Eeeeee *flails* <- a verbalization of what happened inside my head at the mystery present and the significance.

Also, perfect description of a Weasley Christmas. Really.

I love it. Seriously love it.

8.1 Hogmanay in Hogsmeade

Uncle Harry delivered Rose's knife back to her personally late in the evening on New Year's Eve. Despite Al's threat to reveal Malfoy as the gift giver, he must have changed his mind. The knife underwent several days of intensive study from Uncle Bill, as a curse-breaker, and some of the Dark Magic experts in Uncle Harry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but the consensus was unanimous: it was just a knife, albeit a very fine one. Rose only had a few minutes to enjoy being the proud owner of her impressive blade before she was ushered off so they could catch their Portkey to Hogsmeade.


Spending New Year's Eve into the early morning celebrating Hogmanay in Hogsmeade village was a family tradition started when her parents were newly married and did not yet have children to tote with them. Over time, they'd added their growing family and friends to the celebration. Rose could remember being carried in a sleepy bundle over her father's shoulder, watching her mother swing overhead a charmed ball of blue fire attached to a long stick. The flame would flash into view over their heads from time to time, waking Rose again and again. Now, she and Hugo were old enough to swing the fireballs, and their parents would stroll just out of reach and catch up with the Hogsmeade villagers they hadn't seen since their last visit.


The fireball swinging took place down the high street, and when they reached the end, they threw the still-flaming balls into the lake, where they circled and bobbed on the surface of the water until the squid pulled each light under one by one or they drifted out of sight toward the castle. It was just about midnight by that point, and the parade of celebrants followed Uncle Harry in 'first-footing' into several of the homes and businesses along high street. The villagers, and indeed even many Muggles in Scotland, believed that luck followed the first visitor of the first year, especially if that visitor was a tall dark-haired man. Uncle Harry had led the first-footing for years, although James was now slightly taller and eager for a chance to lead the festivities.


"RO-O-O-SIE." They crossed in front of the Three Broomsticks, and James picked Rose up neatly with one arm. He really was quite the brute, especially with the horned Viking helmet he wore for Hogmanay effect. It was all she could do to hold on and hope the weight of his helmet didn't send them both plummeting to the sidewalk. "I get to enter first at the Hog's Head, and you go with me now that you've been pillaged."


"You think anyone will thank you to let a freckled thing cross the threshold ahead of you?"


James lowered her feet back to the ground, although he kept her pressed tight to his side. Seekers were generally slight and quick, but James preferred to play his father's old position regardless of his bulkier build. If he wanted to go professional, and Rose suspected he did in spite of James' unnatural silence on the subject, her cousin would have to be willing to switch positions. "Thank me or not, they'll feed me," he ruffled her hair with his free hand.


It was true. The homes they visited would have plenty of food to share with the visitors, and, in exchange, Mum and Aunt Gin carried gifts to share for luck in the upcoming year; mostly sprigs of juniper to be burned and salt to sprinkle on the floor as part of archaic protection spells that had long been forgotten in other parts of the world.


A few feet ahead of them, Hugo and Al teetered on the curb and sang Auld Lang Syne loudly, with Lily throwing in her own shrill descant from just behind. The weather was probably too chilly to be tramping around after dark, but Rose barely felt it iin her thick-soled boots and fur-lined cloak. Plus, they'd be inside again soon, and ol' Aberforth had glasses of firewhiskey and warm cider waiting for them. Rose tucked her head against James to warm one ear, even though doing so tugged loose the intricate Nordic-style braid she wore.


"You aren't to call yourself names, though. I would fight anyone else who tried it, so don't think I won't punch you for the same. Hard." He wound a corkscrew of hair around his finger and gave it a sharp pull, making Rose wince.


"What? Freckled? Thing? Didn't anyone ever tell you that you can't win every battle with your fists?"


She swatted at his hair-pulling, but James stubbornly held on, even pulling the strand toward his mouth as if he'd eat it. "Everyone says that, but evidence would prove otherwise. 'Sides, some boys like freckles. Not me personally, but there must be some." He grunted when her elbow connected with his gut, but still, James held onto her. In spite of his assertions otherwise, Rose could think of a fair few examples of times James had been out-smarted due to his reliance on pure physicality. He lacked subtlety, and the older they got, the more the world relied on tact and discretion. James had neither.


"Aw, Rose." He read something in her face, although she wasn't sure exactly what, and James' grin pulled into a scowl. "I wish you'd quit messing around with Malfoy. I don't know what your game is, but now you've got Wood playing it too."


It rubbed Rose all the wrong ways that he called Jayne by her last name, as if she was one of the boys on his squad and not practically a sister. Perhaps that was the problem, then... he saw Jayne as an extension of Rose, and it was impossible to extricate the two. It was unfortunate that Jayne seemed to have developed a deeper attachment to James, especially because Rose wasn't sure James had the capacity to love anything more than his broom and himself. Just her own impartial observation, of course.


"Jayne isn't playing," Rose responded softly. "If you don't like seeing her on a date with Malfoy, you could do something about it." Although her friend had said she didn't need assistance getting a date to Hogsmeade, there was no way James was going to make that leap on his own. He needed a gentle nudge, and Rose was very good at getting people where they needed to go.


"I told her I forbade it, and she laughed at me." It rankled with him, too, if his tone was any indication. "I could tell him I forbid it, but Malfoy does things just to make me angry, it seems. Suppose I could get the lads together for a little physical intimidation. Aiden and Fred would help, I'm sure."


Fred was Head Boy, though, and Rose sincerely doubted that he was foolish enough to bully another student and put his position in jeopardy, regardless of how much James loathed having Malfoy theoretically pawing up a Gryffindor female. "I didn't... Merlin, you forbade it? You big-headed idiot, why don't you just officiate at their wedding or something? Telling Jayne not to do something is an engraved invitation." Pot, meet kettle. They were Gryffindor women, after all. "I was suggesting something more along the lines of preempting him."


James didn't respond, which was unusual of itself, and Rose closed the loop for him. "You ask her first." She didn't bother explaining to him that there was no real harm in Malfoy, or that Jayne didn't have any romantic feelings for the Slytherin boy, or, especially, that Jayne would much prefer to go to Hogsmeade with James. She'd leave a bit of mystery in his life.


When he remained silent, Rose sagged against him, and she'd just decided he was a hopeless case, when James burst out, "I'm just saying... it's never a good idea to ally yourself with a Slytherin. They don't play by the same rules as the rest of us, and it's impossible to win." And another impossible thing? Getting through to one James Sirius Potter. He was clearly stuck in a place where what Malfoy did or wanted was more important than the bigger picture, and Rose didn't fancy spending the rest of the holiday trying to talk him into anything. She'd let the idea of asking Jayne to Hogsmeade percolate a little longer before revisiting the topic.


"Not everything is about winning," Rose's mother fell into step beside James and gave his arm a tap with one finger, encouraging him to let Rose go. "I think you're to lead the charge this time, Jamie. Best run up to the front or your brother might have a go in your place." James released Rose with a final tug to her rapidly disintegrating hair style and jogged to the head of their small party where Uncle Harry and Rose's father were setting the pace.


Hermione Granger-Weasley shared some of Rose's physical attributes. For one, Rose had inherited her mother's fine-boned facial structure, a special blessing since Hugo had inherited the long Weasley nose and sharp chin, features that were better pulled off on Hugo's broad, masculine face. Rose also had the texture and curl from her mother's unruly hair, although Rose had conquered her curls with hair potions and determination, and her mother had conquered them by cutting most of it off and layering the rest. It had taken her several decades to realize that the only real way to overcome disastrous hair was to have less of it.


Rose wondered just how much of the conversation had been overheard until Mum slid an arm over Rose's shoulder and murmured, "Maybe you should tell me about Scorpius Malfoy now, hmm?" They were nearly of a height, an oddity Rose had noticed more and more recently when she couldn't tuck her head in against her mother for a quick hug anymore. "Believe it or not, I'm not a stranger to the appeal of the forbidden fruit, Rosie."


Ew. Were they really having this conversation about her mother? And with Dad strolling up the street just a few meters ahead of them? Rose scowled, although the dark hid her displeasure. It was Hogmanay, and they were supposed to be having fun. There was nothing fun about one's parents revealing horrifying information that was likely to leave lasting damage to her psyche.


"Lily has been telling her mother the most interesting stories about you, and about Jayne too." Of course. Lily couldn't be trusted to keep her mouth shut, and she'd gone blabbing to Aunt Gin. It was likely the entire Weasley clan, from Uncle Percy all the way to Uncle Charlie off in Peru, knew that Rose had been seen keeping company with Scorpius Malfoy.


"People have nothing better to do than gossip about things they don't understand. It's just gossip. I promise."


"That's pretty much what I told your father. I know that if there was something to tell us, you would do so." Rose's stomach dropped considerably, in spite of the loving pat Mum gave her shoulder. Super. Her father had heard about the Malfoy stuff too? In truth, her mother had an uncanny way of simply knowing things, and Rose told her parents nearly everything out of the expectation that omissions would be spotted immediately. She didn't struggle with the legacy of being the remarkable Hermione Granger's daughter for nothing... her mother was still remarkable. Fastest to be promoted at the Ministry, easily beating Uncle Percy's record, and now her name was attached to nearly every new piece of legislation that came out of the Minister's office. It was no mystery that Rose had her eye on Head Girl when it was the only position her mother had never managed to achieve. And that was only because Mum hadn't been at Hogwarts for her seventh year. She'd been saving the world, a feat Rose was certain she'd never be able to match.


Somehow, in spite of Rose's desire not to talk about Potions class and the Quidditch tryout, she found her mother pulling details from the past few months out of her. Talking about Malfoy gave him more weight than he deserved and more than she felt he ought to have, despite the number of times he'd come up in conversation over the Christmas holiday. It wasn't as if she'd personally initiated those conversations, though, and Rose was looking forward to getting back to a place where Malfoy was just part of the scenery and not everyone's favorite subject matter. If people would just stop talking about him all the time, he would be on her mind less.


"Can we skip the part where you talk about forbidden fruit, please? Since I'm not dealing with any fruit, forbidden or not, you know?" Rose and her mother paused on the street as James stomped across the threshold of the Hog's Head, raising a giant cheer from those gathered within. The rest of the group soon followed, and Rose was delighted by the warmth from the roaring fire and heated cider waiting for them at the bar. The Hog's Head was never the cleanest of establishments, and honestly, Rose wouldn't enter it without an adult in company, but it was a welcome respite in the middle of their Hogmanay evening. Across the bar, James hooked an elbow around Al's neck as he led the small group of celebrants and fellow first-steppers in another rambling version of Auld Lang Syne, and Rose was astonished to note that Al was the same height as his brother, albeit whippet thin and angular.


The patrons cheered again, and Uncle Harry herded them toward the door. There were a few cottages and businesses left to visit before Hogmanay ended and they were all trooped home to drop exhausted into bed. Before they left, Aunt Gin snuffed out the burning sprig of juniper in her hand, letting the aromatic smoke curl in rings around the door. It filled Rose's nose as she passed back into the cold night air, and she emerged from the pub coughing. It was a good cough, however, sort of cleansing, and she felt a bit like a phoenix breaking back into a world full of sharp edges and colors muted by the waxing moon after the haze of smoke.


Rose was always one to feel the shiny promise of a new year, like a freshly minted galleon to turn over in her hands. In this moment, with her hair fragrant with juniper smoke and the people she loved winding their way down the high street and singing obnoxiously in the lengthening shadows, Rose felt the press of all her hopes for the upcoming year pushing out of her skin. There was something else, though, something dark and unsatisfied as she gazed at the year that stretched ahead of her. Nebulous though it may be, it felt like dissatisfaction, and all Rose could do was pull her cloak tight around her body and hurry after her family in hopes that celebrating might tamp that strange emotion back down where it belonged.

Another chapter that's easy to visualize. And I'm glad she got her knife back. Plus, the fact that Scorp is forbidden fruit is lol.

Ooooh wonderful chapters! Fantastics family interactions! I'm liking Rose more and more. And aah James must be so frustrating to her he can be so dense! But what's happening with Scorp...?

Ah forbidden fruit...

So anyway, after a not-so-brief hiatus..... here's an update!

8.2 The Past is History

"Didn't you miss your parents?" Apollo asked as he walked with Scorpius to their History of Magic lesson first thing on Monday morning. It was the first day back for most of the students, and the first day of classes after the holiday. The Sixth year Slytherins and Gryffindors who happened to take the subject were unfortunate that their first lesson of the week was one that the majority had trouble staying awake for in the first place. Scorpius was looking forward to it.

"Well, of course." Scorpius nodded to emphasise his answer. The Malfoys were a closely knit family. Something which often surprised those who did not know them. They sort of had to be though, especially since the war. His father had explained it by posing a question, something he often did in order to get Scorpius to think about it and draw his own conclusions. 'Who else but family?' True, their family was growing now: with the Greengrass and Zabini connection, and Scorpius was close to both sets of grandparents, as well as his Aunt Daphne and Uncle Blaise, but any loyalties beyond the Malfoy family were just that. Beyond.

"You won't see them again until the end of term?"

"No, father said that he and mum would try to attend a Quidditch match while Slytherin are playing." Scorpius was a little bit worried about that. The last game, they had lost. He'd not played terribly but he'd been distracted and Scorpius felt he'd led badly as a result. A leader couldn't afford to be distracted. A Captain couldn't afford to be distracted.

He'd written his father about it, and Draco Malfoy had written back detailing a game where he had played Seeker against the one and only Harry Potter and lost. Scorpius wasn't sure if it was meant to comfort him, since there hadn't been any overt words of comfort in the owl, but he'd felt better anyway. It had felt like commiseration at least, and a subtle reminder that pride could be a downfall. One thing for sure, James Potter wasn't half the Seeker that his father had once been, and really should be playing a different position. If James Potter had been on Scorp's team, it would be as a beater. Not knowing that, and being prideful in his choice to play Seeker meant that he wasn't as good of a Captain as Scorpius was: Scorpius who had led his team to victory the previous year. He could do it again, he just had to find a way to retain his focus. His mind was wandering again even now and he had to blink and concentrate on Apollo sharing what he'd been doing over the Christmas break.

"So I pretty much just helped out in the store and I have no idea how many times I had to restock the shelves but it would have been a heck of a lot easier if I could have used magic. One more week!" Apollo headed into the class in front of him, pushing past a couple of Gryffindors who were reluctantly hovering in the doorway as though crossing the threshold would be on par with a trip to one of those tooth-pulling doctors that muggles went to. Apollo didn't pay them any mind but Scorpius waited for them to move before he followed his friend inside.

One more week.

Apollo would be seventeen and therefore be of age and able to use magic outside of school, whereas Scorpius had to wait until the summer before he'd be of age.

Binns actually began droning before the students had even finished filing in. It was as though he had some kind of internal ghost clock to which he ran his classes, he certainly didn't seem to care whether or not the room was full.

Scorpius watched as Rose and Albus hurried in and claimed the table just in front but in the next row over from where he and Apollo had settled. He tried to be subtle about it and startled when Apollo nudged him roughly. Scorp focused on Binns again as shiny new text books were distributed to the students and he wasn't the only student in the room to freeze up at the introduction of the topic.

"This most recent turn of the century was a violent era, one fraught with peril and brimming with prejudice towards those with Muggle blood running through their veins. The mid to late nineteen-nineties in particular is what we shall focus on for this next topic for your NEWT level preparation. This is the first year in which the events of the second war against Lord Voldemort have been included in the curriculum. -"

Scorpius noted that this was possibly the first time that he had seen the entire class pay attention to the monotonous and terribly paced words of the ghostly Professor Binns and he wasn't the only one to shoot speculative looks towards Rose and Albus... and he was aware of that uncomfortable prickling sensation on the back of his neck that suggested he was attracting such looks himself. Professor Binns made no comments whatsoever on the fact that his class included several children of the very people who had been central to the Second Wizardng War, he just continued to introduce his lecture.

"-Some suggest it is a fallacy to label the First and Second Wizarding Wars separately, and maintain that the second was simply a continuation of the first, that the fight was not over, only delayed by The Boy-Who-Lived, now the most estimable Head Auror in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Harry James Potter."

Scorp's eyes trailed sideways and he watched Albus Potter sink low in his seat, Rose shifting closer to him in support. Nobody was taking notes. He opened the text book reluctantly, careful not to damage the spine as he tentatively flipped pages until he found the section concerning his family. He gaped at the pages and then flipped quickly to the front of the book, looking for the publication date. Christmas day! The books were a little more than a week old and already part of the curriculum? He glanced towards Rose again, noting that she was looking determined and had picked up a quill. Presumably she was taking notes and he couldn't imagine why she would, on her own family. It was so strange hearing a story he knew, but hearing it from such a dispassionate and alien point of view. There was rather a lot missing, Scorpius thought. Whoever had written it was very, very pro-Potter.

Apollo nudged him again, gently this time, pointing out the silvery script on the cover which indicated the book had been published with the support of the Ministry of Magic and approved by Kingsley Shacklebolt. Scorpius turned in his seat and looked directly at Yates, who was smiling. Pride? Pleasure? Enjoyment? Scorp couldn't tell and he turned around again, trying to pay attention and mentally sort what was apparently the official, historical account from what he'd been told. He wondered if Rose had heard this version of events? How different could it be? Surely this business was the version she knew already? Why was she still taking notes? And how had Binns been convinced to update his material? Had he ever covered anything 'new' in his life? Or his afterlife, for that matter?

When the lecture reached its end, Professor Binns assigned 10 Inches of parchment detailing 'How the Chamber of Secrets had come to be opened during the 1992-1993 school year'. And Scorpius shot an uneasy look towards Potter's back. There wasn't much in this text book about the things he knew, very little about cursed diaries or how Ginevra Weasley had come into possession of the one belonging to Tom Riddle. Naturally there weren't any quotes from his grandparents or his father in the book. The Malfoys had decided early on that silence was the best policy regarding certain events. Had they known about this book? Scorpius wanted to go and owl his father immediately to ask. Apollo nudged him again, looking concerned this time.

"Class is over." He pointed out, and then, in an attempt to be comforting, "hey. It's no big deal. The assignments will be a breeze, right?"

Sure. A breeze.

Scorpius nodded and looked at the other table again, but Rose and her cousin had already left. It was a shame actually. Scorpius realized that he'd wanted to say something, though he couldn't think of what that something might be. Sometimes recent history was safer not to talk about with his peers.

"Are you going to the library again?"

The question startled him as he packed his things up. He'd been planning to. Or, well, he hadn't been planning to exactly but... well it had become a habit. Scorpius had free time until his afternoon lessons began just after lunch. He hadn't realized it had become a noticeable habit, that was all. "Yes, I suppose so."

"I'll come with you." Apollo offered.

"No." Scorpius spoke too quickly and he watched Apollo frown at him. He backed up towards the classroom door. "You don't have to that is." Scorp added, too casually. "I'll see you later."

"Suit yourself then." Apollo answered quietly and Scorpius practically fled from the empty room and his friend's speculative gaze.

Parents are definitely so mortifying, and parents who become part of the curriculum even worse.

yeaaaaah that would be so awkward...also...can i slap that smug look off of Yates' face?

8.3 The Study of Ancient Runes

In the first week back after the holiday, classes were dull as students moved sluggishly through the corridors toward their classes. They were all physically in attendance, although not all of them managed to stay awake through entire class sessions. It seemed that many of Rose's classmates had returned in body only. Their brains were still on holiday. Rose, on the other hand, was eager for classes to begin again, and she attended each with a certain amount of anticipation for what was to come. It felt as if she was striking each note perfectly on pitch, performing well in class while her fellow sixth years seldom even raised their hands, showing up for prefect rounds with a noticeably dragging Yates, and accomplishing her homework well ahead of time - enough time that she was able to help Al get his done too.

After all, if he was going to be Head Boy, he needed to show that he could keep exemplary grades as well.

On the first Thursday in January, all the NEWT level sixth years had Ancient Runes together right after breakfast, and that was when Rose first felt her tenuous hold on perfection began to slip. Once again, all the seats in class were filled except for the one beside Malfoy, and she was forced to march between the rows of desks with her chin jutting stubbornly against the unwanted attention she received. Somehow, in spite of many of their NEWT level classes coinciding, Rose had managed to avoid sitting with Malfoy again without having to make any real effort. With a slight pang of guilt, Rose realized that she hadn't noticed until this year how many classes she and Malfoy had in common, not even when the Gryffindors and Slytherins were assigned to class together. She had no clue how well he did in Ancient Runes; she had no clue how he did in any of his classes aside from Potions. His feelings might be wounded terribly to know that Rose hadn't been paying attention to his performance in class, aside from the fact that he was behind her in the rankings. Everyone was, or else why even bother taking a class?

"Malfoy." Ignoring him gave him even more importance, so Rose tossed off a bored greeting before leaning forward to greet the girl sitting on Malfoy's other side. "Gracie. I wanted to talk to you about something we talked about at the prefect meeting last night." The meeting that Malfoy hadn't attended, as he wasn't a prefect, and thus could not participate in their conversation.

Gracie, looking more flushed than usual, began to offer a tentative invitation to speak after class when Malfoy put his elbow on his desk and effectively ended their conversation. "Good morning, Rose. How was the holiday?"

Gracie peeked around Malfoy, giving Rose a look that was all big eyes and surprise, and Rose knew exactly how the girl felt. What was this, then? Calling her by her given name and asking after her holiday? If he hadn't sounded completely sincere, and if there hadn't been a lack of Slytherins in this particular class, Rose would suspect him of mockery, a joke she didn't understand but still somehow managed to be the butt. Even still, she figured he was trying to confuse her. When someone didn't have the goods necessary to perform a given task, he often resorted to childish tactics such as this.

Or perhaps the favor she'd asked of him before Christmas, and the fact that he was now rather close to her own friend, made him feel that efforts at friendship were required. If that was the case, Rose ought to reciprocate, particularly since he had done her such a favor with Jayne. Her response came just a moment too long after his question, and she couldn't quite force her tone into entirely casual cadences, but Rose managed a, "Quite good, thank you. And... yours?"

She expected an equally evasive answer, but Malfoy gave her a keen look when he responded. "Restful, I suppose. And thought-provoking." There was something in the quality of Malfoy's voice that suggested he knew more than he was letting on, which Rose supposed was uniquely Slytherin. It piqued her curiosity too... just what was Malfoy curious about?

There wasn't opportunity to ask, however, as Professor Bathsheda Babbling announced her presence in the room with the quick click-click of her heels as she crossed to her desk. Her trim mauve robes swished over the pointed little granny boots the woman favored, and she gave the class only a cursory flat look before turning to the board. Babbling was a demanding professor and intimidated a number of students out of her class each year both with the rigor of her classwork and with her strident personality, both of which earned the woman all of Rose's devotion. On the first day of class in third year, the woman had paused during roll call and gave Rose a squinting look through old-fashioned wire framed spectacles. "Granger's girl, is it? Don't you think you can rest on her laurels, girl, or you'll be out of here faster than a billywig on coffee beans." Most of her classmates had looked aghast, but Rose just grinned happily and accepted it as a mark of honor. Her mother had been outstanding in Ancient Runes, and Rose was going to be at least that good.

Even upon showing up at the start of this year with her "O" OWL in hand, Babbling had given her that same steely squint through the spectacles and said, "See if you can't make it all the way through this course, Weasley. Most of your classmates won't have the luxury of skipping the entire seventh year and still getting a plum job at the Ministry." Her classmates might be inclined to bristle at the rather pointed jabs coming from Babbling over their four years in her classroom, but Rose enjoyed the challenge - both from the material and in proving Babbling wrong.

"You should all have your Spellman's Syllabary and Rune Dictionary with you this morning. If not, please return to your common room to retrieve them, and do not bother to return. I cannot abide time wasters, and you are all old enough to remember to bring a text to class. You will receive incomplete marks for today's work, but I'm a generous soul and will allow you to complete the homework for partial credit." Babbling never turned from the board as she wrote out a series of runes, her neatly pinned chignon bobbing as she spoke to the wall. Early on in their career in this class, Slytherin Selina Evercreech had made the mistake of murmuring under her breath about Babbling's talking hair style, and the girl had been barred from returning to class when she was overheard. No one spoke without permission since that day.

When no one departed, Babbling smugly nodded and gestured toward the tidy pile of ancient texts stacked on the corner of her desk. The covers were well worn and faded, but even from several rows back, Rose could see the runic lettering on the spines. "Independent study. I have no desire to deal with incompetence today. You will each work silently at translating the first chapter. Whatever you do not finish will be completed as homework. There will be no talking or sharing of work, and I want you to check your notes thoroughly before bringing asinine questions to my desk." Her hair bobbled as she finished scrawling out the assignment, in runes, of course, and then Babbling took to her seat and picked up a book of her own to read as they worked.

Independent study in Ancient Runes wasn't unusual; it wasn't a subject that leant itself to continuous class lecture after the history and usage was delved into over the first three years of study. NEWT level classes were more devoted to practical and historical usages, in addition to the more popular runecasting. Most of the classmates who dropped out of the class did so upon realizing Ancient Runes wasn't another Divination class, where showing up and pretending to see things in the glass would achieve a passing grade. Babbling had repeated again and again in their studies that no one could properly read a runecast without fully understanding the mythology, culture, and history of the people who had developed the runic alphabet. Rose likened the subject more to a Muggle foreign language class, albeit one in which there were no native speakers of the language and in which the very letters held inherent magical properties. The class was one of her favorites.

Malfoy brought back a copy of the text from the front of the room for herself and Gracie, and although Rose ignored that look from the Ravenclaw prefect this time, she still stared at the book on her desk for a full minute as if expecting it to reach out and bite her if she opened it. Were they friends, then? It would take some mental adjusting to think of him as such, especially because she could count on one hand the number of conversations they'd had and she could count on zero fingers the actual truths she knew about him. A thing was only true if it came from the source, so she had to logically discount all those things she believed could be true simply because they'd been passed around from person to person.

If she made an effort, though, and she was wrong in her assumption that his gestures were friendly, then she would be mocked for being overly familiar. Nothing would please Burke or Nott more than watching a stupid little Gryffindor fumble at Malfoy. Lily was already making a fool of herself, and she saw how it amused them. Rose wasn't allowing herself to fall into that trap. If Malfoy was sincere, he'd have to make much bigger steps to prove it. And if he was trying to make her look stupid, then he was fooling with the wrong Lion.

Having reached that resolution, Rose cracked the spine of her text carefully and began the slow work of translating the old runic letters into English. It was meticulous work for her, as she puzzled over verb tenses and worried about intention and interpretation for every carefully uncovered sentence. Translation was more than just swapping one language for another, and Rose wanted to make sure that the finished product made sense and retained the integrity of the original work. It wasn't brainless work at all, but when they were over halfway through the class period and Rose found she was only halfway through her text, she felt as if she was making steady progress. There would certainly be work left over, but less in the long run since her finished product was so carefully translated. Considering Swinbourne and Belby were still in the first pages and AnneMarie Caxton had her head down on her desk, Rose was going to chalk up the Malfoy confusion as a blip in her otherwise perfect streak.

Beside her, Malfoy closed his text and stretched silently. Much as Rose tried to stay immersed in her work, she couldn't help but watch him make his way to Babbling's desk. The professor ignored him for a long moment as she finished a paragraph in her book, and then she closed it with her finger marking the page. If Malfoy wasn't careful, he'd get a reaming for interrupting the woman with a ridiculous question, and Rose felt a fluttering of nerves on his behalf. She scolded herself over it; she should have been pleased or at least politely disinterested. Perhaps they were friends.

"What, Malfoy?"

"What would you like us to do next, Professor?"

"Next?" Babbling regarded him with mild surprise. "You've finished?" Rose flipped through her own text with ink-stained fingers, but she still had several pages to go. How could he be finished when the rest of the class wasn't remotely close?

He offered his roll of parchment silently, and Babbling perused the first few lines with a critical eye. Malfoy shot an amused look in Rose's direction before Babbling handed it back, and Rose dropped her eyes back to her work guiltily. More than getting caught watching him, the shared intimacy of that moment befuddled her. She caught up the line she'd been working on in her ancient text and tried to find that place where the world ceased to exist aside from her and her project.

"Well enough, Malfoy." The crinkle of paper suggested his parchment had been returned, but Rose focused on her work. Ehwaz. Perth.

"Thank you, Professor. What should I work on now?"

"Entertain yourself for the next twenty minutes. Surely you can manage that."

Against her will, Rose glanced up as Malfoy returned to his seat, and they shared an amused look for half a moment before she recalled herself. She slid down a bit in her seat and redoubled her efforts on the translation, ignoring the funny warm feeling. It wasn't often she got to be part of the joke, either because she was the joke or because the things she found amusing seemed to pass other people by without notice. In fact, Rose hadn't realized anyone else found Babbling's bark as amusing as she did, and the fact Malfoy did made him just a bit more accessible.

"I'll beat you next time," Rose murmured, a subtle swipe at an errant curl blocking her words from Babbling. She flicked her eyes at Malfoy and gave him a fierce little grin.

"Give that a shot," Malfoy encouraged with a quirk of his own expressive mouth. Beyond him, Gracie shot panicked looks at the professor, who pretended to be unaware that there was talking in her otherwise silent classroom.

She shoved back the sleeves of her robes and returned to her work, and to her surprise, Rose was easily able to finish the rest of the chapter by the time class ended. Perhaps proper motivation was all that was required. Yes, she'd been upstaged by Malfoy in Runes, but she found she didn't mind it as much as she thought. It certainly gave her something to work toward in their next independent study period. As Babbling dismissed the class and Rose packed up her textbooks, she lingered thoughtfully. It wasn't usually difficult to pin a name to what she felt about things, as Rose spent a lot of time identifying and describing her feelings in her journal, but the confusion and warmth she felt at the moment was new. And while not at all unpleasant, Rose felt it best to quash anything she couldn't explain before it got out of control.

Malfoy reached across the aisle as the rest of the class streamed from the room, tapping her wrist with his finger. The skin there was pale and puckered slightly from a burn she'd received in her youth, although Rose didn't recall the specifics at the moment. She was too shocked at his breach of her personal space, and she raised disbelieving eyes to his face.

"Looks like it hurt. You have to watch out for those salamanders." He gave her that smile again, the sincere one that actually reached his eyes and didn't make her feel mocked in the least. At his words, she did remember receiving the burn in Care of Magical Creatures class several years back as she fought a particularly wriggly little lizard and nearly fell face first into the fire. But how did he...?

"It did," Rose touched the spot herself and glanced back up, but Malfoy was gone.

Okay, I feel like a stalker. But a good stalker, one that gets rewarded.

And I'm oddly amused atthesalamander reference given CoMC lessons this term in the RP.

And also, confusing Scorp is being confusing.

8.4 Like a Fungus

Quidditch practice was always the best part of the week for Scorpius and today was no exception. The Wednesday practice ran for two hours between the last class of the day and dinner. Practices were open so students who were not on the Slytherin Quidditch Team could come along and watch if they wanted. Scorpius didn't mind because he often went along to the other house practices himself, but usually when there was an audience they were Quidditch Players. Not so today.There was a gaggle of Gryffindor girls-including Lily Potter- up in the stands watching and giggling and every now and then applauding which set some of his younger players distracted and breaking into laughter. At the Gryffindors, he suspected, rather than because of him.

He wasn't inclined to let it interrupt practice, and yelled at his teammates to focus. Usually Scorpius wrapped things up with about ten minutes to spare so there'd be time to shower before heading to the Great Hall for dinner, but today practice had run long and they were all tired when he finally called it to a halt. The next game was to be Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff but Scorpius didn't see that as a reason to slack off. They'd be up against Ravenclaw in just a few weeks and Christine Macmillian had put together a formidable team. They were all small and fast and he needed a new strategy to combat the Eagle strengths: Ravenclaw had become the team to beat.

"Alright, good scramble everyone." Scorpius called out after catching the Quaffle for the final time. The team landed and he watched them for a bit before he circled lazily to the ground himself and dismounted in one fluid motion. Takeshi waved over at him and headed off with Pucey, likely to get a shower in before dinner. Scorpius would follow as soon as the Quidditch equipment was put away. He swung his broom over his shoulder and went over to the trunk where Eurydice was already helpfully trying to wrestle a bludger back into its restraints. The other was strapped in already. He grinned at her in thanks and saw her expression change as she looked at something over his shoulder.

"Scorpius," Lily Potter approached breathlessly, her hands clasped in front of her. She'd obviously taken great pains with her appearance - her auburn hair was swept up into ringlets and she wore a snowy white coat over a white dress and tights that had somehow managed not to pick up any grass or mud from the field. "That was a wonderful practice. You lead with such... authority."

"... Its Malfoy." He corrected and then straightened up from the act of returning the Quaffle to the box, resisting the urge to glance around for Albus or James Potter. Why would this one be here if not to spy or deliver some kind of challenge to duel at midnight or other similar nonsense? Yes, he'd seen her in the stands but still. It was odd. No reason not to be polite though, he supposed.

"Potter." He greeted her and then he shot a look over at Dicey who was trying not to snigger as she shut and latched the equipment trunk. Scorpius was suspicious. Fourth years. They were trouble.

"See you later, Cap'n." Dicey told him, and levitated the trunk, taking it with her as she left. Scorpius could see her shoulders shaking as she walked and uneasily he shifted his broom to his other shoulder and turned back to regard Lily Potter. What did she want?

"Lily," she corrected him, stepping forward eagerly as soon as Eurydice had gone. Her hands fluttered a bit in his direction before she clasped them again. He eyed Lily and her worrisome hands as she continued to speak.

"I don't blame you for not wanting me to call you by your first name, just in case people thought we were being too familiar, but Al and Rose and... and Jayne call you Scorp, so I don't think anyone would think a thing on it. And really, I don't care what they think. I don't." She said it all in one breath, except for a slight stumble over Jayne's name.

And then Lily sparkled in his direction.

They called him Scorp? Well, he knew Jayne did, but Rose and Albus too? That meant they discussed him. That was far more familiar than Malfoy. He shifted his weight to one foot and let the handle of his broom drop to rest on the ground between them. A barrier perhaps.

"Lily, then." He glanced towards the castle. He'd run out of time to change before dinner if he didn't go now. "Was there something...?" Besides all that alarming sparkling. He watched her turn around to wave off her friends, who left in a little crowd of giggles. His alarm was growing and Scorp looked over at the giggling Gryffindor girls, not wanting to know exactly what they were laughing about, or what they were planning to do now.

"I thought you might want to walk with me back to the castle," Lily offered a hand in his direction, perhaps an invitation to hold it or just a beckoning gesture. Scorpius eyed her hand like it was a serpent poised to strike and then flicked his eyes up to meet hers as she added: "...so I can tell you how much I admire you."

Scorpius wasn't stupid, nor was he a stranger to being crushed on but... Lily Potter? He couldn't help but wonder what Rose would write in her little journal if he said something scathing to her cousin. Aside from not being able to shower before dinner, it was harmless to humour her a little, surely? He'd be polite at least. And hopefully she'd go away soon.

"I am going that way." He said finally. "And you.... don't need to share your admiration, really." Really and truly.

"I don't mind." She snatched up his broom and started walking. Scorpius snatched futilely after his broom and resisted the urge to hex her. After a slight hesitation he caught her up, reluctantly walking alongside. "I think you're a better Quidditch player than James is." Lily said conversationally, as if she hadn't just stolen his broom in order to force him into following her. "And you don't have to yell as much during practice, which probably means you're a better captain, doesn't it? I mean Sloper... have you seen the color he turns during practice?"

Scorpius was a little surprised. Yes he knew he was better than James, but hardly expected Lily here to acknowledge that. As for mention of Sloper, the Hufflepuff Captain... Scorpius laughed quietly, still a little uneasy. "I didn't know you were into Quidditch." He tried to grab for his broom again, but Lily took it as invitation and grabbed his hand, letting it swing between them.

She batted those big dark eyes at him, "I'm a Potter."

And presumptuous apparently. Scorpius forcibly extracted his hand and shoved both of his hands in his pockets. Safer. He eyed his broom regretfully as they closed the distance to the castle. "If I don't care about Quidditch, they don't let me talk at dinner." She added.

"So why don't you play?" He asked, plotting how to reacquire his broom in a way that wouldn't cause some kind of blood feud.

Lily pouted at him. "I play. We all play. I just don't like people hitting balls at my face," Lily moved in his direction, bumping her elbow against his.

"You're supposed to dodge the balls, or catch em'." Scorpius pointed out.

"Are you really dating Jayne Wood?"

"We went on a few dates." He acknowledged, smoothly trying to extract himself once more, and once more to no avail. It was like a dance. "Dated. Past tense, I suppose. She's very nice." And he supposed he could openly say he and Jayne were friends. He'd certainly rather her company right then. Jayne didn't give him a sense of impending doom like Lily Potter was currently doing.

"And before that, Rosie. James says you're having a Gryffindor phase. Maybe to make your parents pay attention to you. Are you having a Gryffindor phase?" she offered his broom in a way that forced eye contact.

"Ro..." He blinked at her and paused in the action of reaching for his broom, caught off guard. He didn't know where to start with that one. Rose. Gryffindor phase. Parents. Rose. "No, Rose... she.. we never..." He breathed out in frustration and tried to tackle the easy part instead. Thinking about Rose meant thinking about the journal and feeling that strange urge to go and skim through it a bit. And it made him feel a bit strange to even picture her being part of some sort of... phase. Not that he was having a phase. Or that, if he did have one, it would be of the Gryffindor variety. And if he DID have a Gryffindor phase, it wouldn't include anyone related to Lily Potter. Especially not Rose Weasley.

"I'm not having any sort of phase and I get plenty of attention from my parents. James can sod off. Your brother, he's a bit of a prat, are you aware?" Did they really all think that he lacked parental attention? How strange. Just because there weren't a million Malfoys trying to squeeze into a space the size of a couple of shoeboxes crushed and balanced end to end, it didn't mean he had a shoddy family life.

"He's a Potter too." Lily responded simply. Clearly she knew that the prat thing was a family trait. What did that make her then? Presumptuous was the first adjective that came to mind. She put herself in his arms and Scorp stared down at the fourth year, not entirely sure about how to go about escaping. "If you're looking for a Gryffindor girl, I happen to know a few that make Jayne and Rose pale in comparison. Boyish and boring... Don't give up on us yet."

Um.

"... Good to know." He answered faintly. No. It wasn't. For starters, he doubted that one claim. Rose was... Rose, and Jayne was terrific. He wasn't looking for any Gryffindors and there wouldn't be any giving up or not giving up. Non-issue, Lily Potter. "Listen, I should change for dinner." He was pretty much out of time already but it was an excuse to leave.

... preferably before anyone actually saw them.

"You're perfect just as you are. I think the Quidditch uniforms are particularly masculine, don't you? It's a shame for the girls who play, but the boys always look so marvelous." She petted his arm a bit with one hand and Scorpius tried to ignore it.

"Right." Scorpius ran one hand through his hair and took a casual side step away as they entered the Entrance Hall. "Well. I guess it was... nice... talking to you." With utter relief, he finally rescued his broom and angled it away from her so she couldn't grab it again.

"You too." Lily sparkled at him again and Scorpius tried not to panic. "We could sit together at dinner."

"I sit at the Slytherin table." He reminded her. She was a Gryffindor. People could harp on about how things were more friendly between houses now than they ever were before but that was a pretty broad generalisation, and people didn't just go and sit at other tables and that applied to Potters and Malfoys especially. And Weasleys. He wouldn't ever mosey over and sit with Rose, for example. Not that it had ever crossed his mind. Best look away from all of Lily's sparkling. He forced a smile at her distractedly and then headed into the great hall, broom safely in hand.

Unbeknowst to Scorpius, Lily tagged along behind. There were a few shouts and calls from the Gryffindor table. Scorp didn't hear James Potter calling out to his sister, but he did notice the expressions on the faces of his house mates as he approached the Slytherin table, ranging from puzzlement to amusement to disgust and everything in between. He sat down in the space that Takeshi Haneda had saved for him, only noticing Lily when she tried to squeeze in next to him on his other side. He tried not to gape. Was this a joke? Lily tapped a third year on the head. "Scoot, please."

Scorp kept a white-knuckled hold of his broom and shot a furious look at the third year that had obligingly scooted for Lily. So he'd eat fast. And escape. And shoot slightly panicked looks over at Rose in particular, but also at Jayne. Come and FETCH your stray Gryffindor!

"Lily Potter, what a pleasure." It was Nera, voice dripping with sweetness from across the table. "Scorpius, where are your manners, why don't you pour dear Lily here a drink?" He might murder her, Scorpius rather thought. He might murder everyone. Was there a special term to describe murdering a cousin? But then Nera winked at him and spoke again. "Oh look, the Cavalry comes."

Lily, who had daintily slung one foot over the bench, was suddenly hauled backward by Albus Potter. Scorpius eyed the Gryffindor boy warily and twisted in his seat slightly to better see.

"Need to speak with you, dear sister. 'Lo, Malfoy. 'Lo, Zabini." Said Albus quite cheerfully.

Nera simply waggled her fingers in response, her eyes were on Scorpius, who had spotted Rose waiting a few feet behind. Cavalry indeed. Rose offered Malfoy an amused look before she linked her arm through Lily's and helped Al frogmarch her back to the Gryffindor table. Scorpius kept his eyes on her... them. On them.

"Her derangement is impressive. We should appoint her your official stalker." Takeshi said this with a perfectly straight face, and it actually took Scorpius a few seconds to realise the other boy was teasing. He tore his eyes away from Rose and her cousins.

"Next time, do feel free to step in." Scorpius said.

"You did just fine." Takeshi assured him.

"Wouldn't want to cramp your style, Cap'n." Dicey leaned past Takeshi to deftly catch up a bread roll and insert herself into the conversation that she'd clearly been listening in on. "She's not all that bad for a Gryffindor."

"A slightly less poisonous toadstool is still poisonous." Nera put in. Scorpius just looked at her.

"I'm not interested in Lily Potter."

"No, maybe not, but there are others that are growing on you like fungi, aren't there, Scorpius?"

He resisted the urge to inform Nera that Rose Weasley was not a fungus. She was something alright, but not that. He just needed to read a little more to figure out what.

"Fourth years. They were trouble." #TRUTH

And then of course Rose isn't a fungus, Scorp

8.5 Personal History

Rose stumbled into the common room after patrols, happy to be alone once she'd ditched Yates. Or maybe he had ditched her so he could sneak away for a quick snog with Mei. Or, knowing him, to meet some other girl drawn into his icky spider web of charm. Regardless, Rose was well rid of him, and she immediately made a beeline for the table where her friends were studying. Her heart swelled at the sight of them diligently at work on their homework, especially Al, who was happy to let Rose take the lead on assignments. Not tonight, however, which was a relief after the evening Rose had suffered. She wasn't in the mood to do multiple copies of the same assignment, not when all she really wanted was her slippers and as much distance from her crummy, creepy fellow sixth year prefect as possible.

The heart swelling was short-lived. To Rose's dismay, although Jayne and Al were sitting at the study table surrounded by books, they did not seem to be engaging in homework-related activities. Instead, they had created an army of parchment origami creatures who were battling themselves into tiny piles of paper mush. Under different circumstances, it would be an impressive bit of magic, but considering they had a History of Magic essay due the next day and a Charms practical the day after, any delay at all in their classwork was unacceptable.

Rose snatched up a particularly clever paper dragon that was about to attack Jayne's lumbering erumpent. Ignoring the protests from Al, she set about unfolding it, sticking them both with alternating dark glances. "Merlin, I can't believe you two. Have you even started your essay for tomorrow? It isn't the time for you to be slacking off your school work, not just because we're sixth years and everyone else seems to do. I don't have to tell you..."

"Rose. Shut it." Jayne used the surprised shock that stalled Rose's movements, grabbing the parchment back out of her hands and refolding it with a wave of her wand. "We're not all you. We don't have to care about the stuff you care about."

Which was, honestly, just mean. Rose did not go around foisting her passions on people, but she cared enough to want them not to have to repeat sixth year for want of a few completed assignments. It wasn't purely selfish, either - not only did Rose not want to spend seventh year without Al and Jayne in classes with her, not only did she want Al to succeed to he could be Head Boy, not only did she want Jayne to succeed so she could be Quidditch captain, not only those things. She also wanted to save them the stigma of failure. She wanted them to enjoy the warm glow of a job done well. Rose Weasley was an excellent friend, and it was just preposterous of Jayne Wood to suggest otherwise.

"You shut it." Not the cleverest of comebacks, but then Rose was not often noted as being particularly quick on her feet.

"You're not really helping matters," Al addressed Jayne as he took back his dragon. "But thanks."

Thanks, though? He was thanking Jayne for being a snarky twit to his own flesh and blood. "I do not understand you two anymore. I don't think I understand anything." Rose sank into an empty chair and laid her head against the table. The cool blankness of it felt good against her cheek, uncomplicated and somehow comforting. "You don't have to be hostile about it. I was trying to help."

"Yeah, but we don't need lectures, do we? We aren't babies," Jayne pitched in again, unaccountably aggressive, which Jayne never was except on the pitch.

Al gave Jayne a quelling glance before refolding one of the scraps of paper into a bird, which he placed in front of Rose. A dove. A peace offering. How very poetic of him. "We're not writing the essay for History of Magic. I should have told you before, but we just... I just can't do it."

"We can't," Jayne agreed.

In spite of the placating tones and actions, Rose found herself even more stymied than if Jayne had continued to yell at her. How did one just decide not to do a homework assignment? It seemed like an impossible thing, like gravity failing. Doing homework because it was assigned was a law of nature, or at least a law of social norms. What happened when you failed to perform according to the laws of social norms? Society rose and fell on such things, and the first step to anarchy was something like refusing to turn in an assignment. Rose stared at them both in open horror.

"Told you she wouldn't understand," Jayne said simply, returning to the drawn lines of battle across her end of the table.

"No, I do not understand," Rose agreed, looking from Al to Jayne and back again. "But you could try explaining it instead of sitting in judgement about it."

All things considered, if they were going to take a stand against homework, Rose imagined it would be something a little more difficult than a lousy History of Magic essay. And about their own history, no less. They need only consult the book to point out the ways the author was obviously biased and flawed, as Rose had done. In fact, her notes on the ways the author got it wrong had taken an extra twelve inches of parchment, nearly doubling the length of her essay. She could have written more. She wanted to, in fact, but thought that discretion was her watchword in times like these. If Al and Jayne were going to give up on homework, they should save it for something that required real research and time in the library that could be going to other things, not a simple assignment like this.

Explore how the Chamber of Secrets came to be opened during the 1992-1993 school year.

"It's a really easy assignment, honestly, even if the book gets it totally wrong. I can give you my outline, and you'll..."

"I'm not writing it," Al shook his head and turned all his attention to removing some scorch marks from the table top. Perhaps they were a result of his battle, but it was more likely the by-product of some long ago Charms practice gone awry. A surprising number of scorch marks could be found throughout the Common Room. "You don't know what it's like, having to write an essay about my dad. Having to force myself into this out of body persona just to read the text, or having to distance myself from my own history just to write about him. And my mum... do you know what it's like to hear about the Chamber of Secrets opening and know that your mother was possessed by the Dark Lord? To have to somehow put yourself into her shoes to have lively class discussions about whether or not she enjoyed it on some level? It's sick, Rose. I'm not doing it."

Rose sat back in her seat, stunned. They all handled it differently, this thing about being one generation removed from history itself, but it did not mean that Al was alone in how he felt. Did he honestly forget that he had two siblings in the school and innumerable Weasley cousins? That there were people all over Hogwarts who had lost someone during the war? It was personal to everyone, and only Binns failed to realize it. Binns and Al, apparently.

"Of course I know what it's like. Don't you think that when they talk about how brave my dad was in the books and articles, about what he sacrificed, that I don't think about how he sounds like some fairy tale story? They don't know how he can never find a matching pair of shoes. Or how he fights with my mom about the stupidest things. Or how he always burns toast, always. History forgets about who people are and only remembers what they did, and it gets the why and the how wrong almost all the time. And my mom..." Rose shook her head at him. He knew how often Hermione Granger-Weasley was raked over the coals by academics and historians. Rose's mother was the most intelligent person Rose knew, was sincere in everything she did, and was genuinely kind. She was a good person, maybe too good, since she left an impossible bar for Rose to meet, but she was recorded in history books as a clingy groupie of Harry Potter. Her contributions were generally wrongly attributed, and her meteoric rise through the Ministry was often bashed as something beyond her due. She was the lucky girl who had been allowed within Potter's circle of friends, and she continued to reap the benefits to this day. None of what she had was properly earned, according to some. It was nauseating, gender and blood bias mixed with historical inaccuracy alive and well in modern Wizarding society. "History will never remember my mom the way she deserves. They canonize my dad and villify my mom. Of course I know."

"No, it's more than that," Al insisted, his jaw set stubbornly. "I don't want to have to spend the rest of my life explaining to people why they are wrong. I don't want to have to rewrite history over and over because the historians aren't getting it right. I just want... I just want to feel normal."

"What, like you... don't want to be you? You wish your father wasn't Harry Potter?" Rose asked in a hushed tone, mostly because Al's rising one was bringing them unwanted attention.

"No. Yes." He sighed in exasperation. "I don't know. I want him to be Harry Potter to me, but not to anyone else. I want him to belong just to me, but right now he belongs to everyone, and everyone has their own version."

She still didn't understand, which was frustrating to Rose. She always understood Al, but right now, he wasn't making any sense. "You can't change that, though. You can't make him stop being the Chosen One."

"I KNOW," Al roared, clearly done with the conversation. Every head in the room turned toward them, toward the spectacle of Al shouting when he was always so good-natured. Jayne took Al's hand and squeezed. "I know that, Rose. I do. But I can refuse to write the essay."

"What about you?" Rose asked Jayne, almost wearily. Jayne's father was famous in his own regard, but they hadn't had to write any essays on him. Maybe that's the part she hated, the fact that they didn't pay enough attention to Quidditch stars. It seemed a bit thin, but Rose decided nothing else would surprise her today. Not with Al yelling, and the both of them refusing to do their homework.

She shrugged. "I just think it's stupid, and if Al doesn't want to write it, then I won't write it either. We have thousands of years of history to cover, but Binns wants to talk about something that happened 20 years ago."

"Recent history is still history. It still formed society as it stands today," Rose insisted, although she wasn't sure why she bothered. It wasn't like she agreed with the stance Binns was taking on this, plus she could see the harm in dealing with recent history with the same clinical detachment with which they dealt with goblin wars and old treaties.

Jayne's paper niffler jumped on Al's dragon and was immediately set on fire by a tiny burst of flame from its mouth. Very impressive spell work. "It isn't everyone's history, Rose. It's my history. It's your history. It isn't something up for public consumption. And our minds are made up."

Based on the settled look to their faces, Rose agreed with that assessment. They weren't going to budge on this, and she could either waste her time and alienate them further by arguing, or she could let them be. She fiddled with the dove Al had made for her, flapping the wings slightly as they resumed their game once again. The dove wasn't made from parchment, as she had assumed, but from a finer quality paper that had print slanting across the wings to disappear underneath the body. With a curious frown, Rose untucked a wing and unfolded it outward, trying to catch a phrase or sentence that made sense in the jumbled bits of text.

"Harry Potter was destined for greatness from before his birth. Surely the first signs of the impending…

It was Al's History of Magic textbook.

Poor Al. Poor Rose. Poor textbook lol