“I’m so excited. How much longer?” whispered Albus to Philippe. It was Tuesday of their second week, and the Gryffindor first-years were in their fourth History of Magic class of the school year. At the moment, the only light at the end of the tunnel, given Binns’ unbearably boring lecture on Constantine’s secret alliance with pagan witches, was the thought of the Flying lesson to follow.
“Just eleven more minutes,” replied Philippe. “Make that ten.”
“Shhhhhh” came a nasty voice from the boys’ left. They turned to see Scorpius grinning nastily at Albus. “Some of us are trying to focus, Potter.”
“Oh, please. I can see you’re writing your Potions essay right now,” Albus responded.
Scorpius turned a bluish-gray (perhaps someone that pale and blonde goes blue when blushing) and turned away from Albus and Philippe, who snickered and went back to taking notes.
Ten minutes later, they met Rose and Matthew (who had taken to sitting at the front of the class in an attempt to stay awake) at the door. “I’m going back to my room. I forgot a scarf, and it’s getting a little windy out there,” Rose said, and she left the three boys.
“All set? Let’s go,” said Albus, and led the others out to the Training Grounds. They were some of the first to get there, along with Julian and a few Hufflepuffs. Professor Bell, however, had already arrived and noticed Albus talking with Philippe and Matthew.
“Albus, I’d forgotten you’d be a first-year this year! Let’s hope you’re better than James, huh?” she said. Expectations had been very high for James last year when he arrived at Hogwarts, particularly in terms of Quidditch. Albus’ dad had spent nearly every weekend with the boys since James was seven or so, trying to teach them to fly. Over the years, James made essentially no improvement, and Bell, a former team-mate of Albus’ dad’s, was shocked by his lack of skill. She really didn’t expect much from Albus given James’ inability.
Albus simply smiled. He couldn’t claim to be as studious as Rose, as popular as James or quite as good-looking as Fred (Uncle George’s eldest son), but Albus was a damn good flier, and he was excited to prove himself. Philippe had played with his fair share of toy broomsticks as a kid, but definitely didn’t enjoy flying as much as Albus. Still, Philippe wasn’t a huge fan of lectures, reading or writing, and the notion of a class outside, away from books and blackboards, was a welcome notion. Matthew, who was still reeling at the idea of grown men riding around on broomsticks, was practically shaking with anticipation. Finally, the other Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors arrived, including Rose. She appeared unconcerned with nearly being late to this class. Albus couldn’t help but laugh to himself; he knew she felt a Flying lesson was far inferior to any other class. In addition, Rose was terrified of heights. Last year at Easter, Rose had thrown a complete hissy fit when Teddy Lupin levitated her as a joke.
“First-years, please come pick up a broomstick and line up horizontally,” Professor Bell yelled over the excited chatter. All the students, with the notable exception of Rose and a few equally nervous Hufflepuffs, rushed to grab a broomstick. Once he picked his up, Albus joined the line alongside Rose, Matthew and Philippe.
Bell then instructed the students to order their brooms “up” into their hands, but Albus, Philippe and a Hufflepuff girl were the only successful ones. Most brooms simply vibrated against the grass or popped up for a second off the ground. Albus noticed Rose hadn’t even bothered saying “up”, and he suspected she secretly wanted to not try flying at all. After ten minutes or so, though, everyone, even Rose, managed to mount their brooms. Bell then instructed them to kick off, hover a few feet above the ground, and return. Most of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs managed this task, though Rose chickened out and landed her broomstick before she even got three feet off the ground.
“Not too bad. Not bad at all, actually. Let’s see, Albus, Philippe, Julian, Peter, Sam, Angela, and, maybe even Theresa, I’d like you all to try going a little further. Push off as you just did, reach twenty feet above ground or so, and then land over there,” Bell said, pointing across the field. “Hannah, maybe you’d like to try, too. The rest of you, it looks like we’ve got more work to do. Let’s try the last exercise again. You’ll get the hang of it. Even students from wizarding families struggle with flying, isn’t that right, Rose?”
Rose blushed, and felt humiliated even though she knew her teacher meant well. Albus shoved her lightly on the shoulder. “Oh shut up! Don’t expect any help with your homework later on!” she snapped.
Albus and the others performed their task, and Rose heard many of her fellow flying-failures comment on Albus’ skill. As he and the others whizzed about the field, she and most of the Muggle-borns worked with Bell on the basics. After an hour or so, she dismissed the class, and Albus and his friends headed back to the castle.
“Looks like you aren’t so brilliant at everything, Rose,” Philippe said jokingly. Albus studied Rose’s face carefully, hoping she would not take offense at the playful comment.
“There are plenty of skills more useful than flying, Phil, as my Mum says,” Rose replied, apparently undeterred by the joke.
“She only says that because she can’t fly,” Phil laughed.
As the four walked back toward the Gryffindor Common Room, they passed by Scorpius on the Ground Floor near the entrance to the Hufflepuff dormitories, looking his usual sullen, solitary self. Rose smiled as a peace offering; she had privately admitted to Albus that she felt bad for Scorpius. After all, his family had been shamed and villanized for years, and he had made essentially no friends at Hogwarts, even within his House. Most Slytherins, it seemed, didn’t want to be associated with the Malfoy name, a family known for weaseling its way out of Azkaban and switching loyalties at the drop of a hat.
Scorpius, however, wasn’t interested in amiable relations with the Weasley clan. He gave Rose a look of great distaste, and hurried past the group as fast as possible, heading straight in the direction of the Hufflepuff rooms. “What on earth’s he doing here?” Philippe asked.
“You could ask the same of us. We aren’t Hufflepuffs either, you know,” Rose pointed out.
***
“She can really be so bossy,” Philippe said as he filled his plate with another stack of Belgian waffles at breakfast the next day. Rose had been particularly irritating the night prior, forcing the three boys to finish their Potions reading before proceeding with a particularly “disruptive and inane” game of wizard’s chess. Refusing to help them with the assignment, Matthew, Philippe and Albus were forced to stay up until three finishing homework. Needless to say, the lack of sleep had put them in a bad mood.
“Yeah, tell me about it. She’s always been tha-“ Albus began, but was cut off by the arrival of Rose.
“Oh, here are the owls,” exclaimed Rose as she took a seat next to her cousin. Albus’, a snowy owl named Lonessa, dropped a letter directly next to his fried egg. He ripped it open and read aloud:
Dear Albus,
We hope everything’s going well at school, and that you’re adjusting nicely to life at Hogwarts. How are your classes? Do you have a favorite yet? I hope you’ve gone down to visit Hagrid, and please tell him, and Professors Longbottom, Bell and McGonagall, for that matter, that we say hello!
Your sister Lily seems to be adjusting to life as an only-child quite well. She’s definitely enjoying the attention, and especially loves that she gets first dibs on the crusty brownie pieces. Anyway, I’m sure you’re having a wonderful time, and making some great friends. I know it seems a long ways away, but please know that you’re more than welcome to invite a few over for the Christmas holiday if you’d like. We’ve already got the Weasleys coming, so a few extra mouths to feed won’t really make a difference.
I hate to nag, but your father and I would really love for you to write. Your Aunt Hermione said she’s already received three letters from Rose. Perhaps you could take a page out of her book, rather than James’. Thankfully, no reports of any mischief-making on your part yet, not that I really expected any. Apparently James has already managed two practical jokes on Neville. I really wish he’d stop it; it makes the situation awkward for your father and me. Speaking of your dad, he’s very busy with work lately, and only comes home one or two days of the week. Everything’s pretty hectic with the Ministry at the moment, but please don’t worry about any of that. Just focus on your schoolwork.
Lots of love,
Mum
“How many times have I told you to write?” Rose laughed as she spread jam on a piece of toast. “Some of us have better things to do,” Albus replied.
“Like what, putting off doing homework? What’d you get, Matthew?” she asked. Matthew was ripping open a brown cardboard box roughly the size of a bread loaf.
“Oh, sweet! It’s my Mum’s fudge! And she sent me a signed Ryan Giggs t-shirt as an early birthday gift! He’s the best-“
“Who?” Albus asked, assuming Matthew must be referencing some Muggle politician or celebrity.
“Ryan Giggs. Of Manchester United. Please tell me you know about Manchester United,” Matthew said in disbelief, launching into a ten-minute rant on English football and his favorite team.
“Hey! Look at this! Just arrived!” Julian exclaimed, holding a copy of the Daily Prophet in the air. All the first-year Gryffindors gasped; Julian had hardly voiced a single word since arriving at Hogwarts.
“Merlin’s beard!” Rose cried out, looking over Julian’s shoulder at the newspaper headline, which read:
Ministry Falling Apart: Anonymous Directorate Established
With the murder of Minister Jordan just over a year ago and the attack on Minister Boot this July, a vote by all current employees of the Ministry of Magic has decided not to elect a new Minister for the time being. Rather, a group of top Ministry officials from various departments, who will remain anonymous outside of the Ministry, has been selected as the Directorate, with ruling power over the Minsitry. Their identities will remain unknown, and for the time being, the headquarters in London will remain closed.
The Daily Prophet has been in communication with the Press Secretary of the Directorate, who issued the following statement to us for publication:
“We urge the entire wizarding world, particularly those in the United Kingdom, to remain calm and collected in this time of upheaval. Though this change in government appears radical, it is purely a short-term solution, and the Ministry has plans to return to its traditional governance once this situation is dealt with. The culprit behind the attacks on the Ministers of Magic have not been identified, and any link between these crimes has not been proven. Again, first and foremost, the Ministry’s main priority and function is the protection of the wizarding world. We assure you that all witches and wizards are perfectly safe if they follow common sense and wizarding law.”
“What on Earth? I didn’t know the Minister’d been attacked!” Matthew squealed.
“How did you not know that?” Albus asked. “I thought you read up on the magical world or whatever before coming to school?”
“I did, but I read A Wizard's History from Pre-History to 2000. It was on clearance at Flourish and Blottes,” Matthew explained. “And anyway, I sort of only skimmed it. It was pretty thick.”
“Well, basically, Minister Jordan, a former classmate of our parents’, was found dead in his office early in the morning the spring before last. Then, his successor, Minister Boot, was attacked at his home in August; his wife’s memory was obliviated, so they don’t know who broke in. He’s still at St. Mungo’s, and only came back to consciousness in late August. They don’t know if he’ll ever be able to function normally,” Rose explained.
“Is that, normal, for the Ministry to-to just shut down, like that?” Matthew asked.
“No. Not at all. Everyone’s very worried. Especially since they have no idea who did it,” Albus replied. He sighed and sat back in his seat on the bench. He looked up from the table, and directly across the Great Hall, he saw Scorpius Malfoy staring at him. The two locked eyes, and Scorpius hurriedly chugged his remaining orange juice and sprinted out of the Great Hall.
Albus Potter and the Directorate by HPFanObsessed
Chapter Notes: Big thank you to my beta, Bookworm!!! You've been such a big help!