Chapter Text
i. owls
The night before he is due to leave for his first year at Hogwarts, Albus Potter decides he hates owls.
In fact, he hates owls so much he makes it a point to tell his father just that from across the dinner table. Albus feels his mother stiffen beside him, and steels his expression so the sudden burst of spiteful delight he feels cannot be made evident. His sister Lily looks at him, obviously perplexed, while his older brother James, unlike him, cannot muster the patience to hide his arrogant contempt for the statement.
It doesn't matter what they all think. It is Harry Potter, his father, that Albus is staring at.
Harry, much to his discontent, seems to be the only one out of the lot of them that stares back at his son with a good-natured, kind smile.
"You hate owls?" His smile seems to be almost amused, as though Albus is four years old and has said something to be laughed at. "Why's that?"
"Their feathers get everywhere," Albus mumbles, feeling very put out that he did not get the intended reaction from his father - in fact, he's not entirely sure what he expected at all, only he'd rather hoped it would end with Harry pointing at the door, flushed with anger, telling Albus to go straight to bed. "And Agnes kept biting us when we had her," he carries on, all of a sudden self-conscious that the table is quiet and that all eyes are, unusually, on him.
"I liked Agnes," Lily quips innocently. "She looked like dad's old owl, Hedwig, didn't she?"
A silence descends upon the table, the tense sort; the sort Albus thought that only he could bring to family dinners whenever he says something entirely inappropriate (usually about Harry and the War). Albus feels that wicked pleasure stirring in him again as he eyes his father looking thoroughly uncomfortable, his own focus directed down at his hands under the dinner table.
"She did indeed." It is Ginny that intervenes finally, and just like that, she is getting up and clapping her hands together, ever the captain of the house. "Now it's past your bedtime, Lily. And James, you've still got a bit of packing left to do, haven't you? Why you leave it till last minute - just like Ron - and Albus, it's best if you go to bed a little early too tonight. Big day tomorrow, yes?" She smiles radiantly at her son but he does not return it.
"Big day," he mutters dully, ignoring the concerned look on his mother's face as he scrapes his chair back and pushes past James, who quietly mutters an insult to him as he does so, to go up to his bedroom.
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Hogwarts isn't as bad as Albus thought it would be.
Yes, it is certainly as annoyingly grand as James showed it off to be for all these years. And anything James approves of, Albus holds in contempt. But after three weeks of wandering aimlessly down the ancient corridors, slipping between the cracks of secret passageways that even beady-eyed Filch overlooked, and, of course, the school dinners, Albus begrudgingly has to accept that Hogwarts, for all its cold drafts and vastness, very much feels like a home.
Home - even his house doesn't feel like a home. In fact, he rather hates it, now that Albus has had a taste of the comforts of Hogwarts castle. What possessed his father to take up such a hideous and gloomy residence is beyond Albus. Of course, Harry Potter is hardly known for his rationale.
Even being in Slytherin isn't that bad, now that he's gotten used to the stares and the stupid, incessant whispering. James was totally horrified, of course. After all that teasing about him ending up in Slytherin house - Albus is sure James hadn't actually expected it to happen. The thought would've flattered Albus another time, perhaps years ago, when James was the very sun that his admiration revolved around; James was so totally sure Albus would end up in Gryffindor, like him - not because he is Albus, he bitterly thinks, but because he is a Potter and the brother of James Potter and it was supposed to be a given, a no-brainer, that Albus belonged in - no, to - Gryffindor house.
His parents found out, no doubt, through an outraged James because Albus certainly did not owl them any news. A day into his stay at Hogwarts, Albus received a green envelope, no doubt what his father supposed would be a tactful surprise, containing a letter congratulating him. He cast an incendio on it (he'd seen Harry do the spell many times and had mastered it quickly), and watched with flickering eyes as the fire slowly reduced the letter to a mound of grey ashes.
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Despite his newfound hate for owls, Albus makes a trip down to the Owlery. Partly because it's a gloriously beautiful September evening, and it would be a waste to spend it indoors, and partly because Albus hasn't made any friends that he could actually spend time with.
Before the term had started, Harry had stupidly suggested Albus tag along with James and his juvenile gaggle of idiots should he be in need of company. James had laughed in response, and that put an end to the conversation.
It wasn't as though Albus was particularly enthusiastic about hanging around his brother anyway. The only times he ever sees him are in the period of classroom changeovers during the day, and brief glimpses at breakfast, lunch and dinner. And when their eyes do happen to meet, there is no acknowledgement from either party. Which suits Albus just fine.
Rose Granger-Weasley tries, of course, because Albus is her cousin and she, having inherited her mother's sense of responsibility, feels obliged to smile and say hello to him whenever she can. Albus would've put up with it only if she didn't baby him so much. It's like being around both his mother and Aunt Hermione at the same time.
His cheeks are flushed from the wind, his hair in disarray, by the time he has trekked up to the tower containing all of the students' owls. The pungent smell of owl droppings and old hay hits Albus almost as soon as he enters, making his stomach turn over in disgust. The sight of dozens of owls, some hooting loudly, others aggressively pecking at one another, makes his breath quicken with anxiety and he backs away quickly, deciding that this was a very, very bad idea.
"Oh hello Albus."
He stumbles back in fright as a shadowy figure steps into the light, revealing himself to be a small, pallid-looking boy with hair the colour of silver. His small grey eyes rove over Albus, taking in his dishevelled appearance.
"You've got an owl feather in your hair," the boy says mildly before his hand reaches out to pluck it out of Albus's head.
"Thanks," Albus says awkwardly. He has already decided to turn and leave, for he can't remember the boy's name and he'd rather not make that known, but the boy begins to speak.
"Have you got something you'd like to deliver?" he asks - his voice is very friendly, but there is no smile on his face to reinforce it. "You've got to hurry," he continues, just as Albus is about to speak. "They close the Owlery at sundown. I learned that the hard way when I got locked in here." Finally something that resembles a grin graces his features, making the boy look less sickly. "Then Professor Trelawney found me and she told me something about a Third Eye telling her I was here. Something nutty like that."
It only occurs to Albus that the boy is trying to make small talk when he stops expectantly, staring back at Albus for a response.
"Oh - I - I - " His shoulders hunch down in defeat. "Sorry, I don't remember what your name is."
To his surprise, the boy breaks out into an entirely wide smile, a healthy flush creeping up on his pale cheeks. "That's the first time I've had someone say that to me." He sticks his hand out. "I'm Scorpius Malfoy."
Albus grasps his hand and shakes it. He finds his own lips curve up into a smile. Malfoy, eh? He's heard stories, every now and again, because Harry hardly tells them himself, of a Draco Malfoy who was (and this came more from Uncle Ron than Harry) 'a right ferret'. He's not entirely sure what they meant by that, but it must be some sort of an inside joke. The point is, both of them had made their dislike very clear.
What would his father think now, Albus thinks cheerfully to himself, if he struck an allegiance with the son of his old enemy?
"You don't talk much," Scorpius says when their hands break apart.
"There's nothing to say," Albus finds himself reply. That makes Scorpius laugh, and Albus thinks it's rather a pleasing sound to hear. Much better than making someone shout in anger, at any rate.
"So, which one's your owl?" Scorpius asks. He points upwards towards a majestic, grey owl, sitting all by itself, its eyes shut, looking rather haughty. "That's Prometheus. We've had him a few years but he still acts as though he's too good for us." He chuckles to himself.
Albus takes a deep breath. "I - I haven't got an owl," he admits sheepishly.
"Oh." Scorpius nods. "So do you deliver your mail through the school owls?"
Albus shakes his head, feeling stupid. "I don't send any mail. Um, it's complicated to explain. Well, not really but - I, er, I don't really like owls anyway. I'm not even sure why I'm up here."
Scorpius goggles at him like he's grown an extra head.
"You don't like owls?" he cries, as though he has been personally insulted. "But they're beautiful creatures!"
"Veela are beautiful," Albus points out defensively. "Not a lot of people like them though, do they?"
"Mother hates them," Scorpius says slyly, his eyes glinting in amusement. "A Veela tried to seduce Father while we were at the World Cup. Only, of course, Veela don't have an affect on 'those who have been afflicted with a binding, pure love for another'. According to that book I read, anyway. Father had to magically force Mother away before she hexed her."
Albus finds himself laughing along with the other boy at the story. Once they have stopped, Scorpius lifts an arm and lets out a very tuneful whistle. Albus watches in awe as Prometheus, disgruntled by the rude interruption to his nap, ruffles his feathers grumpily and swoops down to land on Scorpius's arm.
"See?" Scorpius smiles triumphantly at Albus, using his free hand to stroke the grey-coloured bird. "They're very nice to you if you feed them on time - and if their workload isn't too heavy."
"Hmph," is Albus's response though he does start to feel a twinge of envy as Prometheus huddles closer to his owner, evidently pleased with the attention he is being given. James has an owl named Biz - a dullard of a creature, when compared to Prometheus - and Lily practically begs for one everyday. Albus has never been too fussed, in fact, he's rather afraid of owls ever since their family owl, Agnes, nipped him badly in the neck when he was only eight years old.
"They sense fear," Scorpius says, as if he's read Albus's mind, "but owls never take advantage of that. Not in their owners anyway. Did you know owls are one of only four animals that are both Magic and Muggle at the same time?"
Albus shakes his head. "I didn't. What does that mean?"
Scorpius lets Prometheus fly back to his nest and his eyes flit back to Albus.
"It means," he explains, pleased to be the bearer of new information,"that they are compatible in both the Magic and the Muggle world. Most Magical creatures - hinkypunks, hippogriffs, thestrals - can't survive in a Muggle world. Not on their own, and not for a long time. And Muggles, obviously, don't know they exist. And Muggle animals like tigers and dogs don't have a single ounce of magic in them for them to be deemed a magical creature. Owls, toads, rats and cats are the only four creatures that can survive the Muggle world and have magical elements at the same time. That's one of the reasons why Hogwarts only allows them as pets. Apart from Pygmy puffs, of course, but they're not Muggle animals so they don't count."
"That's amazing," Albus breathes. "How do you know this? I don't think Aunt Hermione knows this."
Scorpius shrugs modestly. "We have books at home," he says. "And I like learning about animals. I'd like to work with magical creatures one day, but I won't let Father catch me saying that."
Albus grins. "Your dad likes to tell you what to do too, then?"
"Only occasionally." Scorpius motions to the door. "Would you like to walk back to the common room with me?"
"Oh, I'm in Slytherin," Albus says. Scorpius responds with a roll of his eyes.
"So am I," he mutters, mock-offended. "You really haven't noticed me at all these three whole weeks?"
"Sorry," Albus grins sheepishly. "I don't notice a lot."
"But I do."
"So your dad is...er, Draco Malfoy?" Albus asks warily as they weave their way through a throng of students making their way to their respective houses. Scorpius giggles.
"Finally caught on, have you?" He tuts. "Yes, he is, and no, he hasn't branded me with a Dark Mark. As much as people would like to believe that."
"No - I - I didn't - I wasn't going to ask -" Albus stumbles, his cheeks flooding with embarrassment. This only proves to amuse Scorpius further.
"So what about your dad," he teases. "What's Harry Potter like? It must be amazing, having Harry Potter as your dad."
"Well, if you like seeing Harry Potter in pink flannel pyjamas every morning. Sure."
Scorpius lets out a roar of laughter and his hand slaps Albus on the back.
"I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship, wouldn't you say, Potter?"
Albus scoffs, but he's pleased nonetheless. "If you say so, Malfoy."
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