Disclaimer : Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling. I am a mere fan writing a story.
It was the week subsequent to the start of Albus's sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was seated in the Slytherin common room, staring at the flickering embers being consumed by the flames of the fireplace.
He raised himself from his seat on the snug divan where he had laid, perturbed by the incessant lightning that struck outside, he had always feared lightning when he was a child and had not grown out of that habit.
Albus had always feared being ridiculed by his roommates due to his uninvited anxiety. It was caused as a result of his brother instilling fabrications into the over-imaginative head of a seven year old. James had always been a mischief-maker, evidence being that on one fateful stormy night, a time when the two brothers shared room accommodations, Albus had inquired something of James and came to lament over his childhood curiosity in the coming years.
He had asked him after a particularly ostentatious flash of lightning, "What was that?"
After weaving a tall tale of mystery, intrigue, and dismay, James gave an impish smile to his brother and went to bed. Albus, on the other hand did no such thing, he thought to himself he would rather lie in his bed than go over to James's neighboring one and ask permission to lie beside him because James would only mock him incessantly. And Albus being prideful, even at the tender age of seven, would not be able to bear his brothers playful ridicule. Truth be told, he is very sensitive and so hides behind his pride in order to keep his emotions at bay, withdrawing himself from others as an outcome.
However, that does not mean that he is companionless, that would be hard due to the amount of families that attends Hogwarts. Although he loves his family it had become hard for him to convey his inner feelings to them as a result of a traumatizing experience that he thinks about to this day.
When they were children both the Potter's and the Weasley's were sent to their grandmothers house, Molly Weasley, where they would all play with one another. Albus, being the one who's tired from all the running around the fastest, would then venture into the kitchen and spot Molly Weasley moving in a flurry of activity, preparing snacks for the children who she knew would request nourishment the moment they tired out of their games.
At times Albus would help Molly by assisting her in cutting up vegetables for a salad, setting a cake in the oven, at times even just setting up the table before a meal. However, there were days when Albus would be seated on one of the kitchen chairs watching Molly as she moved about the kitchen, it would seem that whenever he was around she would keep her magic to a minimum, perhaps to prolong the time they spent together and Albus would always be silently grateful for it.
Whenever Albus would stay rooted to his seat watching his grandmother cook or bake, it was as if she knew something was wrong, she always knew when there was something troubling him, it was not as if his parents were ignorant of him or anything of that sort, it was just that it was easier for Albus to express himself to Molly than to anyone else. Whether it was because he was content, irritated, or depressed, she was always ready to lend a hand.
When he was six years old, he found he had a passion for Quidditch, however when he once went to practice Quidditch with his neighbor friends he had returned home with tears streaming down his face. He had gone up to the room he shared with his brother and hid under the covers. James had entered the room not long after; he had just finished from his shower and did not realize the dilemma his brother experienced. And so it being his daily ritual he went about teasing his brother, pretending to look about for him before he took a seat on the lump on the bed. In his mischievous mood he did not realize that the quivering figure underneath him was crying until he had torn the covers from his brothers' frame in order to smile joyfully at him.
Yet, when he looked into Albus's emerald eyes he knew something was wrong, the tear tracks were evidence enough, and once he learnt the story of the neighborhood kids who had mocked his sweet little brother, he swore to avenge him but Albus pleaded him not to and had him swear not to tell a soul.
The next day there had been another visit to Molly Weasley, when she had learned her grandsons problem she had told him, "Chin up! You are Albus Severus Potter and you do not allow a bunch of hooligans to tell you that you are not good enough at Quidditch. Nobody can tell you what you can and cannot do."
"Then what am I to do?" he asked dejectedly.
"You prove them wrong! You love Quidditch do you not?"
"I do," he replied with conviction.
"Then what you'll do my dear is practice, practice, practice! Perseverance will prove those ruffians wrong."
Albus replied with a laugh, "They are not gangsters, Grandma!"
"They may as well be," she smiled at him playfully.
A ten-year-old Albus was spending time at the Weasley's. He was quite close to his cousin Rose and arrived at the Weasley house expecting to have a jovial time playing about with his cousin while his mother went to an appointment of hers, but upon arrival both he and his mother Ginevra Weasley, came to discover the residents of the Weasley house had all went out on some errands save for Molly Weasley who had come for a visit. She had been in the kitchen prior to their arrival, preparing a scrumptious meal for the family.
Ginevra was about to bid her mother adieu when her son began to protest. He stubbornly stated that he wanted to spend time with Grandma Weasley. Ginevra was about to reject, on account of Molly being busy, but was silenced by her mothers' words of: "Nonsense. I haven't seen my darling grandson in quite a while Ginny, dear. You leave him with me and get to that appointment you've got." Thanking her mother profusely, Ginevra left for her appointment, while Albus took a seat by the kitchen counter observing his grandmother cook.
"How are you dearie? It's been some time hasn't it?" Molly asked.
"Nearly a month Grandma! James is already at Hogwarts and I'm still stuck here," he complained.
"Have I become too old for you Albus dear? To the point that you can't wait to be whisked away," Molly joked.
"Gran! You know how long I've wanted to go! I've been practicing for years now, and once I'm in school they'll have to recruit me on the team my first year! Just like dad," he said excitedly.
"Well then, why don't you show me what you've got? There are loads of brooms in the closet."
"Gladly," Albus jumped off his stool and went to grab a broom and gloves from the closet down the hall; he then rushed out of the house onto the backyard where Molly could view him through the window. "Are you watching?" Albus asked as he got up on the broom.
"Of course! You better tell me all about your adventures at Hogwarts."
Not a moment later Albus whisked himself away, flying around the field with ease, in order to further impress Molly who was standing by the kitchen window. He started cartwheeling around in circles, even detaching his arms from the broom for a second or two.
Getting off the broom, Albus jogged back into the house, going to return the Quidditch gear and calling out to Molly, "How was I?"
"Superb. Just marvelous Albus dear! You promise me you'll show them won't you? You won't back out of our promise?" Molly's voice was uncharacteristically melancholic.
"I wouldn't dream of it Gran" he replied happily as he walked back into the kitchen. "Why would you ask such a thing?" he stopped however, shock etched on his face for a second as he stared at the red puddle of blood his dear grandmother was lying on.
Knees shaking, it took the boy of ten mere seconds before he rushed to Molly Weasley, cradling her in his arms while sobbing hysterically and calling out to her, "Gran! Gran, you're awake, please be awake, I thought you said you'd be waiting for me to carry out our promise! Please g-grandma, I-I can't! I—" the rest of his words died out as he grasped onto the wrinkled hands of Molly Weasley for the last time.
After that horrible incident Albus lived a whole year in a numb state, he was not able to accept the fact that his beloved grandmother had passed away because it was her time. He'd think back to the blood on the floor, the blood that stuck to his shirt and hands when he screamed for Molly to wake up, if it was her time to go he wondered what was the reason for all the blood he saw, if it was his imagination or something more.
Summertime came around and Albus received an owl, his Hogwarts Letter had arrived, the moment he had awaited for almost 5 years had finally come, except the feeling of warmth evaded him, he did not feel a sense of elation, although he gave a smile to his family members as not to worry them, however all he felt now was a sense of duty, to prove to his grandmother that all his hard work was for a reason.
He had entered Hogwarts and had made it into the Quidditch team during his first year, his skills were extraordinary, ones the Slytherin Captain could not pass up. He was made Slytherin, unlike the rest of the Potter-Weasley clan, but it was not a problem, his family was accepting and to him it no longer mattered what house he was in, he was just relieved that he fulfilled his promise.
However, one good thing did come out of Hogwarts, and that was a beautiful friendship. His name was Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, and he was seated on Albus's right after the latter got sorted. He was the son of Draco Malfoy, his fathers arch-nemesis during his stay at Hogwarts, though now they were on more pleasant terms, and they may not be the best of friends as their sons are, but they were accepting of their friendship.
Scorpius got his looks from his father, there was an aristocratic look to him, his father had restored the Malfoy family name and his son radiated nobility of his household name. He had featherlike light blonde hair, his bangs fell upon his forehead in sweeps, and his stormy grey eyes held so much power and emotion, it was as if he could tell all your secrets merely by glancing in your direction, or at least that was what Albus felt whenever Scorpius would gaze in his direction.
Albus moved from his spot next to the fireplace and leaned against a wall adjacent to the floor length window half covered in green drapery. He stared at the ring placed in his pinkie finger on his left hand. It was a Prewett family heirloom, his mother had said it belonged to Molly's father and in her will Molly had wanted it to be given to Albus. "It was precious to her, as were you", Ginevra told her son. It was silver in colour, beholding the family crest consisting of a knight's head and a shield below it, the name Prewett was shown above the knight's head and England below the shield. The outer rim of the crest was bejeweled with emerald gems, as in Molly's will it was said to be "Just like my dear Albus's eyes".
Albus slid against the wall; he disordered his already messy Black hair, frustrated at his bangs for irritating the tips of his eyes. Giving up, he curled into himself and kept staring at the ring; swaying back and forth he wondered why everything was so dreadful.
Well, maybe not.
As he rocked to sleep the last thing he remembered seeing were a pair of stormy grey eyes, not as petrifying as the storm outside, but just as arresting.