Questions and Answers

Narcissa was in the process of packing to return to Nice, firmly rebuffing the efforts of Perri, the house-elf, to help. Over the last two decades, Narcissa had grown to appreciate doing things for herself without having to rely on others. She closed the single bag she had brought with her from France, and set it next to the door of the bedroom she used in Wiltshire. Narcissa began to rummage in the desk for the letter with the details of her International Portkey, when an owl tapped on the window. She recognized the barn owl from the school that Scorpius generally used and opened the window. 'Perri!' she called, as she took the letter from the owl.

'Yes, miss?' The elf appeared in the middle of the bedroom floor with a crack.

Narcissa jumped at the noise and sudden appearance of the elf, and handed the owl to Perri. 'Could you please take her to the kitchen and give her some food and water?' Perri took the owl with alacrity, visibly delighted at having something to do. Narcissa pitied the elf at times. She was only there, because Draco felt the family ought to have one. None of them really needed her a great deal, as Daphne preferred to do most of the housekeeping herself. Mostly Perri cooked, since Daphne was more of a serviceable cook, and not very proficient at the gourmet sort of cooking Draco liked, and Draco had never learned. As soon as Perri left the room, Narcissa quietly closed the door.

She turned the envelope over in her hands. Narcissa knew Scorpius had promised to write his mother to let her know he'd arrived at school safely, but somehow she didn't think this was it. With a feeling of apprehension, she opened the envelope, and pulled out the letter inside.

She read it slowly, her hands trembling. Narcissa considered confronting Draco about it, but that would drive him to seek solace in a bottle, something he did far too often for Narcissa's taste. She opened a drawer of the desk and found a supply of parchment, quills, and ink. She wrote steadily to Scorpius for some time, rereading what she had written, and crossing out some things, while leaving in others. She tried to answer his questions as honestly as she could, but there were several things about which even Narcissa knew nothing. She copied the letter onto a clean sheet of parchment, knowing Scorpius would never be able to read the much blotched and crossed-out original.

Narcissa carefully sealed and address the letter, and took it down to the kitchen. Daphne was setting the small table in the corner of the kitchen. 'Draco's not here tonight, so I thought we could be informal and eat down here, if that's all right with you.'

'It's fine. Would you mind if I borrowed your owl?'

'Not at all. Who's it for?'

'Scorpius.' Narcissa tied the letter to the owl's leg and sent her off to Hogwarts. 'Where is Draco? I didn't hear him leave.'

'He went to have dinner with my brother Ian.'

'Is that wise?' Narcissa blurted before she could stop herself. 'I mean with all the investigations going on...'

Daphne looked up from the serviette she was folding. 'It's fine. Ian's actually one of the few people Draco knows that isn't under constant surveillance by the Aurors. At least not yet... He's all talk. Always has been, and always will be. Not the type to get his hands dirty by doing anything. For any side.' she said scornfully.

'I'd have thought you would have appreciated that quality. Kept him out of Azkaban.' Narcissa helped Perri serve dinner. 'Why did you go into Slytherin?'

Daphne shrugged. 'Didn't fit in anywhere else. It was where the rest of my family had gone.' She settled into a chair, and spread the serviette over her lap. 'But it's quite all right for Draco to have dinner with Ian. He'll have his watchdog trailing after him.' Daphne picked up her wineglass and took a sip. 'And Draco knows just one tiny slip-up will send him to Azkaban in a heartbeat. I don't think he could handle the humiliation,' she said apologetically.

Narcissa joined Daphne at the table. 'Could I ask you something?'

'Of course.'

'Do you remember anything happening to Ginny Potter in school?'

Daphne gave Narcissa a questioning look, but replied, 'Not especially. She was a year behind me, so we didn't have classes together. She was caught breaking into the headmaster's office my seventh year. Got a load of detentions with Snape because of that.'

'Nothing else?'

'No. Why do you ask?'

'Just wondering,' Narcissa said. 'It's just with Scorpius spending so much time with the Potters; things that happened in the war are bound to come up. I thought we might figure out how much to tell him.'

'About Lucius and Draco?' Daphne asked sharply.

'Yes.'

'He's never asked me anything,' Daphne said slowly. 'And truth be told, I don't know much about what Draco did.'

'He's never told you?'

Daphne laughed sardonically. 'We don't have that kind of marriage,' she snorted mirthlessly. 'Not even in the beginning.'

Narcissa used her fork to push sprouts around her plate. 'So if Scorpius wants the full story, he's going to have to ask his father,' she sighed. 'And I don't see that happening any time soon.'

Daphne pushed her plate aside. 'Why bring this up now? Why not last year before he started school?'

'Because he's asked about something Lucius did.'

'That's what that letter was, wasn't it?' Narcissa nodded. 'What did you say?'

*****

Scorpius trudged back into his dormitory, dressed for bed, carrying his toiletry kit in one hand, and his damp towel in the other. He tossed the kit on his bed, then hung the towel over a screen around the stove that kept the circular room warm. 'You've gotten an owl,' said Max, one of his year mates, looking up from a book printed with odd, squiggly writing.

Scorpius looked up at one of the windows, and his mother's tawny owl stood patiently, waiting for him to retrieve his letter. 'Thanks,' he told her, offering her a drink of water from the glass that sat on his night table. He looked down at the envelope, noting it was from Narcissa. The owl hooted softly, and nibbled his hair, then flew out of the window. He turned and stowed the letter in his night table to read later.

'Are you going to read that?' asked Max, pausing his mumbling in a language Scorpius didn't understand. Max spent a portion of every night obsessively repeating the same thing over and over, while wearing a small, flat, circular cap on the back of his head. 'If my mum or gran sent me a letter and I didn't reply right away, they'd send another one the next day, spreading the guilt so thick you could eat it on toast.'

'I'll read it later,' Scorpius said noncommittally.

'That must be nice,' muttered Max, going back to his book.

When Scorpius heard the sounds of the others settling into sleep, he poked his head from the hangings of his bed, and slowly opened the drawer of his night table and pulled the letter out.

3 January 2019

Dear Scorpius,

I knew one day you would ask about your grandfather. It's bound to come up at some point, especially if you take History of Magic through your N.E.W.T. year, I suppose. I'll have to warn you that I don't know much about what your grandfather and father did. I know about some things, but I don't know all the details. There are a few things I can tell you about, since I was directly involved, like the war itself.

Your grandfather was a member of a group of people who supported a very Dark wizard, who called himself "Lord Voldemort". Some people still refer to him as "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named". And there are still some people who refer to him by his given name, Tom Riddle. At any rate, this group called themselves "Death Eaters". Your grandfather was one of his most loyal supporters. Your father was forced to join when he was sixteen, because Lucius was thrown into Azkaban for breaking into the Ministry, and Draco was hand-picked to take his father's place.

To be fair to your father, Draco didn't want to join the Death Eaters. Or at least I don't think he wanted to. He didn't have much of a choice. All Death Eaters were marked with a tattoo of sorts - a skull with a snake protruding from the mouth. I'm not sure if you've ever seen it on your father's arm; he always wears long sleeves.

Death Eaters didn't like Muggles. Or Muggle-born witches and wizards. Or half-bloods. Which is rather ironic, since Voldemort himself was a half-blood. He had a Muggle father. And they particularly hated pureblood witches and wizards who didn't think blood status was everything. Like the Weasleys. Or Andromeda.

As to your specific question, I honestly don't know. There were things Lucius did that I didn't know about. He didn't always confide in me. I think he thought it was safer that way. Death Eaters didn't trust anyone. Not even their spouses. And if he was doing anything illegal, I could, in all honesty, claim ignorance. I suppose that way, if he was ever arrested, Draco would still have one parent. And I'm not entirely sure your father knows anything about that either. Lucius tended to keep Draco in the dark, as well, for as long as he could.

I think you have two options, Scorpius. You can either ask Mrs. Potter directly, or you can ask Teddy what he knows. You do deserve to know your history.

What you do not deserve is the blame for something you did not do - to be lumped in with the rest of the family, especially if you don't believe what they did. That being said, I do understand how young Lily feels. It is very, very difficult to separate people from their families. It takes a great deal of sophisticated thought to do that. But if I were to guess, I would suppose that Lily just found out about it, and it still trying to sort herself out. Give her some time. She'll come to realize you're the same person you were before this. But in no way do you need to apologize to her or try to make anything up to her. None of it is your fault.

Love,

Grandmother

*****

Ginny woke up from an uneasy sleep. It was still dark outside. Even without looking at Harry's side of the bed, she knew he wasn't there. She got up and wrapped her dressing gown around her body, and went down into the kitchen. Harry sat at the table, a cup of tea cradled between his hands. He pointedly ignored Ginny, getting up and leaving when she sat down. Sighing, she trailed after him, following him to the office. 'Stop following me,' he snarled, yanking the bottom drawer of the desk open. 'I really don't want to talk to you right now.'

'Harry, I...'

'Don't,' he said shortly. 'Not right now.' He spread the paperwork over his desk. 'Close the door on your way out,' he said, clearly in dismissal.

Ginny inhaled sharply and pivoted on her heel, and left, slamming the door. She stalked up the stairs and threw on her clothes. She stomped back down stairs and barged into the office, twisting her hair into a knot on the back of her head. 'I'm going to work. Don't forget to take Lily to school.' She left, stabbing pins into the knot and Flooed to the Prophet office. Harry sighed and buried his head in his arms. He wasn't sure why he was so angry at Ginny. Dealing with the Dursleys shouldn't have been her fight. It was his.

'Dad?' Lily stood in the doorway, her hair standing wildly around her head.

Harry picked his head up from the desk. 'What, Lily?'

'Are you and Mum going to split up?' Lily's solemn face seared through Harry's bad temper.

'What kind of a question is that?'

'You're not talking to her...'

'Come here, baby.' Harry held out his arms and Lily ran to them, climbing in Harry's lap. 'Your mum and I are not splitting up. I promise.' He stroked Lily's hair slowly. 'Sometimes your mum and I disagree about some things. It doesn't mean we're going to end it all. It just means we don't see things the same way.'

'But you're mad at her,' Lily objected.

'No, I'm not,' corrected Harry, slightly annoyed. When Lily looked up at him skeptically, he sighed. 'I'm really not mad at Mum, all right?'

'You're doing a really good job acting like it,' Lily huffed.

Harry blinked at his daughter. 'Go get dressed, and I'll get some breakfast for you. I'll check your homework while you eat.' He set her on the floor and sent her off with a light swat to her bottom. He trailed after Lily, heading for the kitchen. At the kitchen door, he stopped, and turned around, and went to the fireplace in the sitting room. He took a handful of Floo powder and knelt on the hearth rug, throwing the glittery powder into the flames. It was early, but he knew Hermione would be awake. 'Hermione?' he said softly.

A pair of striped socks came into view, and Hermione crouched down to talk, dressed for the day. 'Harry! Is everything all right?'

'We saw the Dursleys.'

'When?' Hermione plopped on the floor, settling in to chat for a while.

'Monday. After the train left at King's Cross.' Harry shifted into a more comfortable position. 'I probably should have used the mobile,' he confessed. They had gotten one once James started primary school. They didn't use it much. 'Not as hard on the knees...'

'Next time, then. How was it?' Hermione asked.

'Weird. I haven't really thought about them one way or another in years. Well, not Petunia and Vernon. Dudley and I write to each other a couple of times a year. As far as Petunia and Vernon...' Harry shrugged. 'Nothing. It was like they were strangers.'

'Well, that's good, isn't it? Means you really have left them behind,' Hermione suggested. 'I mean if you felt anything, like anger, for instance, it would mean you still let them get to you.'

'I suppose...' Harry said slowly. 'Did you know Ginny had gone to see them? Before our wedding?'

'No. Why would she do something like that?'

'Because I told her about growing up with them. Actually, I don't really remember what I told her. I was pretty pissed,' he admitted ruefully. 'Anyway, it came up that she'd met Vernon and Petunia before.' Harry rubbed the back of his neck. 'Apparently she got somewhat shirty with them. Told them off.'

'Good for her.'

Harry felt his mouth drop open. 'What?'

Hermione switched positions, so she lay on her stomach. 'She did what we were all thinking, Harry. Someone had to tell them off, because you never were going to do it.'

'But... She...' Harry spluttered. 'It wasn't her place to do it,' he said finally.

'If not hers, then whose? She was going to be your wife, you gormless berk. That makes it her place.' Hermione sighed. 'You and Ronald both. Get far too tetchy when you think your masculinity's threatened.'

'I still don't understand why she thought she had to go confront them. I made it perfectly clear that I didn't want anything to do with them,' Harry retorted mulishly.

'Harry, think about it for three seconds, would you? Ginny never went to Privet Drive before that. She never saw how they locked you up in your room. She didn't see firsthand how they treated you, and you never talked about it. The most she would have seen the Dursleys would have been on the train platform, and even then, she didn't interact with them directly.

'It's a bloody miracle you are who you are today. Honestly, if you hadn't met Ron on the train, you would never have known what a real family was like.' Hermione sat up. 'I have to go to work now. I'll have that paperwork for your interviews done before lunch, I think.' Harry started to pull his head from the fireplace when Hermione stopped him. 'Can I ask you something?'

'Go ahead...'

'Are you angry that Ginny went there without your knowledge, or because she did it and you never did?' At the shocked look on Harry's face, Hermione nodded. 'That's what I thought. I'll see you later.'

Harry pulled his head from the fireplace and sat in stunned silence on the hearth rug.

*****

Harry spent the rest of the morning in a fog, as his conversation with Hermione whirled around his head. He managed to give Lily breakfast, and dropped her off at school on time, before he went back to the house to gather his things for work. He shoved his papers into his battered bag, and quite without thinking, opened the middle drawer of his desk, and pulled out a locked box. He flipped through a series of opened envelopes until he came to the one toward the end of the stack. He copied a number onto a scrap of parchment, and slid the envelope back into its place, before he opened another drawer of the desk, and pulled the mobile out and slid it into his bag.

*****

Ginny pushed the door of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes open, shaking her head as the belch rang out. George and Ron had finally gotten their hands on James last summer. Ginny figured that after fourteen years, James was on his own when it came to fending off demands from his crackpot uncles to record butterbeer induced burps. 'Hiya, Gin!' George called from counter.

'Morning, George. Ron around?'

George noted Ginny's smoldering expression and pointed to the back. 'What did Ickle Ronnikins do now?'

'Nothing, as far as I know,' Ginny said surprised. 'Why?'

'You look like you're about to rip him a new one.'

'If I'm going to rip anyone a new one, it won't be Ron.'

George looked slightly alarmed. 'It's not the kids is it? I swear, I told Fred and Jacob if I got a letter from Neville before Easter, they were grounded all summer!'

'It's not the boys. Although, you'll have to let me know how that grounding works out for you.' She blew out a breath. 'I just need to go talk to Ron, all right?' She pushed the curtain aside, and found Ron in the back, making sweets for the Snackboxes. He was idly flicking his wand at a cauldron, while he read an issue of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle. 'Can you do read and do that at the same time?'

'Of course I can,' Ron said smugly, putting his comic book down. 'I've been doing the Snackboxes for longer than you've been married.' He threw an arm around Ginny. 'How are you?'

'Harry's being a stroppy wanker,' she announced. 'He's been that way since Monday,' Ginny grumbled.

Ron sighed. 'Okay, I think I'm going to regret asking, but what happened?'

'We ran into his Muggle relations after we left the platform. We were going to take the Tube down to Charing Cross to come down here, and there they were.'

'I thought Harry didn't care about them.'

'He doesn't. But he found out I went to see them once.'

Ron felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. 'You did? When?'

'Back before we got married. It was toward the end of my first season with the Harpies.'

'Oh, please tell me you told them off...' Ron begged.

'Well, yes, I did,' Ginny admitted. 'And that's what's set him off.'

'Oh, well, then. That makes sense.'

Ginny dropped onto a rickety stool, and massaged her temples. 'All right, you're going to have to explain to me how that makes sense to you.'

'You're not a man, Gin,' Ron said simply.

Ginny rolled her eyes. 'So because I stepped on his fragile male ego, he's been in a strop for two days?'

'Something like that,' Ron cheerfully said. 'Look, Gin, when you went down there and gave them the what-for - and I really wish I'd seen that, by the way - you kind of took the opportunity from him to do it himself.'

'I did not!' Ginny protested.

'To him you did. Gin, they really didn't care about him. The summer before you started school, they had bars on the window of his room. And the door was locked. He couldn't get in or out if he'd wanted to. Do you remember how thin he was after the war?' Ginny nodded. 'He was almost worse that summer. His uncle let people think the worst of him. Said he went to school for the... How did he put it...? Ah, "Incurably Criminal Boys". He had more than enough reason to want to call them out for it later.'

'I know...' Ginny said faintly, remembering Harry's reaction to that first Christmas card they'd received the year before James was born.

'You kind of stole his thunder, in case he ever wanted to do it. Why did you go there, anyway?'

'I wanted to meet them for myself. So I could see what the complete failures for human beings that were responsible for raising him were like.'

'You didn't hex them, did you?' Ron asked.

'No, but I wish I had,' she admitted.

Ron began to ladle the purple liquid into molds. 'How did it feel?'

Ginny smiled grimly. 'Bloody marvelous.'

*****

Dinner was a quiet affair. Neither Harry, nor Ginny ate much, and most of what was on their plates ended up in the rubbish bin. Ginny sent Lily upstairs to do her homework, and began to clear the table. She began to wash the dishes, the sound of the water sloshing in the sink sounded unnaturally loud in the near-silent kitchen. Ginny stacked the dishes on the counter, and reached for a tea towel to dry them when Harry's hand dove into the drawer and plucked one from under her fingertips. He silently began to dry the plates and put them away, before turning his attention to the cutlery and glasses. He picked up a pot, and began to dry even the tiniest speck of water from it. 'I'm not angry at you,' he said, concentrating on drying the pot thoroughly. Ginny shrugged and took the dishcloth to the table, and began to wipe the crumbs from it into her hand. 'When I left their house, I thought that was it, and I never had to think about them again. There was a part of me that wanted - no, needed to go them and say, "See? I have everything I ever wanted, in spite of you." And I never did. I wasn't afraid of them. I never really was. I was afraid of how worthless they made me feel, and it took so long for me to believe that people really did love me, that I didn't want to face them. Because they might make me feel like that again.' Harry bent to put the pot away, and picked up another one, drying it just as carefully as the first.

'You're so much braver than I was,' he continued. 'And I'm so envious that you had more bollocks than I did.' He put the pot away, and folded the tea towel, hanging it on a bar over the sink to dry, and left the kitchen, leaving Ginny standing with the dishcloth in one hand, gaping after him.

Harry flipped the mobile open and dug through his bag for the number he'd scribbled down that morning. He laid it on the desk in front of him, and before he could dial the number, he grabbed the bottle of Firewhisky and took a healthy swig before he punched in the numbers to Dudley's flat outside London.

Palms sweating, he counted the number of times the telephone rang, hoping that the answerphone would pick up. 'Hello?' an unfamiliar voice said.

'Erm... I'm sorry; I was looking for Dudley...' Harry stammered.

'He's not in right now. There's some do going on at his school, and I was mercifully excused from attending. Sometimes colds are beautiful things,' the voice said, sniffling.

'Oh, right,' Harry breathed, relieved. 'Uh... This is his cousin, Harry...'

'Oh, you're Harry!' the voice exclaimed, delighted. 'I'm Aaron,' it explained.

'Um, it's nice to meet you,' Harry said in desperation, his mouth going dry. 'Could you tell Dudley I rang?'

'Of course, I will. Does he have your number?'

'I don't think so,' Harry choked. 'Erm... It's 07932 463722. I think.' He laughed nervously. 'I never ring myself, you know?'

'I know exactly what you mean. Took me months to learn this one when we moved in here. He ought to be home in an hour or so. Would you like him to ring you back when he gets home?' Aaron asked.

'Yeah. That would be great,' Harry said. 'Thanks.' He flipped the mobile closed, ending the call. His head dropped to the desk, his breath coming in shallow pants.

'Now, that's bravery,' Ginny said from the doorway. She left before Harry could say anything.

*****

Scorpius put the letter from Narcissa in his trunk. He rummaged in his school back for a clean sheet of parchment, and a spare quill.

5 January 2019

Dear Teddy,

I need to know something, and you're the only one who can tell me.

What did my grandfather Malfoy do to Mrs. Potter?

Scorpius

He made his way to the Owlery, slipping on the ice, as he climbed the steps. Teddy was his last hope.