Raindrops on Roses

Chapter 11: Fifth Year Part 4: OWLs

2023

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Scorpius did not comment when three of the Gryffindor fifth years came to breakfast the next day with various magical abnormalities - one of them with chicken legs, which were undoubtedly hilarious - or when his wand was dropped onto his plate from above, and he turned to see James, Fred and Roxie walking back to the Gryffindor table. Albus cravenly chose not to meet his eyes, so he decided not to ask. In any case, the problem did not come up again for the rest of the year, and the oncoming onslaught of OWLs put paid to any ongoing protest he might have made under other circumstances.

It did make his next conversation with Stacey very awkward. "I'm so sorry," she whispered to him as they scribbled notes on The Hobbit - magical creatures from a Muggle perspective - over the scratching of quills, while Professor Clearwater marked papers at her desk.

"Forget it," he said, reddening.

"I didn't even get a chance to see if you were hurt..."

"M'fine, its taken care of." The nib of his quill snapped, and he cursed under his breath before rummaging around in his bag for another.

"I told Warren to apologise to you," she said after a brief silence.

Scorpius snorted. "Let me guess, he said no."

"I think he's a bit afraid of what might happen... after the chicken legs..."

"I didn't do that!" Scorpius protested, before he noticed she was giggling. "Very funny," he said, unable to help a small smile.

"Shh, please," called Professor Clearwater, and put an end to any more discussion on the subject.

But it was one thing to know your father had been a Death Eater at the age of sixteen. It was quite another to hear his crimes read out. To know that he had let an army of Death Eaters into Hogwarts. That he had helped one of the most evil wizards of all time come into power for a second time. He had always clung to the assumption - naive as perhaps it was - that his father had never actually killed anyone... but what he had done was in a way, worse. And his grandfather definitely had killed people, as Professor McGonagall had reminded him in front of forty of his classmates, while all the time carefully avoiding his eyes.

No wonder she hadn't wanted him at Hogwarts.

He turned down her belated offer of answering his 'concerns' as soon as Albus relayed it. What could she possibly say that would make things better? He started to dread the coming summer more than ever, knowing he would find it difficult to even look his father in the face. He wished more than ever that he could find his mother and stay with her, but despite having sent a dozen letters to the address Teddy had found, she still had not replied. Clearly she didn't want him around, even if his father would agree to such an arrangement. Which he most definitely would not.

He was so depressed that by the time the Careers Advice appointments rolled around, in the first week of the summer term, he had no energy to think up an alternative to the truth.

"I want to be a musician," he told Professor Flitwick flatly. The little wizard gave him an odd look, and a handful of pamphlets to look at. He should have known he wouldn't be taken seriously.

"He said I need more broad goals than Professional Quidditch," Albus sighed after his own appointment. "I think he's prejudiced against people who don't want to spend the rest of their lives with their heads in books."

"I thought he was quite supportive," Rose said. "He got very excited when I told him I wanted to be on the Wizengamot one day, and he suggested since I'm so good at Ancient Runes I should try curse breaking!"