Albus told his cousins and brother about the previous night’s adventure over breakfast in the Great Hall. The reaction was even better than he’d expected.
“Darn it, Al, you go off on a big exciting adventure without me!” yelled James when Albus first broke the news.
Dominique and Fred were suitably impressed, but Rose’s gaze was withering. “Why didn’t you get a teacher?” she asked. “You could have explained what happened.”
“I didn’t want to get him in trouble and I wasn’t too keen on detention either,” said Albus, a little nettled. In the sober light of day, what he’d done looked pretty stupid.
But the real attention-grabber was the mysterious conversation, which Albus repeated as best he could, though he knew he was leaving a few things out.
“Definitely dodgy,” said Fred. “Reckon you should go to Tweak about it?”
They all looked up at the high table simultaneously. Tweak was laughing very loudly at a comment from Dawlish, tears running down his face. He looked the very picture of incompetency.
“Yeah, we’ll call him if we need advice on hairstyles,” said Fred. “Otherwise””
When Albus had concluded his tale, everyone started theorizing at once about the identities of the mysterious men.
“Maybe they were seventh-years,” suggested Dominique.
Albus shook his head. “No. They were adults. I’ve never heard the name ‘Loki’ before.”
“Sounds like a codename or something,” said James. “Maybe they’re Aurors.”
Albus conceded that this was the most likely explanation, but something about it seemed too neat. He wasn’t sure that Aurors met in forests in the middle of the night.
“Maybe I’ll write to Dad and ask him,” said Albus.
James groaned. “Oh, don’t bother him with that, Al. I’m telling you, it’s nothing!”
Albus didn’t argue with that point. Writing to his father would seem a little immature anyway.
The day was a long one. Albus was so tired from the night before that he nearly fell asleep in Herbology and got ten points deducted from Gryffindor when he accidentally colored Professor Artemis’s hair blue.
To Albus’s surprise, the night’s escapade seemed to have improved Scorpius’s mood. He actually asked Rose to pass the potatoes in a reasonably polite fashion.
The weeks wore on and September slowly turned into October, the arrival of which was heralded by Hagrid beginning to grow his traditionally enormous pumpkins for the Halloween feast. Albus suspected he got a little help from his pink umbrella.
Lessons were getting harder and harder. Dawlish had finally dropped the Knockback Jinx after three entirely unsuccessful lessons and he was now teaching the class about combating Erklings and Pogerebins.
Potions had turned into Albus’s most difficult class. His Swelling Solution was deemed “abysmal” by the usually soft-spoken Professor Grimpen and he had to write a five-page paper on exactly where he went wrong.
Though Potions was the hardest class, Transfiguration was a close second. It was taught by Professor McGonagall, a witch so old that she had taught Albus’s parents.
So far, Albus had made a match into a needle, but only after two lessons of hard work. Otherwise, he was one of the worst students in the class (he was, however, better than Fred, who had not transfigured anything yet).
Charms was a little better. Professor Artemis was focusing on flame-creating spells and Albus got an E for making a small fire in under two minutes.
No one liked Care of Magical Creatures much. Hagrid was now tediously instructing them about Kneazles and most of the lessons consisted of stroking the assorted creatures and scooping litter boxes.
“What’s he playing at?” asked Fred irritably after a particularly dull lesson. “I was expecting monsters, not fluffy little kitties!”
“I’d rather take care of a cat than a manticore or something,” said Dominique, who had a soft spot for felines.
Despite the boring lessons, Hagrid had dropped several hints about things “gettin’ more interestin’,” which gave Albus the unpleasant feeling that something a little more poisonous than Kneazles would soon make an appearance.
The Gryffindor Quidditch team was doing exceptionally well so far. They had defeated Hufflepuff in a spectacular three-hour match that ended 650-395. James had actually fallen off his broom and had caught the Snitch in midair (a Beater and a Chaser caught him before he hit the ground).
“I was just plummeting down,” said James later, addressing a small crowd of fervent admirers in the common room. “I was flailing and my fingers just brushed the Snitch. I sort of”lurched around and caught it by the left wing.”
Dominique rolled her eyes. “He’s never going to let us forget this.”
Albus had never expressly referenced what happened in the Forbidden Forest to Scorpius; Scorpius remained silent on the subject as well. They made up for it by being civil to each other.
Indeed, Scorpius’s attitude had improved quite a lot in the past month. He actually talked to his fellow Gryffindors on occasion and his schoolwork also got better, although James refused to acknowledge any change in his behavior at all.
“Once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy,” he said darkly when Rose mentioned the improvements.
One chilly morning in mid-October, Albus checked his schedule at the breakfast table and groaned. Transfiguration, History of Magic and double Defense. This wasn’t shaping up to be a good day.
“Look on the bright side,” said Rose through a mouthful of oatmeal. “You’ll get all the worst classes over with in one fell swoop.”
Albus snorted. This was small comfort.
When breakfast was over, the first-years headed upstairs to Transfiguration. Albus found himself wishing that he’d done his homework last night rather than playing Exploding Snap with James and Dominique.
Professor McGonagall was seated at her desk when they entered. Once everyone was seated, she said:
“Today we’ll be trying something a little more advanced than needles and quills. We will, instead, be attempting to transfigure a gold finch into a robin. Living things are much more difficult to magically influence than inanimate objects, so I don’t expect perfect results immediately. Please proceed.”
Albus opened up his book, but the spell was extremely complex. The gold finch he was supposed to be transfiguring tweeted.
He heard Rose mutter the incantation (which was Avifors). There was a pop as her finch was transfigured.
“Very good try, Miss Weasley,” said Professor McGonagall. “But you can still see some yellow feathers here””
“Avifors!” whispered Albus, pointing his wand at the gold finch. There was a flash of red light, but no change in the bird.
The lesson passed quickly and uneventfully (if you didn’t count Sandra McMillan turning her arms into wings). Only a select few managed to perform the spell at all. Albus, Dominique, Fred and Scorpius were not among them.
Next was History of Magic with Professor Belby, who watched like a hawk for covert napping or note-writing, which forced everyone to pay attention to the Dark Uprising of 1813.
Albus was bored. He was sitting with Rose, who was taking copious notes, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to write down any of the incredibly dull things that Professor Belby was saying (although he did take note of her small mustache, which reminded him strongly of Great-Aunt Marge).
He exchanged looks of boredom with Fred, who looked as though he was being repeatedly hit over the head with a Beater’s bat.
Albus hastily drew a rough cartoon of a mustachioed Professor Belby on a spare piece of parchment. “Wingardium Leviosa,” whispered Albus. The paper floated under the desk, past a second desk and into Fred’s waiting hand.
He unfolded the paper and”
“Mr. Weasley,” snapped Professor Belby. “I’d like to see that.”
Fred had no choice. He walked up to the desk and handed her the parchment. Albus’s heart leapt. He was in trouble.
Professor Belby examined the paper without batting an eye, something that impressed Albus.
“Did you draw this or did some one give it to you?” asked Professor Belby, her voice soft and dangerous.
Fred never missed a beat. “I drew it. I was going to give it to my cousin.”
He gestured generically at the assembled students.
“Detention tonight, I think, and every night this week,” said Belby. Albus would have sworn that she was smiling a little. “Come to my office at eight o’clock. You may return to your seat.”
Fred sat down again. Albus mouthed “thank you” to him.
The horrible lesson went on and the class descended again into a bored stupor.
“Uh, thanks”,” said Albus to Fred when the bell finally rang. “Detention every night for a week””
“Don’t mention it,” said Fred. His tone was amiable, but Albus was sure that the thought of all the detentions was weighing on him. Albus couldn’t help but feel guilty.
At lunch they all roundly abused Professor Belby to make Fred feel better and several more comments were made on the admirable size and bushiness of her mustache.
The prospect of double Defense was a dreary one, especially with all the homework that Professors McGonagall and Belby had given them, but all the first-year Gryffindors trooped up after lunch, many of them speculating over what Dawlish would teach them today.
As usual, he was not present when they got to class, but there were no noises emanating from his office”a good sign.
A few minutes later, Dawlish came out of his office with a big grin on his face. “Hello, class. We’re going to be taking a little field trip today. If you’ll follow me.”
He promptly walked out the door. After a moment of hesitation everyone got up with much scraping of chairs and followed him out into the corridor, where he was waiting.
“Right this way,” he said.
He turned a corner and walked into an empty classroom. The chairs and desks had been neatly piled in the back of the room.
Dawlish closed the door. “Professor McGon”I mean, I, have cleared this room for practicing the Leg-Locker Curse, which is a very nifty and very simple dueling spell.”
For once, everyone was attentive, something that did not happen very often in Dawlish’s classroom.
“The incantation is Locomotor Mortis,” said Dawlish, flourishing his wand. Everyone flinched, but apparently he had not been trying to perform the spell.
After a few more moments of instruction, they paired up, everyone doing it as fast as they could, so as to avoid being partnered with Dawlish. Scorpius looked terrified, so Albus took pity on him and gestured him over.
“Thanks,” said Scorpius, looking at his shoes. “Didn’t want to get thrown against the wall again.”
“Wouldn’t be too keen on it myself,” said Albus.
“On the count of three, everyone perform the spell!” shouted Dawlish. “One. Two. Three!”
The cry of “Locomotor Mortis!” was deafening. There was a great whoosh and streaks of light exploded like fireworks.
A curse hit Albus in the chest. One of his legs went totally limp and he fell to the ground.
He wasn’t the only one. Almost everyone was on the ground. So many curses had been cast that nearly everybody had been hit.
Dawlish was flapping like a fish on the floor; his wand out of reach. Someone reached over and tossed it to him.
“Finite,” he said, pointing it at his locked-together legs. “Well, um, let’s all try to undo the curse as best we can. I’ll help anyone who needs it.”
There was a great deal of crawling and flopping as everyone attempted to free themselves with the unfamiliar spell that Dawlish had performed. The curse that had struck Albus had not been properly cast and the effects wore off in just a few seconds.
It took nearly half an hour to get everyone mobile again and several Hufflepuffs who had fallen in a heap had to be sent to the hospital wing for bruises.
When everyone was standing again, Dawlish decided they should practice the curse one pair at a time. People seemed to be doing well; even Fred performed it on his second try.
Albus and Scorpius got their turn after a couple of burly Hufflepuff girls. Albus was pretty sure that he had done it the first time anyway.
“Locomotor Mortis!” they shouted in unison.
Both curses hit their targets. Albus felt his legs snap together and he tottered, almost losing his balance.
Scorpius started to fall over but Rose caught his shoulder and steadied him.
“Very nice, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy,” said Dawlish, removing the curses with two flicks of his wand. “Ten points to Gryffindor.”
When the lesson was over, Albus had performed the curse three times with relative ease and was one of the few students not given homework, which was a relief.
“Stupid git,” said Fred as they headed to the Great Hall for dinner. “Having us all cast the curse at the same time? I was pinned under that big Hufflepuff bloke and nearly suffocated!”
“He’s really quite terrible,” said Rose. She looked thoughtful. “I suppose he probably got the job because he’s friends with the Headmaster.”
“Well, it’s certainly not due to natural teaching ability,” said Fred crossly.
Albus ate his dinner as fast as he could and got to Gryffindor Tower before most of the others. He’d been letting his homework slide and his Potions paper was due tomorrow.
He was glad when Rose joined him (she could usually be counted upon for hints and help), but she didn’t offer her services. Instead, she stared at the fire as though thinking very hard.
Murtlap essence wrote Albus, but he couldn’t think of anything to say about it. He sorted through his books for something that might help him.
The common room was emptying fast tonight. Fred had gone for his detention a while ago and Dominique had gone to bed early complaining of a headache. James was still awake and talking about the Wimbourne Wasps with a bunch of fourth-years.
Rose shut the book she had been thumbing through with a snap. Albus looked up.
“I have an idea,” she said. “You know how Dawlish is a bad teacher?”
Albus smiled. “Yeah, I was in class today.”
Rose’s face was serious. “Well, you know what our parents did when they weren’t learning anything in Defense. They took matters into their own hands.”
Albus’s jaw dropped. “The DA? You think we should”start again?”
“Why not?” asked Rose. “We could check out books in the library for spells and stuff and we could even use the Room of Requirement! I asked Kreacher about it last year and he said it was still working!”
It should have sounded silly, but Albus had heard the stories, seen the enchanted coins. Was it their turn now?
“I dunno, Rose,” he said cautiously, trying to rein in his own excitement. “This would be big.”
“But Dawlish is terrible, Al! I’m sure we could learn a lot on our own and it feels”right. Like we’d be carrying on the tradition!” Rose’s face was alight.
“Hey, James!” Albus called.
His brother came over and sat down beside Rose. “What is it?”
“I think we should start the DA again,” said Rose. “Dawlish isn’t good at all; we’re not learning as much as we could. What do you think?”
James grinned. “It’s great, Rose! Let’s check out the Room of Requirement, see what it can do for us!”
“What”now?” asked Albus, looking at his watch. It was 8:57. “We’d get caught!”
James’s smile widened. “Not if we were invisible.”
For a moment Albus didn’t understand his brother. Then it came to him in a flash of memory.
“You’ve got the Cloak?”
“Yeah,” said James. “Dad gave it to me last year when I started.”
Despite his delight at this turn of events, Albus felt a twinge of jealousy. Why had it gone to James and not to him?
Rose’s face was ecstatic. “Let’s do it!”
The three of them went up to the boy’s dormitory making the loud pretense of “getting a book.” None of the people in the common room paid any attention.
James ran into his dormitory and came out with a silvery cloak in his hands. Albus had seen it several times and had even worn it once or twice, but this was the first time he would be using it.
The cloak fit over the three of them reasonably well and they snuck downstairs again unnoticed. Albus felt a strange thrill when no one saw them creep to the portrait hole and slip out.
The corridor was deserted and dark; they crept down it as stealthily as they could, invisible to any eyes.
“Ow!” hissed James. “My foot, Al!”
“Sorry,” breathed Albus, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible.
James knew where the Room was, so he led the way. Climbing up stairs was a particular challenge and Albus almost fell over the rail a couple of times.
They passed Vladimir several times and Albus was afraid that the sound of their feet (which were thankfully in stockings) would alert him, but he never looked in their direction.
It took nearly half an hour to reach the seventh floor and almost as long to find the right corridor. Rose was the one who eventually found it, having examined maps of Hogwarts before.
“That’s it, the trolls doing ballet!” whispered Rose as they walked past a colorful tapestry.
Albus’s heart thumped as he saw it. He’d heard so much about this miraculous room and now he was here.
They walked past the wall three times, all concentrating as hard as they could on their goal.
Show us a place to learn, thought Albus. Show us where our parents learned.
On the third circuit, they stopped and turned towards the blank stretch of wall.
There was a quiet whoosh and an ornately carved black door appeared where a moment before there had been nothing but stone.
Albus heard Rose’s squeak of excitement. They all tripped over one another in their effort to get the door, the Cloak getting hopelessly tangled around them.
James turned the knob and the door opened silently. They walked in as reverently as if they were entering a church.
It was a big, long room, airy despite the lack of windows. One entire wall was covered in bookshelves which held thick volumes on curses, jinxes and spells.
A number of thick, multicolored cushions were neatly stacked in one corner and on a shelf was a row of strange objects, including a Sneakoscope, a Secrecy Sensor and a CommuniCrystal, among others.
There was a desk with parchment and quills at the very end of the room and a small cot, though Albus couldn’t imagine what this was for. A shelf over the desk had a small cauldron and basic potion-making supplies on it.
But what dominated the room was a series of gilded plaques that appeared to be made of solid gold. They were affixed to the wall and some even to the ceiling. Each one had a picture and a name on it.
“Look, there’s Dad!” said Rose, pointing at a plaque with the name RON WEASLEY on it. Uncle Ron’s freckled, fifteen-year old face beamed at them.
“There’s our mum and dad,” said James, pointing excitedly to a pair of plaques that said HARRY POTTER and GINNY WEASLEY on them. “Blimey, they were young.”
“This is perfect,” said Rose, running over to the bookshelf and pulling out an enormous book called “How to Turn Your Enemies into 423 Slimy, Disgusting and Insignificant Things!”
“Yeah,” said Albus, looking around at the many familiar faces on the walls and ceiling. He was pleased to see that Zacharias Smith’s name had a line drawn through it and that his picture looked sour and displeased.
James threw himself onto the pile of cushions. “This is great!” he said. Something caught his eye and he jumped up. “And a CommuniCrystal! Only a few people have these!”
Albus examined the cot and found a few basic medical supplies in a cloth pocket hanging from it. He supposed that this was in case anyone got hurt during lessons.
He saw something odd on an out-of-the-way wall and hurried over.
Affixed to the smooth stone in a perfect row were three plaques. One read ALBUS POTTER, the next ROSE WEASLEY and the last, JAMES POTTER. His own face”as well as Rose’s and James’s grinned up at him.
“Guys, come over here!” said Albus.
Rose and James came over, each holding a book. They gasped in unison when they saw themselves.
“We’re really a part of this, aren’t we?” said Rose, touching the plaque with her name and face on it.
“Yeah,” said Albus. “We are.”
And all three of them felt the past in every cranny of this room. But they were not the past.
They were the future.