Raindrops on Roses

Chapter 23: The Last Summer Part 3: Cursed

2024

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Sitting alone in the holding cell some hours later, Scorpius wondered how on earth he could have been such a bloody idiot.

He'd had suspicions, of course. He'd been sorting the papers and counting the Galleons. You couldn't spend two weeks going through all that paperwork without having some doubts about the legitimacy of the business. But he had been thinking more along the lines of... well, fraudulent antique jewellery, and suchlike. Not hurting anyone except the poor buggers dumb enough to pay four thousand Galleons for a necklace worn by Helga Hufflepuff, or a fragment of Merlin's staff, or whatever. Not this.

There hadn't been a lot of time to make sense of it during the raid. Mr Potter and Mr Weasley had stared at him for a long time. Then a slow realisation seemed to come over them both as they turned to look at each other.

"Malfoy," Mr Weasley had said, in a tone that suggested both wonder and satisfaction. "Harry -"

Mr Potter held up a hand. "Scorpius," he had said, not unkindly. "What are you doing here?"

Scorpius had found himself unable to speak. As much as he wanted to explain, to tell them it wasn't his fault, and, if necessary, to beg for mercy, the words got lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth.

One the men holding him shook him roughly by the shoulder. "The Head Auror just asked you a question, boy."

"Harry -" Ron urged, getting more and more excited by the moment.

"Not now, Ron," Mr Potter said, low. He shook his head at the Auror who was shaking Scorpius. "Enough. We'll deal with him later."

A couple of Aurors had dragged him away, and stuck him in this place. The shopkeeper was no doubt somewhere nearby, but the holding cell was concrete on all four sides, giving very little indication as to what lay beyond. He hadn't seen much of the journey, and what he had seen he could barely remember. He had been too shocked, too terrified to do anything but let them toss him into the tiny room and slam the door. There wasn't even anywhere to sit. After a few minutes of frantic pacing, he curled up into a corner and tried to put his mess of thoughts and emotions into some kind of order.

His brain was still boiling with them even now; it seemed like hours later though it might have been less, it was hard to tell. His father was involved with the Shadow, that much was clear. He probably had been for years. That meant Goyle was also in on it, and Jean too, even if only in a servile capacity. He wondered if his mother had known where all the newfound wealth had come from.

Was he ever going to tell me? he wondered, thinking about the way his father had smiled happily when Scorpius had announced he wanted to follow in his footsteps. Or was he going to wait until I was in too deep to do anything about it? Inwardly he was leaning towards the latter. Perhaps it had been a test, or a game, to see how long it would be before he figured it all out.

No wonder Goyle hadn't wanted Scorpius, a known Muggle sympathiser, to act as courier. Most of the Shadow's more dangerous products were designed only to harm Muggles, at least if you believed everything you read in the papers. Not all of them though. Scorpius felt bile rise in his throat as he remembered. The Shadow, or someone buying from the Shadow, tried to kill the Minister for Magic. Tried to kill Harry Potter. And nearly succeeded.

He remembered the look on Ron Weasley's face when he had seen him in Borgin and Burkes. I'm a criminal. A bloody criminal. Whatever was in that package could have killed someone. They have every right to send me to prison. He doubted Mr Weasley would ever come around to Scorpius dating his daughter now, even if he somehow managed to avoid Azkaban after this.