Albus Potter and the Order of the Scylla

by S. Zed

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters and places found in the H.P. series are the brilliant brain child of J.K.R.

CHAPTER ONE

New Friends and Nerbdankles

I have decided to record the monumental account of my first year at Hogwarts for many reasons, not least of which is that it makes for great reading fodder, but primarily in order to dispel certain pernicious and wantonly undeserved rumors. Let me set it out at the start: I am not a coward and my degree of self sacrifice knows no bounds. I do, however, like to consider myself exceedingly prudent and logical. What, I ask of you, is the advantage of being beaten to a ruddy pulp together with one's silly (and quite head-strong) friend when a hasty retreat will leave you in a better position to help him later? I trust that makes sense to all and to any fool who thinks different I respectfully recommend that he or she put down this document and go insult a hippogriff.

My name, as I am sure you are all aware, is Silvanus Zed, order of Merlin First Class, frequent contributor to the Daily Prophet and boyhood friend of Albus Potter.

I do remember quite clearly the first time I laid eyes on the young man. I had already settled comfortably into a plush seat on the crimson Hogwarts express opposite another first year who, for some odd reason, had a white string protruding out of each ear that joined and connected to a small box. I cannot be sure of the enchantment this device held but it seemed to render her quite oblivious to her surroundings and I was happy to leave it at that.

It was then that our compartment door slid open and a boy with dark disheveled hair quickly took us in with his bright green eyes. Without waiting another moment, (obviously concluding we weren't worth too much thought) he rushed to the window just as the train gave its first lurch in order to wave his last farewell to his happy yet wet-eyed parents. (I must note at this point, that Albus commonly displayed behaviors of open and retched sentimentality that I was wholly unable to cure him of. On the subject, he would often comment that he hoped he would rub off on me in order to turn me into a "real boy". Whatever that meant.)

He laughed and cried as his parents slowly diminished and then completely disappeared as the train turned a curve at which time he lightly lowered his hand. He slowly turned to face the compartment and this time fully take in his new and uncharted environment (whereupon followed quite an awkward silence). He seemed to radiate with both nervousness and excitement; Apprehension at the idea of being out for the very first time without his parents but still eager to prove his own strength and independence. (You doubt my summation? I will have you know I attained a N.E.W.T. in wizard psychology, which is pretty impressive considering the crackpots I had teaching me.)

He was spared further discomfort as the door slid open and his face relaxed as it only can when encountering someone familiar. "Albie!" the flame-haired girl squealed, her features beaming with pleasure. "Can you believe it? We're on our way! We are actually on our way! Look, look at my hands! They're shaking. This is really incredible. This is wicked incredible. We'll finally be allowed to perform REAL magic and not just those ridiculous card tricks that granddad lets us play with, I mean honestly, what does he think we are, five? But no, we'll be studying the real stuff. Of course, mum has had me read most of my school book already but it really is not the same and, oh, I can't wait to show up Victoire. She always has been a tad smug for my taste and- Oh this is wicked incredible! Don't you think so to? Don't you? I've been looking all up and down the train for you, by the way. Where have you been?"

(I decided right then and there that I did not like her. I also wished that I too had a box with strings for my ears and my growing migraine.)

Albus shrugged sheepishly. "To be honest, Rose," he said, "I was sort of avoiding James."

The girl named Rose nodded knowingly, "Yea, he can be kind of a prat. I mean, you should have heard the pile of rubbish he was trying to unload on me about thestrals. Something about sneaking up on you in the bathroom midstream and whispering in your ear-"

"Yes, I'd heard that one before." Albus laughed. "But dad told me they're kinda' gentle and dead-useful."

"Your dad would know about that type of stuff, I suppose."

"I'm surprised your mum hasn't made you read up on all these magical creatures yet."

"Well, she did tell me to," Rose said, a hint of guilt in her voice. "But that damn book bit me eight times, I finally gave it up as a bad job."

"It what?"

"No, seriously. I'm not joking. I still have the scars on my fingers to-" Her voice trailed off as a boy with slicked back blond hair strutted past our compartment. He paused for a moment, catching the eyes of Albus and Rose, sent them a soft smirk and continued down the car. The two friends seemed deeply relieved that he had opted not to dawdle. "Can you imagine," Rose began, "if Scorpius Malfoy ended up in our house?"

"Never happen," Albus asserted, flatly. "In some cases it's pretty obvious which house a student will end up in." He held his arm up to the window in order to cast the shadow of a serpent on the opposite wall.

"Cute," Rose giggled. "He'd deserve it, that's for sure."

(At this point, you are all probably wondering if I had nothing better to do than eaves drop on the private conversations of my fellow travel mates. The answer is quite simple: No. So I had buried my nose in some magazine that was too boring to recall and listened intently. So sue me.)

"I heard your dad telling you he'd disown you if you didn't make Gryffindor," said Albus. "Harsh,"

"Not really," Rose replied, lightly. "I'd probably disown myself if that happened. Snap my own wand and live out the rest of my days as a muggle." She considered for a minute. "I'd probably do worse if I was sorted into Slytherin."

They both snorted derisively, this obviously being the apex of a bad joke. "I know," said Albus. "I heard the lot of them couldn't tell if a dung bomb was hidden in their shampoo."

"That all you heard? I heard their common room was often mistaken for a run-down lavatory."

"That all you heard? I heard-"

"I think we've all heard enough."

All heads turned to the compartment door where a tall seventh year girl stood, dark eyes framed by glistening cascades of black locks. More interesting than her features, though, was the great "P" pinned ostentatiously on her cloak. "Now, really," she said, a delicate whisper emanating from rigid lips. "Is this the way Hogwarts students display their school spirit?"

Rose looked taken aback and turned red but Albus met her gaze evenly. "This is a private conversation," he said. "And we didn't ask for your opinion on our opinions."

The girl's face gave a slight twitch but she merely smiled coldly and tutted. "That's quite a mouth you have there, Potter isn't it? Yes, you do look a bit like your brother. I'd watch myself if I were you. Term hasn't started yet but in future your house will suffer for an attitude like that. I'd suggest you remedy it before we pull into the school."

The girl left and Albus and Rose sat in silence for a while, Albus breathing slightly harder than usual and Rose slowly letting the blood leave her cheeks. "Albus, you shouldn't have-"

"But I was right. She's probably just sore because she's in Slytherin."

"All the same, she's a prefect. Albus, you shouldn't have-"

But what Albus "shouldn't have" was forever lost to the sands of time as the door slid open and a third year boy stuck his impish face into the compartment. "Very nice, Albie," he crooned. "Not even at school yet and already making a move on Ursula Qualm."

"I did not 'make a move' on her, James!" Albus said, indignation sharp in his voice. (Rose stifled a laugh and some of the redness returned.) "I didn't even know her name was-"

"Yea, that's absolutely fascinating, little brother. Not bad taste on your part, even if she is a little pure-blood. Listen, the food trolley is coming around. Any chance I can mooch a couple'a' knutts?"

The cousins gave theatric shrugs. "All I have on me is a galleon," Albus said, pulling it out and flipping it in the air. "And I'm spending it on me."

"All my spending money is packed in my trunk." said Rose, meekly.

Albus' head spun around sharply. "What?" he demanded. "Didn't your mum and dad know they'd be selling sweets on the train?"

"They sent me with a care package of fruits and vegetables." she said, holding up a little brown paper bag. "Granddad Granger is apposed to sweets of all kind, for some reason. Magical or muggle."

James shook his head in an attitude of disgust. "You two are absolutely worthless." he said. "How about you?"

"W-what?"

"Yea, you. The kid with his long pointy nose buried in the Witch Weekly magazine. How about donating to the cause?"

"Um, yea, sure, I guess." I said, handing some copper coins to the older boy.

"Good man. See you squirts around." And the door slammed shut as he trundled on after the food trolley.

(I hope this little anecdote will give the reader some insight into the character of the young boy just described. Although my nose was rudely and inaccurately described, I remained magnanimous and affable and probably would have remained so even if I were not completely intimidated by the third year.)

"You want to be careful, lending James money." Albus said, addressing me for the first time. "He'll try to make it a habit for you."

"He seems all right." I said shyly.

"Yea, we think he's a prat to." said Rose. "I'm Rose, by the way. Rose Weasley. This is Albus Potter."

"Silvanus Zed."

"Sorry, what was that?"

"No, that's my name. Sivanus Zed."

"Ah," said Rose, recovering quickly. "That's a...nice name."

"I think so." I replied, dryly. "It actually is quite an interesting story. You see, I was named after my great-"

"OH, BLOODY NURBDANKLES! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

We all turned in surprise to the girl (with the box and strings) in the corner of the compartment, having completely forgotten she was there. "Er," I said, nervously. "I beg your pardon?"

"Not you, stupid." she spat, irritably. "It's this dumb, broken down ipod!" She held the little box and glared at it malevolently, her dirty-blond hair almost crackling with fury and disappointment.

"Eye pod?" The three of us exchanged bewildered looks.

"Yes, ipod. It was working fine the whole trip and then all of a sudden it up and breaks and now all I'm getting is a whole lot of static! And I just bought it, too. Lousy cheap manufacturing."

I personally didn't glean much from her outburst, but Albus seemed to have an inkling as to what she was talking about. "Er, this...eye pod," he began. "It's some sort of muggle device?"

"What?" she said, distractedly. "Oh, yea. Of course."

"Ah," said Rose, the confusion disappearing from her eyes. "Then it probably runs on lecticity."

"What?"

"Lecticity," Rose explained, kindly. "It's something that muggles use in place of magi-"

"I know all that!" the girl snapped, impatiently. "I'm muggle-born."

"Oh," said Rose, a bit deflated. "But the point is that the device is not broken. All muggle devices stop working at Hogwarts. We must be getting near the Hogwarts grounds."

Albus looked at his cousin, unmistakably impressed. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Oh," she gave a light shrug. "It's in this book, Hogwarts a History. Mum's a little daft about the family reading it."

In the mean time, the dirty-blond girl's face had relaxed and with it, the general atmosphere of the compartment. "Sorry about that." she said, stuffing the box into her pocket. "I don't usually overreact that way but I take my stuff very seriously. My name is Agnes Murehead, by the by.

"Rose Weasley,"

"Albus Potter,"

"Sivanus Zed,"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"No, no, you see, that's his name."

"Yes, it actually is quite an interesting story. You see, I was named after my great-"

"You should have seen the spectacle in my parents kitchen when that first letter was delivered," said Agnes, interrupting me mid flow. (Quite rude, really, but there you are.) "Feathers everywhere! My dad is something of a hunter, you see, and when an owl just flies brazenly through our open window, well, he was really asking for it, according to dad. 'Wanted to stay for dinner' were his exact words. Anyways, after we swept up all the shattered china and wood chips this lady pops up right in the middle of the debacle and calms down the messenger owl, that had been hiding under the couch, incidentally, and then announces to all that I'm a witch. That's when the action started."

Albus and Rose giggled slightly. "The stuff we miss, growing up in the magic community." he said.

"It was probably Professor McGonagall," Rose offered. "But tell us what happened next."

"Yes, that's all very interesting," said I. "But getting back to my name, it was my-"

"Well, after she said I was a witch," Agnes butt in, (You see? You see? Rude!) "My dad took it completely the wrong way. You see, in the muggle world, the word 'witch' has got two connotations and he almost turned the Winchester on her. My mum began to cry because she didn't want my skin to turn green and my brother and sisters wanted to know when their super powers would be announced. All in all, it was much better than what was on the 'Late Night Show'."

"The what?"

"Oh, that's a-"

"Oy, you midgets!" a stocky sixth year boy had slid the door open a slit. "You want to be getting into your school robes about now. We're almost there."