Chapter Text
Are you afraid of what you’ll hear?
Afraid I’ll speak the name you fear?
~
“The world changes and we change with it.”
Act Three, Scene Nine
Diagon Alley was busy and bustling. Cloaks swirled around him and Albus let himself relax into his stride as he followed his family along the cobbled path. Ahead his dad and brother, James, talked in rushed tones about the upcoming Caerphilly Catapults and Wigton Wanderers quidditch match. Their eyes were lit up, hands waving as they spoke, a matching pair.
They were on their way to The Three Sheets to meet with uncle Ron, aunt Hermione, Rose, and Hugo. It was a tradition that the Potters and the Granger-Weasley’s had never wavered in, their summer trip to Diagon Alley. Harry had relented this year and agreed to avoid The Leaky Cauldron. He hadn’t said so, of course, but Albus knew it was because of him. Because his dad was trying to compromise. And he was grateful; The Leaky Cauldron meant autographs and pictures and being shoved to the side.
He might be better at it, this year, though.
Being Harry Potter’s son.
Albus jumped out of the path as a bevy of small children ambled past him, followed by a particularly harassed looking witch. “Wait!” she called, her hat perilously close to falling off her head. “Stay together!”
He shared an amused look with his mum. “Reminds me of your grandma,” she said. “Imagine, having seven James’ to keep track of! I can hardly deal with one of them.” She smiled and tugged on one of Lily’s bunches as the three set back on the path.
He’d lost sight of his dad and brother in the crowds, though managed to navigate a route following the soft gasps.
“Was that -?”
“Did you see him?”
“Harry Potter! ”
Since his and Scorpius’ fiasco with the time turner last year - adventure, James had called it - Albus’ relationship with his dad had improved. It turned out that almost bringing about the return of Voldemort himself had a pretty grounding effect on a person. He’d been surprised, frankly. The two were still a little stilted with each other, sure, but it was better. Albus had even gone with his dad to Godric’s Hollow over the summer to see the new memorial plaque that had been erected there.
The door to the The Three Sheets creaked open and Albus was momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer amount of fishermen's nets hanging from the walls. He blinked.
“Well. This is nice,” Harry commented.
Next to him James grimaced. “It smells like fish,” he said, unimpressed. He wasn’t wrong. Albus wrinkled his nose a little. Perhaps The Leaky Cauldron would have been better after all.
“Yes, it does.” Harry unbuttoned his waistcoat, eyes travelling around the dimly lit pub. “Ah,” he exclaimed after a moment. “There’s Ron.”
Ron, Hermione, and Hugo were crowded around the rickety bar, bags of shopping crammed at their feet. Ron spotted them first, waving them down over the top of the other customers' heads. Hugo was leant against the bar, his face buried in a book, ‘Big Foot’s Last Stand’ by Ortiz O’Flaherty.
“Hi, Hugo,” Lily greeted lightly. Hugo lifted his eyes, lips spreading into a wide, crooked smile for a second before he became lost in his book once more. Over his shoulder Ron rolled his eyes and Albus grinned. Hugo was one of his favourite cousins. Where the rest of them seemed to fill any room with noise, Hugo was more like him, content to watch from the side. The young Granger-Weasley’s hair was in disarray, his collar sticking up at odd angles. His glasses sat skewiff on his nose, a clear smudge streaked across one lens. He didn’t seem to mind.
“We’ve been here all morning, I tell you,” Ron said, with a groan. “Doing the rounds for this one’s second year. Didn’t even want a new broomstick! Madness,” he teased, ruffling Hugo’s hair.
"I like the one I have," Hugo mumbled as Ron's bewildered expression became even more pronounced.
“We’ve just been to Ollivander’s,” Harry replied, with a nod to Albus. “Got Albus’ new wand sorted.”
Hermione’s eyes lit up. “Oh, wonderful. What picked you?” she asked him.
“Er,” Albus stumbled on his words, attention suddenly on him. “Hawthorn, eleven inches. Phoenix feather. ‘Slightly yielding’,” he finished with a small smile, remembering the pleased expression on the wandmaker’s face when he’d handed it over. His old wand - the one Delphi had broken - had been rather brittle. He preferred this new one, if he was honest. The temporary he’d been using last year had been dull. This one warmed his chest.
“That’s a good length, Albus,” Hermione gushed. “It must’ve seen some real skill in you.” Albus blushed a little. “And hawthorn? That’ll be brilliant for counter curses.”
Ron snorted. “Brilliant for getting up to more trouble, more like. I’ve got your ticket, Albus,” he said, wagging his finger at Albus with a smirk.
Albus bit down on his lip, all too aware of his mum’s eyes on him.
Right on queue she cut in, in full mum mode, “No, there’ll be no rule breaking this year. From any of them. Will there?” She sent a stern glower towards both James and Albus and the two boys ducked their heads, chagrined.
“No, mum,” they chorused.
“That’s right,” Harry added, clearly amused. “Or Aunt Hermione will draw you up a study timetable. Make you stick to it.”
“Oh, shush.” Hermione shoved his shoulder. “Rose is on her way. She’s catching up with Yann.”
“Neither of them made prefect,” Ron added, with a solemn nod. “So they’re grieving together, I think.”
Oh. Oh. Of course, this was the year they picked the prefects, how could Albus forget? He’d never expected to get it, but he’d thought Scorpius had been a safe bet. They’d only got their owls yesterday, he hadn’t heard from Scorpius since. He’d have to write when they got back home. Surely Scorpius must’ve got it? Who else could it be?
“Don’t joke, Ron,” Hermione chastised, as everyone moved to cover their smirking mouths. “Honestly, she’s a little sensitive about it.”
“Who did get it?” Albus asked.
“Polly Chapman,” James responded with a shrug. “And Karl Jenkins. I don’t know about Slytherin, though, but it’s got to be Scorpius, right? They’re hardly going to give to Dickinson or Howe-Richards.” He pulled a face. “And Tarik is too quidditch mad.”
“Tarik is quidditch mad?” Albus drawled, unable to stop himself.
James narrowed his eyes. “Are you deaf?”
“Boys,” Harry warned.
“Mum,” Lily tugged on Ginny’s sleeve, ignoring her brothers. “We still need to go to Eeylops Owl Emporium. Flores needs his medicine refilled.”
“I hadn’t forgotten,” she reassured. “We’ll have one drink, don’t you want to say ‘hello’ to Rose?”
Lily grumbled under her breath, something like, “It’s never ‘one drink’,” though Ginny pretended like she couldn’t hear.
“You know Flores is my owl, right Lily?” Albus said to her. He’d been given the brown owl for his tenth birthday and Lily had been taken with him ever since. Albus was sure the owl tolerated Lily more than anything, but he would never say as much.
“But he likes me more,” she said and stuck her tongue out, red bunches bouncing around her face. Albus returned the gesture while the adults continued to chat.
Rose joined them a few minutes later and they squeezed into a corner booth, Albus sipping at his butterbeer contentedly, savouring the sweetness on his tongue.
“You look like hell, Harry, if you don’t mind me saying,” he listened to Ron say. “Fallout from that attack still keeping you busy? Hermione says the Ministry’s getting threats about another.”
“Cheers, mate,” Harry replied. It had been all over the Prophet last week, an attack in Chudley. The paper had claimed that dark magic had been used. Albus hadn’t really concerned himself with the detail and his dad had said it was nothing. It was hardly going to be as bad as changing history and bringing about the end of the world, so he wasn’t particularly worried. His dad traced the handle of his glass and sighed. “We’ve had three more in this week. All hoaxes, but everyone’s on tenterhooks at the moment. There was a briefing with the Unspeakables the other day, they’re just as in the dark as we are. I think. Hard to tell with them, to be honest.”
“Harry,” Hermione coughed, her gaze dancing over to where the children were sat, all suspiciously quiet as they listened in. “Is this really the place to discuss this?”
Albus watched over the rim of his glass as his dad bit his cheek and inclined his head. “No, Minister,” he teased.
“She’s not Minister. Not today,” Ron crowed.
“No,” Hermione relented. “But, it’s worth remaining vigilant.”
“‘Constant vigilance’,” Albus thought he heard his dad mutter under his breath.
By the time they returned to their home - a large, ramshackled cottage in Appleby - it was already dark. Ginny announced that they’d have takeaway for tea, to a chorus of cheers. Up in his corner room, with a view to the flat fields beyond, Albus scrawled out a hasty letter to Scorpius. It was a whole month until Albus would see him again. As nice as it was to be home, and to be happy there, he willed the time away.
~
A plume of steam burst in front of Albus’ eyes and he coughed lightly, waving the air clear.
“All right, boys, Lily. Lily, where’s - Oh, there. Right, gather around.”
The Hogwarts Expressed loomed on the tracks, the people gathered on the small platform performing a rather disorientated dance to move around each other.
“Dad -” James groaned, craning his neck to look down the platform.
“No, James, listen.” Harry herded them close together. Over his shoulder, Albus could see the usual stares. They were just looking, he reminded himself. They were just sightseers. He turned his face to his dad. He looked like he was steeling himself for a rehearsed speech and Albus inwardly cringed at the memory of their previous goodbyes at Platform 9 ¾. He’d not made it easy on his dad, that was for sure. “I want you all to look out for each other this year, all right? I know you’ve got your own friends, that’s fine -”
“Dad, can we -”
“James.”
“Fine!” James whined. “I’ll try and make sure Al doesn’t get lost in space again, or whatever.”
“It wasn’t space. It was time,” Lily responded, disparagingly. “They’re different. And it’s Al-bus.”
Lily’s words caught somewhere in his chest. She really was an okay little sister, in the grand scheme of things. He took pity on James, however, caught in her sight. “He can call me Al if he wants,” he said, softly.
“Albus,” Harry rounded on him. “I want you to tell me, okay, if there’s anyone picking on you this year, please? Or tell your brother, at least?”
Albus pulled a face, scrunching his eyes closed. He didn’t want to have this conversation at all. “Okay,” he mumbled.
He felt Harry give his shoulder a shake. “Promise?”
Faced with his dad’s silently pleading expression, he felt himself relent. “Yeah,” he shrugged. “Promise.”
Harry grinned. “Good. Right,” he stood straight, arms stretched open. “Come here.”
After being dragged into several rounds of goodbye by his mum, Albus eventually boarded the Hogwarts Express, dragging his trunk and Flores’ cage behind him. It took him until the train was well clear of the station to find Scorpius, but he finally stumbled across him in one of the carriages near the end of the train. He was wedged in the corner, balefully eyeing the two other tiny students in the compartment with him. Albus figured they must be first years, from the shy smiles they were wearing. He nodded politely to them as he entered and dropped down next to Scorpius.
“Hi,” he grinned, breathless. “Nice badge.”
Scorpius broke into a smile. He was already in his Hogwarts robes, his prefect’s badge shining where it was pinned to his lapel.
“Why, thank you,” Scorpius preened. He shifted in his seat, turning to face Albus fully, folding his legs underneath himself. “How was your summer? I know you wrote, but you have to tell me all about Germany. Did you go to the Black Forest? Did you see any Erklings?”
The pair caught up with each other and Albus could feel himself relaxing as he told his friend all about their family holiday. Even though he was on his way back to Hogwarts, he had a feeling in his stomach that this year was going to be better than the ones before it.
Scorpius was in the middle of explaining how he’d been practising his flying over the break when the compartment door flew open.
“Malfoy! Are you coming?”
The two boys startled at the call. Justina Forde, a fellow Slytherin fifth year was standing outside the compartment door. She was short and stout, all dark hair, dark eyes, and olive skin. She levelled Scorpius with an expectant stare.
“Huh?” Scorpius said, nonplussed.
“The prefect’s briefing?” She replied, sounding put-upon. “It’s about to start.”
“Oh, gosh. Right, yes, hang on.” Scorpius fumbled about in his seat indecisively. Albus couldn’t help the fond smile that slid onto his face.
From the corridor, Justina jibed, “Can’t bare to leave your boyfriend alone, is that it?”
“Leave it out, Justina,” Albus shot at her. He turned back to Scorpius, surprised to find a red flush creeping up his neck. He quickly felt his chest tighten. Scorpius had been called far worse than Albus’ boyfriend before. “You okay?” he asked.
“Oh, no, that’s not -” Scorpius shook his head dismissively. His skin remained heated, however, betraying his words. “Just teasing, right? I don’t mind.”
“Right,” Justina drawled, growing bored. “We’re up near the engine, anyway. I’ll see you there.” Scorpius nodded and she walked off, robes dragging lightly against the floor.
“Are you going to be okay here?” Scorpius asked, sparing a glance at the other young students in the compartment, seemingly engrossed in their chocolate frog cards.
“Er -” Albus frowned. “I’ll probably go find Rose, I suppose.” He stood awkwardly in the compartment as Scorpius lingered in the doorway. They always spent the train journey up together. He wasn’t sure who else would take him. “Come get me when you’re done?” he asked, trying to keep the slight worry out of his voice.
“‘Course. I’ll see you in a bit.” Scorpius was halfway out of the door before he spun on his heels and caught Albus in an all-encompassing hug. “I missed you,” he confessed to the crook of Albus’ neck.
Albus laughed, amused by Scorpius and the alarmed look on one of the first years’ faces, though they tried valiantly to mask it. He hugged his friend back, grip firm. Hugging was a thing they did now. “Yeah, me to.” He disentangled Scorpius from around his neck and shoved him towards the door. “Go on,” he encouraged. “Go do your prefect-y thing. I’ll tell Rose you said ‘hi’,” he added. Scorpius’ crush on his cousin hadn’t abated in the past year. It was impressive, really, considering how consistently she turned him down.
“Right,” Scorpius let out a small laugh, rubbing his neck. Albus watched him retreat down the corridor, his stride quick, head down.
~
The rest of the journey was a blur, merging into the loud, bright, sparkling noise of the welcoming feast. Sat at the Slytherin table, Albus watched as the new first years got sorted, each looking a little more daunted than the last. The two from his carriage both ended up in Hufflepuff. For some reason, he was relieved they’d stayed together. Just when he was so full of food that he was sure he would burst, Headmistress McGonagall gave her speech, sending them all off to their dorms.
He mumbled a sleepy goodnight to Scorpius, the sound of the lake beyond the window lulling him into a familiar sleep.
All too soon the morning arrived, and it was time for the term to properly begin. At the breakfast table Albus munched on his cereal. He stared at his new wand, propped against his glass of pumpkin juice. He was certain this one would serve him better. That must’ve been his problem, before; a wand that wasn’t properly his. He knew himself more, now, so surely he’d be more in tune with a wand that picked him now? It just made sense.
Next to him, Scorpius clambered onto the bench with ill-grace.
“Morning,” he chimed, grabbing a slice of toast.
“You don’t have to be quite so cheery, really.”
“I know, but I am.” He covered his toast in a heavy helping of marmalade. To Albus’ horror, he began to hum lightly.
“Ugh.”
At that moment, Professor Leroux dropped a copy of Albus’ timetable onto the table in front of him. “You have half an hour, boys. Don’t be tardy on your first day.”
“No, Professor,” Scorpius agreed.
“And sort your collar out, Potter. Just a touch of house pride wouldn’t go amiss.”
“Er, yes, Professor,” Albus replied, distractedly, as the Professor carried on down the table. “Would you look at that,” he said, flicking at his timetable. “Defence and Potions on a Monday morning. Ah, Potions with the Gryffindors, again. ”
“I thought you didn’t mind Potions with the Gryffindors last year?” Scorpius asked around a mouthful of food. His white blond hair had fallen to one side across his forehead.
“Not minding and enjoying are two very different things,” Albus pointed out. He reached over to straighten out Scorpius’ hair, touch light.
Scorpius began to choke on his toast. “Don’t die,” Albus muttered, clapping him on the back. “Oh, hey,” he smiled, eyes back on the parchment. “At least we’ll have a lie in on Wednesday. And Thursday and Friday! Check it out.”
“Speak for yourself,” Scorpius grumbled, mostly recovered. “I’ve got Muggle Studies on Thursday and Friday.”
Albus peered over at Scorpius’ timetable. “Oh, yeah. Well, that’s your own fault. I still don’t get why you’re doing Muggle Studies. Just ask a muggle born about it. Blimey, ask my dad if you must.”
Scorpius sent him a withering look. “I can’t just ask Harry Potter about how an x-ray works, or how muggles fly to space.”
“Sure you can,” Albus shrugged. “Everyone else does.”
“No they don’t. Your dad doesn’t even know that stuff.” Scorpius stood up, shoving at Albus’ arm, half eaten toast in one hand. “Come on, we’ve got to get to the fourth floor.”
New wand clasped tightly in his palm, Albus strode to Defence Against the Dark Arts full of confidence.
Half an hour in, however, it was evaporating fast.
“Potter, I know it’s the first day back, but please do try and concentrate,” Professor Diab called from the front of the class.
“Terrible.” Albus stared at his wand, aghast. “I’m still terrible.”
“What?” Scorpius hissed by his side.
Albus let himself deflate, some of the disappointment he felt clouding his face. “I thought -” He grimaced, embarrassed at his own hopefulness. “I thought my new wand would, you know,” he waved his wand in the air a little, “help.”
A wave of fondness washed over Scorpius’ face, and Albus felt even more sheepish. “It’s been less than an hour, Albus. Cut yourself some slack.”
Behind them, a chair scraped along the stone floor. Harry Arculus, a fifth year Hufflepuff sharing the class leant forward, an unpleasant glimmer in his eye. “Still a sad little Slytherin squib then, Potter?” he asked with a snigger, eyeing Albus’ wand.
Turning in his seat, Scorpius glared at Arculus, his teeth bared. “Oh, right. Because you’re the epitome of magical competence, Arculus, aren’t you? Wasn’t it you who turned your own skin blue last year?”
“Aw,” Arculus crowed, delighted at the reaction he’d elicited. “Never mind, hey? You’ll always have Voldy junior here to squeal at anyone coming your way.”
Albus’ temper flared. “I’ll have you know -” he started.
“Gentlemen,” Professor Diab intoned in his deep voice.
“Sorry, Professor,” all three of them called.
He nodded. “Better.”
“Don’t know why everyone thinks Hufflepuffs are all sweetness and light,” Scorpius said, uncharitably, under his breath.
“Scorpius the Unanxious, indeed,” Albus muttered.
Scorpius huffed out a short laugh, bending back down to try and stun the small black beetle crawling across their desk. He didn’t have much more luck than Albus.
By the time they’d made their way down to the dungeons for second period Albus was already in such a bad mood that Rose took pity on him, helping him and Scorpius measure their ingredients properly. He smiled weakly at her. Maybe it wasn’t going to be such a great year after all.
~
Life at Hogwarts was a master class in routine. That was how the time passed as the days began to shorten, the skies clouded over, and the leaves turned golden. Before Albus could pause for breath, they were almost two months into term.
Up and down the castle the excited bubble of an upcoming feast spilled under classroom doors, rushed down staircases in between classes, and sunk deep into the dungeons, where it found Albus and Scorpius curled up by the common room window.
“The Bloody Baron’s said they’re going to have flamiche at the feast this year. My mum used to do a wonderful flamiche,” Scorpius said, fingering the page corner of his heavy book.
Albus hummed, not taking his eyes off his Divination homework. “He say’s that every year, and you always believe him.”
“I’m an optimist,” Scorpius sang. Albus graced him with a despairing eyeroll before sinking lower down in his armchair.
It had taken Albus a long time to get used to the Slytherin common room; longer than he’d ever dared confess to anyone. Now the tall armchairs and high ceilings felt just as homely to him as his own bedroom. Sure, the weak light and wash of the Black Lake beyond the windows might be too much for some people. To Albus, though, they were a comfort. He was sheltered here, tucked away beneath the glittering water. If you stayed still long enough, you could feel the rays of sunlight break through.
“You know,” Albus started. “I don’t understand why you like the Bloody Baron. Does he not creep you out? He’s so, you know,” he wiggled his fingers in the air, “Murder-y.”
“A little, yes. But you have to agree the wig is quite something. I was thinking of getting one, what do you reckon? Maybe a beauty spot right here.” He tapped the side of his face, blinking over at Albus, clearly waiting for him to laugh.
“And you wonder why Rose keeps turning you down,” Albus puzzled. He ducked his head before Scorpius could see the corner of his lips curl up.
“You’re not allowed to bring her up,” Scorpius whined, flinging himself backwards on the sofa. “You promised. She’s my Achilles heel.” He stared wistfully towards the window, just in time to wave at a passing mermaid.
Though he knew that Scorpius was joking - he was pretty sure, anyway; who would be that obsessed with some girl, even if it was Rose? - he was more than happy to drop the subject. He was dreading the outcome of Scorpius’ regular requests to Rose to go out on a date more and more these days. As much as he tried to tell himself to grow up and be happy for his friend, he couldn’t quite get his brain to comply.
“Hey, guys.”
Albus lifted his head to smile at Hapi Tarik and Colin Howe-Richards lingering near their corner. Hapi was a tall boy, his green eyes dazzling against soft brown skin. Next to him, Albus had always thought Colin looked a little sickly. Just as tall, the other boy was almost as pale as Scorpius, though his curly chestnut hair allayed the effect somewhat. Albus and Scorpius had shared a dorm with them for the previous four years, though they’d only tenuously ventured into friendship territory in the past year. It was still rocky ground.
“Hi,” Albus said, lightly. Next to him, Scorpius sat straighter, rearranging his robes.
Hapi spared him a raised eyebrow. “We’re about to head down to Charms Club, you coming?”
“Merlin,” Scorpius gasped. “Is that today?”
“Yep,” Colin grinned, bouncing on his feet. “I’m holding out that Professor Longbottom is going to finally hex Professor March something rotten.”
“You’re setting yourself up for disappointment, Colin. It’s not going to happen,” Hapi drawled. Albus, frankly, agreed. It would be a cold day in hell before uncle Neville let Professor March get to him.
Colin seemed undeterred. “I can dream.”
The four of them headed out into the dim corridor. It was always so cold out there, one of the many things that raised Albus’ hackles about the common room being stuck in the dungeons. The common room itself was okay, warmed by the enormous fire, but the staircases up to the ground floor left something to be desired.
“Hey, what’s that?”
The rest of them turned at Scorpius’ words. He’d stopped where the corridor split off, curling around the base of one of the castle’s many turrets. His cloak fluttered around his ankles as Albus joined him.
“Can you see that?” he whispered.
From near the foot of the stairwell, Hapi called, “Come on, we’ll be late.”
“No, wait. There’s something down there,” Scorpius insisted. He ducked his head, shuffling closer. “Albus, can you see? Near the statue?”
“Scorpius -” Albus sighed, dragging a hand over his face.
“Just, look.”
He squinted in the direction Scorpius was pointing. The flickering pale lamps drew long, shimmering shadows on the stone. “I can’t -” Albus started. A shadow flickered near the very side of the corridor. There was a shape, something hidden in the depths. “What is it?” He stepped forward, waving off the calls of the others boys. Scorpius had a tight grasp on the back of his cloak as the two of them stumbled closers.
“Albus,” he whispered.
Albus shushed him, concentrating on the darkened floor. He fumbled in his pocket for his wand. “Lumos.”
“Oh, my -”
“Get away!”
“Merlin’s beard.”
It was a body. Albus stood at the woman’s feet, Scorpius crowded behind him, trying to pull him away. Her eyes were wide open. Her skin was as pale as a ghost.
“What happened to her?” he muttered.
“I’m going to find Professor Leroux,” Colin said, his fast footsteps fading quickly into the distance.
A disgusted expression morphing his features, Hapi edged closer. “I don’t even recognise her,” he croaked. “She’s not a teacher, what was she doing down here?” If he was honest, Albus thought the woman, with her mousey blonde hair falling out of its delicate braid, looked completely out of place in the castle. She was wearing muggle clothes, though they seemed expressive. One of her high stiletto shoes was strewn haphazardly further down the corridor. Her lipstick was smudged over chin. There was no sign of a wand anywhere. Maybe she was a muggle? Why on earth would she be in Hogwarts’ dungeons?
After a quick survey of the stone floor around the woman, Albus stopped short, frowning. “There isn’t any blood.”
“Albus, don’t touch her,” Scorpius rushed, as he crouched down next to the body.
“I’m not going to, I’m just -” He raised his wand closer to her, lighting up her features. She didn’t look that old. The same age as his mum, maybe. He felt a little ill. “I wonder how long she’s been here?”
Scorpius shifted on the spot, arms wrapped around himself. “I don’t know. I don’t think there’s anybody else about. Whoever,” he nodded at the corpse, “ did it, I mean.”
Albus bit his lip, eyes flicking back down towards the common room door. They would’ve been just metres away.
“Malfoy! Potter!” He jumped up as Professor McGonagall came marching down the corridor, Colin in tow. “Tarik! For pity’s sake, get away from there.” She flapped her arms towards the three of them. “Have you no common sense between you?”
“Professor McGonagall,” Scorpius squawked. “We just found her, we didn’t -”
“I know that, Mr Malfoy. Don’t be ridiculous.” She took in the scene before her with a pinched expression. “Mr Howe-Richards. Fetch Madam Pomfrey.”
“Er,” Albus stammered. “I’m pretty sure she’s dead, Professor.”
Professor McGonagall blinked at him, and Albus immediately felt a little foolish. She turned back to an anxious looking Colin. “Ask her to message the Ministry immediately, tell them a body has been found at Hogwarts. Then she is to come down here with Professor Diab. We need to find out what happened here.”
As Colin retreated once more, Hapi asked in his deep voice, “Do you - Do you know who she is, Professor?”
“No,” the Professor said, softly. “I haven’t the faintest.”
Albus shared a look with Scorpius. He seemed even paler than usual, a sickly looking grey under his eyes. Reaching out, he clasped his friend’s hand tightly in his own. Their gaze rested once more on the dead woman and her cold, unmoving hand, stretched out along the floor, reaching for something and nothing at all.
~
Of course, word spread like wildfire. The next morning Albus awoke to the whole of Slytherin house gathered in the common room, Head Girl Jupiter Barnes delivering a stern warning about safety procedures when walking around the castle.
The normal scuffle for the door was accompanied by a slew of worried murmurs.
“Just up the corridor.”
“Could’ve been any of us.”
“Not a mark on her, apparently.”
It didn’t abate even at breakfast. Scorpius wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so Albus faced the curious stares from the other houses alone. Almost alone.
“I don’t think I’ll ever eat again,” Colin mourned, staring balefully at his plate of fried eggs on toast.
“‘Ere,” Hapi grunted, slamming his fork through one of the eggs and lifting it onto his own plate. “What?” he said at Colin and Albus’ shocked expressions. “Trauma makes me hungry, all right. Back off.”
The screeching of a hundred owls filled the Great Hall and Albus craned his neck, looking out for Flores. Sure enough, his owl landed on his shoulder, a scroll of parchment tied neatly to his foot. Albus recognised the writing immediately.
Dear Albus,
Minerva owled us last night and explained what happened. Are you okay? I know you probably don’t want us asking, but if you’re feeling shaken, try some chocolate. You can always talk to Neville as well, if you need to. Please don’t keep your troubles to yourself, Albus. It’s a horrible thing, what happened to you and your friends.
Rest assured, we’re investigating the matter as a top priority here. Hogwarts is still the safest place you can be. That being said, do not go looking for trouble. Promise? You and James. Leave the investigation work to the Ministry. It’s what we’re paid to do.
We hope you have fun at the Hallowe’en Feast. We’ve got some stuff planned for half term that we think you’ll enjoy.
Work hard and owl us if you need us.
Lots of love,
Mum and Dad xx
p.s. Lily seems convinced that you’re going to be sent to Azkaban. Can you speak to her? I don’t think she believed me when I said you’d be fine. Some Head of Department I make! (Dad x)
“Did you get the same?” Albus jumped as James leant his elbows onto the table next to him. “Outrageous. And bloody hypocritical, too, if you ask me.” He waved a similar scroll of parchment in front of Albus’ face. “‘Don’t go looking for trouble.’ I didn’t even do anything! It’s like they don’t know us at all.” He winked, clapping Albus around the head lightly before wandering back to his table.
Stuffing the letter into his pocket, Albus stroked Flores’ feathers for a moment before reaching over and grabbing the chocolate spread. He was plastering it liberally across a warm crumpet when he heard his name being yelled across the room.
“Albus!” Scorpius hurtled into the Great Hall at speed, his robes flying behind him, arms whirling. “Albus? Do you know -? Ah!”
Albus winced a little, responding the concerned looks of those around him with a placating smile. Once Scorpius reached him, he whispered, frantically, “Could you draw any more attention to yourself if you tried?”
Scorpius ignored him entirely, sending a brilliant smile his way. “Albus! I have the most fantastic, outstanding, just, really, just unbelievable news!”
“All right, all right.” Albus tugged at Scorpius’ jumper, slightly rumbled from his excursions. “Look, sit down before you fall down.”
“It’s - Gosh, I don’t really know where - I think I might vomit -” Scorpius panted as he swung his legs over the bench.
“Er - I thought you had good news?”
“Yes! Yes, the best.”
Albus leant closer and whispered, “Is it about the woman? Have they found out who did it?”
“What? Oh, no.” Now that he was really looking, Albus could see a blush painted across Scorpius’ cheeks, one he didn’t think had anything to do with his running. “No, I haven’t heard anything about that. It’s -” Scorpius let out a small giggle. “It’s Rose. ”
“Rose?” Albus repeated, confused.
“Yuhuh.”
“Anything about her in particular?”
“I asked her out.”
Albus scoffed. “This is not news to me, Scorpius,”
“No, I asked her out. To Hogsmeade and she -” Scorpius made a strange kind of strangled noise which had Albus frowning in concern. “She said yes!”
“What?”
“I know!” Scorpius laughed, tapping his feet against the ground. “Can you believe it?”
Albus blinked. He stared down at his crumpet, chocolate seeping slowly onto his plate. He wasn’t so hungry anymore. “Hardly.”
But Scorpius wasn’t listening to him. He was running a hand through his hair, a somewhat punchdrunk look on his face. “She wasn’t even joking, Albus, I checked. She deliberately said yes. To a date. With me! I mean, I’m shaking. Look!” He held out his hands, which were trembling.
“Er, yeah, so you are.” Albus coughed, shifting in his seat. He had a rather alarming thought that he might be about to cry. “Um, congratulations, mate. That’s - That’s great.”
“You’ll help me, won’t you?” Scorpius asked, teasing his lip with his teeth.
Albus took a steadying breath, focusing on Scorpius’ unsure expression. “Help you? How?”
Scorpius shrugged. “With the date. I don’t know what to do, I’ve never been on one before.”
“Neither have I.”
“No, but you’re just, you know,” Scorpius waved his hand in Albus’ direction and Albus shook his head, bemused.
“No?”
With an exasperated sigh, Scorpius replied, “You’re you. You’re good at that stuff.”
Uncertain of what on earth Scorpius was talking about, Albus began to feel tetchy. “I think there’s a queue of people in this room that would be happy to attest that I’m in no way good at that stuff, Scorpius.”
“Oh, shut up. You have to help. I’ll be a complete disaster if you don’t.” Scorpius pouted and Albus was powerless.
“I mean, yeah,” he said, rubbing at his jaw. “Of course I’ll help. You don’t need to freak out, though.” He added, a familiar fondness creeping over him at Scorpius’ pleased hum. “She said yes. She knows you’re a weirdo.”
“But she doesn’t know how much of a weirdo. I only go full weirdo with you,” Scorpius said, eyes wide.
Albus smiled. His voice broke as he said, “Well, I’m honoured. You will be fine.”
Behind Scorpius he spotted a familiar figure approaching.
“Discovering a body? Very Potter, I must say.” His cousin, Roxanne, skipped over, grin stretching from ear to ear. Albus slumped against the table, ignoring Roxanne’s amused chuckle as she ruffled his hair. “You okay though?” she asked, voice gentle.
“Yes.”
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, okay,” Roxanne whistled, hands raised in surrender. Albus only felt a little guilty. “Just asking.” She nudged his foot with her own as she made to leave. “Stay safe, ickle Al.”
Albus watched her go, thankful that the Great Hall seemed to be quieting down. People were still watching them, though. He could feel it.
“My dad’s going to kill me.”
He turned to Scorpius, who looked considerably less pleased with himself than a few moments ago. Apparently he’d forgotten about the incident with the dead woman amongst all his excitement around Rose.
“What? It’s not like we could’ve helped it,” Albus pulled a face as Scorpius dropped his head to his hands.
Scorpius groaned into his palms. “I promised I wouldn’t get up to anything this year.”
“We haven’t got up to anything,” Albus muttered, scowling across the hall to where people were staring. “Anything got up to us.”
“You seem to be entertaining the mistaken belief that my dad will be listening to reason,” Scorpius joked.
Albus smiled, but he couldn’t sustain it. He gnawed on his cheek for a moment before rising, abruptly. “I’m going to sit with Lily for a bit,” he announced. “See you in Potions.”
He knew that Scorpius would figure out something was up sooner or later. But the more time he could buy himself, the better.
~
The Hallowe’en Feast came and went and Scorpius’ excitement for his Hogsmeade date with Rose continued to build. It spoke to Albus on a deep level when he stepped onto the Platform 9 ¾ and was grateful to be spending half term away from Scorpius. Something about listening to his friend wax lyrical about Rose made his head hurt.
He wasn’t foolish. He knew what was happening. It startled him, though, how completely blindsided he felt by the whole thing.
Autumn in Appleby was a drizzling affair. The grass grew sodden, the gnomes in the garden became more and more sullen, and Albus was in love with his best friend.
“Al! Dad says breakfast in ten minutes!”
Albus groaned into his pillow. Perched on top of his stack of school books Flores screeched.
“Shuddup, Flore’,” Albus trailed off miserably. The owl was not to be convinced, however, so he dragged himself out from under his warm duvet and shoved at the window latch. Flores escaped as soon as was possible and Albus leant his forehead against the cool window pane, watching him vanish into the sky.
He was moping. He knew it. James and Lily knew it. His mum and dad knew it. He took small comfort, though, in the fact that they hadn’t asked him why, yet. It would come soon, he was sure.
Perhaps this was what his future was going to be like now? Just living one miserable day to the next, his heart ripped out from his chest, exposed to the world with no one to care for it.
“Albus!” his dad shouted from downstairs. “Breakfast! Now!”
Melancholy put on hold, Albus pushed away from the window ledge and trundled downstairs. Lily sprinted past him on the final step, a whirlwind of red. The wireless played in the background, his mum’s favourite quidditch channel recapping highlights from the league.
“The Ballycat Bats played a corker of a game yesterday, ladies and gents, thrashing the Pride of Portree three hundred and twenty to eighty. Not so proud anymore, Portree, I imagine ...”
Albus settled into his seat next to Lily. “Pancakes?” he asked, eyeing the small pile on his plate. They were his favourite. Ginny set down a glass of orange juice next to him and he eyed her suspiciously. She wiggled her eyebrows.
“Well, you’ve been a bit of a miserable sod recently,” Harry said, piling bacon in the middle of his own pancake. “Need you as chipper as possible for our trip today.” He sent Albus a winning smile.
“Thanks,” Albus replied, picking up his knife and fork. “I think.”
Later, when they were all ready by the door, layered to the nines for a day trip to Sheringham Beach, Harry held Albus back as everyone headed to the car.
“Er,” Albus stalled, looking up at his dad with a grimace. “Can I help you with something?”
“I’m sure you can.” Harry replied, lightly. His hair was on top form today, Albus thought. It stood upright on top of his head, waving in the breeze. It formed quite a juxtaposition with his serious eyes. “Whatever’s going on with you -” Albus went to interupt but his dad raised his finger. “ Whatever it is, do you want to talk about it?”
Albus thought of how to put it into words. What, a month ago would’ve been just Scorpius, was now absolutely everything. It was the way his face crinkled when he smiled so wide, the way he’d rise onto the balls of his feet when he got excited, the way his eyes would go dark when he listened carefully to Albus speak. The way Albus wanted to run his hands through his hair, entwine their fingers together, press his lips to the soft skin behind his ear. The way he wanted Scorpius to want it all, too.
“No,” he said, quietly. “Not just yet.”
Harry nodded. “Okay.” He bit his lip, clearly thinking something through. In the end, he simply curled his hand around Albus’ face. “I’m here when you do,” he said. And Albus knew for sure that he would be.
The day in Sheringham was nice. The beach was practically empty. Albus and James spent an enjoyable half an hour terrorising Lily with stray strands of seaweed. They got fish and chips and watched as the rain rippled atop the waves, all of them protected by their impervious charm.
Albus felt somehow calmer.
So what, he loved Scorpius? People loved other people all the time without the world grinding to a halt. And it wasn’t as if Scorpius didn’t care about him, Albus knew he did. He’d just have to be happy with what he could have. He wasn’t going to let a silly little thing like love get in the way of the best friend he’d ever have. He could be happy for Scorpius and Rose. He could and he would.