Finite Incantatem

The Grief I

***

No one in the world enjoyed de-gnoming the garden as much as Hugo Weasley did. His uncle George taught him techniques and strategies in the discipline of "throwing the gnome" and he had always been an enthusiastic student.

When he stepped into the garden that August afternoon, he didn't just want to disturb the familiar weedy creatures; he wanted to be distracted from his thoughts. 

His mother, who usually scolded him when he went out to torment the gnomes, paid him no attention this time. She was too busy arguing with the rest of the family about the Death Eaters and the possible reasons why their first victim had been a Malfoy.

Hugo couldn't believe that, of all the Wizards in the world, a school friend had died. It seemed as absurd as hearing that the Death Eaters had returned. How many more people would suffer this time? And what did Scorpius have to do with them? Scorpius was such a nice guy. He was polite and never offensive. Hugo has liked him ever since his cousin Albus first brought him home, a long time ago.

The evening edition of the Prophet was surely putting together a sensational article: the cover photo of the horrific Dark Mark tearing open the London sky; the Malfoy name associated with the Death Eaters and Harry Potter exalted as a savior. Even though he was only sixteen, the boy knew enough to understand that the Wizarding World had gone back thirty years, that day.

Lost in his thoughts, he began to scrutinize the lairs the gnomes had dug in the shelter of some of the bushes. When he saw a lumpy nose sticking out of a hole, he was quick enough to grab it and get it out of there. The little creature, uprooted, had tried to bite him. Hugo swung it over his head and because of all the practice, threw it over the trees surrounding the burrow. 

"Hey Hugo." It was Albus' voice, advancing towards him curiously.

The red-haired boy returned the greeting, annoyed. He got along well with his cousin, but looking at him he understood that Albus still didn't know anything. Hugo didn't want to be the first to inform him.

He watched as Albus peeked through the kitchen window, where the rest of the family was murmuring somberly, and occasionally, the voice of Uncle Harry could be heard emanating from the fireplace.

"What's going on?" Albus asked. "Dad sent me a Patronus ordering me to come here, but he hasn't said more."

"There's been an attack." Hugo murmured, concentrating on the bulbous nose of a gnome watching them curiously behind a tuft of grass. "Someone was killed by Death Eaters."

"What!?"

Albus couldn't have been more shocked. He stared at his cousin, waiting to hear him say it was all a joke, though it couldn't be more obvious that Hugo was deadly serious.

"Your father is already investigating and telling everyone to stay here." He explained to his cousin. "Your mother, James and Lily are already inside."

"I thought the Death Eaters were all in Azkaban!" Albus said, stunned. "Except the Malfoys, but they..."

He stopped instantly and Hugo took the opportunity to look at a hole in the ground. How could he tell him that Scorpius was dead? He didn't have the same delicacy as his mother and he wasn't even ready to take charge of a possible nervous breakdown. It was already difficult to manage his own emotions; he couldn't bear those of others.

Albus was about to start Auror School, but Hugo was pretty sure he was changing his mind. He saw him as excessively frightened; in fact, courage had never been his greatest virtue. Uncle Harry - who was the head of the Aurors - had insisted that he come to work with him in September only because his son, although very good at school, showed no other ambitions.