"And that was only one of the many occasions on which I met my death – an experience which I don't hesitate to strongly recommend."
"I'm telling you, pa, there are cancerous sores in my mouth!" Albus whined as he was forced onto the Hogwarts Express. "You'll see I'm not lying when I have to get my lower jaw removed!" he yelled as the train began racing off towards the school.
Albus Potter sprinted to the back of the long train to find his older brother, who happened to be sitting towards the back with a group of giggling girls.
"Go find somewhere else to sit," James told Albus, nodding in the direction of an empty compartment across the aisle.
James was always doing things like that. Albus would always try to join James and his friends, but was always pushed aside. He felt like his father pushed him aside as well, because he and James got along so well. He supposed it was because his grandfather's name was James, and Harry never got to know him well.
As he sat down in the empty compartment across the way, some other kids in his year joined him.
"Hey, Albus, good seeing you! How have you been?" Mark Longbottom asked him, trying to catch the frog that was hopping out of his hands.
"Good, except these cancerous sores in my mouth."
"I should have known better than to ask you that. There always seems to be something wrong with you. How many times were you in the infirmary last year?"
"I think it was one-hundred and thirty seven? Give or take a few." Albus stuck his finger in his mouth and pulled down his lip, revealing some white spots on his gums.
"Oh my, Albus! That looks rotten!"
He had, just the other day, cut open some wounds on his gum and ate a lot of salty food – leaving ulcers that hurt incredibly.
"Yes, and nobody believes me when I tell them I have cancer! I do! I've had it before, and it came back a couple days ago!"
On the way off the train upon arrival at Hogwarts, Albus Potter tripped out the doorway and onto the ground.
"Ouch! I broke my arm!" Albus writhed on the ground in agony, clutching his left arm. People swarmed around him and several kids tried to help him to his feet. When he was once again standing, two third-years carried him to the infirmary, whilst he winced the entire way.
Upon arrival, Madame Pomfrey bid the other kids farewell, and walked Albus over to a bed.
"Now, Albus, I know you are okay. Let me see your arm," she said, rolling her eyes and grabbing a hold of his left arm. "Tell me the truth, Albus, did you do this to yourself? I don't see how you could have hurt yourself walking off of the train."
"No, Madame Pomfrey! I swear! It's really broken! It hurts really bad!" he answered. A few seconds later, he added, "And I have cancer!"
"Oh, Albus, be serious for a moment would you?"
"I am being serious, Madame! I do have cancer again! I really do, see?" He pulled down his lower lip, revealing the ulcers on his gums. "See? Oral cancer."
"Well, I might just have to have your parents in here to have a chat about what we can do about that," she told him, an idea formulating in her head.
"Good, we need to get this taken care of." He nodded his head in agreement and hopped down off the bed.
"Ah ah ah, no you don't, Albus, you know I have to use Skelegrow. You're not getting away from this."
It was the only thing he didn't like about faking certain things. Skelegrow was so painful and made him wish he hadn't faked breaking a bone, but for some reason, he could not stop. What he gained out of this was not tangible. People paid attention to him, and it made him feel good to see people watching him.
As he laid there in pain, he watched Madame Pomfrey write a letter on a piece of parchment, presumably to his parents, and saw her strap it to an owl. The owl soared out the window towards the brilliant full moon.
That night he dreamt of a plan that nobody could possibly think was false. He would make the Draught of Living Death, and then pass out in the middle of class. They would have to pay attention to him. It was a guaranteed plan.
The next morning, while he was still asleep, his parents arrived at the infirmary after receiving an urgent letter via owl mail.
"Mr. and Mrs. Potter, this has gone on for too long. I can't put up with it anymore. He was here one-hundred and thirty seven times last year, and was here last night – his first night back. We all know it's not real, but he keeps trying to convince us all that it is. We need to do something about this, because I'm finished with it. I just can't do it anymore." Madame Pomfrey hung her head and shook it woefully.
"Well, Madame Pomfrey, what do you suggest we do?" Ginny asked her, looking deeply interested.
"I propose that we act like we are actually going to perform a surgery on him. It will scare him into confessing. There's no way he'd go through with it. He knows that when people have oral cancer on their lower gums, they most often get that lower piece of their mouth removed. I suggest we tell him we are going to remove it. He'll confess to the whole thing."
"But, we can't do that to him. No, I won't allow that. He's just a kid. He doesn't mean anything by it. He just wants attention," Ginny replied, worried about her youngest son.
"Mrs. Potter, what do you suggest we do?"
"We need to let him get through this. It's probably just a phase he is going through. It'll be over soon enough," Harry chimed in.
"I'm telling you, Mr. Potter, if we keep letting him do this, he'll never stop. He will take advantage of all of the treatment he gets. If he sees we keep giving him the attention, he will never stop."
"Don't be ridiculous, of course he will!" Harry exclaimed. He was getting quite angry at how preposterous Madame Pomfrey's ideas were. There's no way his son would keep faking illnesses. It wasn't like he was addicted to it or anything. He would grow out of it. That was obvious to him.
"Fine, then I will continue treating him. You can go on your way. I can take it from here," Madame Pomfrey rushed them out of the infirmary, quite flustered at the fact that the Potters could not see what she could.
When Albus awoke from his sleep, Madame Pomfrey was standing overhead, examining him closely, with her fingers in his mouth rooting around for something.
"Well, Albus, it seems you do have oral cancer. I think we might have to remove the lower portion of your mouth. You parents owled back last night and gave me permission to perform the procedure. It won't be long; just a simple spell will do the trick. There's not much else we can do," she told him, very nonchalantly.
This was completely unexpected. For what reason did she all of a sudden believe him? He could think of none. He was wholly torn, however; his thoughts were utterly paradoxical. He wanted all to believe he had this very serious illness he had so cleverly disguised himself as having; however, he also had a deep love for every piece of his anatomy, including his mouth and all of its surrounding parts.
This was a moment to which he was always looking forward – a moment from whence everybody would have to believe him when he said he had cancer. From this point on, if he said something was wrong with him, they would believe him; he would get all of the attention he wanted and deserved.
That was it. He had to do it.
"Well, Madame, if you say we have no other choice, then what else can we do? We must go through with it," he told her, a slight smile piercing his lips.
"Alright, Albus, here it goes," she said, readying her wand.
Albus was fairly certain she wouldn't do it, anyway, so what was the harm in giving her the go ahead.
Apparently, she was not joking when she said she would do it.
CRACK! In an instant, and with a yellow spark from the tip of her wand, the lower piece of his jaw was instantaneously gone.
His scream pierced the ears of everybody in the school.
It had worked; he got the attention of everyone.