Far off in other parts of the castle the faint rumble of magic could be heard. Powerful spells were being cast, powerful enough to destroy the stones that made up Hogwarts. Powerful enough to obliterate Albus Potter without a doubt.

Albus crept through the halls, his feet padding softly on the cold stone as his heart pounded in his chest.

This is insane, he thought.

This is insane and I'm going to get myself killed.

All he wanted was to just run back to the Room of Requirement and evacuate with the rest of the students. But he knew he couldn't, because there was another part of his brain that wondered how James, Neville, Nathan and who knew how many others were getting on. A part of him that wondered, horrified, if the occasional sound of magical destruction was the spell that killed them.

No, he couldn't just run. He was the son of Harry Potter.

He was the son of Harry Potter and he was not afraid.

No he wasn't afraid.

He was terrified.

Somehow the lights that usually lit the hallways of Hogwarts had been put out, leaving everything a shade only slightly lighter than pitch black. The moonlight left silver patches in the stone as he jogged through the corridors, giving everything a surreal colourless look.

None of this felt real. Someone attacking Hogwarts, the idea of it seemed preposterous. Of course he knew all the stories about the Second War against Voldemort, but to him Hogwarts had always seemed to be a safe haven. In the four years he'd been going here he'd never felt safer. Sure he knew about the Purifiers, everyone did. But that had all seemed so distant before, a far off problem that his father was handling. He never expected his father's war with the blood purists and the Death Eater remnants to reach his doorstep, but it had. Literally.

He reached a flight of stairs and ran down it, eyes darting about for any signs of movement. He was under his father's Invisibility Cloak, thank God, but he wasn't going to get careless. Careless would get him killed. James was the one for the heroics. Albus would be happy just helping in some way, find his brother and make sure they both made it through this night alive.

But to do that he first had to find Nathan and the other seventh years.

He knew they must have been heading towards the Great Hall, so he had a rough idea of where they should be.

Dammit how fast must they have been moving?

The group must have slipped out the Room of Requirement barely five minutes before he followed after them, leaving his friends behind after he couldn't bare the shame of running away while Hogwarts burned.

But the older kids were nowhere to be seen. Nathan had been friends with James since their first year and the older Gryffindor's other group of friends were nice enough for the most part. Plus they were all in their final year, so were bound to be much better at defending themselves than he was. If he was going to stand a chance at helping, he would need to stick with them.

But first he had to find the bloody –

He turned the corner and saw cloaked figures down the corridor. Stifling a gasp he jumped back round the corner, clutching his mouth to keep silent.

They must have heard him. His heart was hammering at a speed that couldn't have been medically safe. The sound was deafening to his own ears.

He was so out of his depth. What was he thinking? He was no hero. Unlike his father he was not the one to charge into danger. In fact he'd usually go out of his way to avoid it.

He never felt less like a Gryffindor than he did now.

He had been so sure he was bound for Slytherin. The Sorting Hat even told him he was suited for it, but following his father's advice he had made his choice. And sitting on that stool four years ago Albus had chosen Gryffindor, unable to face the idea of facing his family as a Slytherin. Say one thing about Albus Potter, say he's a coward.

In his right hand he gripped his wand so tightly he was surprised his fingers weren't leaving indents. Any minute now he expected a masked face to jump round the corner and end it all.

His mind raced, terror and regret pumping through his veins.

What am I doing out here? What am I doing out here? What am I doing out here?

…

…

Why am I hiding when I've got an Invisibility Cloak?

He blinked stupidly for a moment. Genius. Off course they didn't see him.

He tried to listen for any tell tale sounds but couldn't hear anything other than the sound of his still-pounding heart. Checking himself quickly he made sure he was still completely covered by the thin velvety fabric. Yep still covered, he was good.

Apart from the being surrounded by Purifiers and being laughably unready for a fight.

He edged slowly round the corner, holding his wand shakily in front of him. Up ahead in the darkness he could see the dark outline of several shapes. From this distance he couldn't make out who they were, but they were moving down the corridor in the direction of the Great Hall. From the way they moved – quick, cautious, almost tactical - he would have sworn they were one the Purifier raiding parties he'd read so much about in the Prophet, but just at the edge of hearing he heard the faint sound of whispering.

"…Look I understand what you're saying, but that doesn't mean we should just waltz in and -"

That voice! Nathan!

"Did you forget why we're here?" Hissed another voice. Alastair by the sound of it. Albus had never liked the bigheaded Slytherin prefect. "Or do you want to go back to the Room of Requirement with the others?"

"That not what I'm talking about! I'm just saying we…" They were moving too far away for Albus to make out the rest.

They were all there, Nathan, Alastair, David. He was sure he could also see their two Ravenclaw study buddies – he always was terrible remembering names – as well as that Takeda dic .

Although he didn't know most of them that well it was good to see familiar faces. Another rumble shook the walls around them, this time much closer than before. The group dropped minutely and paused in perfect synchronisation, before quickly getting up and moving on. They looked prepared, confident.

Albus swallowed and crept closer, still trying his best to keep quiet.

He was glad to have finally caught up. Now that he had found them he might get an idea of what to do next. Albus would have been the first to admit he was no fighter, but he could still help. Now he just had to find a way of making himself known to them without getting a hex to the chest.

The bickering among Nathan and Alastair had stopped; the quiet murmur of their voices had died away. They had reached the end of the corridor and turned the corner. At this rate he was going to lose them.

Upping his pace to a light jog he set off down the corridor after them. How was he going to introduce himself without startling them and getting blown apart?

"You here that?"

For the second time in so many minutes Albus stopped dead in his tracks. That wasn't one of the older students. That voice had come from behind him.

He turned around. Back the way he came he could make out two shapes. There was no mistaking them. Tall, black robed, white masked.

Purifiers. Two of them.

Albus' heart dropped out his chest. These were the enemy. The ones his father was obsessing over. Remnants of the Death Eaters and the extremist supporters of blood purity, banded together in secret cabals. Intent on spreading terror through the wizarding world they felt had abandoned the old ways. Merciless. Brutal. Deadly. They killed men, women and children, and they standing only a few metres away.

Albus' mouth was dry. These men were killers. He was just a teenager who hadn't even started his OWL's yet. If they found him he was dead, or worse.

"Hear what?" the one at the back said.

Their wands were out as the pair scanned the hallway. Albus pressed himself against a wall, trying to make himself as small as possible. He wasn't sure what the man had heard. Was it Albus' steps or the older boys' bickering?

"Thought I heard something is all."

The one in front peered down the hallway. His wand was held outstretched in front of him, panning the hallway. From this distance Albus could see his mask.

He'd heard countless stories from Uncle Ron about the Death Eaters, and the similarity in masks was clear. But these masks were simpler - pale white over a featureless face with black holes where the eyes should be. Red lines ran down from the eyes to the jaw, a stream of bloody tears.

Uncle Ron had always spoke about the Death Eaters like a joke, or a vague menace to be fought in an epic and undoubtedly exaggerated story. Looking at that blank mask, those red lines of blood, the only thing Albus felt was horror, paralysing and absolute. The masks looked past him twice, and each time Albus was sure they were looking right at him, through him. Like he was being hunted by Death itself.

He found himself wishing the others had been a little slower, so that he wouldn't be alone to face these men. It was a shameful thing to wish for but he wished it anyway, hoping others would be put in harm's way so that he might be ok.

Father would be ashamed of me.

Another rumble shook the castle around them, and the two Purifiers glanced around themselves.

The second Purifier snapped his head towards the one who was searching, "We've got no time for this. We have to get moving!"

The one closest to Albus turned back to his companion, before looking over the corridor again. He couldn't have stood there for more than a few seconds, but for Albus there was an impossibly long moment, crouched frozen under that empty gaze, breath frozen in his chest

What had he been thinking in that foolish moment of bravery? Sneaking out of the Room of Requirement, ashamed of his cowardice.

It had all seemed so unreal then, just sneak out, find the bad guys and help defend Hogwarts. But now that he was here, in the moment, the awful truth of it all rushed over him like a wave. He thought of Scorpius and his sarcastic, biting honesty. He thought of Keegan and his unflappable, carefree optimism. He thought of Amy and the wide, toothy grin she got whenever she saw him. He thought of the way she had whispered his name before she had passed out from blood loss. He should be there with her, with the others, with his sister.

He thought of all the family and friends that he would never see again.

This was no game, no story where he could always edge his way out of danger by a hero's luck. This man in front of him was a murderer, and the second he got an idea that the son of Harry Potter was crouched no more than a few meters away Albus would be dead before he could blink.

This was all a mistake. A terrible mistake.

After an age the Purifier simply grunted and turned to follow the other, his cloak billowing behind him as he turned. He crossed the corridor back the way he had come and in a few short steps he was gone.

Albus wasn't sure how long he stayed frozen on the spot, but it felt like an hour. He should have just stayed in the Room of Requirement with the others. This was not him. This was dangerous. Scorpius was right, not everyone is meant for the life of a hero.

He should just sneak back, apologise to Lily for the things he'd said, make sure Amy was ok, and slip out with the other students. Albus had tried for years, but could never live up to his father's legacy. That role had always suited James much better.

James…

James was out there somewhere, fighting to defend Hogwarts, along with so many others. His teachers, some of his friends, they were all putting their lives on the line to protect each other and those who could not protect themselves. They all knew the risks, just like he did, but they were choosing to fight anyway.

Protect and Survive.

What kind of man would he grow up to be if he turned and ran now?

God dammit...

Albus let out a long shaky breath, trying to steel his nerves. He was the son of Harry Potter, no matter how little he felt like it at times. Despite everything he was a Gryffindor and he could be brave. He didn't have to be a hero like his father; he only had to do what he could.

He only had to help.

Slowly, he picked himself up, shaking his legs to get some feeling back. He looked back the way the Purifiers had left; no sign of them. Checking to make sure he was still completely covered by his father's cloak, he made his way carefully along the corridor. It ended at a wide stone staircase and he quietly crept down it.

He didn't have to be a hero. He only had to help. He could start by catching up with the older students. If anyone had a plan, it was them.

Besides, how much trouble could he get into if no one could see him?

XXXXX

The moonlit stones that made up the floors and walls of Hogwarts began to dissolve, turning pale and silver and softly fading like steam. Standing at the top of the stairway his son had just ran down was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and the twice over Saviour of the Wizarding World. He couldn't see Albus of course, but he could hear his soft footsteps easy enough. Even those too began to fade with the stone as the world around him crumbled away into a swirling silver mist.

His face was crossed with worry. He had the look of a man who hadn't slept well in a week. A man who woke in tears after a night of bad dreams. There were dark rings around his eyes and unkempt stubble over his chin. He kept looking down at where moments before a Hogwarts staircase had been with a face of icy concentration.

"Okay I don't get it," said a voice behind him,

He turned around to see his son James. The boy had a mass of bandages over one side of his head and face. His one visible eye was sickeningly bloodshot. Other than that he looked exactly like he had when Harry had dropped him off at Platform 9 and 3 quarters at the end of the Christmas holidays. He had the same unruly hair of his father, though his eyes were brown instead of green. Actually, based on the few pictures he'd managed to find Harry had always felt that James bore a striking similarity to his namesake, only minus the glasses.

Strange how none of his kids ever needed the damn things.

"What's not to get? Looked pretty straightforward to me."

Over on James' right stood his godfather and Harry's best friend Ron, arms folded and looking grumpy.

"But I talked to Nathan," James said, "And David. Neither of them said anything about Albus. If he had run into them, they would have told me."

"This is all we've been able to get so far," Ron said, his arms crossed over his chest. "This is the first time we've been able to see the night of the attack. We still don't know if Albus managed to catch up to your friends, or if he ever came out from the Cloak. For all they know he could have been with them the entire time."

"But that doesn't make any sense!" James hissed, pinching his nose.

Harry couldn't blame him for being aggravated. His son's nerves were frayed. They had all been through a lot. "Why would he stay hidden? Albus knew they would be his best shot at getting something done. If he had caught up with them he would have shown himself." He ruffled a hand through his hair in frustration, "This is a waste of time."

His voice was strained, and with a desperate edge to it that Harry could relate too all to well. It had been almost a month since the battle at Hogwarts when the Purifiers had attacked the school. And none of the Potters had been sleeping all that well lately. Not since Albus…

Harry's fists were clenched so hard he could feel his fingernails digging into his palms. He thought he had been coping, but seeing the night of the attack again…

None of this was supposed to happen. He had won his war. He was supposed to live happily with his family. Hadn't he earned it? He had never expected something like this.

"James." Harry said. His voice came out as a croak and he had to cough slightly before he could continue. "This is all we've been able to get so far. We just need to –"

"How do we know this thing even works?" James spat out, swatting away the hand Harry had been lifting towards his shoulder. He turned around and gestured at the still fading mist around the three of them. Slowly it was clearing, gradually revealing the walls of a room. "How do we know Hermione didn't screw up somehow? None of this could even be real"

Ron and Harry shared a quick look. Knowing from the look on his friends face, Ron had bitten back a reflexive retort to defend his wife. He just turned towards a seat that had just faded into view and sat down heavily, shaking his head.

"Look James," Harry said, "I know you're frustrated, we all are. But you need to give it time. No one's ever used a Pensieve like this before. It's going to take some time to piece all of this together."

As he spoke he walked over to James and placed his hand softly on his shoulder. This time his son didn't resist, he just dropped his head to look at the floor. For a moment they stood there in silence. Harry couldn't think of anything he could say.

"What happened to him dad?" James' voice was quiet, and the desperation in it broke Harry's heart. "I just want to know what happened to him."

Harry turned his head to face the bed Ron had taken a seat next to. It still made his heart shudder to look at his youngest son like this, and had to stop himself from clenching his fist again.

Lying face up on the bed was Albus. He had several cuts and bruises but they were mostly superficial. If anyone were to walk in they would probably assume to skinny, black haired boy was sleeping.

But he wasn't.

As far as anyone could tell, and Harry had tried everyone he could think of, nothing was wrong with his son. Except he wasn't waking up.

They had found Albus in what was left of the Great Hall and they had brought him to St. Mungo's. Apart from a few minor wounds he had seemed perfectly fine.

Except he wasn't waking up.

Harry's stomach gave a familiar lurch. It killed him to see his son like this. It wasn't a coma. The healers at St. Mungo's had clarified that much. Whatever was wrong with him it was something no one knew about, and it was the not knowing that was killing Harry. He barely slept anymore, he couldn't. Someone knew what was wrong with him. Someone had done this to him. Someone out there had done this to his son.

He looked back at his oldest, who had also turned to look at Albus. His face was unreadable.

Ron straightened up from his chair, "That's something we're going to have to figure out." He puffed out his cheeks and ran his hands through his bright red hair. "This Pensieve thing's the only shot we have right now. Everyone else at the Ministry is stumped at what could have done this. I mean, you saw Rosier right?"

Harry repressed a shudder. Like Ron he had tried every contact in the Ministry he had to find out what had happened. He had tried his contacts outside the Ministry. He had even led interrogations of a number of dark wizards in Azkaban, desperate for any clues. All of them had failed to account for anything that could explain what happened to the leader of the Purifiers.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had found Rosier in the Great Hall. Or more accurately, they had found what was left of him.

Ron carried on, "And Hermione's been hitting the books with a vengeance since, and she has still doesn't have an idea at what kind of curse could have done that."

Halstead Rosier was one of the first Death Eaters. He had gone to Hogwarts with Tom Riddle himself. Sure he was in his nineties when he led the Purifiers to attack Hogwarts, but Harry had been tracking his movements enough to know he was vicious and dangerously powerful. In the wizarding world an age of ninety meant something completely different than it did in the muggle world. The man was leading what was essentially a Death Eater revival, recruiting dark witches and wizards from all over Europe to aid in his cause. What they had found in the Great Hall was… well Harry's first impression was that the man had received a Dementor's Kiss.

They found him surrounded by the rubble of the hall, in a perfect circle of impossibly clean stone, as if everything in the area had been blasted away to the finest level. There they had found the empty shell that had been Rosier.

But empty shells don't mumble incoherent gibberish.

Empty shells don't weep.

No, something else had happened in that hall. Something terrible had been done to Rosier.

And Albus had seen it.

They found him in the rubble. He was still under the Invisibility Cloak, but enough debris had covered him that Harry had found him anyway. He had unearthed Albus in a mad haze and pulled out of the wreckage, comatose and staring blankly at nothing. His son, now lying comatose in the Potter house.

He was Harry Potter, people expected him to do miracles. But he couldn't find a way to save his son. Not without finding out who did this do him.

"This is our best lead at the moment," he said, indicating the bowl placed on a small table beside Albus' head. The other two looked up at him. "The trail on Rosier has gone cold. Right now all we have are Albus' memories. Hermione's new Pensieve should be able to show us what happened on the night of the attack. If we can see that then we can see what happened to Albus. If we can do that we can find a way to save him." He turned to face his James, "Son, I can't imagine what you must be thinking, but if we're ever going to find a way to help Albus, you need to help us."

James nodded once. His eyes lit up in a way that made Harry feel a strange mix of pride and apprehension. "What do you need me to do?"

Over in his seat Ron clapped his hands together once and rubbed them like he was preparing to lift something heavy. "Alright! First of all we need to follow up on what we saw. Hermione's little beauty still isn't running well enough to control what we are seeing. And we can't just sit around waiting for another useful memory to pop out, so we need to investigate our best lead as to who saw Albus last."

"We need you to tell us who's in that group Albus saw," Harry continued.

James took a shaky breath and walked over to the foot of Albus's bed. Harry stood next to him, listening closely. For the first time in weeks, he finally felt like he was getting something done. If only Hermione had worked out the Pensieve modifications earlier then they might have made some progress before now.

"Well from what I could see, it was everyone in Nathan's group," James said, "Except for Bertie."

Ron had conjured a notepad and was scribbling notes on it, "Bertie?"

"Short for Bertram. Bertram Hedge," James continued, "Nice guy, bit dim. He was with the rest of the students that evacuated through the Hog's Head. Never was much of a fighter. Clumsy guy, not much use in a fight."

Harry remembered the boy; the young Hufflepuff had visited the house during the summer a couple years ago. He was a nice kid. He always reminded Harry of Neville in his early years before he came into his own.

Ron nodded, still scribbling. "Got it. So who did you see in the corridor then?"

James let out a long breath, "Okay, so obviously there was Nathan and Alastair as well."

"Nathan I know. Who's Alastair?" Harry asked.

"Alastair Lockheed. He was the one arguing with Nathan. Those two are always having a go at each other, I always wondered how they managed to get along. I mean he's a nice enough guy once you get to know him, but the two are complete opposites. Alastair's rich, like Zabini rich. And he's in Slytherin as well. I hear he's doing quite well in the Ministry now."

Both Ron and Harry looked up. "The Ministry?" Ron said, "I haven't heard the name." He looked over at Harry, "You?"

Harry shook his head. As Head of the Auror Office, and with Ron as his Second, they knew almost anyone worth knowing at the Ministry, unless…

"He's an Unspeakable," James explained, "Went straight into it after graduating."

Harry nodded. That would explain it. If this Alistair kid worked in the Department of Mysteries then it made sense they wouldn't know much about him. There was no part of the Ministry more secretive than them. Still, doesn't mean the kid couldn't be reached.

"Okay, who else?"

James' brow furrowed, "Well there was definitely Takeda. His family moved over here from Japan. I never really got along with him, though to be honest he didn't get along with most people. He doesn't speak much English."

Harry recognised the name. Neville had mentioned him when debriefing Harry on the attack. He had seen the boy fighting Purifiers in the courtyard. Impressive spellwork apparently.

"Neville saw him on the night," Harry said, making James and Ron look his way again, "He said he's very skilled for his age, didn't use any verbal magic." Of course it was expected for a wizard of his age to know how to use non verbal spells. But exclusively, and in the middle of a pitched battle? Even most Aurors wouldn't try to do that.

To Harry's surprise, James let out a bark of laughter.

"Skilled?" he chuckled, "Nah, the guys an arrogant sod." He waved his hand dismissively. "From second year onwards he worked on non verbal magic. Apparently he doesn't like to speak anything other than his native tongue. There was a rumour going around that his family emigrated to Britain 'cos of some trouble they had back in Japan. Some accusations of dark magic, if you belief all that. Either way, I don't know him that well. He was in Slytherin and I never really spent a whole lot of time with him."

"So where's he now?" Ron asked from behind his notepad.

"No idea," James said, "But I could always ask Nathan."

Harry nodded again. He wasn't sure what to make of what James had told him. School gossip was one thing, but accusations of dark magic in the family could be quite serious, especially in this day and age.

"Okay do that. Now who else was there?" Ron said.

James looked thoughtful for a second, his eyes going unfocused.

"Okay there were three more figures." he said, "And there's only three people it could be. That would be Katherine, Samuel and David."

Ron's quill scratched across the paper as he struggled to keep up. He was never one for writing when he could help it, "So you know them?"

James scratched the back of his head absently. "More or less, I know David pretty well, but Katherine and Samuel are Ravenclaws, so we didn't hang out a lot. Both of them are about as Ravenclaw as you can get actually, Samuel especially. Apparently he was some kind of child genius in the muggle schools before he came to Hogwarts. Never all that great with magic though. Katherine and him spent most of their time studying in the library."

"And so you never saw them," Harry added dryly.

James gave a small grin at that, "No not really. I tried hitting on Katherine a few times but she never really took me up on it. Really shy girl, she only started hanging out with Nathan's lot in our last year, so I couldn't tell you much about her."

Ron nodded without looking up, "And who was the third person?"

"David. He was in Gryffindor with me and Nathan"

Harry stepped in at that; he recognised the name, "The same David I got called in about last year?"

James had the decency to look sheepish, and for good reason. Harry had been called in from work to the Headmaster's office. His son and a certain David Bonham had apparently set fire to one of the outlying towers of the school. James had insisted the whole thing had been purely accidental – an attempt to launch some specially designed fireworks over the Great Hall at lunchtime that had ended disastrously.

He had been mad about it, but when James told Harry later what the fireworks were supposed to spell out he couldn't stop himself from laughing. All in all, it might have been for the best they hadn't gone off as intended.

"Yeah that's the one." he said, "He was always getting into trouble; I think he even got suspended once in fifth year but I never got the details. Bit of a hothead actually, but he's a good guy. He got messed up quite bad that night, worse than I did."

"I heard." Harry said. From the after action report Harry had seen, David had been one of the students who had sustained serious injuries during the attack. He had to be emergency portkeyed to St. Mungo's with a handful of other students and staff. The boy had recovered but lost most of the mobility in his right arm, which unfortunately turned out to be his wand arm. Harry still considered him one of the lucky ones though, not everyone had survived the night.

"Yeah well I spoke to him afterwards; he told me he got it fighting ten Purifiers singlehandedly." James scoffed, "So at least he's taking it all quite well."

"So is that everyone?" Ron asked.

James scratched at the bandage on the side of his face, "Yeah I think so."

"How does Nathan even know these kids?" Ron asked, "I mean, they're all in different houses."

James shrugged, "House divisions aren't what they used to be. But I don't really know how they all met; Nathan just started hanging out with them in third year. Honestly I thought it was an odd mix as well, but you never know. They mostly just met to study and stuff."

"Never mind that." Harry said, "We need to talk to each of them and find out if they saw anything that could tell us what Albus was doing. You're still keeping in touch with Nathan then?"

"Yeah."

"Well send him an owl; he'll probably know where the rest of the group went after graduating. It's a start," he said, reassuring himself just as much as the other two.

For the first time in weeks, Harry felt something besides the nagging doubt and fear that plagued him since he had found Albus. It was a start. It might not lead to much, or anything at all, but they couldn't just sit around and wait for the Pensieve to spit out another memory. They needed to get out there and do something, make some progress. Anything besides just sitting on their hands.

James nodded, "I'm on it." And with that he hurried out the room.

Harry watched the doorway and couldn't help but smile. Maybe he wasn't the only one who was sick of waiting. James had always been a bit hot-tempered if he didn't have something to vent his energy on. A task like this was just what he needed.

"You didn't tell him."

He looked back over his shoulder. Ron was still sitting in the chair beside Albus' bed. There was a stern look on his face.

"He's got enough to worry about right now," Harry said, "Besides, we don't know anything for sure at this point."

"Well we know one thing," Ron continued, frowning, "Rosier was on the fast track to becoming the first Dark Lord Britain's seen since Riddle."

"I know, I ju-"

"And whoever took him out didn't just kill him. They ruined him."

"I get it, Ron."

"I hope so mate, 'cos if there is a new Dark Lord running around then we have no idea what they're up to or what kind of firepower they really have." He had a look that Harry had only seen a handful of times "And that scares the hell out of me."

Harry let out a breath. By Merlin he was tired.

"Yeah. Me too."

They didn't know anything for sure, but the possibility was still there. A new Dark Lord. Something Harry had been working so hard to prevent since he joined the Ministry. And one that they knew nothing about. The word disaster didn't even cover it.

They had to find out what happened that night, what really happened. Albus saw it. Albus had the answer.

Now all Harry had to do was find out happened to his son.

XXXXXXXXXX

Author's notes:

Yeah, so this is my second stab at a fic. Personally I don't think it really gets going until Chapter 5 so if things seem a little stilted I'd recommend hanging on until then. If you're still not into it after that then fair enough. And yes I've made Albus a Gryffindor. I get that Slytherin Albus is almost certainly canon, but I just personally think the whole thing's been done to death in fanfiction where Albus' main characterisation comes from his being in Slytherin and the problems he has to go through because of it

And in a side note, I've included a wee reference in this chapter in celebration of Joe Abercrombie's new book coming out. I'm a huge fan of his and couldn't resist putting something in. If you're a fan of his the reference should stick out like a sore thumb. If not then, well… it wont.

Enough rambling!

Thanks so much for reading. You rock.