised if the Ministry aren’t sitting here wondering the exact same things we are. And communication is something they have a lot more resources to bring to bear on than us. Still, think about it - think about alternative paintings, if any spring to mind, try other ideas.’

‘Chocolate Frog Cards?’ said Selena. ‘I mean, aren’t your parents all over them?’ She looked at Rose and Albus.

‘They’re cheap,’ sighed Rose. ‘And very numerous, and very stupid. It’s best to find ones with good-quality magical oils and paints, and ideally ones done by the same artist. That’s why the Lillyvick was such a good option, she called back the same artist to do her Headmistress’ portrait as the one who’d done hers for Saint Mungo’s - and the headmaster portraits are, um, special.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ mused Scorpius.

‘And here I was thinking you’d have a good idea,’ Rose muttered.

‘Not today.’

‘Anyway,’ said Lockett. ‘My point is that we have other things to focus on than communication. Or even than finding answers or a cure. We need to make sure everyone in Hogwarts is accounted for and taken care of. Now, the illness doesn’t seem to have particularly unpleasant symptoms after it initially hits - it just seems to keep the patients fatigued and weak - but this is still a few hundred people who are going to need feeding, who are going to need watching, who are going to need taking care of. And there are only six of us.’

‘Shifts?’ Rose wondered unhappily. ‘One in each house, on a rotation?’

‘That doesn’t leave much time for sleep,’ mused Albus.

‘I’m still thinking about it,’ said Lockett. ‘But first things first. Here’s a full class list, house by house. I want Weasley on Gryffindor, Rourke on Slytherin, Jones on Ravenclaw, and Potter on Hufflepuff - I’ve written their password at the top. Make sure that each and every person on those lists is accounted for. If you find someone from a different house in the dormitories, make a note of it, and then come back here and we’ll see if there’s anyone missing, and take it from there. I’ll make sure the staff are accounted for, but then I’ll be going through Madam Pheasey’s notes and the notes and research anyone else made so that when we know how to get in touch with the Ministry, we can give them the most up-to-date and accurate information.’

Albus reached for his roll of parchment, feeling the dour fear settling down upon them all. While now they had a better idea of what was going on instead of the frantic uncertainty of mere hours ago, that was proving to be little comfort. Uncertainty had meant it was possible that it wasn’t actually that bad.

It really, really was. And while they now had things to do, ways of keeping themselves busy, the list of responsibilities with no end in sight was looking to loom on and on.

Lockett shifted her weight. ‘I know this is a lot to take on,’ she said, faltering and clearly not very good with this kind of effort to buoy people up in a crisis. ‘I know that you were supposed to be having a lazy Sunday about now, and thinking about NEWTs and Quidditch and boys and girls. And I know you’re all only sixteen, and that all of a sudden everyone around you is horribly ill and we don’t have any answers.’

She paused, and Albus hoped she would say more, or that would have been perhaps the worst pep-talk ever. But then she cleared her throat and carried on. ‘But the best minds of the Ministry will be on this. They’ll get in touch, they’ll get us an answer. And all we have to do in the meantime is make sure our friends are all right, and take care of them. Okay?’

They all nodded mutely, but it was Rose who found the strength to break the silence, Rose who finally pushed back her chair and got to her feet. ‘I’m going to get up to Gryffindor Tower,’ she said, and looked at Albus. ‘I’ll check in on Lily for you.’

‘Thanks,’ he said, and stood as Selena and Methuselah did, pausing only as Scorpius looked up the long table at Lockett.

‘What about me, Professor?’ he said, looking rather small in his chair, and only now did Albus stop to think about how he’d come face to face with a Dementor that day and by all accounts had not come off too well.

For once, that made him uncertain. Because he knew enough about Dementors from his father to realise that a bad reaction like the one Scorpius had reportedly had didn’t just happen, and he had no idea what darkness his friend’s mind had conjured up.

Lockett hesitated. ‘You can come with me to check on the staff, Malfoy,’ she said.

Her uncertainty was clear enough, and Albus saw Scorpius wilt - then pause, as if something had struck him, and he straightened, giving one of his small, conspiratorial grins. Under the circumstances, Albus wasn’t sure if he should be worried or heartened by the sight of it.

‘No,’ said Scorpius. ‘That’s okay, Professor. I’ll make myself useful. I’ve got an idea.’



* *


When Scorpius Malfoy said “I’ve got an idea”, standard procedure was to duck and cover. That Professor Lockett had just looked suspiciously at him and told him to be on his way was an indication of how absolutely dire everything in the school was becoming.

He was trying to not think about that. Trying to not think about how Tim Warwick had been tossing and turning, sweating and barely conscious when he’d looked in on him that morning. Trying to not think about Albus, desperate in worry over his sister. Trying to not think about Hugo, pale and limp in his arms as he’d half-carried, half-dragged him through the woods, propped on his broom, then up through the school.

Trying to not think about Rose, and the look on her face. It wasn’t her anger at him that lingered, though - it was that haunted look behind the eyes, and alongside it hummed Hugo’s angry accusation outside of the forest.

Who have you got to worry about apart from yourself?

Unhelpfully, he had a long way to walk. Trooping down the stairs into the dark underbelly of Hogwarts, though at least he had to watch his footing, make sure he didn’t trip and kill himself, and that allowed him to concentrate. He’d only been here the once before, on an ill-advised venture he’d never bothered with again, and he knew what to expect. First the chill of the underground, far from the sun, far from the fires.

Then the warmth, comfortable at first but stifling once he stepped into the broad, open chambers of the Hogwarts Kitchens.

This place never slept. Anywhere which had to provide constant food for so many people didn’t have the luxury of shutting down, and even in the grips of a crisis Scorpius suspected that wouldn’t change. More to the point, he suspected nobody had told them to stop.

He was just relieved to see every House Elf bustling around the place was on their feet, hale and hearty. The nearest one stopped when he walked through the door, though, eyeing him suspiciously.

‘Students aren’t supposed to -’

‘I have permission from Professor Lockett.’ The excuse came easily, even though it wasn’t strictly a lie - though it wasn’t strictly the truth, either. Perhaps that was why it sprang off the tongue so comfortably. Scorpius was always better when obfuscating. ‘I need to talk to the foreman.’

The elf’s eyes narrowed, evidently displeased, but with the invoking of a staff member’s name he was clearly not about to disagree. He jerked a hand, turning away, and led Scorpius through the bustle of the warren of the kitchens; the many huge, stone ovens built into the wall, the steps leading down to the cool store rooms for supplies.

And then, at the far end, the little steps up to the foreman’s desk. It was elevated, of course, so everything could be keenly watched, observed. Scorpius knew that he’d have been spotted, knew that he’d been expected - and was ridiculously, inexplicably nervous.

This was a House Elf, for Merlin’s sake. Why was he fussing as if he was about to approach some implacable authority figure?

‘Foreman Harley!’ the elf who’d escorted him squeaked. ‘Got a student for you. Lockett sent him!’

‘I heard ya.’

Foreman Harley had his feet up on his desk. He wore boots, tiny boots fitted perfectly for his little House Elf form. They gleamed. As did the pocketwatch which dangled from a chain, as did the gold-rimmed spectacles that sat on his broad nose. His suit was tailor-made, little tie tightened right up to his neck, the buttons on his fitted waistcoat shining.

He sat up, expression as if this was the most long-suffering challenge of his day, and narrowed his eyes over his spectacles at Scorpius. ‘So. Mistress “I want coffee, not tea, Moroccan blend if you’ve got it” Lockett thinks she can send someone down here to tell us what to do?’

Scorpius hesitated.

It had been twenty years since House Elves had been liberated from their servitude - mostly thanks, he knew, to the exceptional work of the mother of one Rose Weasley. Since then, the laws governing the employment and rights of House Elves had come thick and fast but had been respected to various degrees, by the elves themselves as much as their employers.

His father still kept a House Elf, one whose family had served the Malfoys for an aeon. All laws were followed and upheld. By the creature’s own choice it lived in nothing more than a loincloth, slept under the stairs, and withstood the abuse of Draco Malfoy’s temper whenever anything went remotely amiss. Some things only time could change.

So he wasn’t accustomed to the breed of House Elf who had accepted and embraced the new laws, the new rights. He never had to deal with them - even at Hogwarts they maintained a policy of moving around unseen, though he had no idea how that interacted with the new respect and wages they could command from their employers.

It looked like it wasn’t through humility.

Scorpius lifted his hands. ‘I wasn’t sent by Professor Lockett,’ he amended, voice all smooth politeness. ‘She just gave me permission to come down here. She doesn’t know what’s going on. Like always.’

Although he was still rather resentful of Professor Lockett for hiding in the staff room, his opinion wasn’t actually as low of her as he made it sound. It just seemed like a good idea to play along with this House Elf’s obvious disapproval of the woman in question.

Foreman Harley slumped back. ‘Yeah? Then what did you want, pipsqueak?’

Scorpius was not accustomed to being addressed as “pipsqueak” by someone half his size. He shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘Did lots of people eat the breakfast you sent up this morning?’

‘Nope.’ Harley made a noise of irritation, and waved the House Elf who’d escorted Scorpius over back to work. ‘Wastrels, the lot of you. Don’t know good food when you see it.’

‘And not that many had dinner last night. And almost nobody had lunch, did they.’

Harley tilted his spectacles down an inch. ‘You can cut to the chase any time you like, boy.’

‘Nobody’s told you what’s going on. Up there.’ Scorpius jerked his head up. ‘I bet Professor Stubbs didn’t have the chance before he was taken ill.’

The House Elf’s eyes narrowed. ‘Still not the chase. Don’t make me cut there.’

Scorpius did reel back a bit at that. He knew so little of how to deal with House Elves that it was difficult to gauge how serious the threat of being stabbed was. He straightened. ‘There’s an illness,’ he said at last. ‘Sweeping the school. It’s taken out all but half a dozen people, and Hogwarts as a whole is in quarantine.’

‘Huh.’ Harley scratched his nose. ‘They did say the rooms were awful full this morning.’

‘Students have been sent back to the dormitories to stay there, even when ill. There are too many of them to put in the Infirmary.’ Scorpius looked around, and found a stool which came up to his knee on his side of Harley’s desk. He pulled it up and perched on it, now with the unusual perspective of being able to look the House Elf in the eye. ‘It’s all going to hell.’

Harley drew a deep breath. ‘So you’re saying they’re not going to need dinner tonight.’

Scorpius nodded. ‘That is, in fact, what I’m saying.’

There was a pause. Then Harley reached across his desk for a fat brass bell, which he lifted and rang, over and over, loud enough to make Scorpius clamp his hands over his ears. By the end, Scorpius couldn’t tell if silence had fallen or if he’d just been deafened, but once all activity had ceased, once all House Elves in the kitchens were looking up to their Foreman, Harley spoke.

‘All right, boys and girls! Kitchen staff are done for the day, go put your feet up!’ Harley gave a wide, toothy grin at Scorpius as the House Elves exploded into satisfied hustle and began to bustle their way out of the kitchen.

‘Wait, what - that wasn’t what I meant,’ Scorpius stammered, half-rising. ‘There are sick people -’

‘Oh, yeah.’ Harley reached for a quill. ‘Better send a memo down to housekeeping -’

‘But you have to help.’ Scorpius’ eyes widened. ‘You’re the biggest workforce in Hogwarts, you’re unharmed. Sick people need checking on, caring for, feeding, watering - I don’t know! We’re six people, we can’t do all of that ourselves, we’ll be run ragged!’

‘Sorry, kid,’ said Harley, hopping to his feet. ‘We’re hired to provide catering and cleaning for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We ain’t hired to play nursemaid to some poorly first years.’

‘It’s the whole school!’ Scorpius snapped, standing. ‘What do you think you’ll do, leave? You can’t leave, the Ministry have the place under quarantine! You’re just going to sit down here in your rooms and do absolutely nothing?’

‘No, no.’ Harley put his hands in his pockets, every inch the tiny executive, and turned. ‘We’ll do what we always do, kid. We’ll do what we House Elves have lived by since the Liberation.’ He scowled. ‘We’ll do what we’re contracted to do. And nothing more.’

Chapter 10: Cooking on Gas
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Chapter 11: Irons in the Fire
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Chapter 12: False Dawn
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Chapter 13: Firefight
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Chapter 14: Burning Question
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Chapter 15: Hot and Cold
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Chapter 16: Cleansing Flames
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Chapter 17: No Smoke Without Fire
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The worst thing about the crisis was that they got used to it. Or, that was what Scorpius said some time around Week Four, and then amended his comment with, ‘and the loneliness. And the chance of being attacked by a crazy mercenary. And the fear of all our friends and teachers dying. And the angry monsters of the Forbidden Forest roaming around. So, really, it’s not the worst thing at all.’

But it was a thing, and it was unpleasant how the abnormal and tense could become such an intrinsic part of their lives. They all had their jobs, except for Scorpius, whose job was more to run around after everyone else and make sure they had what they needed - but he saw Lockett’s approving eye when he buoyed up Albus, or stopped to listen to Methuselah, or made Selena smile, or teased Rose.

That, of course, didn’t stop. Despite their agreement, he would still come down in the mornings with the pot of tea and plate of breakfast for Hogwarts’ earliest riser, wandering into the dungeons and whistling to himself.

‘I’ve got the answer,’ he told her one day by way of greeting, sliding tea and a bacon roll down the desk towards her. ‘I use my guitar.’

Rose frowned at the wall for a moment, then looked at him. ‘There is not a single problem we’re facing that could help with.’

‘Getting into the Headmaster’s study so we can properly adjust the wards.’ Scorpius stepped back, miming holding his guitar. ‘I read about wizards who imbued magic into sound, so certain notes did certain things. It’s how Toil & Trouble get the light-show at their performances - a magic guitar.’

‘Still not explaining anything.’

‘We get a blasting curse, right? And imbue several of my guitar strings with it. So when I play a chord which has all of them at once, it’ll blast the door to Stubbs’ office right off its hinges.’ He swept his hand across the imaginary guitar, as if an open C could solve all of life’s problems.

Rose looked at him solemnly. ‘That’s a really good idea.’

Scorpius blinked. ‘It is?’

‘Of course not.’ She turned back to her paper. ‘It’s a stupid idea and I think just hearing it has made me stupider.'

'Aw, don't put yourself down like that, Weasley. “Stupider” isn’t a word.'

'Did you want something this morning, Malfoy?' But there was the ghost of a smile playing about her lips, and she brushed that errant lock of hair behind her ear, springy and determined to escape as it was.

‘I’m bored,’ he said, going to perch next to her on the desk. ‘And you’ve made absolutely no progress with the potions.’

She looked affronted at last. ‘That’s not true; Professor Lockett’s going to have some test results in once Rourke and the House Elves finish their rounds and it might show -’

‘That this ingredient is doing something but that one isn’t, and so we’re incrementally closer to finding one thing to go in an eventual cure. But not the whole lot. And Jones is still rabbiting on about this ritual, so the cure might be for nothing -’

‘One step at a time.’ Rose stood, her expression softening. ‘But we’re making progress and it will get done.’

‘It’s been weeks,’ Scorpius sighed. ‘And now we get the Prophet, I see how the outside world’s going nuts. The Minister getting flak for not miraculously solving this, the international communities talking about lending aid but then there are articles saying how France and Spain might try to use this to get Britain to side with them on the trade disputes...’

She lifted a hand. ‘We don’t need to worry about the outside world, Malfoy. We just need to worry about right here -’

‘I am worrying about right here; we still have no idea what Thane, or whoever he’s working for, wants, and I read about the world panicking and people trying to capitalise on the situation and I can’t help but wonder: is this the plan?’ Scorpius’s eyes turned to the ceiling, and his shoulders tensed. ‘Cause uproar and terror and then someone sweeps in to take advantage of it, or someone sweeps in to conveniently save the day, or...’

‘Malfoy.’

‘...or if it’s something more simple, if it’s just someone wanting to see Hogwarts burn, or maybe we’re all lab-rats for some experiment...’

‘Malfoy!’

He didn’t stop at her raising her voice, but he did stop at her hand coming to his shoulder, her touch jerking him back to reality, and Scorpius looked down, blinking muggily, to find Rose Weasley stood rather closer than he’d realised she’d got in her effort to break through to him. She, too, looked surprised, her eyes flickering across his face, before she drew a deep breath. ‘We’re going to get through this.’

He hesitated, but the squirming anxiety in his stomach hadn’t abated. ‘We don’t know that.’

‘We don’t know anything, not for sure,’ said Rose, her hand still on his shoulder. ‘But we have every chance, and a chance is enough if we make it enough. We just can’t give up. We have to knuckle down and fight on, not just for ourselves, but for everyone.'

'So, no pressure?' But he relaxed a shade, bowing his head. 'You're right. People are counting on us. I guess I'm just not used to that.'

'You're better at being relied on than you think you are.’

Then he looked up, all-too aware of her dark eyes on his, of her hand on his shoulder. All-too aware of the calm, utterly convinced tone of voice she used when she was being righteous about something he didn’t quite get - but now she was being righteous about him. All-too aware of the closeness between them, of that springy lock of red hair that had defiantly escaped again to dangle across her face.

On an impulse he reached out for it, and as his fingertips brushed her cheek it was like an electric charge that ran through him and brought everything into sharp, clear focus.

And an awful lot of things began to make an awful lot of sense.

Her lips parted as he brushed the lock of hair behind her ear, and finally hesitation crept into her gaze. ‘Malfoy...’

‘You’re better at making me feel better than you think you are, you know that?’ he mused, but didn’t take his eyes off hers, or pull his hand away.

‘Well, you - you need it.’ She stumbled over her words, more awkward than he’d ever heard her, but she didn’t pull away - nor did she protest when his fingers ran down her cheek to cup her chin, tilting her head up to his, and -

Footsteps outside the door.

Well, of course there are, Scorpius mused to himself bitterly as Rose’s eyes widened and she sprang back, out of arm’s reach, just in time for the door to the classroom to swing open and for Lockett to step in for her morning checkup. The teacher took one look at the two of them then narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

‘What did he do?’ she asked Rose.

Scorpius’ jaw, despite himself, dropped indignantly. ‘What makes you think I did anything?’

'Because Weasley looks flustered and you look smug, so I'd say it's business as usual,' said Lockett, but her usual disinterest had taken over, and she crossed the dungeon to where her papers were, extracting a new stack from under her arm. ‘The test results are in from Rourke.’

Rose blinked, but the spark overtook the guilt in her eyes quickly enough, and she went to join Lockett with, in Scorpius’ opinion, quite unnecessary enthusiasm. ‘Is there anything good?’

‘I’m still checking,’ said Lockett, laying down the papers, and Scorpius sighed as the two of them began to pour over the documents, the test results, the plans, the lists of what they’d done to the lab rats that were also the people they needed to save and he was left standing there, forgotten.

Or, not entirely. Because he could still see the hint of red on Rose’s cheeks that even potions results couldn’t completely remove.

Because my life’s not too complicated, he mused, but nevertheless a twist of a smile tugged at his lips. He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed for the door, whistling to himself. Round two could wait.

‘What’s this?’

He was at the door when Lockett finally spoke, and the tone in her voice - sharp, attentive, rather than with the sleepy, pained disinterest that had been her shield against all of the catastrophes so far - made him stop with his hand on the doorknob.

‘It’s just the results from the Hufflepuff second-years -’

‘But they’re all showing reduced levels of dark magic taint over the last few days.’

‘Nothing outside of the normal fluctuations -’

‘It is when they’ve been on the batch containing Ashwinder skin, which specifically combats certain kinds of taint.’

‘Does this mean that -’

‘It really does...’

Scorpius turned as the two devolved into half-spoken sentences and excited rustling through papers and books. ‘Does this mean anything in english?’

Rose looked up, eyes flashing, and now the hint of colour in her cheeks had gone. ‘This was one of our more hopeful batches,’ she explained as Lockett cracked open one of their thickest books and was flicking through the pages. ‘But it was reliant upon the illness affecting the cursed through the humours, which wasn’t a guarantee and there are only so many ways to find it out...’

‘...and Ashwinder skin is one of the more prevalent ingredients for combatting dark magic taint of the humours, so its success would indicate that this is it,’ said Lockett, not looking up.

Scorpius blinked. ‘Really? So why don’t we just brew up a whole batch of Ashwinder skin juice?’

‘Because it’s not very powerful and is best used to help purge minor afflictions while supplemented by something more powerful; a truly major antidote could be helped by the presence of Ashwinder skin to isolate and identify the dark magic taint,’ said Lockett, scowling at the paper. ‘But this curse is something else; we need something more powerful than Ashwinder skin.’

‘Boa-constrictor skin?’ Scorpius offered.

They ignored him. ‘What about Acromantula skin?’ said Rose. ‘Its protective qualities makes the slivers quite valuable when it comes to dispelling elixirs and antidotes.’

Lockett nodded. ‘That would work,’ she said. ‘And with it - I don’t know if I can make a cure. But if these initial results are anything to go by, we could make a serious dent on the symptoms and that? Not only could it slow possible deterioration, but... it could put us on the path to an antidote.’


* *


‘Are you sure, Professor?’ If an otter could look sceptical, the patronus that was Hermione Granger’s magical avatar was doing its damndest to try. ‘There are all sorts of fluctuations which are simply natural for these kinds of curses.’

‘With respect, Ms Granger, we don’t know what kind of curse this is for sure,’ said Lockett.

Scorpius was used to his Potions Professor tackling everything with the long-suffering air of an academic who thought teaching would be better without children, and thought a crisis striking a whole school was definitely not Quidditch. But now, doing ten rounds with the witch many claimed to be the smartest woman in Britain, she was stood straight, her eyes bright, shoulders square, ardent and defiant.

For the first time, invigorated.

‘Your name “Phlegethon” hasn’t been coming up with any answers amongst the Ministry think-tanks,’ said Hermione, a little snippish. ‘It could be anything or nothing -’

‘I’m not talking about that,’ said Lockett. ‘I’m talking about Acromantula skin. And, again with respect, you might disagree with what these results mean but I’m the one who’s been studying them day after day -’

‘And you have been forwarding all of your results to us; in even greater detail since the owl messages began again,’ said Hermione. ‘We know everything you know, Professor, and from a look at the latest reports, I’m sorry, but the think-tanks consider this to be within normal parameters of change -’

Scorpius’ brow furrowed. ‘Why can’t we just try?’ he wondered, not wanting to wade in, but Lockett’s shoulders had tensed and, for the first time in his memory she looked truly, properly angry.

Hermione’s patronus sagged. ‘Because Acromantula skin is incredibly difficult to get hold of and dedicating the resources to finding it isn’t something to be done lightly.’

Lockett’s lip twisted. ‘It’s difficult because of the intensive regulations over the last twenty years which have shut down most reagent hunters and farmers,’ she said, voice low and irritable. ‘Regulations that you championed, Granger! So if you want to get your hands on it? Go to the black market! I’ll even tell you who to ask.’

Hermione’s patronus glared at her. ‘Yes, you would know, wouldn’t you, Professor? Shall I just ask the MLE for your file, will the contacts be in there?’

‘No.’ Lockett looked, of all things, smug. ‘Because I wasn’t charged with anything, so the MLE had to destroy their records. A new law which you also spearheaded, so I guess I should be thanking you for getting me out of the situation you got me into.’

Rose made a small noise of protest. ‘Is this really something we need to get into?’ she asked, voice tight.

Hermione’s patronus looked at her daughter, and its little shoulders sagged. She turned back to Lockett. ‘I cannot dedicate huge swathes of Ministerial resources to pursuing something this dangerous and difficult without being sure.’

‘I’m sure.’

‘The think-tanks disagree.’

‘Your think-tanks are made up of Ministry yes-men who told you for years that your regulations wouldn't stifle Potions research and development,’ thundered Lockett. ‘The use of highly dangerous reagents gathered by hunters and farmers of volatile magical creatures is what allowed us to make the significant breakthroughs in curing dark magic ailments which you pointed out I made my name on! As you said, I am an expert on this subject and I say your advisors are wrong!’

The patronus tensed. ‘I happen to agree with them.’

‘Oh, really, does your ‘O’ at NEWT-level Potions tell you this?’ Lockett sneered. ‘I hate to burst your bubble, Granger, but being incredibly smart doesn’t count for anything when you’ve been involved in politics and legislation for the past twenty-five years! I know it would do you a disservice to call you a jack of all trades, master of none, but this is not your specialisation and it is mine!’ She threw her hands into the air. ‘I might not be able to give you the right answer when it comes to what’s best for the children or what’s best for securing Hogwarts or even what’s best for deconstructing a magical ritual, but on this issue I am right, and you know that I’m right, and to hell with the fact that it treads on one of your precious new enlightenment laws!’

They all stood in silence, Rose’s eyes wide as she stared at the floor, Albus and Selena also averting their gaze. Methuselah was watching with dispassionate interest, and Scorpius couldn’t stop looking between Lockett and Hermione as if they were in a tennis game, watching as they spoke, watching their reactions to the other’s angry words.

Finally, eventually, the patronus took a deep breath. ‘You know it will be difficult,’ it said in Hermione Granger’s low, careful voice. ‘I have to be sure before I send agents to Eastern Europe, or maybe even Australia, to gather the reagents.’

‘Eastern Europe,’ said Lockett coolly. ‘The subspecies on the Australasian sub-continent have too many varieties for me to be happy with them.’

‘So, diplomatic negotiations with countries not very happy with us right now,’ Hermione said.

‘Not happy because of all of these regulations affecting their trade,’ agreed Lockett. ‘But, yes. And I’m sure. I know how difficult it is, friends of mine went to prison because of how difficult it is - still waiting on that Geber Prize for the Elixir of Clarity, by the way. But I wouldn’t ask for this lightly.’

Albus frowned. ‘Isn’t there an easier way to resolve this?’ he wondered. ‘I mean, isn’t one of the biggest Acromantula nests in Europe just a few miles into the Forbidden Forest?’

It was astonishing to see Lockett and Hermione suddenly become united after such a fierce argument. ‘Absolutely not!’ the Professor exploded, just as Hermione barked, ‘No!’ equally vociferously.

‘Acromantula are exceedingly dangerous,’ said Lockett, eyes wide. ‘Going after them is the sort of matter which requires expertise, training, and experience; it is not the sort of task for an underage witch or wizard to undertake, or even for a researcher such as myself to attempt!’

Albus shrugged. ‘Dad did it.’

‘By being incredibly lucky,’ Hermione said tensely. ‘If I could get your father and your uncle to talk to you, they would say exactly the same thing as me: that it’s far, far too dangerous.’

Rose stepped up. ‘But they did manage it,’ she argued. ‘And even if it was dangerous, they did it because it was necessary - they did it for you, didn’t they?’

'Even if we consider that it wasn't a ridiculously dangerous thing for a pair of twelve year-olds to do,' said Hermione, ‘the Forbidden Forest has, by all your reports, been considerably more dangerous in the past few weeks than ever before. Marauding Redcaps? Stampeding centaurs? Dementors? You can’t go in there.’

‘I would rather wait until the Ministry can find the reagents,’ Lockett agreed. ‘The infected are stable; I know they’ve deteriorated to the point where none of them are conscious for any particular length of time, but the House Elves are keeping them cared for, and the waiting time is still a more acceptable risk than us dying in the Forest.’

‘We wouldn’t all die,’ offered Selena, ‘because you couldn’t pay me to go out there.’

‘Thank you, as always, for your courageous and sensible contribution, Rourke,’ sighed Lockett. ‘But for once you have the right of it. If the Ministry can produce the Acromantula skins, we can use them for an elixir I am confident will alleviate the symptoms. And the extent of the success might just point us in the right direction for a cure.’

‘Despite my misgivings, I will trust your judgement on this, Professor,’ said Hermione’s patronus reluctantly. ‘And I had best see about it shortly, so I’ll leave you all to your day. But before I go - I wonder if I could borrow Mister Malfoy for a conversation?’

Everyone stared at Scorpius, who blinked. ‘Me?’

‘That’s your name,’ mused Rose, looking a bit put-out, but she stepped back. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Mum,’ she said, and with that signal, they all slunk back, heading off their separate ways to their separate works, and leaving Scorpius alone in the Great Hall with the patronus of the mother of the girl he’d tried to kiss just that morning.

For one bizarre moment he thought she knew and was going to admonish him, so awkward did the patronus look, like it was finding this just as difficult as him. ‘I have a favour to ask of you, Mi- Scorpius,’ said Hermione’s patronus.

He opened his hands uncertainly. ‘Sure.’

‘Keep Rose and Albus out of trouble.’

His brow furrowed. ‘That’s really not my specialty,’ he said. ‘I’m more the one who finds the trouble -’

‘I mean with this Acromantula skin business. I know my nephew, and I know my daughter. They both have more than a little of their fathers in them. From dogged determination to streaks of loyalty which go beyond sense and reason.’ The otter tilted its nose in the air, as if it was above the disadvantages of such virtues and never made any misjudgements because of them. ‘Their younger siblings and younger cousins are ill here. They may see going off into the Forest as chance to help. I wouldn’t be surprised if they try.’

Scorpius shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘I don’t know, Al’s pretty sensible and I don’t think Rose broke a rule in her life before I got her landed in detention. I think you underestimate them.’

‘And I think you might be underestimating family bonds, Scorpius.'

He scowled. 'Look, I get it, okay? I get what's at stake. We’re still talking about my friends, my classmates, people I lived with for years, people I played Quidditch with. Hogwarts is more of my home and my family than Malfoy bloody Manor and my father are!’ The admission came, hot and angry and before he realised he was saying it, but once he’d started he couldn’t stop. ‘Al’s like my brother, and I know that’s pretty pathetic when he’s got a brother, but if he was in danger and marching into a nest of Acromantulas could save him, then sure, I’d do that!’

Silence fell across them - silence as Scorpius realised he’d made Hermione’s point for her, and silence as the patronus regarded him, looking surprised at the outburst. Then it gave a vague approximation of a smile. ‘I suppose Harry was right,’ it mused.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘That you do understand why Albus or Rose might do something stupid. And I would like you to keep an eye on them to stop them. For their own good.’

There was a pause as Scorpius chewed on his lip. ‘First, I want to know what’s going on with Lockett.’

‘What do you mean -’

‘Talk about her being arrested? The black market? If there’s something dodgy about the woman responsible for our safety, I’d like to know.’

‘Headmaster Stubbs wouldn’t have hired her if he didn’t think she could do the job.’

‘That’s an evasive answer if ever there was one,’ Scorpius pointed out. ‘Because it doesn’t mean you don’t think Stubbs was wrong.’

The patronus hesitated. ‘I don’t think Stubbs was wrong,’ said Hermione at last. ‘But I don’t think it was his best decision ever. Nathalie Lockett is a world-class potions researcher. I wasn’t exaggerating. After the war she developed the most important salves and potions for easing ailments caused by dark magic, and changed the lives of hundreds of victims of Death Eater attacks. And as the years went on she moved into augmentative potions, which is a rather less-respected field of research and one where galleons, not saving lives, is the most significant motivator.’

‘If money was her motivation, then becoming a teacher was pretty stupid,’ Scorpius observed.

‘It wasn’t her first choice,’ said the patronus tensely. ‘She was a member of the team that developed the Elixir of Clarity, a particularly ingenious development which has become prized in all sorts of lines of work: from academics who wish to sift through a complex issue to curse-breakers who need to solve a problem quickly. But along the way her team was involved in the smuggling of illegally-farmed reagents bought on the black market. They were arrested. Lockett had been only marginally involved in the smuggling and, in exchange for all charges against her being dropped, gave testimony against several of her colleagues. They’re in prison. She went free, finished the work on the Elixir of Clarity, and now holds the bulk of the credit for it internationally. But nobody would hire her for such breaches in ethics and disloyalty to her team, so she had to leave the world of research.’

‘And was hired by Professor Stubbs to work at Hogwarts.’ Scorpius made a face. ‘That’s cold.’

‘You can see, I hope, why I don’t place the highest of trust in her assumption that these reagents are the only way. Other potioneers are more careful before reaching such conclusions, more sure, because they must be. To her, the regulations interrupted her work, rather than saving lives.’

‘I hate to say it, Ms Granger,’ he said. ‘But right now the regulations aren’t helping save lives.’

The patronus straightened with a hint of indignation. ‘I will do all I can to get what you need quickly,’ it said with Hermione’s voice. ‘But now I have answered your question, will you do what I’ve asked?’

Scorpius’ shoulders sagged. ‘Fine. All right. I’ll try saying “no” to Albus. There’s a first time for everything.’

‘Thank you,’ said the patronus. ‘You know it’s the right thing to do.’

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Was that all, Ms Granger?’

‘I...’ The patronus hesitated. ‘Your father came into the Ministry the other day to ask for an update.’

‘Really? The Prophet’s lack of news wasn’t enough for him?’

‘He was asking about means of extracting you from Hogwarts.’

Scorpius narrowed his eyes. ‘Just me?’

‘He didn’t specif-’

‘But it’s what he meant, isn’t it.’ Hermione didn’t answer, and Scorpius clenched his fist. ‘You think that’s what I want? To get out of here and leave everyone else behind to put up with all of this? Even if the quarantine and risk of infection didn’t make that impossible?’

‘I didn’t say that -’

‘You were thinking it.’ Scorpius closed his mouth to bite off another angry accusation, and exhaled slowly. ‘At least a bit. I mean, clearly you trust me to try to help Al and Rose, but you wondered a bit, didn’t you? If this was what I wanted, if I’d take any get-out my father tried to politically wrangle for me?’

Hermione’s patronus looked wryly amused. ‘Your father has never been capable of wrangling anything out of or past me.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s why all of his business interests these days are abroad.’ Scorpius straightened and stabbed an accusing finger at her. ‘I’m not leaving anyone behind. I’m not leaving anyone in the lurch. I might not be the smartest, or the strongest, or the most powerful, or even the most charming, but these are my friends and I don’t care what my father would want for me, I’m not leaving.’

‘I’m sure your father only wants what’s best for you -’

‘No, he wants to make sure there’s still an heir, because even a duff Malfoy’s better than no Malfoy at all.’ Scorpius scowled and shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘Don’t judge me by him. I’m not him.’

‘If I thought you were your father, Scorpius,’ said Hermione’s patronus in a calm, mellow voice, ‘I would never have asked you to do something difficult for the sake of your friends. I would have thought it a waste of my breath.’

There was little more to say after that than stilted, formal goodbyes, and he slunk from the Great Hall alone, listless. But the anger that had been ignited in his chest when she’d told him of his father’s request didn’t go away, and after his outburst at Albus over the letter weeks ago, he didn’t want to repeat what his best friend already knew and was surely tired of hearing: Draco Malfoy was a bastard. Normally he might have gone to harass Rose to keep his mind off it, but the near-miss hours beforehand made that seem a poor notion indeed.

Though that was an issue he could deal with later. For now he wanted to be somewhere his anger wouldn’t be a problem.

Without thinking he stormed down to his usual shelter against the world, the Slytherin common room. He was stood in the middle, the green light from the great windows showing the lake underwater spilling across him, by the time he realised where he was, and that he had no business here.

It was like a cemetery. Peaceful and quiet and funereal, and once that thought had lodged in his head, Scorpius couldn’t make it leave again. He’d always thought the common room was morbid, and had seen through the forced smiles of older students telling him it was dignified or even cosy when he’d been a first year.

He’d grown up to be one of those students lying to the younger ones. But that was how it was, wasn't it? The older and allegedly more sensible lying to the younger. Because of the assumption that the younger couldn't handle it, couldn’t be sensible about what was in front of them, and the young resented the thought until they grew up and made all the same choices as their predecessors...

A cough from the direction of the dormitories interrupted his morose philosophising, and Scorpius turned, frowning. Then another, and another, all sounding like just one person, and he broke into a jog on the stairs up, into the Second Years' dormitory.

His heart clenched into a fist when he saw the pale, thin form of Timothy Warwick lying on his bed, wracked with the choking coughs of a reflex action that made his body writhe and blood-flecked spittle fly from his mouth. Semi-conscious, in the sort of delirious, barely-aware state that was the closest any of the afflicted came to awake these days and only for very short periods, he jerked on the bed - and then the sound of coughing changed abruptly to choking.

‘House elves! Elves!’ Scorpius bellowed as he flew across the dorm, to Tim’s side, hauling the boy to sit upright and over, head down, no longer choking on his the blood that again surged up. Lockett had said something about it being a natural and even helpful reaction to a magical curse, an effort of the wizard’s body to purge taint within, but she’d also said that it was a sign of that corruption being virulent.

Scorpius had only paid so much attention to the reports of the ill, but he knew none of them had been coughing up blood in weeks.

‘Easy, Malfoy! Easy! We got him!’ Harley had arrived without Scorpius noticing, along with two of his compatriots, and they were on the bed in an instant, helping him keep Tim upright. ‘Grab that potion!’

Scorpius flapped over to the bedside table as Harley pointed, hand wavering over three different concoctions. ‘Which?’

‘Oh, you inattentive tosspot - the green one! It’ll make it better so he can sleep!’ Harley shouted over the sound of Tim’s coughing and choking. ‘Unstopper it, give it here, I’ll feed it him!’

Scorpius did so, and then stood by the bedside table, watching in utter helplessness as the elves ran through a well-practiced routine of holding up Tim so he could breathe, so he wasn’t going to choke, and so Harley could, with aid of the natural magic which made all of this possible, feed the barely-conscious boy the whole bottle of the potion. Within seconds he was relaxing, slumping, and the elves were getting him back into bed.

‘No, no - get him new sheets, he got blood on these,’ said Harley, brushing down his crumpled little suit which, too, was flecked with blood. He turned to Scorpius and tossed him the empty bottle. ‘Good job you were here, Malfoy,’ he said grudgingly. ‘It’s not good when they get like that.’

‘They haven’t been like that in weeks,’ Scorpius said. ‘Have any of the others been like it?’

Harley shook his head. ‘Nope. S’worrying. We’ll let Lockett know; she’ll know what to do,’ he said, with a firm nod and a confidence that Scorpius, remembering what Hermione Granger had told him only minutes before, couldn’t quite share.

‘Yeah.’ Scorpius frowned, putting the empty potion bottle away and shoving his hands in his pockets. Are they getting worse? ‘Well, I’ll be off.’

Harley gaped as he headed for the door. ‘Isn’t he your friend? Don’t you want to be around when Lockett gets here?’

‘I really don’t,’ said Scorpius, mind racing, and though he knew how cold and callous he had to sound, he couldn’t care less at that point. 'In fact, don't even bother to mention to Lockett that I was here.'

'Why?' Harley's face twisted. 'Someone might know a Malfoy gave a damn about someone for five seconds?'

'Exactly,' said Scorpius, not bothering to sound convincing, though his wry apathy did its own work. ‘And I’ve got places to be. Things to do. Books to read.’

Without waiting for an answer he left quickly, with no desire to give Lockett the impression he’d been anywhere near this situation, knew anything about it. But that wasn’t the only reason for his swift departure. Time was not on his side, and he had urgent business to attend to.

Urgent business in the Library.

Chapter 18: Powderkeg
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Chapter 19: Fire and Ice
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Chapter 20: Crash and Burn
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Chapter 21: Raked Over the Ashes
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