Chapter 1
Finger Prick


Two guards stood on either side of a dark-haired woman, hiding her gaze beneath the wide brim of her hat. Whatever apprehension or anxiety the woman might have been feeling, not a trace of it was shown on her face. Alarice Dugan maintained a regal, stoic appearance in all that she did, even while being led through a circle of cells, prisoners shouting and jeering down at her.

“How are you doing today, Mrs. Dugan?” one of the guards tried to strike up a conversation, but Alarice didn’t answer. She never did. From the very beginning of her visits to Azkaban, Alarice Dugan had made it clear that she came to this place for one reason, and one reason only.

The guards lead Alarice into a hall like a tall, hollow column. Narrow, floating walkways traced in front of walls of barred cells where the shouts, screams, and jeers of the prisoners echoed of the walls at a painful frequency. The prisoners of Azkaban had all become a great deal more active and aggressive ever since the removal of the Dementors. Of course, Azkaban was still, by no means, a happy place to be.

Stairs upon stairs, and prisoners jeers and taunts�”along with a few subtle hexes at the more active prisoners�”the party of three found themselves at the same section of the columned hall that Alarice was led to at her every visit. It was something repeated so many times, the woman had no doubt so could find her way there in her sleep. Not that she would have the opportunity to do so alone for a very long time.

“Over there,” the guard at her right told her, pointing in the general direction. “Three cells down. I’m sure you know it by now.”

The guards were familiar enough with Alarice by now to allow her slightly more privacy than most visitors were allowed. Still, before being allowed into the hall of cells, she was forced to surrender her wand and was fully searched for anything else that could possibly be used as a vessel for magic. Rules were rules, after all.

And so, there Alarice found herself, standing before a small figure who sat huddled in the shadows of the cell. Every time she found herself here, that figure had slunk a little further into the darkness, and was slumped a little deeper.

“Maddox,” she called through the bars. “Maddox, love….”

Referring to her son like this was surely not going to make him seem like any more of a man in the eyes of the other prisoners, though neither was having his mother come to visit.

At his mother’s voice, the figure in the cell looked up towards its source. “Mum,” he said at barely a whisper, slowly making his way towards the bars of his cell, though Alarice almost wished he wouldn’t. She just couldn’t stand to see her son like this. He was frightening pale from being locked away from the sun, and dark circles had formed under his eyes. His prisoner’s uniform absolutely hung on him, and Alarice was certain that her son had lost weight. His face was becoming more and more hollow-looking, and his cheek bones were just starting to poke their edges into his skin.

There was no formal visiting room within the walls of Azkaban, yet another legacy left by the Dementors. Because of them, prisoners from the previous era never received visitors. What sane person would willingly go there? The warden was always promising in the papers that one was going to be built at some point in the future, but so far, such a project had yet to be seen. So, whenever a prisoner did get a visitor, they simply met through the bars of their cell with a Silencing Charm cast over the area to give the faintest hint of privacy while the guards watched out of the corners of their eyes.

Maddox stood up right beside the bars, wrapping his pale fingers around the cold steel and attempting to look to the sides of his cell. “Dad isn’t here?”

The woman shook her head, the feathers perched on her hat shaking wit her. “He is busy, I’m afraid,” Alarice did her very best to lie. “With the new school year approaching, he has so much to do.”

At the given explaination, Maddox sighed in a very resigned sort of way. “It’s alright, Mum. I understand. Having your only son in Azkaban cannot be something to be proud of.”

Still, Alarice shook her head more, almost like a four-year-old trying to be defiant against the words of an adult. Alarice had always been proud of her only child, even after his conviction. In fact, if anything, her son’s incarceration only proved to make her more proud of her son.

No matter how many times Alarice came to visit her son in this place, it didn’t make it any more believable that her only child was in Azkaban. Still, it seemed like Maddox was just visiting or had gotten lost inside the tower to be found locked in a cell, or a thousand other nameless reasons that did not include her son really and truly being an inmate of the British wizarding corrections system.

“How are they treating you in here?” Alarice asked, mostly because she was still so unsure of what to say to her son given the current circumstance.

Maddox looked so tired as he exhaled. “Fair. I mostly stay in my cell. The guards don’t force me to go out or anything.”

Alarice wished she could reach through the bars to touch her son’s face. She knew her child well enough to know that Maddox’s brief, vague response was in order to protect her. As though not knowing the full truth of what the boy faced every day, surrounded by the very worst that British wizarding society had to offer would somehow make his mother believe his current position wasn’t really as horrible as it must have been. It was a trait that Maddox had gotten from his father, one of the man’s only traits that Alarice had hoped her son would inherit. It was the trait that had caused Alarice to first fall in love with her husband, and it was one she wished she could say that Cyprian was still showing.

Despite her previous excuse about her husband needing to prepare for the upcoming school year, it was only recently that Cyprian had even decided that he would be returning to teach at Hogwarts. All summer, all the man had been going on about was “How could he possibly show his face there again, after all his son had done.” As though his pathetic, peacock pride could even hold a candel to the suffering of their son and all he was currently facing. But every time Alarice tried to bring this up, her pathetic husband would only regard his wife with a patronizing look and retreat to his stacks of books and parchments.

As a former Gryffindor, it disgusted her, which was something she was glad that Maddox had inherited from her.

“Maddox, don’t speak like this is all final,” she urged her son. “There are appeals, and it’s not just a one-chance opportunity either.”

“For those you need evidence,” Maddox said with his head hanging slightly. “Either proof that I was given an unfair trial, or new evidence related to the crime of which I am accused.”

Alarice tried to speak more, but Maddox just took his turn to shake his head, almost like he didn’t want to hear anymore.

“There is just no proof,” he said, sighing deeply, as though he had given up long before today’s visit. “Not mention the idea that three first-years.”

But Alarice still continued to maintain her stubborn, four-year-old attitude towards the subject. “Maddox, you have to believe me,” she tried to persuade her son, “I am not about to give up on.”

But Maddox just exhaled and sunk down to the floor of his cell in a very world-wery way, one hand still clinging to the bars. Seeing her son feeling so defeated and disheartened made Alarice feel sick on a level she didn’t previously think possible. He was a child! Wasn’t he supposed to be full of hope and idealism and the like? Should he be the one trying to convince Alarice not to give up and that they needed to keep trying? But Maddox just sunk to the floor of his cell, still holding tight to one of the bars.

It was this place! Alarice didn’t care what people said now about the prison being ‘more humane’ now that there were no Dementors were gone. This place still sucked the life out of its prisoners. The evidence was completely plain on her son’s face.

It was then that Alarice knew she had to bring her contemplated plan into action. It was one that she had been only vaguely contemplating these past few weeks while she had been alone in her home, but now that she was her, seeing her son and how he had so given up on everything, she knew in her heart that she had little choice to do otherwise.

“Maddox, give me your hand.”

The boy looked up at his mother with sunken eyes. “Why?”

Then, in a single fluid motion, Alarice pulled one of the very long, very sharp looking hat pin from her wide brimmed hat. Maddox’s eyes widened and his bottom lip began to quiver just slightly. Then again, it was a very impressive, potentially very painful-looking hairpin.

Upon seeing it, Maddox’s eyes became much wider, as though all that he could was that very sharp pin. “Mum?” he asked cautiously. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to show you just how committed I am to proving your innocence.”

Maddox watched his mother reach toward his hand, and he immediately shrunk back. “H-how?”

“Maddox, you are a clever boy. You get that from your father,” Alaice said to her son. “Why don’t you tell me what is about to happen?”

Before Maddox could pull away, Alarice snatched up her son’s hand with great force, and refused to let it go. “You’re going to make a Blood Pact with me,” Maddox said matter-of-factly, allowing his hand to go limp, surrendering to his mother’s plan.

“Very good,” Alarice told her son, shaking his closed hand open when he still showed fear. “Focus, Maddox! Now…tell me. What exactly is a Blood Pact?”

Maddox clenched his jaw as he tried to focus on his mother’s order. “It’s like an Unbreakable Vow�””

“No, Maddox!” Alarice ordered when she heard her son’s words falter and his body begin to shrink away. “Tell me how it’s different from an Unbreakable Vow.”

So Maddox went on, keeping his eyes shut tight so he wouldn’t have to see as his mother began to spread his palm into an open hand.. “A Blood Pact can be made only between blood relatives.”

Alarice held the pin against the tip of her son’s index finger, and the boy began to cringe. “Tell me more!” Alarice hissed at her son as she tried to distract him from the first prick as it began to draw blood.

“The one who makes the Pact does not have the threat of death hanging over their heads….” Maddox’s voice was pained, almost frighten, but he continued to explain, going at an almost frantic pace. “But that doesn’t mean the Pact has absolutely no consequences.”

Maddox made pained noises, baring his teeth as his mother move on to the rest of his fingers. “Go on.” Alarice, on the other hand, remained stoic as ever.

“The longer the Blood Pact is in place, the more consumed the caster by it, until it eventually drives them further and further into madness.” Finally, Maddox was granted a small amount of relief as his mother moved on to her own fingers, his voice becoming calmer. “Throughout history, there are numerous cases of witches and wizards being driven to complete insanity because they were never given the chance to fulfill their promise made to their family members. They became so obsessed with it all that they were rendered completely unable to function, rising to a level of madness that to this day still remains unparallel by any other illness or curse.”

By the time Maddox had finished his summary of the blood pact, Alarice had finished pricking every one of her own fingers, much faster than she had done so to her own son. Then again, it was always easier for one to hurt themselves rather than hurt their loved ones.

Alarice took her son’s bleeding hand in hers, matching the points of her own fingers to his, their blood of the same veins mixing, the power caused by this beginning to grow.

Clearing her voice, yet keeping the tone low so that it might not attract the attention of the distracted guard.

With that, the Blood Pact was drawn between Alarice Dugan, and her only son, Maddox. There had been no sparks, no lights, no spectacular sounds, but to the two people the Pact had been drawn between, the magic that had transpired could be felt more profoundly than anything either of them had ever witnessed in their lives.

“Mrs. Dugan, your time is up now. You’ll have to leave.”

Alarice rose up from her seat on the floor, hiding her still bleeding hand into her robe pocket while Maddox wrapped his own within the folds of his ratty prison uniform. This time, as Alarice left, she gave her son no good-bye and did not even look back in his direction. In her mind, there was absolutely

As the guards escorted Alarice Dugan out of the circular hall of cells, nothing appeared any different that the numerous other times they had done so. It was such a common occurrence that the guards didn’t even bother to look down at the woman they were leading out the doorway.

However, if they had, the might have just noticed the very slightest change that could be seen if one looked into the eyes of Alarice Dugan. A changed, almost manic-looking expression, one almost barely alive. Yet it was there, and anyone who bothered to look would have seen it.

Chapter 2
Preparing for the Second Year


“Mum,” Albus called out to the kitchen, “has Blythe come with the mail yet?”

Albus was leaning over the edge of the banister, enough so that he could clearly see into the kitchen down the hall. Any other mother probably would have been driven into a panic at the sight of this, but people joked that Ginny Potter had been through so much herself when she had been young, her children would likely have to set themselves on fire before she displayed any sort of profound worry towards anything her children did.

“Not yet, Al,” his mother told him, not even bothering to look over her shoulder as she busied herself at the kitchen counter. “Doesn’t she usually fly straight up to your bedroom window?”

“Yes,” Albus admitted. “I was just checking.”

Not convinced that a proper conversation could be conducted from separate rooms, Albus jumped down to the floor and made his way to the kitchen. His mother was rushing back and forth across the kitchen, alternating between cleaning up after the family’s late supper and attending to her two other children. At the table, Lily was sponging up the last few crumbs of her dessert, and James himself was surrounded by stacks of parchment and textbooks with his mother continually prodding him to actually do some work.

“What are you so anxious to get the mail for?” Lily asked from her seat at the kitchen table. “Are you expecting a letter from your girlfriend?”

“Lily, don’t tease your brother,” their mother scolded gently as Albus braved further into the kitchen.

“Yeah, Lily,” James said, looking up from his summer Divination homework. “It’s cruel to get Albus’ hopes up like that.”

“That goes for you too, James,” their mum warned, not so kindly this time. “Albus, are you still working on your homework?”

“Yeah, Mum,” he admitted. “I still have six inches left on my Potions essay for Vhartan. I just need some more ink.”

Actually, it was really only more like three more inches, but it certainly felt like a lot more. Katrina Vhartan, also called Professor Hardarse by the student body, was possibly the strictest teacher at Hogwarts, who also assigned the most difficult homework, as Albus had learned quite well over the summer. Not even the promise of the holidays could fully release her students from her clutches.

“That essay will still be there tomorrow,” his mother told him as gentle as she could manage. “You’ve been at it for hours already tonight. Why don’t you take a break? We still have some of your dad’s birthday cake leftover.”

Now that was an offer too tantalizing to pass up. Albus’ dad’s birthday had been two days ago, and there was still plenty of Grandmum Weasley’s amazing cake leftover, even though the entire Potter family had nearly been sweating frosting up the end of the celebration. Yes, Grandmum Weasley certainly knew how to take care of them.

Alright,” Albus smiled in a dramatic admission of defeat as he took a seat at the table.

A moment later, Albus was working his way through a too-large (even for a twelve-year-old boy) piece of cake while the rest of the family went back to its previous routine. It didn’t take very long before the same argument that had been taking place all summer started up once again.

“It’s only one year early, Mummy!” Lily whined.

Albus’ mother dropped still more dishes into the sink, extracting her wand from her apron strings. “Well, if its only one year, then it won’t be so horrible to wait, will it?” A silent charm, and the sink was filled with scrubbing suds.

“When’s Daddy getting home?” Lily asked as she stared up at the kitchen clock.

“He’ll be home late tonight, lovely,” his mother replied. “He has a case he’s been working very hard on lately.”

“How much work can there possibly be for him to do?” James piped. “There haven’t been any major reports of Dark wizards. It’s not like the old days when every third man had an Auror after him.”

“There were Dark wizards long before Voldemort and the Death Eaters, young man,” their mother said, her voice suddenly turning quite serious. “And just because he’s gone, doesn’t mean the world is completely devoid of evil. You should be thankful that your father works so hard to make sure we are all safe.”

“I’m thankful, Mummy,” Lily chirped in a smug sort of way, shooting a look at her oldest brother as she did so.

“Kiss-up,” James muttered under his breath, to which Lily stuck out her tongue.

Albus shook his head and turned his plate downward towards his plate of cake. He knew better too. Even though there were no current great Dark wizards bent on taking over Britain, not like when Albus’ parents had been young, but that did not mean those in the Aurors Office just spent their days sitting on their thumbs. There was always some odd isolated incident of Dark magic that needed quenching.

“All done, Mum.” Albus handed the empty plate and glass to his mother. “But I still need that ink.”

“I think there might be a bottle in your dad’s study,” his mother finally told him. “Please go to bed at a reasonable hour.”

---

…and that is why beautifying potions not only do harm by the near-toxic ingredients, but also to the self-esteem of you witches as a whole.


Albus let his quill drop to his desk, a few drops of ink splattering onto the parchment, and rubbed his aching fingers. Finally, at long last, the Potions essay was done; eighteen inches on the social implication of young witches. Professor Vhartan was feeling especially vindictive towards the boys when she had assigned the subject as summer homework. Maybe it had something to do with the three of the Slytherin boys deciding to get revenge for their year of misery by replacing Black Sea salt-saturated spring water and powered weasel brains with vinegar and baking soda, dumping the real ingredients down the drains.

They were caught; and, of course, Professor Hardarse made sure every single one of the boys�”whether they were involved or not�”paid the price. And now that Albus had paid his debt to his Potions professor, he slumped back in his desk chair, relaxing so deeply he was almost worried he might begin to melt.

While Albus was drooping his head over the back of his chair, in his upside-down line of vision, he saw a sand-colored speck growling larger and larger, and suddenly realized that it was Blythe, his barn owl. Snapping back into attention, Albus rushed to his bedroom window, throwing it wide open. This was important! Albus had sent Blythe with a letter to Malfoy Manor three days ago, and he had spent every night since then in a state of constant panic, afraid that one of his parents, or worse, James or Lily, might have intercepted it. Thankfully, though, Blythe seemed to have somehow responded to all his previous pleas of discretion. And Aunt Hermione said owls were incapable of understanding human speech!

Blythe perched on the window sill with a rush of air following behind her, her beak clenched over an envelope clearly addressed to one ‘Albus Potter’. “Good girl, Blythe.”

As soon as Albus plucked the letter from her beak, Blythe took off once again, probably to fight Corlio, James’ owl, for mice in the village fields. Leaving Blythe to her own devices, Albus turned his attention to his own, slicing the envelope open and extracting the letter.



Albus,

How has your summer been so far? You’ve hardly written to me at all, but I suppose I haven’t been writing very much either. You’ll have to tell me what Rose has been up to as well, because I have a feeling any letter sent to Malfoy Manor with the name ‘Weasley’ on it would put both of my grandparents into an early grave.

Mother and Father and I have been spending the last two weeks on holiday in Vienna and the countryside surrounding. There’s supposed to be a school of magic in Austria, but, of course, we didn’t include that in our travels. That aside, it’s too bad we couldn’t we couldn’t write about other schools for our History of Magic homework. Even if you can’t actually go to the school, it’s called Meerfeld, the wizards in Vienna love to talk about it. It also serves as the school of magic for kids in Germany. Durmstrang is really closer, but after the defeat of Grindelwald, and the language shifted from German to Russian, Meerfeld nearly double in size to accommodate all the new German students. Before they would only take German Muggle-borns, but after all that, unless the German children also spoke Russian, they would have to go to Austria instead.

Other than, Father has work, Mother has her functions, and Grandmother and Grandfather are usually home with me. Grandmother says they are getting too old to be going here and there at all hours.

Do you have a lot of homework left? I still have no idea what to write about for my History of Magic essay. Maybe I’ll ask Rose to write me with some ideas. That essay is not going to be very neat if I write it on the train, though.

I will see you at Kings Cross,
Scorpius

P.S. You remember the…thing? Is that still on, or was it just for the one year? We never did decide, and I doubt we will be facing the same…situation this year.


From the way that last statement was worded, it could have seemed that Scorpius was referring to any number of things. But Albus knew exactly what his best friend was referring to. Scorpius was talking about the Arcane ScoRA.

The Arcane ScoRA was a secret society that consisted of Albus Potter: a Gryffindor, Scorpius Malfoy: a Slytherin, and Rose Weasley: a Ravenclaw and Albus’ cousin. The entire thing had really started by accident one night when the three of them defeated a child-eating Erkling that had invaded the school and they needed a story to tell Moaning Myrtle so she would let them hide in her bathroom from patrolling teachers.

It really wasn’t supposed to go any further than that one night, but more and more beasts kept invading the school; far too many to just be a coincidence, and each one more dangerous than the one before it. And so, mostly out of just being at the wrong place at the right time, they began to do exactly what they told Moaning Myrtle that the Arcane ScoRA existed for and investigated the situations, nearly getting killed once or twice along the way.

It was only after the Ministry of Magic was officially brought in to interrogate students that they learned the reason behind all those invasions: a powerful tool known as the Wand of MacArt that could allow the wielder to summon beasts from any corner of the globe and cast their bidding upon them (although no one from the Ministry told this to the student body; the Arcane ScoRA had to figure this out on their own). A tool that had fallen into the hands of one Maddox Dugan: a fourth-year Gryffindor that Albus had once respected, but now he would not even spit in the same direction as this boy. Once a popular student and Keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Maddox now held the proud distinction of being the youngest inmate in Azkaban, where he could rot for all Albus cared now. After all Albus and his friends and the school as a whole had been put through at the hands of this boy, Albus remained convinced that his former housemate had gotten everything he deserved.

He also needed a new sheet of parchment so he could finish up his own History of Magic essay.

---

Albus found himself working at such a steady pace, he was completely taken aback when he glanced at the clock and saw it was well past eleven. His mum hadn’t even bothered to tell him to go to bed. She must have decided since it was homework that was keeping her son awake, either he would put himself to bed or finish the entire summer’s homework in one sitting.

Well, Albus thought as he gazed down at the parchment, it was close enough. All that was really left was his Herbology essay, and he had been planning to ask Neville for a few points of advice when he saw him at Diagon Alley tomorrow. Having your godfather as one of your teachers certainly had its perks.

Speaking of Diagon Alley, hadn’t his mother told him they would be leaving the house at nine tomorrow? And as long as it took the entire Potter family to get ready in the morning, Albus knew if he didn’t go to sleep now, he would be walking around half-dead for the entire day.

But just as Albus was pulling his pajamas up over his head and walking past the window, a loud pop startled him back into attention, and he was able to look out the window just in time to see his dad’s head make its way through the kitchen door. His mum wasn’t kidding when she said Dad wouldn’t be home till late. Albus at least hoped it was for something exciting. There had to be nothing worse than being kept awake for hours on end because of paperwork, Albus should know.

Albus put off getting ready for bed as he listened to the tea kettle steam, papers shuffle, and an outer robe being thrown on the floor�”exactly like Albus’ mum had told her children and her husband a thousand times not to. Despite the fact that Albus was already dressed in his pajamas, he chose to forsake his plans of going to bed for the time being. If there was anything worse than being kept up late into the night because of paperwork, it was coming home to an empty house afterwards.

Other than the few isolated movements of his father, the house was completely silent. The only evidence of life was coming from his parents’ shared study, the one Albus had gotten ink from earlier that evening; a room, which in their younger years, the Potter children had never been allowed in. Granted, a lot of that had to do with the incident five years ago where, in the course of one summer, James had convinced Albus that Floo Powder had been changed in that you threw the Powder into the burning fire first, and then jumped in, Lily had brought an injured screech owl into the study, which turned out not to be so injured after all, and destroyed every piece of furniture in the room, and Albus had walked into the room without taking off his shoes, which happened to be coated with Welsh Fiber-Eating Fungus, and left a trail of shoeprint-shaped holes in the carpet and the rugs.

None of the Potter children had dared test the limits of this banishment since. James and Lily had even seemed surprised when Albus had been allowed to venture in for ink without any sort of supervision. But Albus assumed at the age of twelve, he was now mature and responsible enough to be able to enter a room in his house without destroying it.

“Dad?” Albus called out as he peaeked his head through the cracked door.

No one was at either of the desks, but there was a roaring fire in the hearth and a dark-haired- head peaking up over the back of an armchair. At least his dad hadn’t had to bring any of his work home with him.

“Dad?”

In fact, Albus’ father was so focused on his relaxation, he didn’t even seem to notice his son sneaking up behind him.

Above the fireplace hung a painted portrait of Albus’ grandparents; not his mother’s parents, but his father’s. The ones that had been killed by Lord Voldemort when his dad was barely a year old. So even though Albus had never truly met them, he knew their faces just as well as anyone else he had known in his life. His Granddad Potter was like a much taller version of James, and a much more cocky version of his father. His Grandmum Potter had brilliant true-red hair, much darker than either his mum’s or Lily’s, and the greener than green eyes that both Albus and his dad shared as well. Secretly, Albus had always thought these overwhelming eyes looked so strange on the both of them, but somehow, his grandmother had a way of making them look breathtaking.

In the painting, they were posed in front of a dry fountain in the season between true autumn and true winter. They alternated between hugging, dancing, and just looking young and in love. It was a portrait of a time before death and destruction, when all the two of them cared about was living for the moment, as though it were all they had.

It was easy to see why his dad liked it so much.

“Hey, Dad,” Albus spoke up even louder, finally succeeding in getting his father’s attention.

Turning his head over his shoulder, he offered, “Al, hi. What are you doing up so late?” His voice was tired; it really had been a long night for him.

“I was trying to finish up my Potions essay,” Albus explained, moving to stand beside the deep red chair. “All I have left is my homework for Herbology. I thought Neville would have some advice when we see him and Hannah tomorrow. You do remember we’re going to Diagon Alley in the morning?”

Albus watched his dad nod and take another long sip of his tea. “Don’t worry, I remember. And good work on all your summer assignments. I don’t suppose your brother has gotten quite as far, has he?”

Shaking his head, Albus couldn’t help but laugh. As though it even needed to be asked! James was going into his fourth year, and this summer had been the same as every other summer. It wouldn’t even occur to James until the last week of August that he even had summer homework (even with his mother standing over him, like she had been doing tonight), and his last week at home would be spent in a frenzy of flying parchment and spilt ink. It was actually rather amusing to watch, and it was part of the reason Albus had been working so hard to get all his own assignments done early; he didn’t want to miss a second of it.

“So not even four more weeks before you go back to Hogwarts?” his dad spoke up again, reclaiming Albus’ attention. “Are you excited to start your second year?”

Albus nodded, but also noticed that his dad didn’t seem quite as enthusiastic as the question would have warranted.

“You know, Albus, everything that happened last year, with Maddox and his creatures; that’s not supposed to happen at Hogwarts.” Albus’ father chuckled to himself, but really didn’t seem all that amused. “I know that sounds ridiculous coming from me, but please believe me. Being attacked in the dead of night, constant threats of danger, feeling at all unsafe; those are not things that are supposed to happen while you are at school. Just because I happened to be cheated out of the experience myself, that doesn’t mean you should think that what I went through when I was young and what you went through last year is in any way normal.”

Albus sighed inwardly, but did his very best to make sure his dad didn’t notice. He had heard this exact same speech last year, just before going off to Hogwarts for his first year. For as many great war stories as the Potter children could get out of their aunts and uncles, and even their mother, when it came to their father, who should have had the best stories of all, had no comment. Sure, there were a few occasions, usually when there was a house full of Weasley cousins who could join in the pestering, when he could be convinced to share one or two, but it was rare when he would ever break his vow of silence.

Somehow, he had gotten it into his head that if he shared too many stories about his younger days that his children would all go off and try and get themselves into the most ridiculous amount of danger they possibly could. None of the Potter children could understand the logic behind this, but Albus was not about to argue with it, especially when he had the anonymity of the Arcane ScoRA to protect. He was pretty sure that the secret society was not a traditional part of most people’s school days.

But Albus decided it was better just to agree with his father and excuse himself to bed. His mum was going to have a difficult enough time getting James out of bed, and probably his dad to, without needing to physically drag Albus out from under his covers as well.

Chapter 3
The Front Page


The Potters were barely halfway through their sons’ school lists, and already, the entire Potter family was exhausted. Granted, any shopping trip to Diagon Alley was never as simple as checking items off a shopping list. It seemed like the Potters could barely take three steps before they were stopped by someone who wanted Albus’ father to recount on his glory days, fighting against the Dark Lord Voldemort or a request for an autograph from one of his mother’s old fans from her professional Quidditch days (though she was often asked for war stories as well).

And if it wasn’t that, especially if it was a particularly slow news day, they could always count on some reporter from the Daily Prophet sneaking out from behind a corner and flash-blinding them with a camera. Not even the children were safe, especially since getting photographs of the children of wizarding celebrities had become so ‘en vogue’.

Less than an hour after they had first arrived in Diagon Alley, Lily was making it quite clear that she was exhausted. “Daddy,” she begged sounding much more pathetic than need be, “carry me, please!”

Albus watched his father shake his head. “Lily, you really are getting too big for this.” But at the same time, Albus watched his dad pick Lily up off the ground and hoist her up onto his shoulders.

Lily sighed contently as she rested her chin on top of her dad’s black mop of hair. As the youngest member of the Potter family, as well as the only girl, anyone would agree that Lily was rather indulged by her parents. Her brothers were especially aware of this fact, no matter how hard their parents might have tried to deny it.

As they continued to make their way through the crowded streets, the two boys began to grow just as tired, though unfortunately, there was no more room on their father’s shoulders.

“Harry, why don’t we stop at George’s shop for a little while?”Albus’ mother suggested, tilting her head towards the most noisy and obscenely decorated shop front on the street.

Albus’ dad glanced around the alley, as though searching for any prying eyes or listening ears that might end up trying to follow them into the shop before quickly nodding and ushering the family in the direction of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

To any unsuspecting visitor, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was a scene of chaos and surprise. The sort of place a person would always be on edge, whether it was warranted or not.

But this was not the case for the Potter family. Yes, they were still subject to the same tricks and traps as all other visiting customers, but it was still probably the safest place for them on Diagon Alley. No reporters dared follow them after they began falling victim to an odd sort of hex of George’s own invention in which their writing pads would beat them out of the doorway, with their quills jabbing them in the bum to drive them faster. Albus’ mother had to make sure she was never carrying any of her reporting materials with her, lest she be subjected to the curse as well, being a reporter herself.

When Albus’ father opened the front door, a fanfare of trumpets began to play, signaling the arrival of new customers. It was this sort of thing, instead of the usual door chime, that was yet another one of the shop’s more ‘charming’ aspects.

Roxanne was standing behind the counter, half-absorbed in a copy of Modern Youth Quidditch. The ends of her numerous braids were tied off with multi-colored beads continuously shifting colors from black and red to grey and white to purple and gold. These were most likely yet another addition of the Fair Weather Quidditch Fan series; a new product series of various clothing and accessories that could change colors to reflect just about every Quidditch team in Ireland and the United Kingdom.

“For the fan who couldn’t quite decide which team they back,” Uncle George had said about them.

“Uncle Harry! Aunt Ginny!” she shouted, looking up from the colored pages of her magazine. “Dad’s not here right now, but I think Mum’s upstairs.”

Albus’ dad nodded to his niece before looking down at his children. “Do you think you can all keep yourselves entertained down here?” As though he even needed to ask!

As soon as their parents were out of sight, Lily vanished into the aisles and James took it as a full invitation to explore the secrets of the shop that ordinary customers never would have been allowed. Albus relaxed and strode around the shop at a slow pace, taking in all the new products that had been added especially for the students taking a break from school shopping.

He traced his finger around the rim of the displayed ‘Biting Teacups’, peering inside in search of teeth or barbs or anything else that could be used to ‘bite’. Along the display shelf of new products, he found many things of equal interest. Things like squirting flowers that seemed to be leaking a suspicious blue liquid, Self-Swearing Quills, mirrors where Albus’ reflection screamed as soon as he made eye contact with it, and Always-Win (games where the owner always won) editions of chess and Gobstones.

James had slipped behind the counter, taking a look at a display of Hogwarts maps, possibly to replace the missing Marauder’s Map, which was safely hidden beneath some loose floorboards in Albus’ room, right beside the Invisibility Cloak. Slowly, he drifted further behind the counter�”Roxanne too absorbed in her magazine story to notice�”until he began to open a drawer that most likely contained a few yet-to-be-released products that no one else would have access to.

Before he could extract whatever might be inside, however, the drawer slammed shut with a surprising amount of force, and James let out a loud yelp, like a whipped puppy. The one responsible stared up at James with a disapproving look, tiny black hands straightening his vest, as well as the pillbox hat on top of his fuzzy head while everyone else burst out into loud laughter, including Lily, who was all the way back at the Pygmy Puff habitat.

“Bugger, Little George!” James snapped, blowing cool air onto his injured fingers while everyone else pointed and laughed. Little George used his long black tail to open the drawer once again, but kept a watchful eye over the contents from his seat on top of the counter.

Little George, a Capuchin monkey and the shop’s mascot, had been a fixture at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes for several years now. The details on where Uncle George had acquired the monkey and how he had trained him to work in a shop were still somewhat sketchy, but the little creature was a constant source of amusement for anyone who walked through the door. And all Albus’ mother’s jokes aside about Little George being her brother’s furry little clone, it was actually Aunt Hermione who came up with the name, from a book from her childhood about a curious little monkey who was constantly finding trouble. It certainly seemed to fit.

Once, on one of those rare occasions when a reporter did manage to get through

Just as Albus was wondering where Fred was, he felt the floorboard beneath him lift as someone tried to push their way up. He tried to step out of their way, but when he only had one step to go, the square piece of wooden planks shoot up from under him and knocked Albus to the floor. From there, he watched the square piece of floor fall in a perfect arch to reveal Fred Weasley climbing up from the level beneath the shop, a large brown box soon joining him beside the opening in the floor.

Upon hearing his cousin go crashing to the floor, he turned in Albus’ direction. His wild hair was sticking out in every direction, and his already dark face was covered in dirt, dust, and soot. “Al, when did you get here?”

This was what it finally took for Roxanne to look up from her magazine and take notice of what was going on around her. “Well, it’s about time you woke up!”

“Oh, yeah,” Fred retorted. “What have you been doing up here all this time?”

Roxanne could see her brother glancing towards her magazine and became defensive. “I was making sure the register didn’t grow legs.” She glanced towards the machine suspiciously. “And in this shop, sometimes it does!”

In the midst of the sibling’s arguing, Lily was staring at the trapdoor to the cellar in a sort of shock and awe. “You two slept here? In the cellar?”

Fred nodded in Lily’s direction as he pulled himself up to sit on the floor. “Everyone’s getting ready to go back to Hogwarts, so anyone who ever buys anything from Weasley’s has been stocking up when they come to Diagon Alley to get their school supplies. We’ve been unbelievably busy!”

“Not that we’re complaining!” Roxanne piped as she attempted to return to her magazine. “The overnight pay is nice.”

Lily remained in a state of wide-eyed shock, but Albus and James were already aware of this arrangement. Every year, just before school would start, Uncle George would take their cousins with him to the shop, and they would spend several days there, sleeping wherever they could. And it was something Albus knew his cousins looked forward to every year.

Yes, most of the day would be spent busily preparing for the coming rush of students, but there would also be ice cream for every meal, testing the products that other kids wouldn’t have till Christmas, and at night, there would be war story after war story until Uncle George’s voice gave out and Fred and Roxanne were long asleep.

“Hey, Lily!” Fred finally said, pulling himself up to the floor and snatching one of the squirting flowers from the nearby shelf. “Come here! I’ve got something to show you.”

Albus bit down at his lip as Fred held the flower close to Lily’s face. He considered warning his little sister about whatever was about to happen, but then he remembered the crack she had made last night while he was waiting for Scorpius’ letter. It would be better for her if she learned this lesson on her own.

“Blaabapu!” Lily sputtered as the flower sprayed the bright blue liquid in her face. But even once the potion had dripped away, Lily’s face remained a brilliant dark cobalt.

James took his turn to point and laugh, although his pointer finger still appeared rather crippled from the incident with the drawer.

And it was right at that moment that Albus’ mum and dad came down from the upstairs office to collect their children. “Everyone, if you’ve found anything you want, put it on the counter and buy it quick.” Albus’ mother began rummaging through her purse. “We promised your Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione that we would meet them in front of Fortescue & Son’s, and we’re already running….”

Albus heard his mother’s voice trail off once she finally set eyes on her youngest child.

“Mumm-miiiie!” Lily cried out in her most pathetic-sounding tone.

Albus’ mother rolled her eyes as she strode into the aisle. “Honestly, Fred! Really?” She took her daughter’s chin in her hand to examine the large stain all across her face.

Fred held up the squirting flower, somehow appearing both proud and terrified at the same. “With ink specially designed to cling to skin, but not clothes.”

“Splendid!” Albus’ mother humphed, finally letting go of Lily’s face to put her hands on her hips. “I don’t suppose your genius father showed you the counter-spell for this little toy?”

At first, Fred began to recite the classic line of Uncle George’s about how it wouldn’t be much of a joke if any damage could be fixed right away, but the fiery anger in his aunt’s eyes told him that now was not the time. “Purgopenitus cutis”

Albus’ mother repeated the incantation and Lily’s face regained its pale, slightly freckled tone. But before Albus’ mother could lead the family out the door, James tried to convince her to give him just a few moments to buy squirting flower of his own. This only succeeded in James being dragged out of the shop by his shirt collar, Lily being led by the hand, and Albus and his father following behind, spectators to the whole thing.

“I’ll make sure Dad knows you stopped by!” Roxanne shouted as the family was on their way out.

By all logic, no one should have been fighting a trip to Fortescue & Son’s. They served, without a doubt, the best ice cream in the world, and in more than a hundred flavors (though Albus spent many nights wondering just how a person could come up with so many ice cream flavors).

But even the ice cream shop had a place in his father’s war stories. When Albus’ dad had been going into his sixth year, the old owner of the shop had been killed by Death Eaters. The shop was closed and boarded up for many years, until Odell Fortescue, the man’s son, who had been living in Belize up until then, moved his family back to Britain and reopened his father’s ice cream shop, along with dozens of new recipes he had developed in tropical Latin America.

The Potter children were already slurping away at their ice cream cones when the Weasleys arrived at their table. As was the usual custom, Uncle Ron was saddled with the majority of the bags, while everyone else in the family was limited to only one each. And Uncle Ron was the first to collapse into a chair, throwing his head over the back of the chair and taking a folded newspaper from his robe pocket.

Albus’ dad leaned in over the table. “Is that this morning’s paper?”

Uncle Ron nodded, but even that seemed to hurt. “I’ve been so busy in my duties as the Weasley family mule, I haven’t even had time to read it.”

“Me neither,” Albus’ dad answered as he reached for it. “Wake up, get dressed, and into the Floo.”

“Don’t you steal my paper! Buy your own!”

The two men continued to childishly fight over the paper, more for the sake of the fight itself while their wives rolled their eyes. It was all the more proof that after all these years and even after becoming family, the old school mates still considered themselves best friends.

“Daddy,” Lily suddenly piped, “Albus and Rose and on the front page of the Prophet!”

At first, no one took Lily’s claim seriously, but then Albus glanced out of the corner of his eye to see a group of three photographs decorating the front page, and sure enough, Albus could see his own face looking back at him from the cover of the Prophet. Not only that, the entire Arcane ScoRA found their faces plastered all over the front page. Rose was sitting on the floor of the library, paging thoughtfully through some heavy leather-bound tome. Scorpius was sitting at the Slytherin table, surrounded by his housemates, and Albus was walking down a corridor, frequently looking over his shoulder as though he sensed someone following him.

Before the full rush of panic could take hold of the adults, Albus snatched the paper for himself so he could lay into the story, Rose standing right behind him, her chin resting on his shoulder.


Secret Student Organization Behind Incarceration
of Hogwarts Student

Last spring, Hogwarts fourth-year, Maddox Dugan, was sentenced to fifteen years in Azkaban for numerous reckless acts using an ancient tool of magic know as the Wand of MacArt. The arrest came as a shock to all who knew him, describing Maddox who enjoyed playing Quidditch as Keeper for Gryffindor, and who excelled at subjects including Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration, for which his father, Cyprian Dugan, is the school’s instructor.

“It’s still so hard to believe it was him,” remarked Tracy Corner, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. “So many people were hurt during the attacks�”especially during the Quidditch match when the swarm of Doxies came�”we’re lucky no one was killed.

An investigation was headed by the Aurors Office, along with the assistance of a team of Magizoologist consultants, leading to Maddox Dugan being discovered in a cave just inside the Forbidden Forest which had been inhabited by a manticore�”which had driven the forest’s creatures to take refuge within the walls of Hogwarts�”with the Wand of MacArt. Although Maddox has never admitted having any connection to the attacks on the school, he was tried by the Wizengamot, found guilty, and now sits in Azkaban, serving his sentence.

There may, however, be reason to believe young Maddox will be there for much longer.

Yesterday, Mrs. Dugan held a press conference at her home in Brighton to announce her campaign to prove her son’s innocence and the measures she has taken to do so.

“On my last visit to see my son, I made a Blood Pact with the promise that I would prove that he was not responsible.”

The first step Mrs. Dugan has taking in keeping this promise is by petitioning the Ministry of Magic to reopen her son’s case, with particular attention to any possible alibis Maddox might have had for the attacks, and investigation toward the three first-year students are the ones that Maddox claims are truly responsible: Albus Potter, Rose Weasley, and Scorpius Malfoy.

While both Mrs. Dugan and her son still claim to have no knowledge of who was behind the attacks on Hogwarts themselves, their claim is that these three students banded together in a secret society of some sort, and conspired to frame Maddox Dugan for the attacks.

Alarice Dugan claims that the position of their parents with the Ministry of Magic may have had something to do with the children never being investigated. Albus and Rose are both cousins, the respective children of Harry and Ginevra Potter, and Ronald and Hermione Weasley, all of whom fought in the Second War against Lord Voldemort, Mr. Potter most notably for personally defeating the Dark Lord. As previously stated, Mr. Potter is the current Head of the Aurors Office, while Mrs. Potter, a former Quidditch player, now sports reporter for the Daily Prophet. Mr. Weasley is an Auror, as well, while Mrs. Weasley holds a high post with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Scorpius, son of Draco and Astoria Malfoy, is an only child, as well as the only grandson of Lucius Malfoy, known Death Eater during both Wars; Draco Malfoy was a minor Death Eater in the Second War. Lucius Malfoy, to this day, defends his action, claiming that they were done under influence of the Imperious Curse, while Draco has claimed never to have any major involvement in Death Eater affairs, even during his short membership. Draco Malfoy is currently employed by the Obscurus Books publishing company.

As of yet, there is no proof to substantiate these claims, but that has not deterred Alarice Dugan. She is hoping that since the parents of Scorpius Malfoy have notably less influence within the Ministry, she can convince the Auror Office to begin with an investigation against just him, which will hopefully lead them to the other two.

“I will do whatever it takes to help my son. Blood Pacts leave no room for empty vows, and I have no intention of breaking my word.”


Albus found himself so dumbstruck that he didn’t even notice when the paper was snatched away by his mother. She held the paper up in front of the faces of all the relatives at the circular table.

“How was this article even published without us hearing about it?” she exclaimed, ignoring the customers around her who were beginning to look up from their ice cream. “I would have thought I’ve been at the Prophet long enough to know that a story involving my son and my niece, was going to be published before it went to print!”

It was hard to tell whether she was angrier at whoever had written the story, or at herself for not knowing a thing about it.

“A Blood Pact?” Aunt Hermione joined in. “The woman has to be completely mad! There was a time when the Mind-Healing Wing of St. Mungo’s had an entire wing of people gone mad from not being able to fulfill the promises they made under that spell!”

Eventually, all the adults started yelling, each of them giving voice to their own individual concerns. But the shock of the story seemed to have caught them so off-guard, that nothing they said gave way to an actual conversation. It was more like they were all just taking turns shouting off things that were awful about this.

“She can’t really do that, can she? Accusing the children of this kind of thing with nothing but the word of her own son?” Ron shouted, his face just beginning to turn red. “That has to be slander or something of that sort.”

“Libel, Ron,” Albus’ mother gave him the correct term. “And no, because the story really isn’t about anything the children did. It’s about making a Blood Pact with her son to get him out of Azkaban.” She stared back down at the paper in disgust “Even in the accusation, she is only says what her son told her, so even if it turns out to be a lie, no action could be taken against Alaric Dugan.”

She went on. “It’s a pretty clever loophole, but it’s still a very concrete one.”

But Uncle Ron didn’t seem to be so convinced that nothing could be done. “Well, I doubt whoever wrote this story could have just turned it in without anyone giving it a glance. It would have to go through editors, and printers! And Ginny, if you had just gone to your boss and said the story was a ‘personal conflict of interest’ or something like that, that would have stopped it dead!”

Albus watched as his mother’s gaze turned deadly. “Are you saying this is my fault somehow?”

“I’m sure Ron didn’t mean anything by it,” Albus dad tried to defend both of them at the same time, taking up the paper to have a closer look. “But take at look at who came up with this story: Rita Skeeter.”

“Skeeter?” Uncle Ron spat as though the word were something disgusting. “Good Merlin, Ginny, hasn’t that woman retired yet? What about that book career of hers?”

Albus had heard all about Rita Skeeter. She was the single embodiment of why anything having to do with the press had no good to offer. When Albus’ dad had been young, Rita Skeeter had always done everything in her power to write sensationalized, and often untrue, stories about him, as well as Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, and anyone else who stood close to them long enough. Lately, though, she seemed to have gone on to write the same sort of sensationalized story in book form, on the topics of Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, the Golden Trio as a whole, and many more that Albus didn’t care to know about. Granted, Albus wasn’t really one for reading the paper, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had even read one of Rita Skeeter’s stories in the Daily Prophet.

While the adults around the table, however, Rose grabbed Albus arm and trying to pull him up out of his chair, to the point where he was convinced it was going to be pulled from its socket. Finally, if she wanted to have any hope of keeping the arm, he had to get up out of his seat and allow Rose Weasley to drag him along like a rag doll, which he still allowed to happen for some reason. And while the adults were arguing, Rose also snatched the morning edition of the Daily Prophet up off the side of the table.

Leading him by the arm, Rose dragged Albus through the crowded alley. They nearly knocked down a dozen different people, and almost tipping over a cart selling smoked meat. People all around them were staring, but Rose wasn’t showing any signs of telling Albus just where it was they were going or how long it would take to get there.

“Do you think Scorpius has seen this story yet?” he was finally able to ask as they continued walking.

“If he’s in the country and stayed in this morning, he probably has,” Rose answered. “Where’d these pictures even come from?”

Albus grimaced as Rose continued on with talking to herself. He could only imagine the prospect of being associated with Albus and Rose didn’t bode much better with Scorpius’ parents than it did with theirs. There was absolutely no way this was going to go over well for any of their families.

“We have to find out if he has!” Rose declared as she pulled Albus along. “We have to get in touch with him right now!”

And so the cousins went back to racing down the alleyway, one dragging the other along, until Albus’ sore shoulder prompted him to ask. “We’ll be seeing him a few weeks, Rose. Couldn’t we just wait till we see him on the train or at Hogwarts?”

Rose didn’t answer, but from the way she picked up her pace, it was clear that she didn’t agree. Right when Albus was convinced his shoulder was going to dislocate, he finally show were Rose had been dragging him to: the Leaky Cauldron.

“The Leaky Cauldron has owl you can rent to carry messages,” Rose told Albus. “We can write to Scorpius in the pub and send it with one of the owls there. I’m not so sure we should use our own owls to write one another anymore, anyway. Someone might start to recognize them if they start showing up too often.”

Not that you could wait that long even if you tried, Albus thought to himself.

Thankfully, Rose showed no sort of reaction as she opened the door to the pub and led him inside.

After taking a few steps into the tavern, a hush seemed to take over the room in waves, as though it were only gradually occurring to everyone there that those were indeed two of the children that had been featured on the front page of the Daily Prophet. While Albus stood halted by all this, however, Rose continued to push him forward, further into the Leaky Cauldron and towards the bar counter.

A pink-faced, blonde woman with her hair tied up under a handkerchief smiled brightly at them as she used her wand to send several dirty tankards to the back to be washed. “Albus, Rose, so good to see you!”

Hannah Longbottom, formerly Abbott, was the Leaky Cauldron’s landlady. To many, this might seem a job of little influence, but in fact, it gave Hannah the opportunity to hear and see things that officials in the Ministry could only dream of knowing about; knowing plans and schemes for criminal activities while they were still only rumors. In fact, Albus’ father had often said that because of her position, Hannah was an invaluable asset to the Auror Office; their eyes and ears as to the goings on in Diagon Alley.

“Hi, Hannah,” Albus piped. “Is Neville here?”

Barely a second after asking this, Albus felt a very sharp jab to his ribcage, courtesy of his beloved cousin who was now staring daggers at him.

“You are bloody mad, aren’t you?” she hissed under her breath. “We came here to rent an owl to contact Scorpius! Not to catch up our teachers!”

Albus answered with, “You need to get in touch with Scorpius,” he whispered back. “What I need is to say hello to my devoted godfathers, while at the same time asking my Herbology professor for any advice he might have on how to finish the summer homework he assigned.”

Rose was more than welcome to carry on with whatever paranoid activities she wanted, but Albus was going to take this opportunity the do something at least somewhat useful. Then, feeling like getting back at Rose for the sting he still felt in his side, he added, “Don’t worry. I promise to be very stupid so he won’t notice you sending your message.”

The times when anyone was given the opportunity to get the last word in an argument with Rose Weasley were few, but whenever it did happen, it was something to be greatly enjoyed.

Through some miracle, Hannah seemed to have picked up none of what was exchanged between the two cousins. “Neville’s in the upstairs office trying to work out the last of his lesson plans for school. He can never concentrate down here with all the noise, but I’m sure this will be a welcome break for him.”It was with that that Hannah left the counter to be tended by the other pub worker while she went up the stairs in search of her husband.

Hannah was Albus’ godmother, though his parents confessed that they hadn’t really become friendly with her until after she had married Neville. It seemed like a waste in Albus’ opinion; Hannah Longbottom was one of the sweetest people he knew. She would never greet a person without a smile, and her pockets always contained some sort of treat or sweet. In the Longbottom house, the potted plants took up more room than the furniture, but Hannah never minded.

“Albus! Rose!” A voice came from the top of the staircase.

The two cousins looked up to see their Herbology professor looking down at them. He wasn’t as covered in dirt as he had been while teaching at Hogwarts, but that might have had more to do with being away from his beloved school greenhouses.

He began making his way down the steps at a rushed pace. “Great to see both of you! Out shopping for school?”

The way Neville was speaking and gesturing, it was it easy to see that he was nervous. Clearly, he too had heard the news of Alarice Dugan’s attempts to accuse them of being responsible for her son’s imprisonment. “Hannah said you needed help with schoolwork.”

He led the two of them to an empty table, using his sleeve to wipe the damp surface. Rose’s eyes glanced towards the corner of the bar, where an open window revealed an owl perch where several of the tavern owls were waiting with leather sacks around their necks to hold their payment.

“So what was it about the homework you needed help understanding, Albus?”

Albus bit down on his bottom lip. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to confess that he hadn’t even begun his Herbology assignment, and that it wasn’t just one thing he needed help with. But Albus was saved from answering by the sympathetic act of Neville moving on from the question, who seemed to know what was going on inside the boy’s head. Reaching into his leather case, he extracted a small stack of parchment as well as several books, including their textbook.

“Can I have a piece too?” Rose asked, watching in rather confused surprise as Neville also brought out an ink bottle and several different quills.

He didn’t bother to ask Rose if she needed help writing her essay. Maybe it was the assumption that, as a Ravenclaw, she already understood the assignment perfectly, or possibly that in asking for a piece of parchment to write on, Neville believe she would be able to keep herself occupied.

Rose might have been able to work her way through her assignments, but that didn’t mean that Albus didn’t. “Don’t you have a letter to write?” he whispered under his breath while Neville was busy thumbing through one of his books.

Rose humphed under her breath, snatching one of the quills and turning her eyes down to the paper, while Albus turned his attention back to his teacher. “Well, I understand everything about different things in fertilizer helping different parts of the plant grow better�”phosphorus and all that stuff�”but I don’t know how you know how you decide which part of the plant you want to grow the best. And what if you want more than one part of the plant to grow well?”

Neville began into his explanation, with Albus listening diligently. This wasn’t allowed to carry on for long enough to be any help to Albus’ homework, however, because of a sharp tug Rose gave to his hair, causing a high-pitched shriek from Albus and bringing Neville’s attempted lesson to an abrupt end.

“Rose!” he protested loudly before Rose shushed him and point off beyond his vision.

But Rose was not about to be made ashamed of her interruption, eyes wide as she pointed away from the table. “Look there!”

When Albus followed the direction of his cousin’s finger, his eyes soon went equally wide. It was Scorpius, along with his parents! And their arrival seemed to bring about a new rush of whispers among the pub patrons, as they saw yet another face that had graced this morning’s edition of the paper.

Rose set her quill down and pushed the parchment off to the side. It would seem writing that letter was no longer necessary.

Scorpius was standing in the doorway of the pub, flanked by his parents, who both looked upon the scene with a certain amount of disgust that only the truly wealthy seemed capable of. Scorpius, in his school cloak, entered the pub just ahead of Mr. Malfoy, the lamp-light gleaming off his slightly balding head, offering a great deal of insight into what Scorpius’ appearance might be as an adult. Mrs. Malfoy, flanking his right, was an elegant woman with blonde hair and a sculpted nose, along with a gaze that had the ability of looking past anyone in the room. Side by side, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, with their similar coloring and equally elegant robes, almost looked like the king and queen on a chess board.

Albus quickly found himself being tugged down by the shoulder to hide beneath the table, which made him feel as ridiculous as they must have looked. Neville, by some sort of miracle, didn’t seem to notice this. “Mr. Scorpius Malfoy!” he called, waving from the table. “How nice to see you!”

Scorpius met with his professor’s eyes, as did his parents�”however their feelings seemed to be those of distaste and annoyance. His mother eyed the exit to the alley, perhaps debating whether or not to run for it.

“Hello, Professor Longbottom,” Scorpius piped as soon as he saw his teacher, something that seemed to cause a certain amount of disgust on the part of his parents, as though having their son be polite to one of his teachers was something to be ashamed of. “I hope you are having a good summer.”

“Very, Mr. Malfoy,” Neville answered, not seeming to notice that Albus and Rose had slipped underneath the table so as not to be seen. “Have you finished you summer homework yet?”

“Almost.” Scorpius voice sounded less than honest. “I was going to finish the rest of it tonight.”

His father smirked in Neville’s direction. “Well, Longbottom, it seems you have had an eventful summer, what with your discovery of the glorious invention that is soap and water.”

“Father!” Scorpius hissed. “Don’t insult the man who controls my Herbology grade!”

Mr. Malfoy glowered down at his son, seeming thoroughly insulted that he had had his behavior reprimanded by his twelve-year-old son.

“Draco, Astoria,” Hannah suddenly called out from behind the bar, sounding apprehensive, yet trying to be polite. “Can I interest you in something to drink? Maybe even something on the house for the sake of old classmates?”

After some amount of fidgeting, Scorpius’ parents seemed to finally decide on accepting the free hospitality. They did, however, appear to question this when Neville left the table to go join them.

Scorpius remained behind, though, and the vision of his feet and legs was soon joined by his face as well as he suddenly crouched down to his friends hiding in their less than dignified manner. “Albus! Rose!” he mouthed.

Despite the fact that Scorpius had not actually said anything, Rose held a finger to her lips and shushed him. While Scorpius stood by, appearing confused and offend, Rose led Albus out from under the table, the both of them still moving in a rather crotched positions, into a dark corridor and through a door which turned out to lead into the men’s washroom. Rose turned the locks tight and then held her entire body against the door, as though if someone managed to break through the locks, a small girl’s body could stop any intruders.

But Albus’ fidgeted nervously on the soles of his feet. “I don’t know, Rose. I really don’t think you’re supposed to be in here,” Albus warned as he pushed himself to his feet. “Arcane ScoRA business or not.”

This was the first time the actual name of their secret organization had actually been said since the end of the school year. Rose turned to look over her shoulder, as though it surprised her to hear it, as though everything she had been doing up until this point had had nothing to do with the secret organization.

Suddenly, a series of sharp raps at the door brought them both to attention. “Occupied!” Rose muttered, trying to make her voice as raspy and low an octave as possible.

“Rose, let me in right now!”

Upon recognizing the familiar voice of Scorpius Malfoy on the other side, Rose quickly opened the door for him, only to immediately slam it shut again, almost catching the boy’s heels in it, but Scorpius seemed almost too preoccupied to even be mad. From beneath his robes, Scorpius pulled a folded section of paper, containing the same story Albus and Rose had seen just moments before.

“Have you seen this yet?”

Albus nodded. “Just a little while ago, kind of by accident, and now our parents are having a collective fit.”

Rose slid back down to the floor. “Have you had a chance to give it a good read yet?”

Scorpius shook his head. “Mother and Father wouldn’t let me see the paper this morning, but I snatched it out of the rubbish when we were just stepping into the Floo. But I don’t think I have to read very far to understand just how bad this all is.”

“Did you read the part about how Maddox’s mummy blames use for putting her son in Azkaban?” Rose began thumping the back of her head against the door.

Scorpius balked at that. “The Auror’s Office and the Wizengamot put Maddox Dugan in Azkaban!”

“He got locked up because everything he used the Wand of MacArt for, almost killing a good chunk of the student body, and the three of us on more than one occasion,” Rose answered him. “You know it, I know it, and Albus knows it. But we can’t exactly go about telling people this.”

“Not without everyone finding out about the Arcane ScoRA.” Albus leaned back against the pipe beneath the sink.

Rose continued to pout. “Of course, if anyone finds out about the Arcane ScoRA, it’ll just reinforce everything Mrs. Dugan has been saying about a conspiracy against her son.”

Scorpius summed up their situation. “So what you’re saying is we’re damned if we do and we’re damned if we don’t.”

Nobody had to agree with Scorpius. What he said described their situation perfectly.

“…came in a little while ago,” he heard Hannah’s voice saying. “Don’t worry; they’re both perfectly safe. Neville was just giving them a little help with Herbology.”

At the sound of a very familiar story, three bodies crotched down against the door, pressing their ears to the crack.

“You stay here. I’m sure they just went off exploring. I’ll try looking through the storage rooms.”

Then came the sound of footsteps shuffling off in the wrong direction, and new voices entered into the outside production. “I can go looking for them too, Mum.” It was James.

“Don’t think I’m falling for that!” Now it was Albus’ mother. “I’ve already lost one of my own children and my brother’s oldest. I’m not about to let another of mine wonder off!”

But then came an exchange of voices that made the concern of Albus’ mother seem far less relevant. “Well, Mrs. Potter, I wouldn’t say this surprises me. You can’t control your son’s behavior while he is at Hogwarts, so why should one expect any different while he is at home.”

Scorpius gasped at the familiar sound of his father’s drawl. There was no way they would be able to walk out of the bathroom, all three of them, and into this mess without expecting life as they knew it to come to an end.

Outside, he heard the rustling of a newspaper, but where this new copy had come from was hard to say. “I suppose little Albus couldn’t wait to get his first taste of the limelight, no matter how he got it. But with all those tales about his father’s glory days, it really isn’t that difficult to understand.

Rose’s jaw was dropped in a sort of outraged shock, as though she couldn’t believe a former Death Eater could come off sounding so high and mighty, especially to the wife of Harry Potter.

“Your son’s face is on the front page too. In fact, I would think that you yourself have a lot more to answer for.”

“Photographed by Jocelyn Dale,” she read. “Astoria, isn’t that your sister, Daphne’s, girl? What can be said about your family when Scorpius’ dear cousin is willing to double-cross him like that.”

Upon hearing this bit, Albus turned to Scorpius, who was starting to look just a little bit ill. Albus felt sorry for him. He knew from last year that Scorpius was very close to his older cousin, and to think so would turn around and betray him like this, it had to hurt way down deep.

Scorpius must have judged that very moment as a good time to leave�”that or he just didn’t want to face Albus and Rose, knowing what they now knew about his cousin�”and unlocked the door without really waiting for his two friends to move away from it. He slipped out into the hall, cracking the door open as little as physically possible, before slamming it shut and going to join his parents. Through the walls, Albus could hear to tone of the adults become more gruff and curt, as though whatever they might have been arguing about before, neither side wanted to discuss it in front of the children.

After enough time had passed to give the Malfoys a reasonable exit, Albus and Rose finally left the bathroom themselves, though Albus wasn’t a hundred percent sure he wanted to, knowing what was waiting for him. But there really wasn’t anything left to say in the washroom.

Albus’s mother was standing just in front of the doorway to the alley, with James who was looking quite bored, right beside her. Hannah and Neville were nowhere to seem (probably still searching the pub for Albus and Rose).

At the moment Albus’ mother saw her son, she rush forward to give him a hug as though she had been suspecting the worst (with James making babyish noises behind her). This mood didn’t last for very long, however, and Albus soon found himself standing under a glare that felt like it was burning holes through his cloak.

“Albus Severus Potter, why would you run off like that?” his mother lectured, not seeming at all concerned that the rest of the pub was listening in as well. “Children get snatched off the streets everywhere and everyday! You could have had your own entrails be boiled for potion ingredients in Knockturn Alley!”

“Sorry, Mum,” Albus tried to sound as repentant as he possible could, hoping to bring all this to an end as soon as possible.

He got momentary relief when his mother shifted her attention to his cousin. “Rose, your parents are waiting in Flourish & Blotts. I trust you can make it there without any other distractions?”

Rose gave something that looked like a nod before racing out of the tavern as fast as she could possibly run. Whatever her parents had in mind, it had no way of being worse than anything her Aunt Ginny was capable of.

As the door was still swinging, Albus watched his mother shake her head up at the ceiling before leading her sons into the alley in a huff. For a long while, the three Potter walked in silence, neither of the boys willing to say anything that might further feed their mother’s anger. But when her mood seemed sufficiently cool, of course, it was James who was the first to speak up.

“I ran into Tracy Corner, Albus. She blames you for getting Gryffindor’s Keeper sent to Azkaban.”

“James!” His mother’s voice was followed by a light cuff on the boy’s head.

“But you don’t have to worry, though,” James went on while rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head. “I told her it would be our family’s solemn duty of promising her a replacement; one with Quidditch in his blood.”

The tone heavily implied that this player would be Albus, however, Albus didn’t quite understand how James planned to go about bringing Tracy her ‘legacy Quidditch player’. “But I don’t play Quidditch! I barely know how to ride a broom. Only what we practiced in flying lessons with Madam Wood.”

A smirk crept across James’ lips. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. I don’t think anyone in our family would dream of sending one of our own off to Quidditch tryouts unless they were completely and totally prepared to face it.”

He offered nothing further, but just continued to look ahead with that same smile on his face and their mother continuing forward as though she hadn’t heard a word of it. Albus tried to watch his mother for any reaction. She had to have heard what James said, but she just kept on walking straight ahead, if a little more stiffly than she had been before. Albus was confused. There was almost never a time when anything James said wouldn’t draw some sort of reaction from their mother, and now didn’t seem like one of those times. And why on earth did James look so bloody devious about the whole thing.

Not mentioned he seemed to be much too happy about whatever it was he was thinking of: like last week when James had mixed mustard, marmalade, and cold tea together and gave it to Albus, telling him it was pumpkin juice.

It finally came to Albus, however, while they were in the Floo on their way home, as the flames shot up around them. Something previously only spoke in legend, but something that struck fear into the hearts of all who heard its name.

The Weasley Quidditch Training Gauntlet

Chapter 4
The Weasley Quidditch Training Gauntlet


A large party could either work for or against you when you were trying to keep hidden. If there were enough people who knew you, you could have your exact location pointed out at any time to anyone who wanted to find you. But at a party where most of the people had only seen you about three times in your whole life, it was the next best thing to an Invisibility Cloak (which Albus was now kicking himself for not bringing with him).

But being small for his age and a lot more agile than he was ever given credit for, Albus was making do with what he had. Come to think of it, he hadn’t even seen James since bolting away from his family as soon as they had stepped out of the Floo.

Years of being a member of the Weasley clan had made Albus quite adept at weaving his way through crowds of adults. All together, there must have been at least a hundred people that Albus didn’t know and�”according to Uncle Ron, at least�”most of them were still somehow related to the Weasley family. But Albus had long known his Grandmum Weasley was never one for doing anything halfway.

At the center of it all was Uncle Charlie, and his almost-new blushing bride clinging to his arm, using her best English skills to keep up with the rush of questions all around her. Her children and Albus’ new cousins, Hendric and Stela, were seated off to the side, indulging in their new grandmother’s cooking, their eyes darting as they tried to translate the English all around them into their native Romanian.

This whole gathering served as a sort of belated wedding reception. Uncle Charlie and Albus’ new aunt, Sorina, had gotten married just two weeks before Christmas last year. It hadn’t been anything fancy; they had gone to the Romanian Ministry of Magic where the only ones present were their children and a few work colleagues to serve as witnesses.

This was the way the both of them had wanted their wedding, but, of course, Grandmum Weasley couldn’t stand the idea of the two of them not having a ‘proper’ ceremony. The kind anyone remotely related to them, and everyone who had spent more than five minutes with either of them was invited. They couldn’t be married, again, naturally, so Grandmum Weasley opted instead to throw this large gathering for them.

And even though Sorina had only been married into the Weasley family for half a year, she already knew better than to try and talk her new mother-in-law out of anything she was adamant about.

So after an entire afternoon of weaving through the crowds, Albus took an uneasy seat beside his new cousins. Surely if James threw a sack over his head and tried to drag him away, Hendric and Stela would at least try to do something.

“Hei-llo, Ahl-boo-s!” Stela was the first to acknowledge him. “Is vonderful pahr-ty, no?”

Hendric nodded in Albus’ direction, but his attention was focused on someone else; a lady with hair more grey than red, but whose energetic, jittery movements showed no reflection of her age who ran up to Uncle Charlie and Aunt Sorina. “Ah ha! There you two finally are!”

Uncle Charlie shifted uncomfortably where he stood. “Hello, Aunt Bethany.”

Aunt Bethany was Albus’ great aunt, the wife of his grandfather’s brother, Cephas. Albus had only met his great aunt and uncle a handful of times, but it was more than enough to create an impression. While Uncle Cephas was considered by many too even-tempered to even be a Weasley, Aunt Bethany more than made up for it. She was loud, impulsive, and the sort of busy-bodied gossip that most could only dream of being.

She also appeared to have trouble telling when she was making people uncomfortable. Either that or she just didn’t care.

“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie!” The woman hugged him tight around the neck. “Oh, and this must be Serena! It is so nice to finally welcome to the family! I have heard so much about you.”

“Sorina,” Albus Romanian aunt corrected her. “And yes, I ahm very hah-ppy to be married to Charlie and to finally be meeting all his family. We live so far away, I ahm sure zis vill be a very special treat.”

Aunt Sorena had known the woman for all of two seconds, and she already seemed to be getting a feel of just what kind of person Aunt Bethany was.

“And those two must be your children, aren’t they?” She tilted her head towards the two new cousins at the nearby table. “I can see they take after their mother, but then it seems that none of the Weasleys in this generation have the typical family traits.”

Aunt Bethany was hinting at something, but Albus wasn’t quite sure what, and neither Hendric nor Stela seemed to have a clue either. “Hendric and Stela are my children from my first marriage,” Sorina tried to explain. “Charlie is their stepfather.”

“Hendric and Stela are still going by Iliescu,” Charlie added in. “It’s what everyone knows them as, and it doesn’t make sense to change their names when they’re teenagers.”

The older woman wrinkled her nose just a little bit, and one of her eyebrows drifted upwards. Albus had already heard his parents talking about how some of their older relatives we not quite as accepting of the notion of ‘blended families’.

Aunt Bethany changed the subject again. “Where is it your children go to school again?”

“The children both go to St. Daniildumitru,” Charlie responded again, starting to become short. “In Romania.”

“Really?” Albus’ great-aunt remarked. “And no thoughts of having them start up at Hogwarts now that you’ve married into a British family?”

By now, Uncle Charlie was through with trying to be subtle. “Aunt Bethany, we live in Romania. The children speak Romanian as a native language, and it is what we speak at home. And they already have all their classes and friends there.”

Since Christmas, Albus had been hearing second-hand opinions about what everyone in the wizarding world thought about Uncle Charlie’s impromptu marriage; even that his uncle had married the single mother out of pity

Albus could feel an argument or a scene beginning to start up, and neither were conducive to remaining hidden from his Quidditch-raved cousins. Albus moved up from the table and once again began his meandering until he settled in a fairly safe place between his grandmother and his aunts.

“�”I ‘ate you!” Aunt Fleur was saying. “You ‘ave no morning sickness, no swollen ankles, and you ‘ave already lost all ze baby weight! ‘Ow ees zat even possible?”

Aunt Fleur was standing along with Albus’ Aunts Audrey and Angelina, and his Grandmum Weasley in a circle around Luna Scamander, who seemed to be glowing with that aura new mothers were said to have…and maybe a touch of embarrassment at the comments on her weight. Albus had earlier seen Rolf chasing after the twins, Lorcan and Lysander, who more or less ran around like wild animals themselves. Luna was standing among them, her entire frame draped in sun-colored robes, holding her four-month-old daughter in her arms.

“Albus!” Luna called over to Albus as soon as she saw him. “Come over here! You still haven’t properly met Astrid.”

Feeling somewhat safe in the company of so many adults, Albus decided to indulge Luna. A person could have argued that it wasn’t possible to be ‘properly introduced’ to a baby, but Albus knew full well there was no point in trying to argue with Loony Luna.

“Hello, Astrid,” Albus said to the baby, letting the infant grab hold of his index finger.

Little Astrid Scamander had a moon-shaped face, as well as very round and wide eyes. Bits of dirty blonde hair poked out from beneath her soft yellow bonnet, and her pale blue eyes were directed up at the sky, watching the clouds.

“I can’t believe you’re already going back to work,” Aunt Angelina said. “I stayed home for more than six months when Fred was born, and it still killed me to leave him for the first time.”

“And then came Roxanne right after that,” Audrey reminded her.

“It is the life of a Magizoologist,” Luna remarked in that dreamy tone of hers. “The wonders of the natural world aren’t going to wait for me.

“Actually, Molly,” Luna then said as though she suddenly remembered, “next month, Rolf and I will be heading to Peru to study Peruvian Vipertooth dragons. Recent hatchlings have been growing to nearly a hundred and seventy-eight percent of their usual size, and Magizoologists think there may be an environmental cause behind it.”

Gramdmum Weasley already assumed what Luna was going to ask. “And you would like me to watch Astrid and the twins while you two are away?”

Luna appeared confused. “No, we’ll be taking Astrid and the boys with us. But it is very cold in Peru, especially up in the mountains, and I was wondering if you had any knitting projects you might be willing to spare.”

“Y-you are taking an infant with you to Peru?” his grandmother stammered. “To study dragons?”

“I don’t see why not,” Luna told her. “Rolf grew up traveling with his parents all around the world, and we have been doing the exact same with the boys. Why wouldn’t we be taking Astrid along with us as well?”

Albus could only imagine all the terrible scenarios going through his grandmother’s head. And once again, Albus decided to leave before too much attention was called to his location. Wandering through more crowds eventually led Albus to his dad, but he stayed away because he wasn’t completely sure if his own Quidditch-raved father would be in on delivering his second-born to the Weasley Quidditch Training Gauntlet.

From behind a pair of cousins with ridiculous feather-topped hats, Albus saw his dad standing off to the side conversing with Teddy, his godson, who was also an honorary sibling in the Potter family. For as long as Harry could remember, Teddy had been as much a part of family functions as he, James, or Lily were, so it was no shock that he had been invited to the party as well.

This was actually the first time Albus had seen his godbrother in a long time. Since the spring, Teddy had been working as a research assistant. He was always saying how he like his work, but it didn’t pay very well apparently. Even today, Teddy’s ‘good’ clothes were notably worn and Albus could see him stuff biscuits into his pockets.

Despite all this, Teddy refused any and all money Albus’ dad tried to offer him. And yet Albus’ dad would never stop trying to offer. He overcompensated with Teddy; everyone said so. Growing up, Teddy was easily three times as spoiled as any of the Potter child, and Albus’ father could do that, because Teddy’s gran ‘co-parented’ with him (even though Andromeda Tonks had made it clear she disliked having to always be the bad guy). But the Potter children were never jealous of Teddy. He was always willing to share any treats he was given and had always been like the world’s best big brother to all of them.

Even as an adult, this hadn’t changed, and his godfather hadn’t changed because Teddy was an adult either.

Albus was about to take the risk of saying hello to his godbrother when a sudden shout caused Albus to snap his head back over his shoulder. “Hendric, how coo-uld you do somezing like zis?”

“Stela is zirteen years old! She shoo-uldn’t even need a baby-sitter!”

Albus’ ears filled with the sound of English shouting in thick accents. Aunt Sorina and Hendric were standing nose to nose, not caring who was watching, switching back and forth between Romanian and English. People around them were staring, but they just continued going about their conversations, keeping one eye on the mother and son.

Eventually, Albus’ curiosity got the best of him, especially since Stela seemed to be the topic of conversation and yet nowhere to be seen. “What’s going on?”

Aunt Sorina looked down in her nephew’s direction and her expression became slightly softer (although that wasn’t saying much). “Your cousin seems to zink he is on vacation from vatching his only sister,” she remarked harshly. “And now Stela is missing in a country where she barely speaks ze language.”

“Nozing is going to hah-ppen to Stela!” Hendric yelled again. “She probably went looking for more of Grandmah-zer Veasley’s cakes or went to see ze farm ah-nimals.”

But Aunt Sorina still had her attention on Albus. “Ahl-boo-s, you go heh-lp Hendric look for Stela,” she said, “because I clearly cannot trust my own son to do it!”

This threw Albus a little off guard. He still hadn’t completely wrapped his head around the idea that Stela had gone missing, and now his aunt wanted him to go off looking for her. But Hendric grabbed his cousin by the arm and began to pull. “Come viz me, Ahl-boo-s,” he insisted. “Ve vill find Stela in no time!”

Before Albus knew it, he was being led away from the party and towards a large grove of trees at the end of his grandparents’ property. And for all Albus knew, it was because Hendric was desperate to escape rather than find his sister. “You don’t find her, don’t bozher coh-ming bah-ck!”

“She doesn’t mean it,” Hendric said reassuringly when he looked over his shoulder and saw the worried look beginning to take over Albus’ face, continuing to pull him towards the maze of trees.

Once in the grove, Hendric took the lead, even thouh Albus was sure the older boy had no idea where he was going or why he had any idea why Stela would have ventured in there. The grove on his grandparents’ property if overgrown and the ground was covered with vines, exposed tree roots, and thorny plants just looking for bare legs to catch. A thick canopy of leaves blocked out most of the sun, and what little light did get through gave the trees frightening faces like in fairy tales.

And of course, the Weasley grandchildren would all go exploring there while the adults would have their boring Sunday afternoon chats over tea, usually coming back with their clothes in shreds and wearing dirt as a second skin.

It didn’t take very long for Hendric to find himself lost and in over his head. “Zhis is much bigger zhan I zhought,” he remarked once they reached the center of the grove. “Ve should split up. You keep going straight, and I vill look to ze right and ze left.”

But Hendric didn’t even wait for Albus to say ‘alright’ before he took off on his own. Albus began moving forwards through the woods, keeping one eye out for Hendric. Albus knew he would be able to find his way out easily (he had already been lost in here too many times for it to happen again), but he would probably have to end up telling the adults to form a search party to go back in after Hendric, and then both him and Stela would be missing, and Uncle Charlie had said more than once he was absolutely not going to have any more children because he and Sorina would be in their sixties by the time they were finished raising�”

But Albus was interrupted from these rambling thoughts when he saw what had to be the ultimate proof that the universe existed only to mess with him. There was Stela, plucking the petals off of daisies and murmuring to herself.

Albus’ jaw physically dropped, not really sure of just what to do now. “Hendric!” he shouted out into the woods, but received no answer. This had all been much too easy…

“Ahl-boo-s!” A set of arms grabbed him from behind, holding him tight around the neck. “Is nice to see you!”

Albus soon found himself spitting dark strands of hair that didn’t belong to him out of his mouth. Stela was right behind him, but he had no idea how she even snuck up on him so fast. “Nice to see you too, Stela,” he managed to gasp. “Can you please let go?”

Stela acted as though she didn’t understand him and just hugged him tighter. Albus tried to move away, but Stela followed him, arms still clinging around his neck. What did his cousin think she was doing? The girl was a year older than he was, for Merlin’s sake! “Stela, please! I’m not getting any air!”

That was what it took to finally get Stela to let go of his windpipe. Once she did, Albus began to contemplate just how he was going to find his way back to the party, but Stela had other ideas. “Ahl-boo-s, come see vhat I find!” she prompted, beginning to pull at his arm. “So ah-mazing!”

Albus tried to pull away, but Stela pulled harder, determined to get her way. Through all the tangled trees and brush, Stela eventually led her younger cousin to a small clearing in the middle of the grove. Strands of grass were charmed white in straight lines, and there were large, but battered, hoops on top of tall poles on either end of the field. There were rough wood benches on the sidelines and the tree branches leaned away from the field, as though pushed by an invisible force.

Stela had found their uncles’ old Quidditch pitch.

Albus had seen the field a few times already. He knew his mother and his uncles didn’t have a lot of money growing up, so most of their free time was spent here, practicing Quidditch and flying. Much of the old field had suffered from years of neglect, but a lot of the wear and tear came from years of use as well. Despite this, the cousins would still use it for unofficial matches against one another, though Albus would always be lying on the grass and watching.

“Is Quidditch field, I zink,” Stela remarked as she wandered out onto the field. “Veasley family like Quidditch?”

As Stela began pointing out various things on the pitch, Albus became very aware of large shadows suddenly swooping over them, much too large to be any sort of bird. Even before the panic set in, there was the realization that he was trapped.

“No use in screaming, Albus,” he could hear Roxanne say from up over his head.

Albus finally got the nerve to look up, and he could see both Roxanne and Fred hovering right above him. “And don’t think going crying to the adults is going to do any good either,” Fred told him.

When he looked back down again, here in the center of the field stood Uncle Charlie and Uncle George, the dress robes they had been wearing early were gone. Stela rushed away from Albus to go join her stepfather, along with Hendric, who seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Uncle Charlie gave his stepchildren a very pleased look. “Thank you for your assistance, kiddos,” Charlie told the two of them.

“No zank you!” Stela pouted with her hand held out. “Vant moh-ney like Charlie proh-mise!”

Albus’ uncle chuckled to himself, but he eventually did reach into his pocket and handed over and handful of Galleons. At this, Hendric was outraged. “Hey, I heh-lped too!”

“It’s not my fault you agreed to work for free,” Charlie said to his stepson. “You’ve got a problem with it, go take it up with the Dragon Lady.”

Albus had heard Uncle Charlie refer to Aunt Sorina by this pet name a few times before, and appearently his children knew it too, because it put a stop to Hendric complaining, although he did stomp away from the field in a manner better fitting of a four-year-old. Stela followed after him, taunting him with the shuffling of the coins.

As Stela sauntered past him with a smug and satisfied look on her face, Albus found himself gaining perspective on what seemed to be a real sneaky streak in his new cousin. Perhaps it was a good thing that Uncle Charlie’s new children wouldn’t be going to Hogwarts or changing their name to Weasley. He didn’t know how his family would react to the shame of one of their own becoming a Slytherin.

Once his new cousins were gone, his uncles began speaking up again. “You must have known this was coming, Albus,” Uncle Charlie said, sounding the most sympathetic out of all of them (though that wasn’t saying much). “Every Weasley who wants to try out for Hogwarts Quidditch first has to make it through the Weasley Quidditch Training Gauntlet to prove that they are worthy.”

“But I don’t want to try out for Quidditch!” Albus protested. “James promised Tracy Corner that he would offer up another Weasley-Potter hybrid to replace Maddox Dugan!”

“Details, details,” Albus suddenly heard James speak up before his words could be considered by all the others. “Those aren’t going to help you dodge those invisible Bludgers.”

Albus gulped. Invisible Bludgers? James hadn’t mentioned those two years ago!

By now, James, and Louis as well, had joined Fred and Roxanne over Albus’ head. “But don’t worry,” James offered with sarcastic assurance, “the family has no intention of sending you into that tryout unprepared.”

By now, pretty much everyone who would have been involved in the coming mess was there.

The Weasley Quidditch was supposed to be absolute torture. Supposedly, the training was horrific, that Ron had to spend the entire week before returning to Hogwarts under strict bed rest if he wanted any hope of being able to walk on his own or having proper function of his limbs. Albus’ uncles had flat out refused to put his mother through the training. They had said it was because she had been able to make the team as a substitute without the training, but his mother said she had heard them all agree that the sessions were too tough for a girl. The mother Albus had been raised by surely would have protested this unjust biased, but to be honest, the Potter children were convinced she was too happy to have avoided the training herself to protest too vigorously.

“We all had to go through it, Albus,” Louis said next. “It’s best to just get through it and get it over with.”

“Like ripping off the world’s largest, most painful bandage.” James added some alliteration.

Albus’ arms went to hug himself around his shoulders in a self-calming behavior. By now, the reality that he was about to face the Gauntlet was really starting to set in. And of course, no one made the suggestion not to go through with it; even if Albus made it clear he didn’t want to join the Quidditch team.

“Alright, boys!” Uncle George clapped his hands and took charge. “What position are we trying out for this time?”

“Keeper!” James shouted before Albus could even react.

Finally, Albus tried to speak up for himself. “Mum and Dad are never going to let me go through this,” he said. “Especially not unwillingly!”

“You think your mum and dad don’t already know you’re here?” Uncle George asked. “There’s nowhere on Earth we would be safe if your mother learned we took you for Weasley Quidditch Training Gauntlet and didn’t tell her.”

“And your mother is just as committed to carrying on the Weasley Quidditch legacy as the rest of us are,” Uncle Charlie said next. “We wouldn’t put her through the trial because she was a girl, and she would most certainly never allow us to pass over you with our family training.”

Uncle George spoke up again. “And you’re going to be here for all three days of it!”

Albus was suddenly becoming increasingly horrified. He had forgotten that little detail about the training. “But where am I going to sleep?”

At that question, everyone burst into loud laughter. Albus grimly realized there would be no sleep. Sleep was for the weak.

Suddenly, a broom�”a Nimbus�”was pushed into his hands. “Enough stalling, Albus!” Uncle George told him. “Climb up and fly up to your cousins to get started. And I don’t want to hear ‘I don’t know how’ as an excuse! Climb up, fall down, climb up again, fall down again, and then join your cousins.”

“Splendid!” Charlie exclaimed once Albus finally managed to remain somewhat steady on the broom. “Now, the first thing we need to work on is getting as comfortable on that broom as you are on your feet. Once you can fly it without making any mistakes, you’ll fly it backwards. And once you can fly it backwards, then you’ll fly it blindfolded.”

Albus gulped as soon as he heard what was said next. “And then, the real work will start.”

He tried to think of just one more argument, but Albus was beginning to see that he was only delaying the inevitable. His uncles, his brother, and his cousins were all staring out at him with glares that Albus could feel all the way down to his bones. He stared down at the broom in his hands and took a deep breath as he prepared to climb and the fall he knew would quickly follow.

---

Albus finally finished the course to his uncles’ satisfaction at about four the next morning. Breakfast consisted of a Pumpkin Pasty which Albus had to eat on his broom because they could not waste the time for him to climb off the Nimbus and climb back on again. But now that Albus was considered a competent flyer, it was time for him to fine tune the practical aspects of the game.

It started out harmless enough, beginning with Albus and Roxanne passing the Quaffle back and forth between one another and then the other kids all taking turns throwing the balls with Albus either catching them or swatting them away from the goal. But then his uncles decided it was time to pick up the pace, and before he knew it, Uncle George pointed his wand, and Albus found himself tethered by the leg to the Quidditch Hoop.

Albus found his worry returning afresh as he looked down at the silver cord synched tight around his ankle. “Uncle George…” he almost whimpered.

“A good Keeper never abandons his guard post, Albus,” his uncle told him. “But until then, you’re going to need something to remind you of that.”

Something to remind him? Reminding had nothing to do with it! He was tied to a post for Merlin’s sake; like a dog!

“Now then,” Uncle George moved on, “we can start to focus on the principle of guarding your post and honing your reflexes whenever you see the Quaffle coming.”

“Not that you’re going to have to worry about going fast for very far,” Charlie said from down on the ground. “Just fast and far enough to keep the Quaffle from going through the Hoop.”

“Or to get away from it fast enough to keep from breaking your nose,” Roxanne added just before giving the Quaffle another hard toss in Albus’ direction. Albus’ arms shot up to protect his face, and there was a sharp sting when the Quaffle actually did hit him and it made a very loud, sharp noise. But Albus had stopped the ball from going through the goal post.

“Not bad!” Uncle Charlie commended him. “Now everybody get in line and see how he does with stopping more than one!”

The practice continued in this fasion for a long while, gradually becoming more and more difficult and Albus’ injuries becoming closer and closer together, with more and more trials at at Uncle Charlie’s armature Healing abilities.

“If you’re going to make your living working around dragons, you need to have at least a basic knowledge of the art of Healing,” he said as he mended Albus’ arm. “As long as your intestines are falling out of a hole in your side, there’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Albus’ digestive track never did end up leaking out his side, but pretty much everything else that could happen did: broken bones, bloody noses, head injuries, sprains, and lots and lots of bruises. Muggles probably would have seen this as some horrific form of child abuse, but for any competent wizard, healing a broken bone was as easy as putting on a bandage.

And yes, there really were invisible Bludgers, although Albus had no idea where his uncles would even get invisible Bludgers.

“Uncle George, why am I doing this?” Albus had to ask as he ducked his head to avoid yet another concussion.

“Blimey if I know, but you look hilarious doing it!”

“Your Uncle George knows full well what they’re for!” Charlie spoke up at the sound of the Gauntlet being mocked. “During a match, a Bludger doesn’t discriminate in who it goes after. And you’re not always going to have the luxury of being able to see them coming. You need to be able to feel them coming. Especially when you’re the Keeper and you need to also be watching what everyone else is doing.”

Albus never got a chance to answer, because one moment later, one of those invisible Bludgers cracked him on the side of the head and knocked him off his broom. In the back of his mind, Albus was hoping he would snap his neck so he could put an end to all of this. But, of course, his survival instincts kicked in and he used his arms to cushion the fall, earning him yet another broken arm and a broken collarbone.

After that, his uncles just let him settle on his broom for a while, and Albus actually thought his uncles were giving him a break, but that delusion was shattered as soon as he looked up through his hair and saw Uncle George flying up towards the goal with a long bundle of brown cord tucked under his arm.

Roxanne spoke up before Albus did. “Dad, what are you doing?”

“Roxanne, Louis, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a girl and you wish you could throw like a girl.” Uncle George ignored the affronted looks as he began tying the cord to the goal hoop. “Not that you’re not good Quidditch players, but Albus is going to be facing people with much stronger throws than you have.”

Then Uncle George tied the other end of the cord to the other side of the hoop and began flying out and away. Dimly, Albus finally became aware of just what his uncle was doing. It was a slingshot!

“And we are doing Albus no favors by letting him think he’s never going to face anyone tougher than his own cousins,” Uncle George told them as he took hold of the Quaffle from his daughter and began to fly back towards the makeshift slingshot he had created.

“Alright, Albus,” Uncle George placed the Quaffle in the leather catch, “get ready, and if you do get hit, remember not to tense up, or you’ll just end up breaking more bones.”

But ignoring this, Albus cringed, clenching all his muscles, and abandoning all though of trying to stop the Quaffle. He was just getting ready to be hit.

---

Albus wasn’t exactly sure when the Gauntlet had ended, but at some point, he became aware of the fact that he was on his grandparents’ sofa instead of slumped over a broom. Every now and then, his grandfather would ask him how he was doing and his grandmother would try and get him to drink some water or coax him into eating, all the while muttering about ‘bloody Quidditch obsessions’.

And by now, Albus had to agree with her.

Over the course of the training, Albus had broken each of his arms, his leg three times, fractured his jaw, and had gotten more bloody noses than he could have counted. Of course, though, he would keep going, thanks to Uncle Charlie’s proficiency at healing broken bones. But they must have been satisfied with Albus, because he wasn’t training anymore, but he also wasn’t dead.

Time bled together and Albus was never really aware of when night and day began, and couldn’t even tell the difference between when three minutes had passed and when three hours had.

At some point, though, he was yanked out of the haze by a sharp series of shakes at his shoulders and an all too familiar shouting in his ears. “Albus!” Rose screeched.

Albus instantly began cursing his cousin in his head. He wasn’t shaken very hard, but even the light touched caused excruciating pain. He wasn’t even sure how the simple act of breathing didn’t hurt.

Finally, Rose seemed to gain a little insight. “I shouldn’t even be asking you how you’re feeling right now, should I?”

But Rose still took a seat on the small, unoccupied portion of the sofa and continued talking as though she had stopped in for afternoon tea. “I still really felt like I should see you. You haven’t been home in days. The Side-Along Apparation was a lot of fun, though, I will admit. Using the Floo is just so same-old, same-old.”

Albus briefly wondered who it was she had Apparated with, but then he managed to look up towards the entryway and could see a very tall body topped with bright turquoise hair. It was Teddy Lupin, looking as though he was trying to determine whether or not it was a dead body draped over the sofa.

Rose grabbed a hold of his hand, forcing him to wave. “Say hello to Teddy, Albus!”

When Albus yelped like a kicked dog, Teddy cringed. “Rose, I don’t think Albus really feels like talking now.”

Rose didn’t seem to understand the inflection. “That’s alright. He can listen.”

Teddy shook his head, leaning against the doorframe. “I see the Weasley Quidditch Gauntlet is still alive and well.”

At that moment, Albus couldn’t help but feel a small amount of resentment towards his godbrother. Teddy had never gone through the Gauntlet himself; he had never played Quidditch while he was at Hogwarts Lucky bugger!

“Come sit, Teddy,” Rose encouraged him. “It’s not polite to have conversations from across the room.”

Still shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all, Teddy eventually did make his way over to the couch and took a seat on the single remaining bit of space. Rose began to talk to Teddy, as though there were nothing unusual about having a conversation when one’s cousin was lying face down beside her, moaning in pain. “What has Victoire been doing these days?”

“I actually haven’t been seeing a lot of Victoire lately,” he told Rose. “She spends a lot of time at work, but she has to if she wants to take over old Miss Norwood’s school by next year.”

Albus wasn’t surprised. Taking over the small primary school had been what was taking up most of his cousins attention for several months now. Even though the one room school had only fifteen students, they were all different ages and it took a lot of effort to come up with lessons and homework for all of them. Victoire would be spending the next year as a teaching assistant for Miss Norwood, who was planning to retire from thirty-five years of teaching in May. And once that happened, Victoire would be taking up the post of teaching the young students and would be in charge of running the party.

At Charlie and Sorina’s party, Albus had also heard a lot of people say Victoire was ‘wasting her potential’ with teaching primary school, but Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur took each biting comment in stride (although Aunt Fleur needed to be stopped from reaching for her wand on more than one occasion).

The immediate family knew that Victoire was doing what she wanted, and wanted to work for fulfillment rather than gold. It was part of what made her and Teddy so compatible.

When Albus finally managed to look up, he could see Teddy looking at him very sympathetically. “If you think you trust me, Albus,” he offered, “I could try a few healing spells if you’ll tell me what hurts the most.”

Albus moaned something into his pillow that so intangible that even he didn’t know what he was saying.”

“Mahgahooo is not a bodily organ.” Teddy started to laugh, but it died once he realized there wasn’t anything really funny about it. So instead of the spells, Teddy started rubbing Albus’ back. It stung and Albus could feel his muscles flinch at the touch, but it was still sort of nice. At least someone was putting Albus wellbeing before Quidditch or Arcane ScoRA business, which Rose didn’t wait any longer to start bringing up.

“Teddy, you’d better go back to the kitchen,” Rose suddenly interrupted, tilting her head towards the doorway. “You promised Grandmum and Granddad Weasley that you’d sit and talk with them.”

Teddy must have already known that Albus’ grandparents weren’t going to let him leave their home without putting him through some form of interrogation, so he decided it was better to get it over with sooner rather than later, and stood up to return to the kitchen, where Grandmum Weasley awaited him with tea, biscuits, and a long mental list of questions.

As soon as he was gone, Rose leaned down and whispered in her cousin’s ear. “Albus, there’s a reason I asked Teddy to bring me here.”

Albus groaned as he turned his face into the pillow. Of course, there was!

He heard the sound of paper rustling and he suddenly felt his chin pulled over to the side so his eyes could be focused on something. “Look at what was printed in the Daily Prophet this morning.”

Albus struggled to move his head to look, but even if he hadn’t, he had a feeling Rose was going to tell him all about it anyway.

“Maddox’s mother is still at it.” Albus was having trouble getting his eyes to focus, so supposed he would just have to take her word for it.

Albus had broken at least seventeen bones over the course of a week. Did she think he had been putting a lot of thought towards Maddox Dugan’s mum?

“She’s saying all kinds of things about us. Like the reason I wasn’t sorted into Gryffindor was because the Hat knew there was something wrong with me. She says you’re so obsessed with trying to be like you dad, you would have gone after anyone to make yourself look like a hero. And Scorpius…she’s not even trying to be creative with him. It’s all ranting about Death Eaters, and family legacy of evil, and on and on and on….”

Any other time, Albus probably would have been outraged, but he couldn’t even work himself up enough to become mildly annoyed. Even anger hurt!

“Dad doesn’t even try to hide the paper from me anymore,” Rose told him. “Everybody’s seen it, and I don’t think he sees any point in it anymore. He was telling me the other night how people would probably be talking about it on the train and at Hogwarts and that we should be ready. I’ve already written to Scorpius just in case his parents are trying to ignore it all and brush it under the rug.”

Albus moaned a moan that could have been perceived as anger, frustration, or excruciating pain. Albus didn’t even have the energy to try and figure out which one it was.

“I’ll let you think about,” Rose said, finally getting back up. “I should probably be going home. There’s only three days until we have to be at Kings Cross.”

Albus groaned and buried his head in the sofa cushion once again as soon as Rose left him in peace. Three days? Albus doubted he would even be able to walk by then!