The Quidditch pitch went entirely silent, and even the players stopped flying, and looked down, down, down to see my twin, my brother, my best friend hit the ground. His body was limp, like a rag doll’s, and his arms stretched over his head like he was waiting for death. I stood, almost hanging over the edge of the seats, not breathing. Then I turned to Rose Weasley, who still had her wand extended from where she had Vanished both Scorpius’s broom and the Snitch. And maybe his life.
“I’m going to KILL you!” I screeched, my voice echoing throughout the stadium. Without any thought of consequences or fear, I threw myself at Rose, knocking her wand out of her wand. Both of our wands now lay on the ground, but absence of magic wasn’t going to stop me from pounding her into a pulp. Muggles did it all the time, and I was so much better than any Muggle, so of course I could do it as well.
She killed Scorp, she killed Scorp. Scorpius is dead, he’s dead. Your twin is dead, Malfoy! Voices rushed inside my head, filling both my eyes and vision until all I could see was Rose’s face and how the blood that speckled it was a small price to pay, now that my brother had died…
“Miss Malfoy!” came a shocked voice. A pair of large, rough hands pulled me away from Rose, who scrambled backwards in fear that I would jump on her again.
“Let me go!” I yelled, trying to get back to Rose. The person holding me however, wasn’t listening, and pulled me away from Weasley, with me still screaming and kicking.
Finally the gamekeeper and Care of Magical Teachers teacher dumped me, sobbing, onto the ground. We were well away from the Quidditch pitch, and almost to the school.
Through my tears and racking sobs I could see that Hagrid was looking uncomfortable.
“Eh, don’t cry,” he said, looking to the side. “I’m sure your brother’s not ‘ead.”
My only reply was a howl of sorrow. Scorpius was my brother, and my best friend. Albus had told me how his Uncle George felt after his other uncle, Fred had died. According to him, Albus’s Uncle George was never able to produce a Patronous, and was never really happy again.
“He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead,” was the only thing I was able to think or say on my way to Professor McGonagall’s office.
I guess I could only speak the truth.
Weasley and I sat, glowering at each other. My tears had finally subsided, and now, in the same room with my enemy, I felt more anger than anything else. Professor McGonagall stalked between us, telling of our punishment.
Her voice shook with anger. It was so scary. Not.
“I am absolutely disgusted with the behavior you two girls showed today. Miss Malfoy, you attacked another student! For the second time this year. And not even a proper duel— you descended to brawling like a Muggle! And I—“
I crossed my arms and shoved my face in the green and silver scarf around my neck. McGonagall had refused to tell me anything about Scorpius, and now Weasley was staring gleefully at me like an idiot—
“—I’m even considering having you, Malfoy, be suspended from the Slytherin Quidditch team.”
“WHAT?” I sat upright in my chair. “You can’t, professor!”
Professor McGonagall ignored me. “But you will be certain to get a week’s worth of detentions and there will be fifty points deducted from Slytherin.”
“Professor, Scorpius…” I whispered.
“And,” McGonagall’s eyes flashed over me, like an eagle sizing up it’s prey. “I will be writing to your family, no doubt they are already here, for your brother.”
“Which family?” Interrupted Weasley. “The one’s in Azkaban, or the one’s who deserve to be there? Oh, I forgot, that’s everyone, isn’t it?”
I gripped both sides of my armchair and glared at her. If looks could kill, she would’ve dropped dead right there.
McGonagall turned to Rose. “Miss Weasley! You are not out of this predicament either. Not only are you are rude— your professors have made that clear— but you sabotaged a Quidditch match and seriously injured a fellow student!” The headmistress’s voice rose in pitch. “ Seventy-five points from Ravenclaw, a week of detentions, and you will be certain that I will write to your mother and father, expressing the certain need of discipline for you.”
She took a step back and glanced at both of us. “If either of you girls put another toe out of line, I assure you that you will be suspended for the rest of the year, you can count on that!”
“Professor McGonagall!” I yelled, not caring at possible suspension at the moment. She whipped around to face me, and I stood up. “I need to go to the hospital wing, see Scorpius, make sure…”
Her eyes softened slightly. “Alright, Miss Malfoy. You may go.”
I didn’t wait for another word and dashed out of her office, cursing at the stone gargoyles when they didn’t move fast enough, and sped all the way to the hospital wing.
Seriously injured, McGonagall had said. Not dead?
I curled my knees closer to my body and perched on the stool that Madame Abbot had brought me. Scorpius’s white blond hair had fallen over his eyes, and he was still wearing his yellow and black Quidditch robes. He looked perfectly fine, besides the fact that he was injured with things that Madame Abbot could not detect. His breath rose peacefully, but I watched, terrified that I would glance away, and the breath would’ve stopped entirely.
A gentle hand was placed on my shoulder. Looking up, tears began to stream from my eyes once more. Mum looked shocked, then came around and knelt on the ground. Her dark green robes fell beside her, and she looked into my eyes.
“Hazel dear, why are you crying?”
I stared at her. “S-Scorpius might d-die!”
“Don’t be silly,” Came Dad’s voice. There was a soft tap of his leather shoes as he rounded the chair and knelt beside his wife. “Scorpius is not going to die.”
“How do you know?” I asked. I wiped a mixture of snot and tears away with my sleeve. “You’re not Healers.”
Mum sighed. “Madame Abbot just told us. He’s going to be fine. He only fell fifteen or twenty feet, which is small compared to most Quidditch accidents.”
“The only person who’s in danger right now is Rose Weasley,” growled Dad. He looked around the room. “If I catch her, or her father alone, I-I’ll…” He trailed off, still looking furious.
Mum glanced at him disapprovingly. “Really, Draco, this is no way to act around your children. Hazel already got in trouble, big trouble in fact, for attacking this Weasley girl.” Her eyes darkened, and she brushed a strand of hair out of my face. “Honey, your Dad and I know you have a temper, and are always trying to fight for what you think is right…”
“But you need to be careful,” Dad said. He lowered his voice and stood up, placed a hand on my chair, and looked outside at the darkening sky. “People will hold you accountable for these things, and will always judge you because your a Malfoy.”
“So are you asking me to just let them slander my family?” I asked. Madame Abbot poked her head out from her office, gave a dramatic Shush! and went back to her work. I dropped my voice. “Are you?”
Mum stood as well. “It’s just, dangerous. You cannot get expelled from Hogwarts, because I doubt that Beabaxtons Academy would take you.”
“Yeah, you’re not a spoiled French brat,” snorted Dad. I giggled, and Mum glared at him again.
“Really, Draco?” Mum sighed and walked over to Scorpius’s bed. She brushed the hair out of his eyes, just the same as she did to mine. Looking up, she said,” Do you think that it would’ve been better if we had given the kids my name?”
Before Dad could reply I stood and crossed my arms. “No way. I’ve decided that I’m not going to wish that I wasn’t a Malfoy. I’m going to do what Scorpius has always done, and be proud of it.” I glanced at Mum, then at Dad. “I’ll try and keep my temper at bay, but if Rose— or anyone else puts a wand or Scorpius and I—“ I snapped my fingers. “I’m hexing them.”