“Oh, Mum, thank you so much for keeping an eye on the kids for the afternoon. It’s murder trying to do last-minute Christmas shopping under their noses!”
Ginny Potter hugged her mother so hard that Molly Weasley was sure that her eyes might dislodge themselves from their sockets. As a mother of seven, she definitely empathized with her daughter about trying to keep anything from teenagers, especially ones rambunctious as the five of them that were there that day. Considering the fact that it was Christmas Eve, the last shopping day before the holiday, she would do her best to help Ginny.
As Harry stood, patiently rocking back and forth on his feet, waiting for his wife to cease mauling her mother, he was mentally calculating the odds of some sort of disaster happening whilst they were all away. As it turned out, Ron and Hermione had done the same as he and Ginny, leaving their children, Rose and Hugo, at the Burrow as well. Rose and Harry’s younger son, Albus, got on all right, as did Hugo and Lily, but James…James would be the bane of all of their existences. The eldest Potter offspring loved nothing more than to pull pranks and practical jokes on his siblings and cousins, and Harry silently thanked the powers that be that Molly was the only person in all of England that he knew who could manage such a veritable powder keg.
Once the Potters departed the Burrow in search of Ron and Hermione, Molly immediately took count of the grandchildren left in her care. James, the eldest at fifteen, was the one most likely to be a pain; Albus and Rose, both fourteen, would be much more sedate, and the youngest ones, Lily and Hugo, at age twelve, would be the most likely targets for James’s antics. She saw the lot of them head for the broom shed, most likely to play a little bit of Quidditch. James was an accomplished Keeper, but Hugo and Rose were no slouches when it came to the Quaffle, either. Molly debated whether to stay out of doors and observe the match, but as it was December and quite cold, she decided that a warm cup of tea and some Christmas sweater knitting was a better idea. After all, she had raised Fred and George Weasley, the two most notorious miscreants in anyone’s memory at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, so how much trouble could five kids be in one afternoon?
James had decided that he was the leader of the game, as he was the oldest and the most experienced in competitive play. Albus and Lily looked annoyed that they had been roped into playing, but James was just the forceful sort that would make them. Rose and Hugo, however, were ecstatic at this free shot at deflating James’s elephant-sized ego.
“Now,” said James, in the voice he used as Captain of the Gryffindor team at school, “the teams are as follows: Albus and Hugo versus Rose and Lily. It’s boys versus girls, plus there is no age or skill advantage. I, of course, will be the Keeper. Let’s see any of you tossers get anything past me!”
Boos and heckling ensued as all five mounted their brooms and took to the makeshift pitch next to the orchard. Using an apple as a Quaffle, the game began. For the first half of the match, Albus and Hugo were the only ones who managed to get anything past James, with two goals, but, in the latter half of the competition, Rose and Lily sank three of their own for the win. They played to three goals most of the time, because, if they played to any higher limit, the game would never end, mostly due to James’s incredible skill as a Keeper.
While Albus was nonchalant about the loss (Quidditch was by no means his driving force) Hugo was thoroughly annoyed with the girls’ victory as well as their subsequent gloating. Glaring directly at his sister, Rose, he grumbled, “Lucky shot.”
Rose tossed her frizzy red hair and harrumphed, refusing to acknowledge her brother’s jibe. This, as all present knew, was a prelude to an eventual typhoon of sibling bickering the likes of which could not be matched. Albus and Lily stayed back, waiting for the proverbial fur to fly as James did showy loops on his Firebolt 100, the previous year’s finest broom. No doubt the newest model was on Harry and Ginny’s shopping list for Christmas.
As James eventually landed his broom, well clear of his squabbling cousins, he made note of the apple shed nearby. Calling over his shoulder, he shouted, “Oi!”
All stopped what they were doing; Albus ceased lecturing his sister on Potions, and Rose and Hugo discontinued their very loud argument. They looked at James intently, curious about what had caught his eye. When they all saw him looking at the apple shed, in which the harvested fruit was pressed into cider. After such a long, exhausting game of Quidditch, a cold draught of cider seemed like the perfect cap on the game, more as a peacemaker than anything else.
The group filed into the shed, looking at all of the press equipment, but not a single one of them knew how to use any of it. James scratched his chin in concentration before identifying the solution; behind the presses stood four large, dusty jugs of already-made cider. He beamed and pointed at the discovery, indicating that one of the smaller of the cousins was to retrieve it as the jugs were firmly entrenched behind the press.
Lily had the most luck; she retrieved all four jugs. When the beverage was situated in the center of the circle in which they were sitting, all eyes again turned to James, who was now tasked with divvying up the drink. Of course, he took one for himself, gave one to each Albus and Hugo, leaving the last to be shared by Rose and Lily, who did not seem to mind very much. They all tentatively removed the corks, wholly certain that they were not supposed to know about that particular supply of cider, but it was not enough to deter them from drinking anyway.
Lifting his jug by its handle, James grinned and said, “Bottoms up!” before taking a large swig. However, after he swallowed his mouthful, he crinkled his nose in distaste. “Odd flavor.”
Similar expressions of agreement went around the circle to Rose, Hugo, and Lily. Only one of them seemed to enjoy the beverage, and that was Albus, who simply shrugged and kept drinking.
Rose looked at Albus like he had sprouted an extra head. “How can you drink that? It’s foul.”
Albus chuckled. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it. It’s just a little sharp, that’s all.” With that, he took another very large drink before setting down his jug and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He found his siblings and cousins staring at him. “What?” he asked, genuinely confused.
Mouth twitching, James said, “Al, I think that stuff’s gone bad. You probably shouldn’t drink it.”
“Don’t be stupid, James. There’s not something wrong with it just because all of you don’t like how it tastes.” Taking another large gulp, Albus smacked his lips in glee before adding, “See?”
The rest of them tried the cider again, hoping that it did not taste as bad as they remembered, but it did. Lily and Rose both spit theirs out, and Hugo and James swallowed it, a pained look on their faces as the raunchy fluid slid down their gullets. Albus openly laughed at the sight, drinking yet more of the noxious cider. “Babies.”
James crossed his arms angrily. “We’re not babies, Al. You’re a git. And a stupid one at that for drinking more of that…shit.”
As Lily gasped at James’s profanity, Rose punched her elder cousin in the arm as hard as she could. “Not in front of your sister, you ruddy prat!”
Snorting, James snapped in reply, “And you’re one to talk, Rose Weasley! Just the other day, I”“ His tirade was canceled as he noticed Albus twitching in his seat; at least, it looked like twitching. No, it was not twitching; it was dancing”somewhat, that was.
Albus was humming a tune, albeit very badly, that sounded something like the newest Weird Sisters single, ‘Cauldrons Are Burning.‘ Downing the last of the cider in his jug, Albus shakily stood, flailing like a marionette in the wind and singing the lyrics of the song to himself.
The group of cousins could not help but stare in shock and amazement that Albus was acting uncharacteristically jovial. Normally, he was stuffy and reserved, more content to shove his nose in a book for hours, but this Albus was a completely different person.
Rose turned to James, a worried look on her face. “Do you suppose he’s…”
Suddenly, Albus’s affliction became clear to the James. “Oh, Merlin. Mum is going to kill me.” Standing and pacing, James kept repeating that last sentence under his breath, certain that it was true. How would he explain how his little brother had been allowed to get inebriated? He did not even know that it was possible to get sloshed off of cider, considering they had all had it before without ill effects. If he never made it back to Hogwarts after the holidays, he would not be surprised. His parents were going to murder him; he was sure of it.
Hugo, however, was apparently rather enjoying Albus’ improved temperament, as he allowed himself to be pulled off the floor in a giant hug. “You’re a bit of all right, you know that, Hu?” Albus said. Without waiting for a reply, he gifted Hugo with a lopsided grin and continued, “You know what? I know how you like my chocolate frog card collection, so for being my favorite”” the word was accompanied by a wobbly sweep of an arm, ””cousin, I’m going to give them to you!”
Eyes alight, Hugo beamed at Albus. “Do you mean it?”
Laughing rather loudly, Albus answered, “Of courth, mate.” His ‘S’ sounds were starting to turn into entirely different syllables as the nature of his condition became apparent to Lily.
“Albus!” said Lily. “Maybe you should sit down and”“
“No! I’m having fun, so if you’d kindly bugger off.” With that, Albus resumed his awkward and arrhythmic cavorting, this time to a new song. “Voo voo coo coo shay avec mwah, say swah!”
Giggling, Rose leaned in to James and whispered, “Do you have any idea what he’s singing?”
He shook his head. “No bloody clue. I think it’s supposed to be French. Which is odd, because Al doesn’t know French.”
Lily, who had overheard Rose, added, “It’s supposed to be ‘Lady Marmalade.’ It’s a Muggle song that my friend Patrice really likes.”
After the round of dancing that more resembled a sheet flapping from a clothes line than anything else, Albus stumbled to the floor in front of James and Rose, taking the jug in front of James and drinking a large amount of what remained.
Watching his brother grinning like an idiot, James shook his head. “Al, you should probably lay off now. That rubbish is making you stupid.”
“Rubbish, I say. Rubbish! It’s you who’s acting strange. Did you find Dad’s stash of Firewhiskey or something? Are you…drunk?” After a melodramatic gasp at the mere concept, Albus threw his arm around his brother. “You know what you should do, mate?” he said in a barely intelligible fashion. “You should take Augusta Longbottom to Hogsmeade next trip. She thinks you’re cute, and for some reason, Uncle Neville thinks you’re all right.” Taking another large drink of the cider, he added, “Godric knows why.”
James was slightly affronted by the remark. “I’ll have you know that I could take any girl in the whole school from Third to Sixth Year if I wanted to!” He removed Albus’s surprisingly vice-like arm from his shoulder, casting a sidelong glance at Rose whilst muttering, “I may murder him.”
Rose hit James in the arm again, right in the same spot she had the first time. “Shut it, you. It’s not his fault!” She guided Albus to sit next to her and tried to get him to stay still, but he had other ideas.
“Heya, Rose. Did you know that Scorpius really likes you? I mean, likes you.” As Albus slumped and landed his head on her lap, completely out of it, Rose could only stare straight ahead, mouth agape in surprise.
Her cousin had just imparted one of his best friend’s secrets, and not a small one, either. While she was completely giddy with joy, for she fancied Scorpius as well, Rose was more worried about the imminent problem”what to tell their parents about why Albus was completely intoxicated. Since Lily and Hugo had found something else more interesting than Albus’s embarrassing state, she addressed James again.
“What are we supposed to do?” She looked at him beseechingly, hoping that he had an answer for this dilemma as he had for every other.
James shook his head. “I dunno, Rose. I think he’s going to vomit here pretty soon, but we can’t take him inside. Gran would kill us all. And then Mum and Dad will kill us, and your Mum and Dad will kill you.”
Rose frowned. “Why me?”
He simply laughed. “Because you’re the responsible one. Well, apart from Al, that is…” Thinking hard, James had an epiphany. “I know! We’ll take him out behind this shed and let him vomit to his heart’s content, bury it in the snow, and he’ll be good as new.”
“I don’t think it works that way.” Rose was skeptical.
“Of course it does! No more cider, no more being drunk. It makes perfect sense.” He was surprised that one of his more intelligent cousins could not see the crystal clear logic in his argument.
Shaking her head, Rose said adamantly, “No, James. I really think that isn’t right. It’s in his blood now, so he has to, I dunno, wait for it to come out like normal.”
James considered this. “You mean he has to pee it out?”
“Exactly!” Rose was pretty sure that this plan would work. Flopping the slightly snoring Albus onto James, she ran to the house to ask Molly for a pitcher of water so they could have something to drink.
Finding her grandmother in the parlor, knitting sweaters, Rose asked in a hurried tone, which was akin to gibberish. “GrancanIgetsomewaterforus?” Realizing that she had not made any sense when Molly simply stared, she repeated more slowly, “Can I get a pitcher of water so we can have a quick drink? We really don’t want to stop playing.”
Smiling at her granddaughter, Molly nodded. “Help yourself, dear. Just be careful not to drink too much. It can make you sick.”
Those words seemed to smack Rose square in the forehead. Just be careful not to drink too much. Maybe that would have been better advice an hour before. She silently hoped that Molly did not suspect anything as she quickly prepared a pitcher full of water, grabbed a tumbler, and ran out the door as fast as she could without wearing her cargo.
Molly heard Rose sprint out of the house and laughed lightly to herself. “And to think, they’re actually staying out of trouble for once.” Completely unaware of the scene in the orchard, she resumed her knitting, not even bothering to cast a glance outside. Lily and Hugo had taken to climbing the trees, either no longer caring about Albus’s condition or not having any idea how they could do anything about it.
Rose skidded to a halt in front of James and Albus once she reentered the apple shed. The elder Potter brother maneuvered his charge to a sitting position and shook him mightily until he stirred back to consciousness, eyes blurry and glasses askew. Rose lifted the first cup of water to her cousin’s lips and poured a little bit down. When it was not rejected, she repeated the action until she reached of the tumbler.
Albus lolled his head to whisper to James, who nodded. He looked at Rose and cocked his head toward the door. Together, they hauled Albus to a standing position between them and guided him outside, directly to the small alcove behind the shed, which was, thankfully, situated facing away from the Burrow, just in case Molly decided to glance out the window.
James held Albus’s shoulders as Rose turned to give her cousins a bit of privacy. While Albus was fumbling feebly with his zipper, James averted his gaze to the sky, begging the powers that be that he would not have to finish the job for his brother. Some things were just not meant to be shared between siblings, and this was one of them.
Finally, after nearly five minutes, the sound of urination hitting the wall of the shed rewarded James and Rose’s efforts. Once Albus was done and zipped up without incident, they trained him toward the inside of the shed again, but before they got there, Albus lurched forward and started to retch violently into the snow. Torn between disgust, concern and amusement, James waited for Albus to finish before again pulling him back up and again toward the interior of the building.
Three times they had to halt their meager progress for Albus to vomit. This was not going at all how they had planned. The water did not help at all, and neither did the call of nature; all Albus seemed to want to do was throw up, and both Rose and James were out of ideas. They both knew what would have to be done.
“I’ve got to tell Dad. We’ll keep him out here for a while, try to keep him warm enough, and when Mum and Dad get back, I’ll take him aside and just tell him what happened. He’s less likely to skin me alive.”
Rose nodded solemnly, not at all envious of James’s onerous task. “So, if you do get skinned alive, can I have your broom?” The dark glare she received as a reply made her giggle as they finally made it back into the apple shed without any puking breaks.
About an hour passed before one of them finally spotted Harry and Ginny walking back toward the Burrow. Running toward his parents, James just barely caught Harry before they reached the front door. Still panting from the exertion, he tugged on Harry’s sleeve and said between gulping breaths, “Can I…talk…to you.”
Harry raised a brow, clueless as to what this was about. “All right. What do you want to talk about?”
Seeing that Ginny had just become extremely interested in the conversation, James said conspiratorially, “It’s a man thing. Can we talk, y’know, in private?”
The necessity in James’s voice alarmed Harry. He had already done the talk with both his sons, so he had no clue what could possibly be bothering his eldest, who had seldom asked advice on anything on account of thinking he was always right.
As Harry felt himself being led toward the orchard, he was growing more and more fearful that one of the other children was injured and James had been too afraid to tell Molly. He had never hoped he was wrong more than at that moment. Finally, they arrived at the apple shed, and Harry nearly had a heart attack when he saw Albus, unconscious, on the floor, his head resting in the lap of an extremely concerned Rose.
Seeing her uncle’s duress, Rose looked at him piteously. She knew that, had that been her brother, both her Mum and Dad would have had a fit.
Harry looked at James, worry etched on his features. “What happened to him?”
James turned a deep shade of scarlet and fixed his eyes on his shoes. Without looking up, he pointed toward the jugs on the floor, one of which Harry lifted.
After one sniff of the contents of the jug, Harry knew what had happened. The cider had hardened, as it was meant to do; Molly had mentioned having a new batch for the New Years’ celebration she had been planning. Apparently, the children had found it, but only Albus had not had the good sense to realize that it was not the sort of cider that they ought to be drinking.
Sighing, Harry looked directly at James. “Thank you for taking care of him. Go tell your mother that Al isn’t feeling well and that I took him straight home. Do you understand?”
The look in Harry’s eyes brooked no argument, and James nodded hurriedly and sprinted off again in search of the other parent. Rose bit her lip, which made Harry feel awful for her. She probably had no idea of what to do, and it must have been horrible to witness the unpleasant side effects of too much to drink. He felt like he should say something. “Look, Rose. It’s not your fault, and you and James seem to have done everything you could. Has he thrown up yet?”
Rose nodded woodenly. “About four times.” She blushed to an almost identical shade as her flaming Weasley hair before adding, “And we made him drink water and go pee, too.”
Harry did not know whether to laugh or to console Rose, because she evidently did not realize that the latter would not have helped in the least. Instead, he opted to pat her on the shoulder and force a smile. “You did well. Now go outside and have some fun. I’ve got it from here.”
As Rose bolted from the shed, Harry slung his son over his shoulder and walked to the edge of the property, from which he would be able to Apparate home.
Much later that night, Albus stirred from sleep, feeling like his skull was on fire and would explode at any moment. The meager lamplight that filtered into his barely open eyes burned his very existence, causing him to groan out loud. To his misery, that groan of pain was followed by more agony when he heard the scraping of a chair on the floor and footfalls that more resembled thunder than someone walking. Fortunately, the grating noise stopped, but it was intensified when the other occupant of the room spoke.
“Hey, Al.”
The sheer volume of the voice was enough to blur Albus’s vision even more than it already was without his glasses. He figured that James really was not speaking very loud, but it did not stop the sadistic tattoo on his brain. Slowly, his mind refocused, allowing him to respond. “Merlin, why are you talking so loud?”
James answered, in a much quieter voice, “Sorry. Dad said you’d feel like this.” He patted Albus’s shoulder. “You gave me and Rose quite a scare.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, head still aflame, Albus mumbled, “What the hell happened?”
Biting his lip, James debated how much to tell Albus, who obviously did not remember his drunken escapade. Normally, this would be a great opportunity to torture his brother, but he found that he could not. “You, er, drank a lot of bad cider and got a little tipsy. Well, a lot tipsy, actually.”
Albus could not believe what he had just heard. Since when did something as innocuous as cider get someone drunk? Apparently, it did, though, or this mercenary headache would not be flogging his very soul. In all the times he had drunk fresh cider from the Burrow, it had never done anything like this. Something else occurred to him, though. “How much trouble am I in?”
“Mum doesn’t know, so not really any. Dad brought you home right away, and he said he would tell her it was just a bad stomachache. Hopefully, I can get Lily and Hugo to shut up about it so she never finds out.” James grinned evilly to himself. “I have my ways.”
One thing was bothering Albus. “Um, I didn’t, you know…do anything, did I? Anything stupid, I mean.”
The corners of James’s mouth twitched, a smile threatening. He just thanked Merlin that Albus could not see. “Well, you did bequeath all of your Chocolate Frog cards to Hugo, but I’d think the most embarrassing part was when you were singing and dancing. At least, I think it was supposed to be dancing; it looked more like you were having some sort of seizure.”
“Oh, bollocks!” The exclamation sent another shard of anguish through him. Once he could think clearly enough to speak, he begged, “Please tell me that’s all.”
“Er…” James could not help but feel awful for his brother. It had not really been his fault, but some internal devil relished the fact that he could use this against Albus at some later date. That would also necessitate that his brother knew the extent of his misdeeds. “You sort of told Rose that Scorpius likes her.”
Albus could feel his world closing in on him. Scorpius had told him that in complete confidence, but he had broken that sacred trust. How could he possibly have the gobstones to tell his best friend that he had betrayed his secret? It was going to be a long train ride back to Hogwarts when the holidays were over. The other boy may never speak to him again, and Albus would not blame him one bit if he did not. The despair clearly in his voice, he whispered, “Good Godric, let that be it.”
James wanted so badly to take the mickey out of Albus, but it just did not seem right, so instead, he recounted the excretory trip behind the shed, leaving out nothing. He could see his brother turning a spectacular shade of red as he got to the part about urinating on the side of the building.
“You mean you and Rose watched me pee?”
“Well, we didn’t actually watch. Rose turned around, and I looked somewhere else. It’s not like we wanted to watch or anything, but you had to go, you know.” James felt more and more like he was violating some secret man code just by talking about this particular subject, so he hastily said good night to Albus and skulked out of the room, keeping his footfalls as quiet as possible.
Outside the room, he nearly slammed into his father, who had been listening with Uncle George’s newest model of Extendable Ears. James raised a brow as Harry looked properly abashed.
“I, er, just wanted to check up on him. Not eavesdropping.” Harry rubbed his scar, which told James that his father had, indeed, been eavesdropping, but considering the huge favor he was doing by leaving Ginny out of this matter, it would, of course, be forgiven.
Smiling at Harry, James said, “It’s okay, Dad. He knows everything; Mum doesn’t know; and I think he’s going to live. He’s got a monster of a headache, though.”
Harry sighed. “I thought as much.” Putting his hand on James’s shoulder, he gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You did good, James. You took care of your Al, even though it must have been awkward and uncomfortable, and I’m proud of you for that.”
James was dumbstruck. Not only was he not even remotely in trouble, Harry was actually praising his efforts. Grinning, he said, “Thanks, Dad. Oh, and Happy Christmas!” He left his father outside of his brother’s room and made for the stairs to go to his own room, exhausted from his vigil. It was well past midnight, and he was tired.
“You too, son.” As James walked away, Harry crept into the room, taking care not to disturb his younger son, as he had fallen back to sleep. He leaned against the closed door, regarding Albus in wonderment. How had the fragile, squalling creature from fourteen years ago developed into this miracle of life”his son, a virtual copy of himself? It was incredible, watching his children grow into adulthood, some faster than others. While James had seemed firmly entrenched into his adolescence, he had exhibited maturity and tenacity in dealing with a completely unfamiliar situation, and Albus had learned a hard lesson, one Harry had rather hoped would come much later in life.
But it was done, and it could not be taken back. Manhood was right around the bend for both of his boys, and the thought made his heart catch in his throat as he stayed with Albus for the rest of the night, silently hoping that the next step would not be such a fiasco, and definitely not on Christmas again.
He had no idea.