Malediction: the love and life of Astoria Malfoy

Chapter Thirty

Just as the legends of Harry Potter spread like wildfire, filling any void of gossip, were a commonly known tale in my childhood, the stories of Voldemort's child spread. Stories about my son.

Perhaps they were not nearly as accepted or enthralling as the rumors of The Boy Who Lived, but they were widely known nonetheless. For two years the gossip columns had a field day, trying to decipher the "captivating mystery" of Scorpius Malfoy, (whom they were still calling "Scorpion") still besmirching the name of my child.

So, it came as a bittersweet surprise when Holly informed me she would be back in the country in the near future.

She and her husband, Ben, had lived in La Rochelle, France, for the past two years. Ben was a magizoologist studying there for a while. They would be in England for all of May, visiting their families, and Holly sent a letter asking if they could stop by.

Of course I said yes, but still, worry was tugging at the pit of my stomach for Scorpius.

On one hand, this would be great. He desperately needed some time with people his own age, and Holly had four kids she was bringing over. And, if all went as I was hoping, perhaps he would hit it off with them, and already have friends waiting for him when he got to Hogwarts. That would be amazing.

However, there of course was the other side of things.

I wasn't sure if they had yet heard the rumors about Scorpius; they had been out of the country for two years after all, hopefully enough time to evade English Wizarding news. Of course, it wasn't Holly or Ben I was worried about; I was positive that if Holly had heard the rumors, she didn't believe them. It was her children I was worried about.

If they'd believed in the gossip, and they told Scorpius about it. . . .

I still hadn't told Scorpius about the rumors. Afterall, he was six years old, too young to be worried of other's preconceived notions of him, way too young to be worried about You-Know-Who.

I would have to tell him eventually, I mean, after all, I couldn't very well have him going off to Hogwarts in five years, unprepared for the wave of speculation that undoubtedly awaited him. Just the thought made me gnash my teeth in frustration; he would have to face such absurd criticism.

Nonetheless, the sixteenth came around, and I decided to have a talk with Scorpius about it. I sat down with him at the foot of his bed, wringing my hands.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Oh, nothing's wrong sweetie," I said, dropping my hands immediately. Nothing was wrong, per say, I was just being overly dramatic -- that was all.

"So, you know my friend Holly is coming over today, and she's bringing her children. . . ."

He nodded, looking away, fixing his eyes upon the bookshelf opposite his bed. "Yeah. . . ." he said, in an awfully dejected voice.

I nudged him slightly, and he glanced up at me for a moment, and back down at his hands. "What's wrong?" I asked, genuinely thankful this conversation was veering, for I hadn't thought through how I would express my concerns for him without outwardly saying, So these kids may or may not think you're the son of Voldemort, which, by the way, so does the entire English Wizarding community, and, on top of that, I'm really hoping for you to become lifelong friends with these kids so you have allies against bullies at Hogwarts. Anyway, hopefully you're fine with all that at the mere age of six.

"I'm just a little nervous, that's all," he said, his voice timid, fumbling with his hands in his lap.

"What're you nervous about?" I asked. I mean, it was pretty obvious what he was nervous about, but again, I couldn't very well just blurt, Oh, yes, being worried about whether or not they'll be nice is a very genuine fear, and, hey, I'd be worried too. Well, good luck with that.