Standing on Platform 9 and ¾, Scorpius Magnus Malfoy was not looking at the other students beginning to gather around the train. Nor was he focused on what his parents were saying or paying any attention to the children his father was pointing at, giving him some direction about beating them in academic and sporting endeavors. The young Malfoy was blind to all of this.
Instead his mind was focused on coming up with something, anything, that would allow him to go to the institute back in New York rather than Hogwarts.
He'd tried running at every opportunity but never went any faster than a normal 11-year-old boy would be expected to go; certainly not as fast as his uncle. He'd tried to fly of his own volition or conjure hex bolts like his mother could, but to no avail. He stared at the rails the train was resting on, trying with all his might to move the metal like his grandfather could have, but the iron remained unmoved.
"I don't wanna go," he at last whispered miserably. "I wanna go to the institute, with Petra."
Draco Malfoy sighed. "We've discussed this, Scorpius. You haven't manifested any mutation yet but you have performed accidental magic. Therefore you must be schooled in the area in which your talents are certain to lie."
"Well what if I'm just a late bloomer? Couldn't I keep going to regular school until I do get my powers?"
"And risk losing out on all possibility of a wizarding education if you never develop a mutation? Certainly not," his father responded firmly.
"Don't be sad, Scorpius dear," his mother patted his shoulder, leaning over so that her waves of chestnut hair fell across her face. "If you mutate when you're a bit older, we'll discuss transferring you out. OK? And it's perfectly normal not to be a mutant at your age; back when I was young, most of us didn't mutate until puberty, some not until we were 15 or 16. You have time."
Rather than feeling reassured, Scorpius made a face. "I hate England," he muttered. "And I hate Hogwarts and I hate wizards and I hate you two for making me go here."
He stomped off, hoping that his feet would at least crack the concrete; he had no such luck, however, but instead had to struggle with his trunk and the cage that held his owl. He pressed forward, still angry with his parents and at himself for not mutating and even at his uncle Pietro for not showing up to see him off – not that he was surprised. England was a long way away, even for him.
Scorpius didn't look back to wave his mother and father goodbye as he boarded; instead, he bitterly reflected on the fun that Petra was probably having in the Danger Room at that very moment.
Petra Alvers tried unsuccessfully to focus on the lesson that Professor Munroe was giving about European history. It was the first year her parents had allowed her to go to the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. Her father Lance had been wary of the whole idea – he and her godfather Pietro had been troublemakers when they were young and they'd always been suspicious of any educational system since – but her mother Katherine had insisted.
Without Scorpius, however, school seemed lonely. Not even getting her own codename, Tremor, had made up for losing her childhood friend. Together they'd been like – well, like the Brotherhood that her father and his uncle sometimes told them about. A real troublemaking team, at least until they'd been forced to split up.
To make matters worse, she found out that she wouldn't be training physically for a while; the first few weeks would be lessons in theory, ethics, that sort of thing.
He was lucky, she thought, to have talents besides being a mutant. Being a wizard seemed so much cooler the way he described what his dad Draco could do. And they already had a society all their own, secluded from the humans – unlike mutants who had to mingle, often with disastrous results.
She looked out the window; he'd promised to send her an owl as soon as possible and that letter couldn't come soon enough, she thought, suppressing a yawn.
"So who was she?" Ron Weasley asked, taking a swig of his drink. He was seated in a polished table at the Leaky Cauldron with his wife and the Potters. "I didn't recognize her at all."
"Some American," replied Ginny. "Heard that he left England soon after turning 18 to escape his reputation and whatnot. Went to America, did something with the government over there, something involving potions. I can't really be specific since I've only heard rumors, but apparently he made a fortune doing it. And then five years later he showed up in England with a wife. They've been going back and forth ever since."
"Is she a witch?" Harry inquired, his brow furrowed.
"That's the thing," Hermione added. "Nobody knows. Some people swear they've seen her perform magic but as far as anybody knows she doesn't own or use a wand. And the Malfoys certainly aren't going to be forthcoming. Draco still avoids the press even now. He's never in England for very long and when he is, he tends to be secluded."
"Well we could ask, couldn't we?" Ron suggested.
Ginny scoffed. "Are you daft? Walk up to Draco Malfoy and go "'Scuse me but we were wondering – care to fill us in on your wife? What's the story there?' He'd hex you six ways to Sunday."
"Her too, maybe," Hermione spoke up.
"I don't really care," Harry stated, motioning the waiter to get him another firewhiskey, "So long as they stay away from our lot."
Looking out of the window, Scorpius tried to readjust his hair, raking his fingers through the mousse-filled strands. When he was in England, people who bothered speaking to him usually told him he looked like his father Draco. Grandpa Lucius reminded him of it every time he saw him, often following up the statement of resemblance with an admonishment to behave. He, however, always fancied that he looked more like his Uncle Pietro, and he tried to style his hair in the same way.
Uncle Pietro's hair never looked pretentious, he thought with a sigh. It always looked rakish, flung backwards as if he'd just come in from somewhere running a million miles an hour, whipped by the wind into a devil-may-care look. It was hair that spoke of trouble and misadventure and fun. It was about as exciting as hair could get.
Usually he had no problem getting his hair to do what he wanted, even if his mother disapproved and his father used words like 'wreck' and 'mess' and 'ragamuffin.' Today, however, he had no such luck; his hair sat like a helmet, each strand falling back into place no matter how he tried to muss it.
Frustrated, he pulled out a quill and parchment and left the hair alone. It simply wasn't cooperating. At least he could get started on a letter to Petra, though. He was just reflecting on how nice it was to have privacy and how lucky he was to get a compartment alone, when the door slid open.
"Hey there," a boy puffed as if he'd been running. "Mind if we hide out in here?"
"I don't really think…"
"Thanks!" He shoved his way inside along with a red-headed girl. "Hiding out from siblings," he explained hastily. "So," he turned to face Scorpius and stuck out his hand. "I'm Albus and this is Rose. And you are…?"
Albus… why did that name seem familiar… ah. The Potter boy. Of course.
"Scorpius Malfoy," he replied calmly without lifting his eyes from the parchment he was writing on. "'Spect you'll want to leave now."
"Well, no, not necessarily," Albus replied, nervously biting his lip and attempting to be nice. "Besides, we can't let James know this is where we got to or he'll probably try to use us to demonstrate the effect of jinxes again."
Despite himself, Scorpius nearly laughed but stifled it just in time. Instead he shrugged.
He kept writing as Albus and Rose chatted to one another for the next few minutes. Soon, however, Albus became interested in what he was doing.
"What's that you're writing?" He leaned over just slightly and Scorpius moved the paper further away so he couldn't see.
"Well no kidding," Rose rolled her eyes. "He means who is it to?"
"Nobody." Scorpius snapped. "Don't be so nosy."
"It was just a question," Albus said quietly, sinking back into his seat.
"Well it was a nosy question," he huffed, stuffing the paper back into the satchel sitting next to him. As he tilted it to put his quill in, a rectangle of paper fluttered out. Before he could stop him, Albus scooped it up.
It was a Muggle photograph, near as Albus could tell, that had Scorpius and a young girl in the middle, surrounded by a group of rough looking men. The girl had on torn jeans with a lacy black shirt and dingy pink vest. Her hair was pulled back and she was grinning; Scorpius, dressed in a green shirt with jeans, was too. Next to and behind him was a silver-haired man who slightly resembled Draco, but not really, and a tall, corpulent man; behind the girl was a brown-haired man who looked rather like her, torn jeans and all, and a man with mussed hair and dull skin squatting in an unusual position. They were all grinning like it was a holiday, Scorpius and the girl more than any.
"Is this who you were writing to?" Albus asked, looking down.
"Give that back!" Scorpius snatched the picture away with an affronted air. "She's none of your business."
"Is she a Muggle?" He persisted.
"No! Never mind!" He slid the picture back into the bag and pulled it onto his lap with a pout, then stared out the window.
"Just trying to be friends," Albus sighed.
"Well don't," Scorpius sniffed. "I already have friends in America, I don't need friends here. Besides, I won't be here long anyway."
"What's that mean? Planning on dropping out?" Rose laughed.
"No," he muttered through gritted teeth. "I'll be going to a better school. In America. Where I have friends. Where I'll learn to be something."
"You could have friends here," Albus suggested timidly. "And who says a wizard isn't being something? You could be an Auror or a Healer or a Quidditch player…" he trailed off when he realized the other boy was trying not to pay attention.
Scorpius didn't respond. He continued to stare out the window, silent, until Albus went back to talking to Rose. Neither of them made any more attempts to talk to him and he didn't even look at them for the rest of the trip.
When the owl arrived at her window later that night, clearly exhausted from its long trip, Petra hurried to open the panes and let it in. It collapsed on her bed and she quickly untied the letter from its leg, slightly ripping the parchment in her haste.
Everything here sucks and I hate England. :( Everybody uses weird words like "lift" and "loo" and speaks with a funny accent and acts like I'm the one who talks weird. And no electronics work around the castle which means I can't use my video games, not even the handheld ones, or my iPod and all they pick up here is wizard music, which also sucks. And no TVs work either and even if they did all the shows in Britain suck – BBC LAME. At least when we're at our home in Wiltshire dad can do stuff to circumvent that; but here I'm going to miss out on everything. (Which reminds me – let me know how the latest Iron Chef America worked out. Go Mario!)
We got sorted into our Houses like I told you about, by means of a hat; I got into Slytherin like my dad which sucks even worse because everybody hates us and they all hate me because my dad… well, you know. So I'm getting crap from both sides, basically. And there's all sorts of curfew rules and stuff, but even if there weren't, there's nowhere cool like NYC to sneak out to. All we have is a lame-ass forest that's supposed to be dangerous. But it just looks like a bunch of dumb trees to me.
I already miss you and Uncle Pietro and your dad and Todd and Fred and everybody. Everybody here either avoids me or acts like I'm going to corrupt them or something. Well… that's not quite true. There's this kid called Albus who was kinda friendly on the ride up, if a bit nosy; but his dad hates mine and even if he wasn't pretending, it wouldn't last. Besides, nobody could ever be as much fun to hang out with as you. We do have a lake with a Giant Squid and that's kinda cool, but I still miss Central Park; next time you go there, leave a rose or two at Strawberry Fields for me.
Hope you're having fun in the Danger Room sessions; as for me, I can't even have a broom of my own yet because I'm a first year. Hope I learn to fly on my own soon or I might go crazy. Remember that room I told you about? I'm going to use it to train so that when I do get my powers, I won't be out of shape and I can catch right up to you and everybody else at the mansion. Speaking of which, your powers sound crazy cool and you'll have to show me your progress when I come home for Christmas. It was awesome when you made the ground shake and if you have more control over rocks and earth, maybe we can build a fort! I keep trying to bring out my own powers but no luck yet. I'll let you know the moment they show up, though.
Anyway, I should probably get going or this letter won't get there in time. Quicksilver (that's what I named my owl – after my uncle and your godfather. Cool, hunh?) has a long way to go and he won't get there if he doesn't leave soon. Hope you're doing alright; write back and tell me everything.
Bye for now.
Scorpius M. Malfoy
P.S. Brotherhood forever!!!
Sitting down at her desk, Petra pulled out a ream of black line paper and sparkly gel pens that would show up on it and started her own letter, while the owl took a nap on a cushion she'd set out for it. If she hurried she could finish it before lights out time and then the owl could take it in the morning.
Scorpius made his way down the hall and paced in front of the door where he knew the Room of Requirement to be; his father had given him very specific directions and he only hoped he hadn't forgotten anything. Screwing his eyes shut and concentrating, he thought about his need to have a place where he could train physically, that would have martial arts and gymnastics equipment.
When he opened his eyes there was a door there, just waiting for him. He walked through it, unaware that he had been followed and was being watched.
A/N: A couple years back I toyed with a Draco/Wanda fic and when I read the epilogue, the crossover bug struck again, what with Scorpius' mum's name not being mentioned and all. If people like it, I might continue; I really just wanted to get this out and down on paper. Cathartic I guess. And a note: It's mostly Evolution-based (hence the Lancitty) although Wanda's more of a mainstream, less goth, Wanda. As for Scorpius' language/attitude – Pietro and Co. have taught him many, many bad habits (and maybe one or two good ones). And as for the OC Petra - she's named after Pietro, but it also means rock, a reference to her powers.
So – continue or not? Delete it? Thoughts? Ideas? Comments? Critiques? All are welcome.