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Chapter Text

Sybill Trelawney shuffled through the hallway to her new apartment. Her robes swayed in the draft that swept through the building, and she pulled her shawl tighter around herself to keep out the chill. She finally had saved enough money in order to retire, and although her new abode was rather modest, she was more than happy to move in, though she still felt wary of her environment. She was still recovering from events that occurred nearly two decades prior and planned to stay in that apartment for a long time.

Sybill arrived at the door to her new home and quickly noticed that the plaque that read ‘413’ was tilted slightly as if it fell off and someone tried to reattach it to the doorway. She shook her head, waving off the creeping paranoia, and got to searching through her large overstuffed bag for her keys to the apartment. She got the keys at the insistence of the ministry, as they said that it would help her blend in with her muggle surroundings. Sybill, after searching for a good while, grew confused, as she was sure she had put them in her bag. She knelt onto the ground to search for them some more, but it was no use, and additionally, she felt tired and just wanted to get into the apartment to go to bed and get some much-needed rest. She checked that no one was looking, and pulled out her wand from her robes before whispering “Alohomora”. She heard a faint click of the lock before she opened the door and let herself inside, tucking her wand back into her pocket.

The apartment was, unsurprisingly, chilly, as no one had bothered, nor should have bothered, to heat up the place. She dropped her bag onto the nearby coat rack that she had placed in a few days prior. Sybill moved in a trance to her bedroom, too tired to stay up much longer, and flopped down right into the comfortable, although slightly dusty pillows and blankets. She was about to submit to slumber, only to have a draft send a shiver down her spine. She peeled her tired eyes open to her window, open, drapes fluttering in the breeze. She stiffly stood up out of bed and slammed the window closed in annoyance. A moment of silence before a crash of china resounded outside her bedroom down the hall, which led Sybill to groan.

Sybill was about to deal with whatever pest found its way into her new abode, when she stopped in her tracks, frozen. She shakily and slowly turned back to the window. Something wasn’t right, her heart was pounding, and sweat had begun to pool in her bound fists. Many simply called her delusional when she had a bad feeling, but she was sure of the twisting in her gut that told her the danger that she was in.

It was because of the window.

It was open.

That window shouldn’t have been openable, because she sealed all of the windows shut with her own magic. And somehow, someone or something got inside.

Sybill knew she was in grave danger.

She came to her few remaining senses and grabbed around her robes for her wand, which was stashed into one of the pockets. She steeled up what very little bravery she had and slipped silently out of her bedroom. She made it to the front door when she whipped her head around at a creak on the floors.

Two figures stood in the hallway, one taller one shorter, completely still, and shrouded by the dark. They both wore ragged cloaks and had their hoods pulled up over their heads. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even shake. Blood turned to ice in her veins, her eyes felt like they might burst out of her skull, and her palms were pouring out enough sweat to fill a drinking glass. Dementors? Trelawney thought, No, the entire apartment would be frosted over if that was the case. Sybill’s mind then went to an answer she dreaded. Death Eaters? She resigned that it was the most likely option. She then grew more paranoid as none of them had moved in quite a while, all waiting for someone else to move first. The taller one slid their foot forward in a silent step, lifting their cloak to show a large knife glinting in the small amount of moonlight allowed in the room, and the terrified retired teacher flung open the door at lightning speed, only to be met by a third cloaked figure.

Sybill, in her terror, released a bright flash of light to blind the cloaked figures while she made a getaway. She nearly crumpled to the floor when she felt a sudden sharp pain in her side and opened her eyes. In the new light, she got a good look at the face of her attacker, or rather, the mask the figure was wearing. She almost stopped in her escape just due to how strange it was. It resembled the skull of some kind of animal, but it was distorted and so very vile, with unique markings painted on it in a deep blood red. This figure also had a knife, its edge jagged, and was dripping with a deep red liquid matching the mask. She finally turned and ran away as fast as her legs could carry her.

She could faintly hear arguing behind her, but she didn’t stop, but she stumbled slightly at the very clear instructions one barked out, “We need her alive.”

Sybill didn’t even realize she ran herself to the Ministry of Magic until she heard the attention-grabbing shouts of the newspaper stand workers trying to attract a new customer. She trembled and swayed through the crowd, earning quite the number of odd looks as she went. She eventually stumbled into an empty hallway, the quiet of her surroundings had her feel an increase in paranoia. Her eyes shifted around quickly, and her tremble increased to full-blown shaking in a matter of seconds. It was then that her eyes locked onto a familiar face. Minerva McGonagall.

“Minerva! Oh, thank Merlin you’re here!” Sybill cried out tearfully, followed by intense sobbing and sniffles.

“Sybill?” McGonagall questioned with a mix of concern, confusion, and annoyance on her face.

***

Minerva McGonagall was a stern woman. Everything from her teachings to her dress was kept in strict formality. That didn’t mean she didn’t have a heart, she just felt that you got respect when you earned it. She felt that learning was best achieved through discipline and practice, it was one of many reasons why she loved Transfiguration so. It was also one of the many reasons why she disliked Divination with such a passion. She believed that nothing was gained through wild, mostly inaccurate guesses about the future.

Not that Minerva had anything against wizards or witches who did enjoy the ‘art’ of Divination, it just wasn’t for her. People like Sybill Trelawney were… fine teachers, although McGonagall wouldn’t be lying if she said that she was relieved to no longer comfort the former Divination teacher after a glass too many of sherry. But that also made it all the more confusing, and annoying, to see the very person stumble-run into her arms, sobbing hysterically.

“Sybill, what are you doing here at this hour? You should be home and in bed.” Minerva said politely as she brought out a handkerchief to relax a distraught Trelawney.

“I was at home.” Sybill said, after calming down enough to speak, “There were people there, Minerva.” She loudly blew her nose.

“People? In your home? What people?” Minerva questioned, hoping that this wouldn’t be a huge waste of time.

Sybill started waving her hands in confusion, “I… I don’t really know. It was all such a blur… They had on masks, though, that I’m sure of. An-” she was cut off by Minerva grabbing her wrist.

“Sybill, dear, is this blood?” Minerva asked examining the distraught woman’s hand, her concern showed on her face.

“Oh.. Oh dear.” Sybill looked at her hand, slathered in blood, then down at her side, “That’s not good. That’s not good at all.”

Minerva moved to look down at Sybill’s side. Her robes were sliced and stained a deep red. From the tear in her clothes, Minerva could see a deep gash in her side. She swiftly brought out her wand and cast a signal to St. Mungo’s. She then sent out a call to any aurors on hand, and quickly went back to the former teacher.

“Alright, Sybill, just hold out for a few moments, we’ll get you to a healer straight away.” Minerva said briskly. She wished she hadn’t gotten so practiced at saying that phrase. It hurt her in a way not many things could.

“So sharp…” Sybill whispered.

“Pardon?” Minerva asked.

“Their knives… they were sharp…” Sybill whispered again, and Minerva had no idea what she meant.

***

McGonagall paced around in her office with a fervor that would be sure to leave imprints in the floor. A knock resounded from the heavy wood door and, for a moment, the room was completely silent. “Come in,” she said at last.

The door opened with a creak and closed with a groan. McGonagall turned to face her former student, and current Head Auror, “Harry Potter” she said, giving away no emotion.

“I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances, professor.” Harry said as he walked up the stairs to McGonagall’s main desk.

“Potter, you’re not my student anymore, there’s no need to address me as ‘professor’,” McGonagall responded.

“Oh, pardon me, Headmistress,” Harry answered with a slight bow.

McGonagall rolled her eyes at her former pupil. Even after all these years he still has, somehow, kept his cheekiness. A silence followed. “Do you have any suspicions about who Sybill’s attackers were?”

“Yes,” Harry answered dejectedly, “I believe an old foe has risen its ugly head once again”

“You really believe the Death Eaters have returned, then?” McGonagall ventured.

“From what Trelawney said it’s likely. The skull masks and dark cloaks match the Death Eaters quite well, though she was so out of it it was hard to get anything out of her. She’ll have to stay at St. Mungo’s for quite a while just for her psychological care.”

“Go on.” McGonagall urged.

“On top of that, Death Eaters have been known to use knives in the past, Bellatrix Lestrange was one of Voldemort’s more unhinged members. Maybe this could be a rebirth in her image.” Harry explained further.

“Strange,” McGonagall pondered, “So the Death Eaters have come back for revenge?”

“I’m afraid so,” Harry admitted in defeat.

McGonagall sighed. Yet another thing to worry about. She thought the problem of random attacks and possible widespread murder was one of the past. But when one group of evildoers dissipates another rises out of their ashes. She looked back to Harry, also looking worse for wear after the news, and decided to bring up a much happier subject.

“So Harry, how are your children doing?” McGonagall asked tentatively.

Harry’s face lit up, “Oh, they’re doing just great! James is, well, James, as I’m sure you know,” McGonagall nodded solemnly at that statement, although what did she expect from a boy named ‘James Sirius Potter’, “Lily has more energy than I think any child should at her age, it’s wearing me down honestly,” Harry chuckled, “Albus is going to start his first year at Hogwarts this September.”

“I’m sure you couldn’t be more proud,” McGonagall said.

“I’m actually a bit worried, to be honest,” Harry sighed, “He never seems to get along with any of his cousins, or siblings, for that matter. I’m worried he might not make any friends while he’s there.”

“Oh, Harry, he’ll be fine,” McGonagall reassured, “Who knows? He may be your double soon enough.”

“I just hope he’s not more trouble than James,” Harry said as he began walking out of McGonagall’s office.

“Oh please, I doubt anyone could be as much trouble as that boy.” McGonagall scoffed.

Harry laughed at her comment, “Until we meet again, Headmistress.” He said politely as he exited.

“Until we meet again, Potter,” McGonagall said as the door closed with a groan.

Chapter Text

Albus registered the faint ringing of a bell as he followed the rest of his family inside Ollivanders for the final item on his school supply list- a wand. Albus himself was glad that his school shopping was almost done, he didn’t know how much longer he could stand strangers in the street squealing at his family and asking his father for an autograph.

The shop was dusty and filled with the smell similar to a very old library, and aside from the shuffling made by his family members inside the shop, was completely silent. That silence was abruptly broken when Ollivander himself slid into view of the Potter family.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” Ollivander said in a whispery voice. Albus looked the man up and down, he was old, skin wrinkled and cracked, hair a wispy white, and large eyes that were so pale it looked as though the man was blind.

Albus remained silent. His mother nudged him not-so-gently, and he introduced himself in a brief, “Hello.”

Ollivander chuckled and surveyed Albus head to toe, “So interesting, I sense a tricky customer,” he took a measuring tape from around his neck and flung it at Albus, who flinched, but relaxed as the tape spun around him, and the wandmaker turned to speak with his father.

“Why it seemed only yesterday you were here buying your wand, Mr. Potter, my, may I have a look at it? Holly and phoenix feather, eleven-inches, yes?” Ollivander’s eyes widened as the wizard took his wand out of his back pocket and handed it to the elder man to inspect.

“It hasn’t failed me once,” Harry said with muted pride.

Ollivander hummed, “Could use a cleanup, but otherwise in nice shape.” He commented, and Harry made an embarrassed face and looked to the side and chuckled.

“And you young James!” Albus noted that the measuring tape must have done its job, as, after a good few minutes of pushing and prodding around his body to take measurements, it flopped onto the floor, but Ollivander paid no attention to the tape measure or the boy, focusing on his older brother instead, “I remember your wand well, it’s wand is spruce, ten and three-quarter inches, correct?”

James smiled and happily presented his own wand to Ollivander, “Been working fantastic!”

“That’s good to hear,” Ollivander said with mild relief and turned back to Albus, who felt rather foolish standing in the middle of the wand shop with a measuring tape crumpled around his feet.

Ollivander’s eyes widened and he nearly flinched as he rushed to collect his tool from the ground, “ My, my! How could I get so distracted!” He finally addressed Albus in full, “Alright, may you please hold out your wand arm?” Albus held out his arm, and Ollivander commented, “Left-handed? Very interesting…”

The wandmaker was then gone as suddenly as he appeared, his scuffling heard from deep inside the shop’s maze of wands. He eventually returned, carrying but a single wand, and handed it to Albus, “Let’s start with this one. Holly and phoenix feather. Try it out.” and Albus took the wand.

“You’ll really be like Dad then!” Lily finally spoke up. He didn’t enjoy the thought of people comparing him to his father even more, but he pushed the feeling aside.

But he barely lifted the wand up into the air before Ollivander snatched it out of his hand. “Or maybe not.” The wandmaker whispered, seemingly to himself, before he disappeared back into the swaths of wands of his shop. He wasn’t done for long and soon came back with more wands to try.

Albus took the next wand. “Blackthorn and unicorn hair, twelve inches. Give it a go.” Ollivander said, and that he did. But nothing happened. He waved the wand around and around and nothing happened. Ollivander quickly grabbed that wand too and replaced it with another one. “Aspen and dragon heartstring, nine inches. Give it a wave.” He did wave the wand, and it burst out of his hands when he did. Ollivander caught it mid-air and gave him another wand.

This continued until there was a substantial pile of wands lay on the floor of the shop. Albus felt frustration creep into his mind. He looked to his family, who all wore smiles, except for James, who began to look quite bored. Ollivander appeared over the moon as the pile kept growing. He went back to collect more wands for Albus to try, while he tried not to appear too annoyed at the lump of wood before him.

“Now then, here’s a wand that might work - yes, why not?” Ollivander whispered to himself before presenting the wand to Albus. “Cherry wood and phoenix feather, eleven-and-a-half inches, give it a whirl.”

Albus took the wand and immediately felt a raw burning strength seep into his bones. He waved the wand in a motion like swinging a sword, and a burning flame erupted from his wand, first green, then magenta, then bright blue, and finally a glowing hot orange. The fire vanished as quickly as it came but left its audience in stunned silence, broken by a “Wow” from Lily.

Harry clapped, “My my, that was impressive.” Albus flushed at his father’s praise before James interjected, “Impressive? He nearly singed my eyebrows off!”

“Really James, I would think that with a face like yours, singed eyebrows would be an improvement” Albus retorted.

After Ginny intervened her sons’ impending brawl, the Potters paid the nine Galleons for the item, and Albus left happy with his new wand, and for once, felt happy about the upcoming school year.

***

The Potters and the Granger-Weasleys met each other outside of Ollivanders Wand Shop. Rose’s stomach flipped at the thought of getting her very first wand. She barely heard what the adults were talking about, but caught something about meeting up at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes afterward.

Rose said goodbye to her relatives, and she ran up to the door of the shop. She opened the door with fervor and strolled into the storefront, her family not far behind her, and the bell of the shop rang about with the opening of the door. Mr. Ollivander had just put his own wand back into his pocket, with other wands flying about the shop and back into their respective boxes.

“Oh my, another customer already,” Ollivander said cheerfully. He smiled warmly at Rose, who looked at him with wide eyes. She was already left in wonder of the wand shop, silently pondering which one would choose her as its partner. She finally spoke to the shop owner.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ollivander.” Rose said politely, before she introduced herself, “I’m Rose.”

“Well, the pleasure is certainly all mine, little miss.” Said Ollivander, pleasantly surprised at her manners. “This is certainly a shift from my last customer, I believe the boy was your nephew?”

“Yes, he was.” Her mother responded.

“He has quite a sharp tongue doesn’t he?” Ollivander asked innocently.

“Really? I hope he wasn’t rude,” Her mother questioned with concern. Rose knew that Albus had a habit of making scathing comments, which often landed him in trouble. She only hoped her cousin didn't put himself into too much of a predicament this time.

“Oh, no, not at all. He was a fine child.” Ollivander concluded. He changed the subject back to one of wands.

His face became cheerful as he turned to Hermione, “My, I still remember the day you walked into my shop. Your wand flew straight out of its box with such force it nearly knocked over my desk! I assume it’s working dandily for you as well.”

Hermione nodded, and Ollivander turned back over to Rose. “Now the only issue is finding the perfect match for you.” He said as his measuring tape flew all around her body, taking different measurements. “May you hold out your wand arm?” Rose held out her right arm, palm faced upward, as the sentient tape took its last needed measurements before crumpling onto the wood floor. Ollivander’s eyes completely lit up before he dashed back into his maze of wands, and emerged almost as hurriedly. He opened the box he had clutched within his arm and presented a darkly colored, straight, and smooth wand to Rose.

“This wand is elmwood and unicorn hair core, nine inches, go ahead and try it out,” Ollivander said with great joy.

Rose grasped the wand tightly in her hand and promptly felt her mind become clearer, sharper. With a wave of her hand, a marvelous spark of light and a burst of glowing gold dust scattered about the room. Rose then heard clapping from the others in the shop and very enthusiastic whooping from her father. She filled with pride and smiled to the point where she thought that her face would stay that way.

“Oh, that was simply marvelous!” Ollivander exclaimed. “And quite fitting as well.” Rose tilted her head slightly in confusion as to what the wandmaker meant. He seemed to sense her perplexment and explained. “There are many magic users out there, those wishing to prove their own blood credentials, who claim that only a pure-blood can produce magic from an elm wand. I find it only fitting that the daughter of one of the greatest Muggle-born witches of our time be matched with an elm wand.”

Rose was over the moon when Ollivander was finished. She took this as one of the highest honors by the wandmaker, and her family nearly had to drag her out of the store, she was in such a trance. And as the Granger-Weasleys made their way over to the joke shop, Rose made a promise to herself to make her family, and her mother, proud of her.

***

Polly followed her mother around all day. Her feet ached with how much they were walking, but she didn’t care. Her excitement fueled her through every shop and store, exploring the wondrous street that was Diagonal Alley. Her mother had even agreed to get Polly her very own owl, who she lovingly named Adora.

Said owl screeched, snapping Polly out of her daydreams to look at the owl closer. Adora was a beautiful barn owl with a heart-shaped face and sleek tawny feathers and was always looking for attention from whoever she could get it from. Polly put out her fingers through the gaps in the cage, and the beautiful owl nuzzled against them. Polly smiled at the affection, but had to stop playing with her new friend when her mother gestured for her full focus, “We’re here.”

Polly looked up to see the sign of the shop: Ollivanders - Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. She slipped inside as her mother pushed the door open, the sound of a bell faint in her ears, her excitement dulling in the silence. Mr. Ollivander popped out of nowhere to greet the two in the front area of the store, the only place in the building that wasn’t crammed with an endless maze of wand boxes, each with a magical piece of wood inside, a vital key to her schooling.

“Hello my dears,” Ollivander said kindly, his voice was a soothing distraction from Polly’s snowballing nerves, “I assume this is another first year for Hogwarts.” the elderly man said to her mother.

“Yes.” the older woman said with pride, pushing Polly forward.

Polly then stiffened and the measuring tape around his neck sprung to life, and took some brief measurements before returning to its resting place around the wandmaker’s neck. “Wand arm?” He asked briefly, and Polly held out her right hand.

Ollivander then walked briskly down the many aisles of wands filling his shop. After a minute or two, he emerged with a very dusty box. He blew away some of the dust, brushed some more off with his hand, opened the box, and handed her a wand, “Walnut and unicorn hair, twelve inches, nice and sturdy.”

Polly took the wand to wave it and hope something would happen, but by the time she brought her hand down, the wand was gone. She looked back to Mr. Ollivander, who had already gone back into the depths of his shop, looking for another wand. Polly looked back to her mother, who gave her a soft smile. A shuffling along the floorboards brought her attention back to Mr. Ollivander, who had another wand out for her to try. “Chestnut, eleven and a half inches, give it a wave.”

And she did. Polly waved the wand around, but no matter how hard she willed it, nothing happened. She huffed quietly, and wondered if it was standard to try out a number of wands before finding the right fit. Though Polly supposed she was being impatient, and it was only her own fault she got her hopes up, after all, not everyone could be like that girl she saw earlier, bragging to all her friends how she got her wand on her first try.

Ollivander gently grabbed the wand from her hand, “Don’t you worry my dear, this is only the second wand. You’ll find your wand.” And with that he went back to find another wand, Polly feeling much more reassured.

A few minutes passed before Ollivander came back, holding a black box. He removed the box’s lid and pulled out a wand much smaller than the other two she was given to try. “Hawthorn and dragon heartstring, eight inches. An interesting wand.” Ollivander almost muttered the last sentence to himself.

Polly grasped the wand in her hand. It was a much smaller wand in comparison to the other two she tried, but it felt different somehow. She now felt a strange calm wash over her, and all of her lingering nerves and impatience vanished. She pointed the wand at the ground and a plant started rising from the floorboards. The plant rose about two feet high before sprouting a beautiful orchid flower.

Polly marveled at the gorgeous blossom, and her mother clapped politely before paying the fee for her wand. Soon enough, the wand was put away with the rest of her school supplies and the two were on their way home. Polly‘s previous giddiness returned, leaving her unable to focus on the route home with her upcoming school year promising such adventure.

***

Scorpius never left his mother’s side throughout the Malfoy’s entire shopping trip in Diagon Alley. He suffered through the whispers and rumors of the other shoppers, strangers on the street, and even the glares of the shop owners. But Scorpius wouldn’t let it get to him. Nothing was going to ruin this moment. The moment he got his very first wand.

Scorpius walked in with his mother limping her way in with her crutch as his father opened the door for them. A faint ring of a bell sounded through the shop, and an old, wispy man Scorpius assumed to be Mr. Ollivander strode into the front of the store.

“Ah, yes, the Malfoys. I was wondering when you would enter my shop again.” Ollivander said, but there was no distaste in his voice, said more as if he was remembering an event on his calendar. “Now,” turning to Scorpius with zeal, “time to find you a wand. So many customers today… ” the last was murmured to himself, presumably.

Ollivander circled the young boy, looking him up and down as he set his tape measure upon him, having the enchanted item push and drag his limbs as Ollivander took the measurements needed, before finally directing him, “May you please hold out your wand arm?’ And Scorpius held out his right hand.

Ollivander then returned to the confines of his shop, with sliding and shuffling heard behind the walls of boxes that were stacked up all around the shop. Ollivander skipped his way back to his customers and quickly organized the small stash of wand boxes in his arms, opening the first and handing the wooden object inside to Scorpius. “Ebony and phoenix feather, ten and a half inches, very refined.”

Scorpius whipped the wand around, but nothing happened. He wasn’t that surprised, as his mother told him that some of her siblings were tricky customers. He simply handed the wand back to Ollivander politely, and Ollivander was more than happy to snatch it back. He then handed out another wand for Scorpius to try, “Hazel and unicorn hair, maybe this might warrant a more vibrant response.” And it did. The response was so vibrant that the wand bounced around the room with enough force to crash through a lamp bulb.

“Aha… Maybe not.” Scorpius’ embarrassment soon faded as he tried more wands. However, it seemed that he was an unsuitable match for every wand Mr. Ollivander presented to him. No matter the size, wood, or core, they would either fly out his hands or not produce magic at all. And each new wand was piled onto a heap of wands that would be perfect for anyone else, but not Scorpius.

“Pear and dragon heartstring,” Ollivander said as he presented yet another wand to Scorpius. The boy waved this one, too, and nothing happened. In addition, the wand itself became heavy like a weight, dragging his hand down towards the floorboards. In the end, Scorpius tentatively handed the wand back to Ollivander, who gave him a grin and dove back for more wands, no doubt to be added to the already gargantuan pile of wands in the front of the shop.

But as afternoon turned to evening and the sun began to set, Ollivander’s excitement turned to concern, as the pile of unsuitable wands had all but buried half the shop. Scorpius’ mood plummeted with each new, unusable wand, and a horrid thought struck him, What if no wand here ‘picks’ me? What if I’m not ‘magic’ enough to go to school?. Scorpius knew from stories his mother told him that he was never really causing havoc with accidental magic as a child, but to think that he could be a squib?

Scorpius could feel tears prick at his eyes.

And at that point, Draco Malfoy, who, between the nearly three hours spent at the shop, his wife’s exhaustion, and his son’s growing frustration at the insanity of wands, had had enough. He approached Ollivander and said in a hushed whisper, “I’m very sorry Mr. Ollivander, but I have been patient. Either get a wand that will work or we will take our business somewhere else. I just can’t watch this anymore…”

“Yes, I very much understand, this is quite unusual. But-”

“But?”

“But I have one more wand in mind…”

Malfoy pinched his nose, “One more wand, then we leave.” He sounded like he was dealing with a small child and not the owner of the shop he was in.

Ollivander then nodded nervously, solemnly, before he went back to grab a final wand, all hopes lowered to the ground. He emerged with a single box under his arm and presented the wand inside to Scorpius.

“It’s silver lime and unicorn hair, nine inches. Quite a high-end wand,” Ollivander said cautiously.

Scorpius held the wand gently, and all of his previous anxiety melted away, replaced with a warm sense of belonging in his chest. He took a few steps back and waved the wand. A white swirl erupted from his wand, and a chill fell over the room as snowflakes drifted downwards from the ceiling.

Scorpius’ mother clapped, and chuckled softly, “Incredible,” she said as she gazed upon the gentle snowflakes dancing around the shop.

Meanwhile, Scorpius was simply relieved he found a wand that could perform magic for him at all.

Mr. Malfoy, relieved to be done with this, simply handed Ollivander a large handful of galleons and said “Keep the change,” before urging his family out of the shop and back home, eager for his wife to rest.

Ollivander pocketed the coins, and sighed, as he realized how much time and work putting away all these wands would take.

Chapter Text

The car bumped and shook as it rode through the muggle streets toward King’s Cross Station, and Albus nearly shook with the effort to restrain himself from shoving his fingers into his ears. An uncomfortable itch trembled under his skin as his family rode closer to their destination, and James had certainly not helped matters. His brother’s jeers stuck in his head, whispered tauntingly in his ear while their parents weren’t looking.

“You can’t guarantee you’ll be sorted into Gryffindor…”

“Do you think that the family will allow a snake in at Christmas?”

Albus’ face screwed into itself like he swallowed a lemon as he fought against the incredible urge to swipe at his brother’s smug grin. He was already an outcast within his own family, worst at quidditch on the toy broom his father got him, worst at wizards’ chess, and barely showed any kind of magical ability compared to his siblings, he didn’t need to be a Slytherin on top of everything else. But as their father grew ever watchful, James had to resort to more subtle ways of tormenting his brother.

“James, stop that,” Harry tiredly scolded his son as the family clambered out of their car, catching on to the hissing he directed Albus’ way. The Potters’ squeezed their way through the bustling train station, careful not to draw too much attention to themselves, though the occasional eye did wander, which was pretty much unavoidable with James’ screech owl.

James glanced back at his younger brother, “How do you think you’ll like the Slytherin common room?”

Albus glared up at his brother, “I won’t be in Slytherin! I won’t!” he spat.

"James, give it a rest,” Ginny said with a sigh. James shrugged with a smirk while Albus scowled into the handlebar of his trolley as he pushed it along. The family of five soon stopped upon the barrier between platforms nine and ten, A sense of finality fell onto Albus’ being.

“Can we go now?” James huffed.

“Alright, yes, don’t get into too much of a hurry,” Harry smiled as he cheerfully addressed his son, “Go on James.”

The eldest Potter child gracefully pushed his trolley into the barrier, and in an instant, vanished. Albus gulped harshly, his anxiety impossible to hide as he knew that this would be the first true step of his own into the wizarding world. He gripped the trolley handle with such force his knuckles had gone white when his father leaned down to speak to him.

“If you’re nervous it’s best to do it at a bit of a run,” Albus looked up at Harry’s face, and tried to hide his surprise as he placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “We’ll run together.”

And with a starting push, Albus started towards the barrier. The air rushing past his ears and the wall coming closer and closer to his face, he screwed his eyes shut, only taking a cautious peek through them when he came to a full stop. A different bustling train station awaited him, and a plaque that read ‘Platform 9 ¾' gleamed in the morning sun. Albus took in the rest of the platform, white smoke billowed onto the stone floors and students of all ages laughed and joked as the start of the new school year came upon them.

James was nowhere to be seen, apparently run off to be with his friends, which Albus was more than thankful for. He glanced behind and saw his father, mother, and younger sister, Lily, passing through the barrier and onto the platform. Albus scanned the crowd, and he heard Lily pipe up behind his back, “Where are they? They are here, right?”

“I’m sure they’ll be here any minute,” Harry assured.

“Can I go on the train, Dad, can I?” Lily babbled.

“No, you still need to wait two more years.”

“But two years is so long.”

“You’ll be here before you know it, Lily,” Albus tuned out the conversation after that, as it always sounded the same, his father assuring his sister that she’d be at Hogwarts in no time, battled by Lily’s constant impatience to go. He didn’t react when their accompanying party appeared through the white steam, a young girl around Albus’ age running ahead of her family.

“Oh look, there they are,” Ginny called out as the Granger-Weasley family joined the Potters. The eldest daughter Rose skidded to a stop in front of the potters, rusty red curls whipping wildly as she moved. She beamed at Albus, excitement rolling off her in waves.

“Hey,” Albus said curtly, still jittery, but Rose giggled, taking it in stride.

“Hope you parked alright?” his father addressed his aunt and uncle.

“I did,” Ron said with pride, “Hermione didn’t believe I could pass a Muggle driving test, thought I’d have to confund the examiner.”

“That’s not true, I had complete faith in you,” his aunt sputtered as his uncle whispered something to Harry.

Ron was doing his nose breath trick with Lily when Albus’ thoughts ran wild again. It seemed today he was unable to escape his own head. Trapped in his own thoughts, he hoped that someone in their midst could read minds, thinking maybe they would save him from spiraling. Rose’s presence helped slightly but vanished when Ron addressed the two first years.

“I have something very important to tell you both,” He closed his eyes in a solemn expression and raised a finger in the air to show he was serious. Albus and Rose gave him their rapt attention.

“If you’re not in Gryffindor, we’ll disinherit you,” he paused, “but no pressure.”

“Ron!”

Albus felt like he’d been punched in the gut, and Rose didn’t look any less terrified than he felt.

“He doesn’t mean it!” Ginny quickly tried to remedy their fear, but Albus still thought that this had to be an omen of sorts. He was already considered the black sheep of the family now, why would the sorting be any different? He didn’t even register what Ron was saying to Rose at this point.

“Hey!” Another outburst, this time from James, shook Albus from his thoughts again. The older boy heaved as he finally stopped for air before blurting out, “Teddy! Our Teddy’s back there snogging Victorie!”

No one was shocked by this news, not even Albus, who knew about Teddy and their cousin since the Christmas party two years ago. James, who expected more of a reaction, spluttered, but their father attempted to clear the air.

“James, we already knew that,” Harry sighed.

“But! But Teddy! And Victorie!” James heaved in exasperation to all the adults shaking their heads in amusement.

“Oh, it would be lovely if they got married!” Lily excitedly whispered, “Teddy would really be part of the family then!”

“He already comes around for dinner four times a week,” Albus said mostly to himself, “At this rate why don’t we just invite him to live with us?”

“That’s the spirit Albie!” James threw an arm around Albus’ shoulders and the younger boy cringed at the nickname, “I for one, don’t mind sharing- Teddy can have my room.”

“Absolutely not,” Harry stated firmly, “You two will only share a room when I want the house demolished.”

Albus’ father checked his watch, “Nearly eleven, better get you all on board.”

And with that, James aimed a final kick at Albus’ legs, hissed in his ear, and sent a final jeer his way, “Later Albie, watch out for thestrals!”

Albus felt his blood pressure spike, he watched James retreat onto the train with wide eyes, paralyzed in fear.

“Albus, don’t worry, thestrals are docile creatures,” Harry tried to comfort his son. His mother kissed Albus on the cheek in goodbye as he climbed onto the first steps into the train.

“Goodbye, Albus,” Harry smiled, “Try not to let James rile you up.”

Albus paused for a moment before turning back to his father, “What if I am in Slytherin?”

Harry crouched down to his son, “Albus Severus,” Albus tried not to cringe from the use of his full name. He knew what his father was about to say, and it’s not what he needed to hear, “You were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin, and he was one of the bravest men I ever knew.”

“But-” Albus tried to at least put some of his anxieties into words.

“And if you are placed into Slytherin, then the house will have gained an excellent student. It doesn’t matter to us, but if it matters to you, the sorting hat will take your choice into account.”

Albus paused, skeptical, “Really?”

“It did for me.”

Albus’ eyes widened at that revelation. Surprised that his father told him such a specific detail about his own time at Hogwarts, and it seemed to help him in his plight, or at least alleviate some of his anxiety.

And with those last words of advice, the boy said his final goodbyes to his family and boarded the train to join Rose. Albus turned down the corridor and was met with a bunched crowd of people spilling out the compartments, shoving and squeezing to get a look out the window. Rose leaned against the inside of the train, amused at the sight before them.

“Why are they always staring?” Albus muttered angrily under his breath.

“Uncle Harry’s famous, Albus, what do you expect?” Rose teased.

A sudden lurch indicated that the train had started its route and a loud whistle from the engine set in the reality of the situation. This was it, the start of Hogwarts. The unease Albus held in the pit of his stomach spread out to his fingertips like a flash of lightning. Rose, however, held no such caution as she snatched Albus’ wrist and dragged him down the row of train compartments.

“Rose, where are we even going?” Albus scrunched his face in annoyance.

“Oh, don’t get all moody now, it’s good to be excited,” Rose finally stopped and let go of his wrist, “And besides, we need to concentrate.”

“On what?” The school year hadn’t even started yet, what could they possibly need to focus on?

“On who to be friends with! My mum and dad met on their first Hogwarts Express, you know,” Albus did know, in fact, he was certain he could recite the story verbatim from memory.

“Well, how are we supposed to choose our ‘friends-for-life’?” Albus sarcastically asked into the air, not really expecting an answer.

“Easy, we go through and rate the compartments before making a decision,” Rose puffed out her chest in pride.

Albus didn’t think the other students would react too well to being ‘rated’ but he didn’t have any better ideas, so he simply followed Rose’s lead. He started with the nearest door on his right. The door slid open with a clack, and the compartment itself was nearly empty, save for a single blond boy, once gazing out the window, who turned his head to see who had barged in. The boy smiled, and Albus felt his unease melt away.

“Hey, is this compartment…” Albus asked tentatively.

“Yes, it’s free, it’s just me,” the boy responded in a friendly tone. Albus could feel Rose tugging at his sleeve, but ignored it in favor of talking with this new boy.

“Oh, great, so can we just come in for a minute… if that’s okay,” Albus doesn’t know what’s got him acting so chatty, usually, he would wait in silence as Rose did all the talking, but something about this boy had their roles reversed.

“It’s fine,” the boy paused, and as Albus tread closer he noticed that even this boy’s eyelashes were blond, “What’s your name?”

“Albus. Al. I’m- just call- My name’s Albus,” he stuttered out his answer.

“Hi, Scorpius. I mean- I’m Scorpius, yeah, that’s me,” his face flushed a slight pink, “And you must be…”

“Rose,” her tone was as icy as the Siberian winter.

“Hello to you both. Would you like some of my sweets?” Scorpius sounded hopeful.

“I’m not hungry,” Rose’s voice still held its icy bite.

“I’ll have some,” Albus added before the other boy’s face had the chance to fall, or before he had a chance to stow away the bag of candy.

Scorpius beamed, “Oh, well, I’ve got the lot! Shock-o-Choc, Chocolate Frogs, Every-Flavor-Beans, Pepper Imps, some jelly slugs. Mum’s idea, says sweets help you make friends,” his eyes shifted to the side, “though I’m sure not everyone’s fond of them.”

“Which ones would you start with? Mum doesn’t let me have sweets at home,” Albus ignored his cousin’s sharp jabs to his side.

“Oh, that’s an easy one, Pepper Imps! They make you smoke at the ears!”

“Then that’s exactly what I’ll-” Albus shifted with the force in which Rose elbowed him, and the Potter rounded on her in annoyance, “Rose, stop hitting me.”

“I’m not hitting you,” Rose looked to the side and Albus’ eyebrows shot up at such a blatant lie.

“Yes, you are,” Albus raised his voice as Rose’s face hardened.

“She’s hitting you because of me,” Scorpius brought the other’s attention back to him.

Albus was beyond confused, and it probably showed on his face, as the blond soon offered an explanation, “Listen, I know who you are, so it’s only fair that you know who I am. I’m Scorpius Malfoy. You’re Albus Potter and Rose Granger-Weasley. Our parents… didn’t get along.”

“That’s because your parents are death eaters!” Rose exclaimed.

“Mum was never a death eater. Dad was, but he’s not anymore,” Scorpius didn’t even act affronted, just tired, and Albus rationed that he doubtless had to say this to countless people countless times.

Rose let out a noise of indignation and turned her head away from the blond.

“Are you a death eater?” Albus asked him.

“No.”

“Then I don’t see the problem,” Albus directed himself back towards Rose, who began tugging him out of the compartment.

Rose looked to Scorpius, then back to Albus before she whispered in his ear, “He’s not a death eater now, but that doesn’t mean he won’t become one later.”

“That’s awfully presumptuous,” Albus refuted.

Rose huffed, “Have you not listened to anything Dad or Uncle Harry have told you?” She paused, waiting for the apparent lesson to sink in, “Malfoys are bad news.”

Albus stared at her, then back to Scorpius, close to dumbstruck. Rose had always been more high-strung than him, but he never imagined she’d judge so harshly based on little more than a family name. She said this was where they were meant to meet their Hogwarts friends, and Albus had just found his.

“Come on, Albus, we should sit somewhere else,” Rose tried to drag Albus out of the compartment again.

“No, I’m alright. You go on,” Albus didn’t look at her.

Rose’s face stiffened, “I won’t wait.”

Albus glowered in turn, “Good, I don’t expect you to. I’m quite happy to stay here.”

The redhead’s face finally turned from cold and bitter to hot and angry, “Fine!” And with a loud slam of the compartment door, the two boys were left alone in silence. Albus turned back to the other boy and saw his eyes wide as joy filled his face.

“Thank you,” he smiled in gratitude, and Albus found it quite endearing, it made his stomach flip and he didn’t know why.

“No,” he paused, not wanting to come off too friendly for a reason he couldn’t name, “I didn’t stay for you, I stayed for your sweets,” he didn’t know why he was lying.

“Well, thank you anyway,” Scorpius’ smile never left his face as he popped two pepper imps into his mouth, “THANKS FOR STAYING FOR MY SWEETS!” He yelled as a whirring train whistle sounded and white smoke shot out of his ears.

Albus laughed fully, heart considerably lighter again, “Wow.”

Chapter Text

Albus couldn’t have been happier to have met Scorpius on the train. He’s sweet, friendly, funny, and possessing every magical candy known to wizardkind didn’t hurt either. The two talked for hours and Albus sometimes had to smother a strange giddiness that rose in his chest.

A voice announced, “We will be reaching Hogwarts School in five minutes’ time.”

Albus hadn’t even kept track of how much time had passed. The two grabbed all the sweets they could cram into their pockets and took off out of the train. Day had turned into night on the ride there, and quick breezes nipped at the boys’ faces. The night sky glittered with thousands of tiny pinpricks of light, and in the distance, Albus heard a booming voice.

“Firs’ years, this way! Firs’ years!” Hagrid’s form emerged from the dark, the lantern that swayed from his hand emitted an orange glow. He was as gargantuan as all the stories said, though his hair and beard grew gray and white with age, “Follow me!”

A sea of eleven-year-olds followed the giant man into the night and down an unlit path, and Albus strained his eyes to see even a foot in front of him. But the narrow path opened back to the lustrous sky above, with a wide black lake of still water reflecting all above it like a mirror. The crown jewel of the scene in front of Albus was the Hogwarts castle, a perfect black silhouette against the night sky, light shining through the windows like candle flame.

Their attention, however, was brought to the array of boats on the shore of the still lake, “No more’n four to a boat!”

Albus looked to his side, where he could now see Scorpius, and motioned for them to ride together on a boat to the far right. No sooner than they sat down were they joined by two others. One was a wide-eyed girl with strawberry-blonde hair kept back with a pink hairband, the other was a boy with wily read hair and thick brows. He almost reminded Albus of some of his uncles, as his red hair could have rivaled any Weasley.

The girl spoke first, “Hi! My name is Polly Chapman!” She was extremely energetic, and Albus opened his mouth to introduce himself in turn when he was interrupted, “And you’re Albus Potter!”

Albus shut up pretty fast, as Polly did most of the talking for him, “I mean, it’s pretty impossible not to recognize you, from your black hair to your father’s green eyes, why, add some glasses and a lightning scar and you’d be his double!”

Albus found he liked Polly less and less the more she talked. She seemed less interested in actually getting to know him and more interested in imagining him as a stand-in for his father. It felt rather disheartening that he was used to this by now.

While Polly chatted to the air, Albus eyed the other boy in their boat. This boy, who hadn’t introduced himself, wasn’t looking at the Potter, but instead glowered skeptically at Scorpius, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Albus gave the blond a consoling smile and his friend softened in turn. The redhead’s glower, however, worsened considerably.

Polly soon joined their silence as their little fleet slithered through a curtain of ivy which led the boats down a tunnel hidden in the cliffside that the castle sat atop. Once they arrived, Albus and Scorpius climbed out of their boat along with the other small witches and wizards, and the unnamed boy’s scowl was soon forgotten.

Hagrid, still leading the pack of soon-to-be first years, counted to ensure that everyone made it there, safe and sound before he raised a massive hand to knock at the door. No sooner than he knocked did the doors split open with such speed and force that a few students jumped back. A somewhat tall wizard in cozy brown and cream colored robes entered, wizard hat slightly askew. Albus also noticed patches of dirt and grime on his clothes, most observable nearest the end of his sleeves.

“Hello and Welcome! My name is Professor Longbottom, and I’m the Herbology instructor here at Hogwarts!” Albus heard a few snickers from around the hall that were quickly silenced, “I will lead you all to your sorting. Thank you, Hagrid.”

The giant man nodded while Professor Longbottom led the new students into the entrance hall. Not even Albus could hold back his gasp. It appeared as if the sky bled into the very ceiling above them. Candles floated about in every corner of the hall, high above the heads of its inhabitants. Light chatter exchanged in whispers weaved into the air as all the first years made themselves into a line. Professor Longbottom stood in front of the teachers’ table, right next to a three-legged stool with a ragged wizards’ hat on top.

The Sorting Hat.

Albus knew all about the Sorting Hat from stories his family had told him, but he looked around as many others muttered in confusion. That confusion mounted when the hat sprang to life and burst into song. Nearly all the first-years looked surprised if not shocked at the hat’s animation, even Scorpius looked flabbergasted. Once the hat sank back onto the stool the rest of the students and teachers erupted into applause, and Albus quietly clapped.

Professor Longbottom pulled out a thick roll of parchment from his robes and spoke, “When I call your name, please come up and put on the hat to be sorted,” his voice was calm and soothing, “Anderson, Susie.”

A short girl with messy brown hair scuttled up from her place in line to the stool, and she was so small that the hat slid over her whole head.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” The hat shouted a moment later, and little Susie ripped the mangy hat off her head before sprinting to the table to the right of them, whose cheers rippled throughout the hall.

‘Bennet, Faith’ and her twin ‘Bennet, Max’ went to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, respectively, but when the Professor called out, “Chapman, Polly,” the girl yanked the hat on her head eagerly, and when it shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!” the table on the far right roared with pride.

Students continued to be sorted, one by one, but most notable was when a boy with fine black hair, “Estone, Elias,” was called and sorted into Slytherin, only polite applause could be heard from the teachers’ sector and the Slytherin table, but no other students clapped.

“Fredericks, Yann,” Albus noticed the boy that walked up next was the same boy he and Scorpius were on the boat with, eyebrows no longer furrowed.

“GRYFFINDOR!” and with that Fredericks sauntered off to his house table with a smug grin.

“Granger-Weasley, Rose,” his cousin ran up to the front, snatched the hat out of her teacher’s hands, and jammed it on her own head, “GRYFFINDOR!” the hat yelled, and Rose rushed to greet the rest of their family at the Gryffindor table.

Albus barely registered the names after that. Ears ringing as the sorting confirmed Karl Jenkins as a Ravenclaw, along with the students sorted into Slytherin that received minimal applause a best.

“Malfoy, Scorpius,” the hall was as deadly quiet, only broken up by jeers from some of the older students. The hat sat on the blond’s head for a long time, and it looked to Albus as if he was muttering under it. Eventually, the hat reached its answer, “SLYTHERIN!”

The teachers all clapped politely, but Albus could only find one student who clapped for Scorpius, a Slytherin boy with a shiny badge on his chest, indicating he was a prefect. Scorpius just smiled lightly, obviously hurt, but trying to hide it. Even when he sat down at the table, the other students parting around him like the red sea, he just smiled weakly. As if he expected this, as if he was prepared for this outcome.

It made Albus want nothing more than to be by his side.

Scorpius’ despondent face filled his find for the next few minutes, and his own name being called caught him by surprise.

“Potter, Albus.”

Chatter buzzed about the hall as Albus stalked over to the stool and dropped himself onto it. The hat soon fell over his eyes. And to his shock, it spoke to him.

“Another Potter,” barely a whisper in his ear, “Very interesting.”

What’s interesting? Albus thought instinctively, and it soon revealed that the hat could hear him.

“What’s interesting is that your brother was quite easy to place; intelligent, talented, confident-”

I don’t need a reminder of everything I’m not, Albus thought bitterly.

“Envious, ey,” the hat remarked.

I try not to be.

“I wasn’t finished, you know,” the hat muttered, “Your brother is also reckless and impulsive. You boy, on the other hand, are also smart as a whip, but you are shrewd to match. And so so loyal.”

Albus didn’t know if he should be disturbed or flattered by the hat’s words.

Well, what does that mean for me? He thought into the void of the hat.

“It could mean a lot of things,” the hat answered, “Both good and bad.”

Albus struggled not to sigh at the vague reply.

“But,” the hat continued, “It does mean I know where to place you.”

Albus said nothing, thought nothing, awaiting the hat’s announcement, afterward he’d probably join the rest of his family at the Gryffindor table with Rose, and he’d probably have to deal with James’ teasing for the rest of the year and-

“SLYTHERIN!”

Albus’ heart dropped to the floor.

The hall was entirely silent, no one dared move, Albus least of all. After a minute when everyone in the hall seemed frozen in time, Professor Longbottom approached the boy and took the hat off his head.

“You better get seated,” he said meekly.

Albus, in a trance, meandered over to the Slytherin table under the watch of a thousand eyes. He shivered as his footsteps slowed, anxiety sinking in. Where should he sit? He doesn’t know anyone from Slytherin, and his family never went out of their way to associate with anyone from the house. As he frantically scanned the table for somewhere to sit, a shy hand waved at him from down the table, belonging to a certain blond boy. Scorpius Malfoy beamed at him and beckoned him over to his deserted section of the table.

“There’s plenty of room here,” he said once Albus was in earshot.

The other boy nodded blankly and all but collapsed into his seat. The sorting blurred out into white noise. Headmistress McGonagall’s brief speech sounded like gurgling water. He barely glanced at the mountainous plates of food of the feast before him. The worst outcome had come to pass. He had been sorted into Slytherin, the house of dark wizards, the house of Voldemort.

And you only get sorted once.

He was going to be a part of Slytherin house for the rest of his years at Hogwarts.

The thought rang about his head and between his ears as the feast ended, and the Slytherins were all brought down to the dungeons, to their dormitories. To his dormitories.

The password eluded him as the giant stone door moved out of the way to allow the students in and the prefect boy from earlier led the first years to their dormitories. Black bedframes with green and silver curtains were placed around the room, and each of the boys assigned to the room picked out a bed for themselves. Albus just took the bed to the left of Scorpius, pulled back the curtains and collapsed onto the blankets, too exhausted to even open his trunk.

***

Scorpius was quite lost, he was sure of it.

He didn’t know where he was, but it was certainly outdoors. He wandered about a forest, the sky a sickly gray, fog flowing over the ground like molasses. Twigs and leaves crunched and snapped under his shoes, and the howls of wind sounded like barely-there whispers of words he couldn’t quite make out. The trees were all the same shade of grayish-green and completely barren of leaves or fruit. Scorpius strained his eyes and ears for a sign, a clue to guide him out of this wood. So onward he went.

After aimlessly wandering about this sickly forest, Scorpius finally managed to catch something substantial. The sound of footsteps that were not his own. Scorpius set out towards the noise, but nausea set into his stomach the closer he got to the other tread. Chatter and laughter grew as he inched closer. He should have felt relieved to know that he wasn’t alone, but instead he had to try not to vomit.

Scorpius halted when all the clamor of sound silenced in an instant, unsure if this meant something was wrong.

A rough, haggard cackle from a low voice sent the chill of a thousand winters to his bones.

Scorpius dashed madly in the opposite direction of the laugh, body moving before he could think, fear took over to flee from such a horrid, gutteral sound. He sprinted away in such a hurry, he smacked right into a tree when he looked back to see if anyone followed him.

Scorpius pushed himself off the ground once he got his bearings and studied the tree he ran into. The tree had a thick trunk with thick bark. The blond looked up, and came face to face with a terrifying visage. A cow skull was planted on the trunk, but it didn’t look quite like a cow skull. The skull’s snout was twisted so that the teeth faced outward, and Scorpius could spot several long, sharp fangs protruding from it’s jaws.

He stared at it for a good while, unsure of what it meant, when dark red liquid poured down the trunk from the base of the skull. Scorpius backed away a few steps, which proved to be great timing, as a moment later the skull’s jaw dropped open and half a pomegranate fruit fell to the forest floor.

Scorpius, thoroughly confused, picked up the fruit half, and was surprised to find the fruit clean of dirt or debris, blood red arils glistening in the gray of the sky.

Except… one of the arils wasn’t red, but black.

Scorpius watched this aril intently as it grew larger and larger, it almost seemed as if it was trying to wriggle out of the fruit on its own record. Turns out, that’s exactly what it was trying to do, too late the boy realized that this wasn’t an aril, but a gleaming black spider.

The spider scuttled off the fruit and onto Scorpius’ hand, and he dropped the fruit as if it burned his skin, and in his haste to scrub the creature off his body he fell backward onto the forest floor once more.

Scorpius hit the ground with a thud and gasped as his eyes opened, showing him a crystal clear view of the top of his bed, surrounded by closed green curtains. He sat up slowly, still feeling off-kilter, unsure if this was truly reality. He pinched his left forearm hard, and the lingering sting proved that he had awoken from his sleep.

What a strange dream.

Chapter Text

Albus was certain that one could not die of embarrassment; if it was possible, he would’ve certainly dropped dead at this point.

The first week of school was nothing short of social torture. Professor Flitwick squealed when he first called out Albus’ name in class. All eyes on him, he put his face into his arms, not wanting to broadcast his embarrassment to the entire class.

Most of his remaining classes followed in the same fashion.

Professor McGonagall and Professor Longbottom had at least an appearance of fairness and gave Scorpius points when he answered their questioned correctly, as that couldn’t be said for some of the other professors the two encountered in their lessons. Defense against the Dark Arts was the worst by far. Slytherins were the favorite target of many for taunting and teasing, and it seemed that the defensive magic course was the perfect hunting ground. Crumpled-up paper and spitballs and spells launched at the back of Slytherins’ heads, all ignored under the glazed-over gaze of Professor Blair Dull.

The worst class for Albus, by far, had to be potions. He dreaded every day potions was blotted on his course schedule. This particular day, Professor Horus Slughorn informed the class that they were to join up in pairs and make a simple potion to cure boils.

Albus groaned internally, but tried to keep a straight face as to not lose more points for his house. He already lost five to Professor Dull due to his ‘bad attitude’. He paired up with Scorpius, naturally, as he was one of the only other students he actually liked. They started on prepping the ingredients, crushing nettles and stewing slugs, Scorpius carefully stirring the potion in whatever direction needed. He was glad Scorpius was there to keep track, as Albus was certain he would’ve killed someone at this point.

“Scorpius, my dear lad, could you come over here for a minute,” Professor Slughorn called.

Albus’ eyes snapped to his friend, panicked. Scorpius glanced at him nervously, but smiled, “It’ll just be a moment, just make sure nothing explodes while I’m gone.”

Easier said than done.

But Scorpius did most of the practical potion work, and he was a marvelous student, so Albus would try his hardest to ensure that nothing major went wrong, But as time ticked by and Scorpius remained at Slughorn’s desk the more he grew anxious about the potion in their cauldron.

The contents inside had grown a putrid yellow, and gone from simmering to bubbling to boiling. Dishwater gray smoke rose from the pot to the ceiling, drawing eyes from other students in the dungeon. Sweat dripped down Albus’ forehead, and his eyes darted around the room, on the lookout for anyone to help him. The potion started hissing now, and almost every students’ eyes were on him, save for Scorpius and Professor Slughorn.

“Psst,” someone whispered behind him, and turned around to find Yann Fredericks leaned over his table to speak with him better, “Put in the lionfish spines and turn clockwise.”

Albus blinked. He didn’t think he’d receive help so easily from a Gryffindor, though being ‘Harry Potter’s Son’ might have some influence in that. He grabbed the spines from his potions kit and stirred with such vigor that slops of liquid spilled out onto the table and floor.

Albus stared, then gaped as the potion churned and changed from yellow to blood red and black smoke billowed out of the cauldron. Slughorn had to take notice at this point as students choked and coughed on the smoke in the air.

“Oh Merlin!” Slughorn exclaimed, “Everyone out! Now!”

The Professor pulled his wand out from his robes as Albus was swept up in the panic of the students, black smoke making his eyes sting and water. The group of first-year Slytherins and Gryffindors sat outside while their teacher cleared the room of smoke.

When Slughorn returned, soot covered his face and the front of his robes, and he looked disheveled. “Who-“ he stopped himself from an impending outburst, “Who had the bright idea to to add lionfish spines into their potion?” His face bordered on calm, but his right eye kept twitching.

Yann Fredericks raised his hand, “I remember seeing Potter putting them into his cauldron after Malfoy went to your desk.”

Albus gaped, Fredericks told him to put the spines into the potion. He was only following the boy’s advice.

He knew.

Fredericks knew exactly was adding the spines would do.

But all eyes were on him, and Professor Slughorn paced over to him. He sighed, “Albus, is this true?”

Words lodged in his throat, unable to breathe, he stuttered before he answered in a whisper, “Yes, Professor.”

Slughorn sighed even louder, “My dear boy, don’t you know that adding lionfish spines to the potion will cause a chain reaction, creating a toxic smoke?”

Albus didn’t look up nor speak.

“I would’ve thought knew better than this, considering how well your father and brother faired in the art of potions,” Slughorn shook his head.

Barely muffled snickers resounded around the hall and echoed off the stone of the dungeons. Albus finally glanced upward, and found Yann Fredericks sneering at him.

Albus couldn’t do anything more than glare back.

“Alright, since it’s going to take a while to clear this mess up, class is dismissed for the day.” Slughorn brandished his wand and marched back into the potions room.

“Well I guess we have one thing to thank you for Potter,” Fredericks jeered, “Your little foul-up just freed our afternoons!”

Albus snapped and lunged at the Gryffindor boy, hitting and scratching at his face and arms, and eventually gave the other boy one good punch to the eye. Meanwhile Fredericks, being a head taller and of heavier build, got Albus square in the nose, and he heard a crunch as blood spurted out like a geyser.

The fight was broken up swiftly by Professor Slughorn, who returned after the scuffle aroused screams and shouts from the other students.

“Merlin’s beard! What has gotten into the two of you?” Slughorn flicked his wand and pried the two apart.

“He’s a right prick, that’s what!” Albus spat.

“That doesn’t answer my question, Potter, and five points from Slytherin for language.” He stood back and spun his head in disbelief between the two boys.

“Albus started it Professor,” a girl piped up; it was Polly Chapman, “Yann was only defending himself.”

Slughorn looked around at the rest of the students, “Is this true?”

“Yes!” The Gryffindor students shouted in unison.

“NO!” Albus objected.

“Albus was goaded into the fight Professor Slughorn, please, he is not entirely at fault,” Scorpius, who even in their first week, showed more kindness to him than most people in his family.

“Wow, Malfoy, already a Slytherin snake, but a liar, too?” Polly sneered.

The blond boy backed away in astonishment, then bowed his head in embarrassment. He’s not the liar, you are! Albus’ fury grew as Scorpius shriveled. Scorpius, a liar? It was impossible even to fathom.

Albus looked at the other Slytherin students, they all saw what happened, someone had to step up, right? But no one did. The Slytherins all either found the stone floor fascinating or had a newfound interest in the ends of their sleeves.

The worst, however, was Rose. Nearer to the front of the crowd with her arms crossed and eyes averted. The face she made when she thought someone deserved a punishment.

“Well, this is a fine mess,” Professor Slughorn grumbled, “Fredericks, head over to the Hospital wing for that eye of yours, and Potter,” he took in a large breath, “Twenty points from Slytherin.”

Albus thought if he’d gape any wider his jaw would crack.

A total of twenty-five points in a single class.

Thirty points in one day.

If he wasn’t a social pariah already, this would be sure to do the trick.

Albus slinked away from the rest of Slytherins as soon as he could. He rubbed harshly at his face, not wanting the tear stains to show; don’t want to give the Gryffindors even more gossip.

“I’m really sorry,” a familiar voice said from behind him.

“Scorpius, it’s alright, you were the only one who actually defended me,” Albus tried to put on his best smile.

“But…” the blond’s lip quivered, “I backed down, she called me a liar and I folded so easily-“

“You and I both know that she’s the liar, not you,” Albus really did smile this time. It felt nice that there was always one person who’d have his back.

“That does help a bit, yes,” Scorpius grinned back.

And although it didn’t help heal the bloody and broken nose, it did help with the shame and the guilt. It fostered hope, where in all other worlds, there would be none.

Chapter Text

Albus couldn’t tell whether the sweat that trailed down the back of his neck was from the sun or his nerves.

Today was the first day of flying lessons, and while most students babbled with glee, Albus remained silent, trailed in the back, as if delaying the inevitable. Scorpius, always at his side, noticed his sour mood as soon as they met for breakfast.

“Al, you know, if something is wrong, you can always tell me,” Scorpius whispered, as he knew not to alert the other students.

Albus sighed, “It’s just- I wasn’t that great at riding the toy brooms my family always got me. They made me dizzy, never could ride one for more than ten minutes.”

Scorpius looked sympathetic, “I’m sorry-“

“Please, don’t be,” Albus smiled at his friend.

“I never rode a broom before,” Scorpius’ statement caught Albus off guard, “My mother’s illness always left her so weak, so I stayed with her on the ground.”

Albus was left in shock as he listened, everyone he ever knew up to this point in his life rode broomsticks; seemed to be obsessed with them. It never occurred to him that some households had such restrictions.

“So I guess we’ll be horrible together,” the blond grinned and Albus felt a happiness bubble in his chest.

The two sidled along and lined up along the two rows of brooms on the ground with the other students who stood in the bright sun. The brooms were school-issued, dull and dusty with twigs strayed out of the tail; nothing like the brooms Albus’ brother and parents had.

“Good afternoon, students!” Madam Hooch marched onto the field.

“Good afternoon, Madam Hooch!” The students called back.

“Welcome to your first flying lesson,” the strict teacher had a shock of white hair, which made her bird-like yellow eyes stand out, “The first thing you lot need to know about broom riding, is how to mount it. All of you, before we do any actual flying, pick up your broom and show me how you fly.”

Albus followed the lead of the other students and maneuvered the broom between his knees, as how one would ride a bicycle.

“Yes, good. Now-“ Madam Hooch stalked down the center of the two rows of students, “Do that same motion in one fluid sweep. Mounting a broom should be done swiftly, but with purpose.”

Albus tried to do as his teacher said, but it wasn’t as easy as she made it sound. Albus almost buckled his knees when his broom swung sideways for a moment. Scorpius, on the other hand, didn’t even land on his feet. He fell into the damp grass when he tried to mount his broom, and flipped right over the handle.

“Oh, dear,” Madam Hooch dragged Scorpius to a standing position, “Keep track of your feet Mr. Malfoy, don’t want to give yourself a concussion, now do you?”

“No, Madam Hooch-T-Thank you, Madam Hooch,” but their teacher had moved onto another student.

“Don’t look so proud, Mr. Fredericks, your mount still needs work,” Albus cackled internally for the slight karma, “Ah, now there is a perfect mount.”

All eyes, including Albus’, turned to Rose Granger-Weasley.

“Swift and sure of foot, with her hands in position to keep the broom steady! I wouldn’t be surprised if you joined the Gryffindor quidditch team by this year!”

“Thank you, Madam Hooch,” Rose said in that tone of semi-practiced calm that only did so much to hide her excitement. It hurt. Knowing that no matter how hard he tried, Albus would never match up to Rose’s pure talent.

“Now, everyone set your brooms down, we’re going to start flying now,” Excited murmurs spread across the field, and Albus’ stomach dropped.

“Everyone hold out your right hand, and say ‘up’.”

Albus raised his hand, “But Madam Hooch, I’m left-handed.”

“It’s customary to use your right hand, Potter. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it in no time,” Hooch brushed his question aside.

Albus frowned, but did as he was told. The chorus of ‘ups’ rang into the sky as brooms flew into young wizard hands. All but one.

Albus’ sweat dripped down his forehead as he tried and yelled ‘up’ over and over again. But still, the blasted broom laid flat on the ground. Even Scorpius’ broom feebly rose into his hand at this point, and Albus couldn’t help but envy.

Eventually, Madam Hooch put a hand on his shoulder, “Potter, you tried, but we don’t have all day. Mount your broom and we’ll get started.”

Albus fought the urge to cry. The one member of his entire family who couldn’t summon a broom. He held his head up, enough to catch Polly Chapman hiss out the phrase ‘Slytherin Squib’ to the other Gryffindors in their troupe.

Summoning his broom was humiliating, but flying was worse. Albus got dizzy on the toy brooms, but riding the real thing made him nauseous. He had to rely on Scorpius to steer because every fifteen seconds he had to fight back against the bitter acid of bile on the back of his tongue.

“Potter! Keep up! I don’t want anyone left behind!” Madam Hooch called from the front. He wanted to yell back but didn’t trust himself to open his mouth.

“He’s a Potter, but he can barely ride a broom,” Fredericks not-so-whispered from the middle of the pack. Albus glanced up to see how close they were; to see if they noticed how green his face was. He, unfortunately, caught the eye of Chapman, who smirked evilly, “Looks like the Slytherin Squib’s having trouble keeping up,” she sneered. She sneered a lot when it came to Albus, who had a retort lined up for her, but a new wave of nausea clamped his hand over his mouth. Albus had to put all his effort into not vomiting, and swiveled off course.

“Potter!” Madam Hooch became a hawk in flight and swooped down to straighten Albus from his deviation, “This is not the time for exploring! Get back to the group before I take points off!”

Albus nodded.

“With your words, young man,” the teacher crowed.

“Yes-“ Albus swallowed another rise of bile, “Yes- Madam… Hooch.”

“Don’t trip over your tongue, now,” Madam Hooch whispered to herself in a sarcastic manner and circled back to the front of the group, directing the students back to the ground. Albus thought a silent prayer that he didn’t have to fly for the rest of the day.

He spent the rest of the afternoon hurling his insides into a toilet.

“Better out than in, I suppose,” Scorpius said while he patted Albus’ back, “It’ll be over with eventually.”

“Still’s a pain in the moment,” Albus croaked before he heaved into the bowl again.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to Madam Pomphrey? I’m sure she’ll be able to fix you up in no time,” Scorpius suggested.

“No,” Albus stuttered out, “I already can’t ride a broom, I don’t need the whole school knowing I almost puked on Madam Hooch.”

“Madam Pomphrey has always done well in keeping a student’s privacy, though,” Scorpius reasoned, “I’m sure if you don’t want to tell her she won’t make you.”

Scorpius was right, Albus knew, but he still tried to come up with any reason not t see the school nurse, just to save his pride more than anything else. He sighed, though even that took energy, as exhausted as he was.

“Just…” Albus paused to heave again, “Please? For my dignity, at least?”

Scorpius frowned, but relented, “Alright, but if it happens again I’ll drag you to Madam Pomphrey myself if I have to.”

Albus chuckled at the thought, “You’d drag me all the way to the Hospital Wing?”

“Of course!” The blond said without hesitation, “After all, what kind of friend would I be if I just left you to suffer all alone?”

Albus smiled, and his heart filled with a soft warmth that came from knowing that there was someone who truly cared about you. If only the moment wasn’t ruined by him vomiting into the toilet again.

Chapter Text

Autumn continued onto the castle grounds. The grass turned brown and leaves transformed into various shades of red, orange, and gold as the October chill swept its way across Hogwarts. All, however, had grown into a stir as Halloween crept closer, the promise of fright and sweets enticed most as one of the earliest Holidays to celebrate.

Scorpius enjoyed this holiday in particular, as it allowed him to eat as much candy and as many sweets as he liked without getting scolded.

He was so excited that he sent a letter to his parents asking for some Halloween-themed scarfs to ‘dress up’ a bit. He didn’t know how the other students would take to them, but he was sure Albus would enjoy his festive attire. He’s written loads of letters back to his family, unlike Albus, who seemed to only write them when Scorpius pesters him to.

The reason for the abundance of letters was that his Hogwarts experience was somewhat above expectations. His father warned Scorpius that many at school would treat him poorly and ignore him because of Draco’s past actions. And while he has been insulted and ignored by student and teacher alike, he has made an actual friend! Scorpius was so excited to tell his parents about Albus, and while they seemed surprised, they were happy for him nonetheless.

These thoughts brought an unknowing smile to his face as Scorpius made his way towards the Great Hall, alone, as Albus had to catch up on a potions assignment and would meet him later. Scorpius turned around a corner where the Great Hall was in his sights, and happiness filled him at the thought of all the sweets in the world that awaited him. The unrestrained chatter of students grew in volume as Scorpius stepped closer. Bright candlelight and floating Jack-O-Lanterns danced in the air as smells of sugar, caramel, and candies wafted out of the massive stone archway.

He was ten feet from the entrance when a group of much bigger students stood in the way of the door, silent, and clearly older and stronger than him.

“Um,” Scorpius stuttered, “Hello, How can I help you?”

The middle student raised an eyebrow, while another on the far right scoffed. Sweat ran down Scorpius’ neck.

“Nothing to say for yourself?” A girl to the left spat.

“I’m sorry?” Scorpius looked between them, confused.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure you are,” the middle student, a Hufflepuff, responded.

“What?” Scorpius couldn’t grasp what was going on.

“I’m honestly shocked you turned up at all,” the Hufflepuff spoke again, “If I was you, I’d avoid the hall.”

“Why?” Scorpius asked.

“Why! He asks why!” A boy on the far right barked out, half laughing, “Even after everything you’ve done, you ask why you shouldn’t just disappear!”

“What have I even done?” Scorpius

The boy in the middle stepped forward, and Scorpius curled back, “You’re death eater spawn,” he took another toward the blond, “Because you’re a brat come out of a disgusting breed of wizard that tried to take over the world.”

“I’m not one of them,” Scorpius squeaked, “I’m not- I’m not a death eater!”

“And why should we believe you?” the girl butted in, “If the world was truly just, Draco Malfoy would be rotting away in Azkaban right now!”

“That’s-” Scorpius started, but teetered off.

“You can’t even defend yourself, can you?” the middle student, obviously the leader, stalked up to join his accomplice, “Because you know we’re right.”

“I-” Scorpius gathered his courage, “I don’t have to speak to you, now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to the feast now.”

Another student blocked his way, “But we do mind,” the voice of the ringleader sounded behind him. Scorpius backed up, turned about, and realized these older students surrounded him.

“Get him,” a command issued, and swiftly followed. A gang of boys swiped and grabbed at him, while the witch of the group reached for her wand.

Scorpius, seemingly enough, had some luck on his side that day, as he lept over a pair of arms and dashed down the hallway, away from the feast, before any student could get their wands out.

Not that they would give up so easily. Footsteps pounded behind him, heavy thundering as Scorpius’ heartbeat rang in his ears. He pulled out his own wand, not that he could do much magic right now, but it didn’t hurt to try and appear on equal footing.

“Why’re you running, pest?” one of them jeered, “Don’t you wanna fight like a real man!”

Don’t fall for it Scorpius reminded himself, They’re just goading you.

Though he didn’t have much of a choice in that regard, footsteps grew closer and louder and a stitch formed in his side. It was hopeless, it was only a matter of time before the bullies caught up to him.

Go down the staircase.

Scorpius almost tripped, that voice in his head was him, but at the same time, it wasn’t. But he had no time to dwell on it, and since he had no better ideas, he did as instructed. He dashed down a set of stairs, hoping their patterns of change would slow his adversaries down.

“There he is!” one of them yelled out, and soon the rest of his assailants followed his lead down the staircases.

His plan worked, for the most part.

Stairways changed at random, sending underlings down opposite hallways, and some got caught in the trick stairs that ensnare students’ feet, forced to wait until a teacher or prefect could free them. Though others were harder to deflect.

Scorpius made it down three staircases before leaping to a random hallway, uncaring of any who spotted him. He sprinted down the stone hallway, hoping and praying he’d run into a teacher or any faculty member when the little voice from before told him to stop.

Surprisingly, he did. Why am I stopping? He whipped his head around, the sound of his bullies not far behind. He must’ve gone mad.

But then the little voice whispered that there’s a door nearby, an open one, where he could hide until they left.

Scorpius reasoned that he must be insane at this point, especially when he spun around to find a door, right in front of him, that he never noticed before. He scrambled to it and tested the doorknob, which unlocked and opened to a custodial closet. Not wasting any more time, Scorpius climbed inside, crouched down, and covered his mouth to not reveal his hiding place with his heavy breathing. Scorpius listened as footsteps thudded nearer to the closet. They stopped.

“Come on out you little vermin!” one shouted.

Another followed him, “Don’t tell me you lost the little twat!”

“I didn’t!” the first yelled back.

“Where is he then?!” the second boy shouted louder.

“Both of you, settle down,” the girl of the group joined them, “It doesn’t matter; if he has the gall to ever show his face in the great hall again, he’ll know what’s coming to him.”

“It would be even better if he transferred schools.”

“But who would accept him? I mean, it was a mistake he attends Hogwarts!”

“It was a mistake he was even born.”

The three laughed as they walked away, and left Scorpius to sit in the closet, hot tears staining his face as he sobbed in silence.

“It was a mistake he was even born.”

Scorpius knew he should’ve expected this, his father forewarned him of events like this taking place, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. The blond boy curled in on himself and cried in the dark until a knock on the door forced him to clean himself up.

He opened the door, “I’m sorry, I just haven’t been having a good day and I-” he stopped when he saw Albus in front of him.

“I went to find you when you didn’t show up to the feast,” Albus explained, “Heard someone crying in here, thought it could be you.”

“Well,” Scorpius hiccuped, a sad smile graced his face, “It was.”

Albus stepped closer, “What happened?”

Scorpius didn’t feel like crying again, “I… don’t wanna talk about it now.”

“That’s alright,” Albus said with sincerity, “I swiped some sweets from the feast.” The look the Potter gave him was almost mischievous, “Want to share them back at the Slytherin common room?”

Scorpius wiped his eyes, finally feeling like smiling again, “That sounds wonderful.”

But his voice cracked in pain and more hot tears spilled out, but Albus said nothing, he simply grabbed onto the hem of Scorpius’ sleeve and led him out of the hall, and back to the place where they’re both safe. It wasn’t until a week had passed that Scorpius realized he forgot to tell Albus about the strange little voice that guided him to safety.

Chapter Text

The one secret Albus never told his family was his utter distaste for quidditch. If they found out he even felt neutral on the subject, he was sure he’d be grounded for a month. So it’s best, both for Albus and his family, that this little secret never come to light.

So when Rose insisted on attending the first Hogwarts quidditch game of the year, Albus couldn’t think of an excuse fast enough before she grabbed his arm and thrust him outside.

“Rose, what’re you doing? I’m busy?” Albus fought against her grip.

“You can do it later; how many times are you gonna watch your first Hogwarts quidditch match?” Rose exclaimed as she forced Albus along.

Albus groaned but gave up on fighting Rose’s determination. She dragged him up to the Gryffindor stands to cheer on said house’s team. Albus ducked his head down from the Gryffindor fans and students, and hoped everyone was too focused on the game to notice him. Rose bustled to the front, waved her hand for him to follow, and cheered on as the teams walked onto the pitch.

“Still don’t see why I have to be here,” Albus grumbled, mostly to himself.

“Because he’s your brother-” Albus rolled his eyes, “-and I’m sure he’ll do the same once you make the quidditch team.”

Albus raised an eyebrow at that, considering his abysmal performance on his broom at their flying lessons. But Rose was now busy cheering for the Gryffindors’- James included- as the players rocketed into the sky. The game was Gryffindor against Slytherin. Albus only recognized the name of his brother, and didn’t bother to remember any of the others. The players whipped around the field in blurs of red and green, well, mostly red, as the Slytherin team wasn’t really on their A-game.

The Gryffindors cheered whenever their team scored, a bludger got a good hit in, or their keeper stopped a shot on the goalposts, and the Slytherins did the same on their end, only not nearly as enthusiastic.

The riots of the crowd became white noise. Albus zoned out and thought about all the different things he could be doing instead of watching a quidditch game he didn’t care about. Doing his homework, talking with Scorpius, sneaking into the kitchens, studying for his potions class, talking with Scorpius, writing a letter to his parents, catching up with professor Longbottom, talking with Scorpius; the list goes on. Albus had just reached his limit when Rose looked back at him.

“How’re you liking the game?”

“I’m going back to the castle now,” Albus turned on his heel.

“What?” Rose grabbed his arm, “The game’s not over yet!”

“I have homework to do.”

“That’s a lame excuse,” Rose crossed her arms, “You’d rather do homework than watch your own brother’s game?”

“Yes,” Albus deadpanned.

“I can’t believe you,” Rose sounded disgusted, “Well go on then, do your homework while I support my cousin!”

Albus ignored her effort to guilt him into staying and made his way back to the castle. He decided to head to the library, as it would be the best place to complete his homework- that wasn’t a lie- and it was almost certain Scorpius would be in some corner to help him out.

The hallways were emptier than usual, with most students out for the quidditch game. Albus put away a mental note of this, as it would be handy to have time he and Scorpius could walk around the halls of Hogwarts undisturbed.

Speaking of Scorpius, Albus thought he’d find him quickly, but he’d looked around bookshelves and corners for a while with no sign of white-blond hair. He left the library, mind racing of where else his friend could be where he wouldn’t get harassed. Albus whipped around a stone column when a horrid sight fell before him.

Scorpius lay slumped on the floor, papers strewn, quills snapped, and ink bottles shattered. His head hung limp, blood dripping from his nose and disappeared into his black robes. Albus rushed to him, lifting the blond’s face to wake him. Scorpius’ eyelashes fluttered and opened, gaze unfocused.

“Scorpius, what happened?” Albus croaked while he collected stray parchment off the floor. He cleaned up his friend’s things the best he could and helped Scorpius up to his feet.

“Happened?” Scorpius swayed and glanced about, dazed, “What-? Uh,” he recollected himself, “Some of the older students- they got to me. I’m sorry, Albus-”

Albus grabbed the front of his friend’s robes, “You don’t need to be sorry!”

Scorpius blinked.

“None of this is your fault! They’re just pricks taking advantage of your kindness! Kindness they haven’t nearly earned!” Tears stung Albus’ eyes, “And you keep getting hurt because of it!” he lowered his hands, “I don’t want to see you in pain; you’re too caring for that.”

A heavy silence fell between the two, “Sometimes I think you mistake me for someone else,” Scorpius looked at the floor as he spoke, blood still dripping from his nose, “I don’t think I’m nearly as great as you say I am.”

“And why not?” Albus crept closer, like approaching a wild deer.

“Because-” Scorpius gulped, “Because my mere existence is an injustice. My father had enough luck on his side to escape the clutches of Azkaban, and because of that, I’m allowed to exist. It’s rather pathetic, isn’t it?”

Albus leaped to hug the other boy, “You’re not pathetic, Scoprius. You’re wonderful. And sure, maybe you’re here because of luck, but some of the best things have been made by luck.”

Scorpius’ tears fell onto Albus’ shoulder.

“And I like to think that you are one of the best things.”

Scorpius cracked as he choked back sobs. Albus stepped back and studied his friend fully; tear tracks ran down his cheeks and blood spattered down the bottom half of his face, nose bruised and lip busted.

“Now let’s get you to the hospital wing, to clean you up if nothing else.”

Scorpius smiled and nodded, following the green-eyed boy along, while Albus felt a fury fester inside him. A fury on Scorpius’ behalf, of how much cruelty he’d been subjected to as a result of nothing more than the bad luck of being a Malfoy. Albus knew it wasn’t healthy to hold grudges, but if it was for Scorpius, he didn’t mind.

***

When Scorpius opened his eyes, sickly, barren trees stretched into a gray-green sky as fog rolled over him, like dreams before. Tired of this landscape, he got to his feet without ceremony and walked onward to find a way out of this forest, even if was just in his dreams. Preferring to walk where the tree growth thinned, Scorpius struggled not to trip over roots and large branches that fell to the forest floor as he traversed this foggy wasteland.

Crunch.

Snap.

That’s the noise his footsteps made.

Crunch.

Snap.

Crunch.

Scorpius surmised that if his dreams were this confusing they should at least be interesting.

Crunch.

Snap.

Clack.

The blond boy stopped in his tracks. His foot met stone. Smooth stone.

A stone path.

Scorpius’ shoes rang like bells throughout the silent forest, but his footsteps softened as he ran forward, fog clearing, and trees grew green as they should. Moss and ferns covered the forest floor, sun flittering through the leaves. Scorpius ran, never out of breath or winded, but forced to stop when a familiar iron fence stood in his way.

The fence of Malfoy Manor.

Elated, Scorpius sprinted around the fence to the entrance gate, the map of his home carved into his mind. He stepped into the manor with newfound glee.

The manor took on quite a different appearance than the generations before. What had once been carefully trimmed hedges, short-cropped grass, and stone paths had transformed into a garden to rival Eden itself. Maples and Willows and Oaks stood proud alongside each other, flowers of every variety, from Marigolds to towering Sunflowers, covered the ground, and bridges stretched over the many ponds around the manor; teeming with fish, turtles, frogs, and many other creatures that call the Malfoy Manor home.

Scorpius remembered well the tale of how this change came to be. It’s his favorite story of his parents’ love.

When Astoria, his mother, first came to live at the manor, she always complained about how much she hated the grounds. That the estate looked ‘artificial’ and ‘manufactured’. Unnatural. So, for her the first birthday she had, as married to his father, he surprised her with a spectacular menagerie of the mundane and the magical.

The most beautiful garden in the world, just for her.

Scorpius nearly skipped along the path as he searched for any company, and thankfully, company wasn’t hard to find.

The back of his mother’s head, her long hair flowing down the back of her wheelchair, placed by her favorite place in the garden- the lily pond- filled with a magnitude of magical flora and fauna. Scorpius ran to meet her, grateful for any time spent with her, dream or not.

Scorpius grasped her hand, and felt a chill in his bones when her flesh stiffened against his palm. The garden turned gray and dull like the sickly forest from before, from most of his dreams, and Scorpius, trembling, raised his eyes to his mother.

Her face was warped, pale, and decayed. Her eyes rolled back into her skull as bits of her cheek had rotted away to reveal yellow, dirty teeth, thinned to needles.

Scorpius’ legs shook but didn’t move. He felt his mind spiraling, fear and disgust pooling in his gut and retching its way up his throat.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe!

Scorpius woke up in a distasteful amount of sweat, his curtains invisible in the late hours of dark. He didn’t return to sleep though. How could he, after what he’d just seen?

He instead curled his comforter around himself and cried until morning.

Chapter Text

“So are you just going to mope in the corner for all of Christmas Eve?”

Albus didn’t answer Rose, as it felt pathetic to agree with what he planned on doing for the rest of the break.

“No,” Albus muttered while shifting his eyes.

“Yeah, sure,” Rose rolled her eyes at his blatant lie, “When you get over yourself, you can join the rest of us in by the tree for exploding snaps.”

And do what? Albus bit back the retort. It’s not like he was welcome in the various circles of cousins to begin with. Everyone was either too old to actually like him as a friend, or already had established groups by the time he came along.

Sure there was Rose, Lily and Hugo, and James when he wasn’t being a prick.

But this year changed all of that. Rose is the only one of his cousins who stayed on speaking terms with him, even if it was just curt remarks. The adults tried to curb the outcasting as much as possible, but it wasn’t enough to keep Albus from being locked out of his own family dynamic.

Lily is oblivious to most of the drama, and Albus is honestly grateful for it. He doesn’t want her to get caught up in useless family politics, but her friend was Hugo, and Hugo always pulled her aside before he got too close. His cousin always cringed as he pulled Lily aside, sending an apologetic look Albus’ way as he ushered her to some relative or another, but that didn’t stop him from doing it all the same.

James was a very different story.

Christmas and other holidays used to be a pain because of the constant teasing. James would do everything in his power to rile Albus up as much as possible, and kept just the right distance to not be in the line of fire when the boy’s anger exploded.

But now, his brother barely looked at him. There were no nicknames, no playful jabs, and no over the top pranks. He completely shut Albus out.

Wanting the annoyance of his attention makes Albus feel like even more of a pathetic brat than he probably is being right now.

Albus scanned his eyes over the inside of the Burrow again. His grandparents, after all their children moved out and his grandfather received a significant pay raise, renovated their home from top to bottom. The tile and woods from the kitchen to the mudroom gleamed and shone with the work and love put into its care. The fire in the hearth glowed as if plucked from the sun, its light bounced from the stone built around the fireplace.

His family always added magical decorations for the holidays as well. Fairies placed on the tree as lights, changing colors in tune with the slow music flitting in-between conversations. Cake toppers that skated across the icing, food that never got cold no matter how long it’d been out. Albus would never admit to it, but there were aspects of the holidays that he loved, and had been looking forward to in the gloom of his Hogwarts first semester.

But most of that was gone now.

Albus looked back out the window he was glued to, and watched the swirl of the winter storm dance in the dark of night. The snowflakes, at least, seemed to be having fun.

Albus leaned his cheek against the window, relishing in the cool feeling against his cheek.

Scorpius would drag me to the hearth, Albus thought to himself absent-mindedly, He’d say I’d catch a cold.

Albus missed his friend.

Which was strange, because he never felt this longing-sensation with Rose, Hugo, or even Teddy. It was this bone-deep ache, worsened by the isolation from his family, and left him with a sense of becoming ill.

Albus hated this.

“Everyone! Everyone!” His grandmother’s voice rang out across the Burrow, snapping Albus from his inner monologue, “Picture time!”

Albus shrank into his traditional Weasley sweater, not wanting to be forced into this ritual for the eleventh year in a row, or worse, ousted from it entirely.

Before Albus could decide which fate was worse, Rose snatched his arm and dragged him to the crowd, all desperate to squeeze into the final photo.

“Rose?” Albus asked tentatively.

Rose always dragged him into the family photographs, it was their little tradition. Albus would moan and whine while Rose forced him into place and Albus smiled because she made him feel included.

But Rose didn’t even glance his way, she just held his arm in her vice-grip and shoved him into his usual place by her side, squeezed in between his cousin and Uncle Percy.

As Albus looked about the familiar faces, each desperate to stay in frame, Rose hissed, “Please at least try to look happy for two seconds, Albus.”

The boy knew he couldn’t hide the hurt from his face, and looked down so no one else noticed his expression. In that action, Albus took notice again of the irony of his yearly Weasley sweater. Knitted in threads of red and gold, it was probably meant as a celebratory gift for his first year at Hogwarts. For his first year as an expected Gryffindor.

Looking at it stings, but he sucks it up and smiles as the camera flash temporarily blinded the holiday gathering; conversation and cheer resounding not a moment after.

***

“Scorpius, you don’t have to accompany me on every walk,” Astoria Malfoy chuckled at her son’s antics.

“But you’re the best company around!” Scorpius teased back, but the joke was more to keep his voice steady than anything else.

The joke landed, thankfully, and his mother laughed heartily, and Scorpius relaxed his posture as the woman gazed out to the pond.

Though, one joke can only keep his turmoil at bay for so long, and with the disturbing imagery and strange occurrences that has happened during his first year, they had been at the forefront of his mind for the past weeks.

The dreams he had were strange and hard to decipher, but they were also so vivid. The sights, sounds, and smells all lingered for a moment after he woke. He could smell the damp of the soil, hear the crunch of the underbrush under his feet, seemingly even under the stone floors of the Hogwarts castle, and some days, he swore the mist and fog from his dreams clung to his skin. Logic would say that this was just sweat, as gross as it may feel, but the back of the boy’s mind never let go how different it felt, alien and slimy on the back of his hands.

“Scorpius!” Astoria called him, “Look!”

She pulled a wand from her sleeve, and with a simple flick, a bubble of water floated from the pond’s surface, carrying a glowing white fish with it.

“The winter water sprites have come out of their coves!” His mother exclaimed, and Scorpius looked up in wonder.

The winter water sprites were some of his mother’s favorite magical creatures; fish-like spirits that hide in their underwater dens for most of the seasons, only coming out to feed on parasites that lay dormant during the coldest months. At a first glance, they look like any betta fish the muggles sell in their pet stores, but the sprites are always a bright white, and when well cared for, emit a beautiful moonlike glow. The sprites are also very social creatures, and are fiercely protective of their communities.

His mother joked that the manor was actually the sprites’ home, and the Malfoy family just lived there. It always made the boy smile.

Scorpius had to fake his smiles more often than usual, however.

Lately, he couldn’t so much as glance at his mother without his stomach twisting, the image of his decayed mother’s face flashing in his mind. The grayed out skin, the stiff and cold flesh, the rot eating away at her body, her bones.

He wanted, more than ever, to talk to Albus.

He wondered what his friend would make of all this. How he would find a solution to Scorpius’ endless and vague problems. Albus probably would say not to worry about it, that these were only dreams and nothing more. Scorpius hoped that was the case.

But then there was what happened during Halloween. The voice, his voice, that wasn’t his at the same time. The voice that knew where to go, that saved him from danger.

Scorpius couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

And he wanted nothing more than to hold Albus’ hand in his.

But Scorpius was patient, and he would wait for the storm to pass. He was content in seeing if these dreams would mean anything-though he desperately hoped they wouldn’t. More than that, he didn’t want to burden Albus. He meant too much to Scorpius to be bothered with useless paranoia about dreams.