A/N: Hey guys! I decided to re-write this story before the Cursed Child came out as some of it no longer correlated to my own headcanons of the Harry Potter world after the Deathly Hallows. As I didn't really want to change the universe I had planned for this story (and I didn't particularly enjoy Cursed Child for several reasons) this story will be a strict AU from the Cursed child plot line. A lot of the dialogue between character will remain the same but some background information will not. Albus will be in Gryffindor during this, nobody will be accusing Scorpius of being the child of Voldemort (because why would Voldemort, someone incapable of love and self-assured in his own immortality, ever even want a child?) and Harry will be the DADA professor at Hogwarts because it makes much more sense for him to become a teacher after ridding the world of Voldemort than to go into a profession that forces him to continue to fight a war he was forced into fighting in the first place.
I'm also changing when this takes place so that it takes place during Albus' first year rather than second year.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the bold text is not my own work and I take no credit for it what-so-ever.
Extraordinary things are common place in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. From a flying Ford Anglia to an all out war, Hogwarts had seen many things. And although at first glance, seeing a first year Slytherin boy running through the corridors might not be the most exciting thing in the world, there is something important about this particular young Slytherin and where he's headed to.
This boy was Scorpius Malfoy, and he was running full pelt towards Gryffindor tower where he knew his best friends, Albus Potter and Rose Weasley, would be. He knew he had to get them- had to show them what he had found.
As he hurtled along the corridors he very almost crashed into the very people he was in such a rush to see. He should have remembered that Albus and Rose tended to stay in the library till evening on Fridays. As it was, he skidded and had to be caught by the small black haired boy that was his best friend.
"Any particular reason you're running like there's a dragon snapping at your heels Scorp?" asked Rose, smirking at him lightly, her blue eyes dancing with amusement as they usually did around her friends.
Scorpius looked up at her as he bent over, trying to catch his breath back so that he could answer her. Usually he wouldn't look such a mess, with his cheeks flushed pink and his usually sleek blond hair ruffled, but then again he had just run all the way from one side of the seventh floor to the other. Albus tilted his head with curiosity as he waited with Rose for their friend to be able to speak.
"Were the older Slytherins giving you trouble again Scorp?" he asked, hoping they hadn't been. Many of Scorpius' housemates had been giving him grief since his sorting. Being a Malfoy didn't exactly command the respect it once did. All it had done was label him a coward, a traitor to all- no matter what good Draco now did as a healer.
Scorpius had finally regained his breath and shook his head.
"No, well, not really. This is about something else; something much more important than that." He panted, straightening up and withdrawing a book from his bag.
It was a small book, covered by rich deep red leather, looking almost like a journal. Al looked at it inquisitively while Rose looked like she didn't know if she wanted to press the subject of the other Slytherins or question Scorpius on why he thought a journal was important. It seemed as her curiosity about the book won the battle for the moment, though Scorpius was sure she would get back on his case if he didn't distract her quickly.
"It's a book about your dad Al". At Albus' confused expression he carried on. " I found this book and six others a few minutes ago in this strange room. I had wanted to know why my house keeps saying these things about my dad and my family. You know how it is, my parents don't tell me anything about the war...anything about their years at Hogwarts actually. But all my house seem to know something I don't and it really frustrated me that I didn't know why. Then all of a sudden this door appears and when I go in there are these seven books all titled 'Harry Potter' and the something of something."
Halfway through his explanation Rose had taken the book from him and was now looking it over with a wary glance.
"Not that I don't believe you Scorp, because I do, but why on Earth would these suddenly appear when we've been wanting answers since our first day? Practically since the train ride really."
Albus carefully took the book from her and opened it up at the first page. At the top in big, bold letters it read: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Underneath this title was a picture of a boy who looked a lot like him only with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. It was his dad without a doubt.
"...maybe because we never asked for them..." he whispered, almost to himself.
"What?"
"Sorry, what did you say Al?"
Both Scorpius and Rose had turned at his quiet words and were now staring at him with confusion. He flushed slightly under their gaze but repeated what he had said.
"I said, maybe it was because we had never asked for answers. You've seen how our parents are Rose, they avoid talking about the war as much as possible when we're around... even Teddy doesn't know much more than what Dad teaches here in fifth year. We don't ask them because it makes them sad, and I bet no-one thought that if we asked Hogwarts it might reply."
Rose was shaking her head slightly while her blond friend seemed to be mulling over what Al had said. It wasn't that Rose thought Albus wasn't making sense but she never understood why Al talked about Hogwarts the way he did.
"Al, the castle isn't alive. Anyway, how do we even know this book is truthful?"
The boys looked at each other. Trust Rose to poke a logic-shaped hole through what could be their golden opportunity.
Albus bit his lip.
"Why don't we read the first chapter? If we recognise people in it and it matches to what little we do know then who's to say it doesn't tell the truth?"
Scorpius smiled slightly as he watched Rose think it over.
"I think it's a good idea. Rose?"
She turned to look at her two best friends and almost burst out laughing. As it was she barely managed to hold in her giggles; the two boys were doing their best puppy dog eyes at her, even though they both knew they looked ridiculous doing it. Giggling, she agreed to read the first chapter but only if they stopped making those stupid faces.
They both laughed and high-fived over their victory on this matter. They then followed Rose to an empty classroom, agreeing with her than it would be a bad idea to read it in the Gryffindor common room as it was often very noisy so they wouldn't be able to hear each other. They didn't even consider the Slytherin common room; the Chudley Cannons had a better hope at winning the league than they did of being allowed in that room.
As it was the three of them quickly pulled three chairs around a desk and stared at the book. It had suddenly hit them that this small book would be the gateway to the answer of questions that had plagued them since the first memorial service they had attended. All of a sudden they were almost hesitant to open it.
With a deep breath, Rose reached over and turned to the first page.
"The Boy Who Lived"
With one last glance over to her cousin, she began to read.
Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.
Albus snorted quietly.
At Rose's raised eyebrow he explained "I've met the Dursleys, well these two anyway, only once and they take 'normal' to the extreme. They are the most boring people I've ever met and that includes Uncle Percy and Molly."
They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.
They all traded looks with each other. Even Scorpius knew that all things strange and mysterious seemed to gravitate towards the Potters and the Weasleys, no matter what they were.
Mr Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills.
Here Scorpius looked up at Rose, about to ask what a 'drill' was but she held up her hand to stop him.
"Write down what you don't understand and I'll tell you at the end of the chapter."
He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache. Mrs Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbours. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.
The three of them all had raised eyebrows after this 'flattering' description but decided not refrain from commenting on the menagerie that was the Dursley family.
The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.
"I don't blame them, who'd want to know you lot?" said a joking voice from the doorway.
All three of them jumped and Rose quickly tried to hide the book while the other two tried to look as innocent as possible as Fred Weasley and James Potter came strolling into the classroom.
"Now what do we have here Fred?"
"Not three students not doing what they're not supposed to-"
"They'd know better-"
"Than to try and fool us-"
"Especially with those faces-"
"Right?"
They were both grinning like a cat that had cornered a mouse. James strolled over and sat down on the desk beside his brother, looking at him expectantly whilst Fred leant against the chair Rose was sitting on. The three first years traded guilty looks before Scorpius started to explain what he had found to James and Fred. After the explanation the two pranksters traded looks.
"Even though it's a book," here they shuddered in mock-disgust while Rose huffed at this slight on the precious recorders of knowledge. "It seems like one of the only ones worth reading."
They then plopped themselves down on chairs next to each other and looked expectantly at Rose.
She glared back at them.
Albus sighed, having seen enough arguments between his cousin and his brother to know where this was heading.
"Just read Rosie, they have a right to listen too. Plus you can't stop them once they have their minds made up."
Rose looked like she very much wanted to argue but let it drop in favour of getting back to the book.
Mrs Potter was Mrs Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister
They all frowned at this; James and Al because they knew that this was their Grandmother they were talking about, Rose and Fred because they had siblings and while they may annoy them sometimes, they wouldn't trade them for the world. Scorpius was frowning because even though he was an only child, he had always wanted a sibling so he wouldn't feel all alone in his home and he couldn't believe anyone would throw that away.
because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be.
James pretended to sniff haughtily "And proud of it."
The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbours would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.
The Potters frowned at the book.
"There's nothing wrong with Uncle Harry." Rose muttered, tightening her grip on the book slightly while trying to calm down at slight on her Uncle.
"Yeah and Cousin Dudley seems to agree with that too." James muttered, trading looks of confusion with his little brother. After all, if Great-Aunt Petunia had such a problem with their dad then why did he and Dudley get along?
When Mr and Mrs Dursley woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work
Fred pretended to be worried, raising one hand to cover his mouth and twisting his hair into mad spikes with the other.
"Is he quite sure about that? What if it was just a plain maroon tie? Not a plain grey tie. There are too many boring choices!"
As he and James continued to 'fret' over ties Rose ploughed on with the reading.
and Mrs Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.
None of them noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window.
Scorpius looked at them confused "Why would that matter?"
"Because Muggles don't use owl post Scorp" Rose explained.
"But then how do they get their letters?"
"They're delivered by postmen."
This didn't clear up most of his confusion but he let it go for now. After all, how could one person deliver all the mail up and down the country?
At half past eight, Mr Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs Dursley on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. 'Little tyke,' chortled Mr Dursley as he left the house.
Rose raised her eyebrow, unimpressed "If they encourage him, he's only going to get worse"
He got into his car and backed out of Number Four's drive.
It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar – a cat reading a map.
Fred gasped loudly, James fell off his chair, Rose rolled her eyes but continued to read before they could start talking.
For a second, Mr Dursley didn't realise what he had seen – then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive – no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs.
Al smiled slightly "they can if they're Animagi..."
James looked over at his little brother with a smirk "one galleon says it's McGonagall."
Albus just stared back.
"Despite what you think James, I'm not stupid. Definitely not stupid enough to take an obvious bet like that one."
Mr Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove towards town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.
But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks.
Scorpius frowned slightly but didn't pay too much attention to it. He knew Muggles didn't wear cloaks or robes, didn't understand why it was such a big deal, but knew from what was read so far, it wasn't what this particular Muggle would class as 'normal'.
Mr Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes – the get-ups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion.
Rose snorted "No it happens to be a very old fashion."
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly to each other. Mr Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him!
Fred nodded his head sagely "of course I quite agree. Wearing emerald green, for shame." he tutted with a meaningful glance towards the only Slytherin in the room.
James was nodding in agreement "True my dear fellow, it truly is atrocious!"
Al's jaw dropped in mock-surprise " Do you mean to tell me you know what that word means? Hallelujah! James might be able to learn things after all."
Rose quickly read on to avoid an argument, though not before throwing a smile of approval towards Al.
But then it struck Mr Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt – these people were obviously collecting for something ... yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on, and a few minutes later, Mr Dursley arrived in the Grunnings car park, his mind back on drills.
"One track mind this one." muttered Scorpius, cowering slightly at the look Rose sent him for interrupting her. She was getting pretty sick of it. She wanted to get to the answers, not be stuck reading about the Dursleys until curfew.
Mr Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at night-time.
Here the trio of first years frowned slightly, all catching on to this fact. What was going on to cause the wizarding world to be in such a flurry?
Mr Dursley had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls
Scorpius quickly started scribbling down on his list.
and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunch-time, when he thought he'd stretch his legs
Albus and James exchanged looks, remembering their trip to the Dursleys and not believing for once instant that he would go on a walk because he was in a good mood.
and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the baker's opposite.
And just like that the disbelief evaporated from their faces.
He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This lot were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.
'The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard –'
'– yes, their son, Harry –'
They all traded glances with each other, a shiver of dread running down their spines though they weren't quite sure why yet.
Mr Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.
He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone and had almost finished dialling his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his moustache, thinking ... no, he was being stupid.
James did a double take at the book "You mean he's finally noticed?"
Fred pretended to stroke an invisible moustache, similar to the way Vernon Dursley was doing in the book "well they do say that the first way to recovery, is admitting you have a problem in the first place."
"Well you better come out of denial soon, or you're never going to get better." Rose said sweetly before quickly continuing to read.
Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry.
Here the cousins frowned again. Coming from as large a family as they did, it was hard for them to believe that this man could be so out of connection with his family that he didn't even know his nephew's name. Sure, Uncle George liked to teasingly get his nieces and nephews names mixed up, but he never actually forgot who they all were. For such a family-orientated family, this man's behaviour was making them all a bit indignant.
He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold.
James and Fred turned to look at each other with a grimace "Harvey Potter?"
"It doesn't have the right ring to it, does it?"
There was no point in worrying Mrs Dursley, she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her – if he'd had a sister like that ...
James's face flushed an angry red colour whilst Albus's eyes narrowed in great dislike. "A sister like what exactly?"
"Grandma Lily was ten times a better person than you were."
but all the same, those people in cloaks ...
He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon, and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.
'Sorry,' he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell.
"Poor bloke." muttered Fred to James, trying to get his friend's mind off the insult to his Gran though he was angry too. Though Lily Potter wasn't his Gran, she was still his family and you didn't insult family in front of the Potters/Weasleys if you didn't want to wake up to stink bombs in your face for two weeks.
It was a few seconds before Mr Dursley realised that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passers-by stare:
Scorpius snorted lightly "anyone else think this sounds like Flitwick?"
'Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy happy day!'
Rose let out a small gasp as she realised what day this was. Looking around their little circle she could see in Al's eyes he was slowly realising what it was too.
And the old man hugged Mr Dursley around the middle and walked off.
"His arms fit?" Fred asked incredulously.
James's eyes were wide in disbelief "un-detectable extension charm maybe?"
Mr Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.
James and Fred fell off their chairs again, spluttering in real indignation and floundering at the thought of not approving of imagination. They had been faking disbelief before but this called for some real confusion. After all, imagination was incredibly important! Otherwise how could you think of new prank ideas?
As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw – and it didn't improve his mood – was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.
Al and Scorpius shared a look "definitely McGonagall."
'Shoo!' said Mr Dursley loudly.
The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look.
James, Fred, Albus, and Scorpius all smirked, having been on the receiving end of that look several times.
Was this normal cat behaviour, Mr Dursley wondered.
"Normal Minnie behaviour." James chirped, finally pulling himself together after the shock of someone not approving of imagination.
Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife. Mrs Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learnt a new word ('Shan't!').
Rose looked disapprovingly at the book in her hands, not even wanting to think about what this boy would have been like to live with.
Mr Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living-room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:
'And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.' The news reader allowed himself a grin. 'Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?' 'Well, Ted,' said the weatherman,
James and Albus grinned.
"Teddy!" they exclaimed, missing their god-brother and looking forward to seeing him during the Christmas break. Rose bit her lip while Scorpius looked confused.
"Teddy? Isn't that your god-brother? The one who's training to become an Auror?"
James nodded excitedly, looking ready to launch into an explanation of their awesome friend but Rose cut him off.
"Do you think we should tell Teddy about these books?"
Fred looked at her "Why? He'd tell the adults for sure."
"Well, it's just that...his dad will be in these books, his mum too. I think he deserves to read these books more than any of us."
There was a silence as they digested this. It was true that Teddy only knew what others had told him about his parents but it would be different to read it for himself; to read the exact words used by his father and mother... Maybe there was even a part where they talk about him? Scorpius did say there were multiple books...and Teddy had been born in the middle of the second war...
Albus was looking around their little group, trying to see what everyone else thought about it. He knew he'd feel incredible guilty in not telling Teddy, more guilty than he already did about reading this behind his dad's back.
"I think we should tell him. He knows more about Dad's past than us but he still doesn't know all of it. And his parents were in the thick of it. How about when we go home for the holidays tomorrow, we tell him and he can decide whether he wants to join in, yeah?"
The others nodded their agreement and seeing as that was now sorted, Rose found her place and continued.
'I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early – it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight.'
Mr Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters ...
Albus snorted slightly and leaned over to whisper to Scorpius "If he could figure it out, it's a surprise the whole Muggle world hadn't worked it out. Great Uncle Vernon is about as attentive as Binns."
Mrs Dursley came into the living-room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. 'Er – Petunia, dear – you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?'
As he had expected, Mrs Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.
They all frowned at this reminder, Rose and James flushing the famous Weasley red whilst Fred tried to get his own anger under control "Well I wouldn't blame Lily Potter for pretending you weren't her sister if that's the way you act."
'No,' she said sharply. 'Why?'
'Funny stuff on the news,' Mr Dursley mumbled. 'Owls ... shooting stars ... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today ...'
'So?' snapped Mrs Dursley.
'Well, I just thought ... maybe ... it was something to do with ... you know ... her lot.
"Her lot?" hissed Rose, insulted "What's that supposed to mean?"
Albus sighed "'most likely it means witches and wizards. The only time we met them only Cousin Dudley actually used the terms 'wizard', 'witch' and 'magic'."
Scorpius frowned "But why? They're just words."
Albus turned to his friend, trying to think how best to explain his Great Aunt and Uncle's aversion to magic.
"Think of it like how the magical world used to be afraid of saying Voldemort. They called him 'You-Know-Who' and other stupid names because they were scared of him. It's kinda like that; they're scared of magic so they don't want to say anything that relates to it."
Mrs Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name 'Potter'. He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, 'Their son – he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?'
'I suppose so,' said Mrs Dursley stiffly.
'What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?'
'Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me.'
"No one did." muttered James. It usually took a lot to get him this aggravated yet this book was already doing a brilliant job at it, and it wasn't even the end of the chapter yet. But this was his family and, even more than that, this was his dad that was being criticised so harshly...And as a baby too!
'Oh, yes,' said Mr Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. 'Yes, I quite agree.'
He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it was waiting for something.
Was he imagining things?
Fred raised his eyebrows "Thought you didn't approve of imagination?"
Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did ... if it got out that they were related to a pair of – well, he didn't think he could bear it.
The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind ... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on. He yawned and turned over. It couldn't affect them ...
How very wrong he was.
"Wish he wasn't." muttered Al, more for his dad's sake than his own. From what he could remember of the visit to the Dursleys his dad had not liked being anywhere near that house and he could only imagine why that was.
'Well, I guess I won't have to imagine why,' he thought gloomily 'this book will probably tell me why.'
Mr Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed in the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.
A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.
"Who do you think it is?" asked Fred, leaning around Rose to try and read ahead, anxious to get his cousin's mind off of the Dursleys.
James smirked "Obviously it's Kingsley, who else would decide to have a stroll down Privet Drive?"
"Professor Strockpott might have, seeing as all our teachers seem to be in the area"
"Professor Strockpott wasn't teaching back then was he?"
"He's ancient enough to have been."
"Well, which other professor could it have been?"
Rose raised her voice over the conversation before the two boys started listing every male professor at Hogwarts.
Nothing like this man had ever been seen in Privet Drive. He was tall, thin and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak which swept the ground and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice.
Albus gave a small start. He recognised this man's description, recognised him from the portrait in the headmistresses office. It was his namesake after all.
This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.
Almost as one everyone turned to look at their own Albus, James and Fred with identical smirks on their faces.
"If you want to confess to wear high-heels Albie, don't worry, we won't laugh."
Albus merely rolled his eyes, not wanting to get into this with those two who would most likely try and force him into high-heels for the sake of 'living up to his name'. He'd much rather be labelled bookworm for life by them than be forced to try and walk in those death traps.
Rose however shared a grin with Scorpius that went unnoticed by the other three. They both agreed that Albus seemed to have more than a name in common with Dumbledore; his eyes, though bright green, sparkled with the same light as they imagined Dumbledore's would have.
Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realise that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome.
"He probably didn't care." said James, reclining in his chair, balancing on the back legs "If the stories we've heard were true then Dumbledore never cared much about what other people thought."
He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realise he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, 'I should have known.'
He had found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.
"That's Dad's Deluminator." Rose exclaimed in surprise, blinking down at the book in curiosity.
"He did say he got it from Dumbledore. I suppose we'll see how in these books."
He clicked it again – the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer,
Scorpius looked at Rose, confused "I thought you said it was called a Deluminator?" he asked her.
Rose nodded, wondering why any other name was used.
"That's what Dad calls it...maybe when Dumbledore made it he couldn't decide what to call it so he called it a 'Put-Outer' until he thought of a good enough name?"
until the only lights left in the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street towards number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.
'Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.'
James and Fred exchanged smirks even though they all knew it was coming. Once you had seen McGonagall's animagus form you'd recognise her anywhere.
He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.
Fred and James traded impressed looks. They had made it their life mission to get as many emotions out of McGonagall as possible and 'ruffled' was not one they had accomplished just yet.
'How did you know it was me?' she asked.
Scorpius snorted lightly.
"Anyone with eyes could tell it was her."
"Only if you had seen her transformation before." Rose pointed out fairly.
"Well I'd hope Dumbledore would have seen it before that day. She was one of his teachers after all, if he couldn't tell just by looking at her then he obviously didn't pay as much attention as he should have." His voice may have been completely serious but the twinkle of amusement in his eyes told Rose that he was joking. He'd never insult Dumbledore in a harmful way in front of Al, mainly because that was one sure fire way to get Al angry; a very hard thing to do.
'My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly.'
"Well there's that too." Scorpius conceded with a wry grin.
'You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day,' said Professor McGonagall.
'All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here.'
Albus looked down at this.
"...they're celebrating a family being torn apart..." he whispered, not really meaning to think out loud but when he realised Rose had stopped reading he looked up to see the rest of them, bowing their heads in respect for James and Lily Potter. He caught his brother's eye and managed a half-hearted smile. Though they argued a lot, they were still brothers and he still sometimes wanted reassurance from his big brother; reassurance that he wasn't the only one who wished that they could've met their grandparents.
Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.
'Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right,' she said impatiently. 'You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no – even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news.' She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. 'I heard it. Flocks of owls ... shooting stars ... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent – I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense.'
'You can't blame them,' said Dumbledore gently. 'We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years.'
"I knew the first war was long, but I never knew it lasted for eleven years." whispered Rose, the sombre mood around them not allowing her to speak normally.
'I know that,' said Professor McGonagall irritably. 'But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumours.'
She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on: 'A fine thing it would be if, on the day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?'
'It certainly seems so,' said Dumbledore. 'We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a sherbet lemon?'
Scorpius looked up in bewilderment "A what?"
Albus smiled slightly at him "They're a Muggle sweet, they're really good."
James leaned over with a smirk "Al smuggles them in every holiday seeing as you can't get them here. I swear he can't live without his sherbet lemons."
Al swatted him on the arm.
"Like you can't live without your chocolate frogs."
'A what?'
"Didn't we just go through this?" Fred groaned, throwing a teasing smirk towards Scorpius who had flushed lightly at saying the same thing as his headmistress.
'A sherbet lemon. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of.'
Rose grinned at Al.
"I suppose now we know why Uncle Harry laughs every time he buys you sherbet lemons."
Al grinned back at her.
"And why McGonagall smiles whenever she catches me eating them."
He was surprised but happy to find another thing he had in common with one of his namesakes. It was nice to know that he had even this small thing in common with such a great man, other than his love of reading.
'No, thank you,' said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for sherbet lemons.
Al opened his mouth in mock-outrage.
"It's always the moment for sherbet lemons." and as if to prove his point he took a bag of them out his pocket and happily started to eat them, giving one to Scorpius so he could try.
'As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone –'
'My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this "You-Know-Who" nonsense – for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort.' Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two sherbet lemons, seemed not to notice. 'It all gets so confusing if we keep saying "You-Know-Who". ' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name.'
"I never would have thought McGonagall used to be scared of saying the name." Scorpius muttered. To him, his headmistress seemed far too tough to even flinch at the sound of an explosion going off, let alone just a single name.
"Shows you just how frightening he was though." pointed out Rose, glad she would never have to find out what it was like to fear even the name of a person.
'I know you haven't,' said Professor McGonagall, sounding half-exasperated, half-admiring. 'But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know – oh, all right, Voldemort – was frightened of.'
'You flatter me,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'Voldemort had powers I will never have.'
'Only because you're too – well – noble to use them.'
'It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs.'
Fred and James looked like they didn't know whether to laugh or to grimace. They chose to laugh, sniggering at the thought of this powerful old man wearing ludicrous pairs of earmuffs.
Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, 'The owls are nothing to the rumours that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?'
It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever 'everyone' was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another sherbet lemon and did not answer.
'What they're saying,' she pressed on, 'is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumour is that Lily and James Potter are – are – that they're – dead.'
Albus pulled his legs up to his chest, resting his head on his knees as his eyes dulled in sadness, Scorpius leaned over and squeezed his shoulder in a silent show of comfort, whilst Fred did the same for James who had his head bowed and seemed to be having a staring contest with the floor. It had never really hit him properly how little he knew about his grandparents on his father's side. He knew that they had died, seen their gravestones, their old house, he was even named after his grandfather.
But he had never felt grief for all the lost memories he could have had until then. Al obviously did but that was because he was more sensitive than James, always more in-tune with other people's emotions. Now though he wondered whether that really was a good thing, like their mum was always saying it was.
Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.
'Lily and James ... I can't believe it ... I didn't want to believe it ... Oh, Albus ...'
The two Potters smiled faintly at that. It was nice to know that McGonagall had cared so much about them.
James bit his lip slightly, not really comfortable in voicing his thoughts aloud in front of his little brother and his best friend but he couldn't hold it in. "Do you think, if I asked her, she would tell me about them?...I hardly know much about him..."
Albus smiled at him, latching on to this slightly happier, though not by much, topic "You can come with me next time I go to talk with Professor Dumbledore. I'll talk to him while you can talk to McGonagall, alright?"
James gave him a slight grin and nodded, though he couldn't help wondering, when was the last time he had gone anywhere willingly with Albus?
Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. 'I know ... I know ...' he said heavily.
Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. 'That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potters' son, Harry.
Dead silence followed these words before;
"What!"
Both Potter boys had paled even more, rounding on Rose with wide eyes. They couldn't believe that Voldemort had tried to kill their dad when he was a baby! And that they were only just finding out about this! Why did learning that their dad could have died as a baby have to be something they learnt from a book?
Scorpius bit his lip, not comfortable with seeing his friend look that pale and nervous.
"Don't worry Al, your dad's fine, right? We had class with him a few hours ago, remember?"
Rose looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
"That's not the point Scorp. He tried to kill a baby! After killing his parents!"
Fred looked around, worried.
"We really need Teddy here."
When Rose turned to look at him, he went on to explain "we really know nothing about Uncle Harry's life. Teddy knows the most so he should be able to explain things right? Like why Voldemort tried to kill Uncle Harry when he was a baby."
"Plus," he added in an undertone to Rose.
"He would know best at how to comfort those two." he nodded towards the still shocked brothers.
"They practically grew up around him, right?"
But – he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke – and that's why he's gone.'
Dumbledore nodded glumly.
'It's – it's true?' faltered Professor McGonagall. 'After all he's done ... all the people he's killed ... he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding ... of all the things to stop him ... but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?'
'We can only guess,' said Dumbledore. 'We may never know.'
"He knows." James muttered, finally coming out of his shock induced trance. Who could blame him though, he had just found out a psycho megalomaniac tried to kill his dad when he was just a baby.
"Dad always said Dumbledore knew most things before anyone else. I'll bet he knows why Dad's still alive."
Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, 'Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?'
Albus perked up a bit at Hagrid's name and shared a small grin with Rose and Scorpius. They all loved Hagrid. 'The second coming of the Golden Trio' he had called them once, and he was one of the first people they would go to if they needed help or comfort.
'Yes,' said Professor McGonagall. 'And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?'
'I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now.'
Here they all groaned, not wanting to be reminded of the Dursleys.
'You don't mean – you can't mean the people who live here?' cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. 'Dumbledore – you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son – I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter, come and live here?'
Even though she already knew the outcome, Rose couldn't help wishing that McGonagall managed to change Dumbledore's mind.
'It's the best place for him,' said Dumbledore firmly. 'His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter.'
Rose's eyes narrowed as her ears turned red in anger.
"A letter?" she snapped. "He's telling a woman that her sister has died and he's giving her her nephew... with a letter! How would that explain his accidental magic? The truth about our world? All the different-"
Scorpius cut her off with a flat look, knowing her ranting wouldn't help his best friend with the revelation that he had gone through."If you don't stop ranting I'll take the book off you."
She glared at him but hid behind the pages again, anger still colouring her voice as she read.
'A letter?' repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. 'Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous – a legend – I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter Day in future
Fred snorted and grinned at James.
"How do you think your dad will take it if we start a petition for a 'Harry Potter Day'?"
James gave a hoot of laughter as he imagined his dad's face at that. He would be absolutely mortified.
– there will be books written about Harry –
They all shared a look as Rose raised the book higher to hide her amused smile.
every child in our world will know his name!'
'Exactly,' said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. 'It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?'
Rose sighed and looked around.
"Despite the fact that he's leaving him with the Dursleys, that's actually a very good point."
Fred frowned at her.
"Doesn't mean he had to leave him with the Dursleys. I'm sure there are other people capable of taking care of a kid- Gran for example."
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed and then said, 'Yes – yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?' She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.
James and Fred shuddered in mock-fear whilst making exaggerated faces of disgust.
'Hagrid's bringing him.'
'You think it – wise – to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?'
The first year trio all made faces of indignation as they cried out; "Hagrid's brilliant!"
Fred nodded proudly with their statement while James pretended to toast them with a hearty 'hear, hear'. All of them adored Hagrid and he was always the first port of call whenever they had something troubling them. Other than Harry or Neville that is.
'I would trust Hagrid with my life,' said Dumbledore.
"Just don't trust him with your secrets." mumbled Fred with a wince. They all loved Hagrid to death but they knew how loose his tongue could be when drunk.
'I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place,' said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, 'but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to – what was that?'
They all looked nervous, wondering what it could possibly be now.
A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky – and a huge motorbike fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.
You could literally see the stars in James and Fred's eyes.
"I think I have a new life's ambition." James whispered in reverent awe.
Fred looked up at them with a mad gleam in his eye.
"You know how it's my birthday soon? That's what I want."
Rose looked at the two of them, exasperated.
"It's a flying death trap. No-one in their right mind would get you two one of those, let alone enchant it to make it fly."
If the motorbike was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild – long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of dustbin lids and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.
"And Dad makes his first appearance." grinned James, while Rose looked like she was looking forward to hearing about her baby Uncle.
'Hagrid,' said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. 'At last. And where did you get that motorbike?'
'Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir,' said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorbike as he spoke. 'Young Sirius Black lent it me.
James whooped and grinned, this was even more reason to want a flying motorcycle in his eyes.
"See! That just makes it even more awesome. I have to get one now Rosie, I need to live up to my name!"
Rose narrowed her eyes.
"Don't call me Rosie. And you don't need the bike to live up to your name, I thought annoying Professor McGonagall to an early grave was living it up enough."
I've got him, sir.'
'No problems, were there?'
'No, sir – house was almost destroyed but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol.'
Rose cooed slightly while her best friends traded bemused expressions, wondering if she really did understand that this was her uncle she was cooing over.
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.
'Is that where –?' whispered Professor McGonagall.
'Yes,' said Dumbledore. 'He'll have that scar forever.'
"So that's how he got it..." mumbled Al, knowing, as did all his family, his dad's strong dislike for the scar on his forehead.
'Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?'
'Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in useful. I have one myself above my left knee which is a perfect map of the London Underground.
Fred grinned "how do you think he got that?"
"No clue. Be one hell of a story though wouldn't it?" said James, a faraway look of his face as he tried to imagine how he could have got that scar.
Well – give him here, Hagrid – we'd better get this over with.'
Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned towards the Dursleys' house.
'Could I – could I say goodbye to him, sir?' asked Hagrid.
He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.
James and Fred re-enacted his howl with their own pitiful whimpers thrown in, causing Scorpius and Al to laugh and Rose to look half-amused, half-annoyed at the interruption.
'Shhh!' hissed Professor McGonagall. 'You'll wake the Muggles!'
"Not very good at comforting people is she?" snorted Scorpius.
"What are you talking about? McGonagall's the very picture of maternal caring!" exclaimed Fred in mock-outrage causing James to snort loudly as he tried to imagine a maternal McGonagall.
'S-s-sorry,' sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. 'But I c-c-can't stand it – Lily an' James dead – an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles –'
'Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found,' Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep,
"On the doorstep?" Rose exclaimed "It's the first of November! And in the middle of the night, and there was supposed to be rain that night!"
took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.
"No, not the twinkle!" exclaimed Fred and James, falling out their chairs in exaggerated shock. It was important to them to try and keep everyone's spirit up now that Harry would be living with the Dursleys.
Again Scorpius and Rose swapped glances, seeming to agree that they never wanted to see a time where the light left Albus's eyes.
'Well,' said Dumbledore finally, 'that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations.'
'Yeah,' said Hagrid in a very muffled voice. 'I'd best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall – Professor Dumbledore, sir.'
Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself on to the motorbike and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.
'I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall,' said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.
"I am so doing that the next time she asks me a question." exclaimed James gleefully.
Rose let out a frustrated breath "We're almost at the end so will you please stop interrupting?"
Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.
'Good luck, Harry,' he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak he was gone.
Albus sighed "he's going to need it."
When Rose turned to look at him with a glare he just threw her a cheeky smile and mimed zipping his lips.
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley ... He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: 'To Harry Potter – the boy who lived!'
There was a small stretch of silence as they all digested this before Rose shut the book and moved to put it in the small, beaded bag her mother had given her at the start of the year. At the others questioning glances she explained.
"I don't think we should read anymore tonight. Knowing you two, Fred and James, I'm going to bet you haven't packed yet to go home so you need to do that, we're leaving tomorrow morning after all. Besides, I don't think we should read anymore until we've got Teddy with us."
The others nodded in understanding before they all got up, James and Fred leaving the classroom before the other three, giving Al a noogie on the way past.
When it was just the three of them left Scorpius handed the rest of the books over to Rose for safe keeping.
"It's a good thing you're coming to my house for Christmas Scorp." Al turned to grin at his friend, wanting to break the silence in the room before it got awkward. He was glad that his friend had found the books but he didn't want to dwell on the fact that his dad had a murderer out for his blood since he was a baby.
Scorpius smiled and slung his arm around Al's shoulders.
"Yup, first time Dad's busiest hours and Mum's business trips have been welcomed. Think about it; a whole two weeks of reading books, dodging your brother's pranks, and aggravating Rosie."
Rose slapped his arm from the other side of Al "Don't call me Rosie or I'll jinx you."
Al laughed quietly "Aww come on Rosie, you love us really."
Rose just huffed out a laugh before leading the way out of the classroom, her best friends behind her, chuckling at her expense; all of them looking forward to tomorrow and the next chapter.