Albus woke, feeling groggy as ever. He retrieved the wand at his bedside, feeling accustomed to the more than miraculous bit of wood that had served him well the past seven years. As he sat up, he placed his glasses on the bridge of his nose and breathed in the fresh air that filled the dormitory through the open window. Maybe Peeves will still be looking to cause some trouble with me, he thought. He climbed out of his four-poster and into the clothes he had been given by his parents to wear on the day of his graduation. Over these he placed his school robes, feeling the pride with which he had been selected for Gryffindor by the Sorting Hat.

"Hey, Al!" said Samuel, also a Seventh-Year. "You feeling right about getting out of school?"

"Yeah," replied Al. "Couldn't be more proud, never mind anxious, mate."

"Look, me brother's going to come, see us off from Hogsmeade, inne? Why don't you come along and say hello?"

"I don't know why not," said Al. He opened the door and trotted down the dormitory staircase, stretching his limbs. "But that's still a few days away, yeah?" Al laughed, knowing that they had only begun their term the previous day. "So why don't we put that off a while? Anyway, I was just going to go down to breakfast, maybe see who's on the seventh floor. Meet you there?"

"Yeah," said Samuel, pulling his robes on over his pajamas. "See you later. Maybe have some fun in Potions, say hello to Malfoy."

Al smiled with the knowledge that his father had so disliked Malfoy's father when he was in school.

Walking along the third-floor corridor, Al spotted Peeves loosening the chandelier so that it would fall on an unsuspecting passerby, on of the poltergeist's favorite pastimes. He freed his wand from his pocket and, being quite adept at Nonverbal magic, aimed a spell. Congelo Phantasmis!

Peeves froze in midair and hung there, eyes lolling about in their sockets. "You having a laugh, eh, Peevesie?" said Al, moving out from behind the doorframe. "Think it'd be funny to see a Firstie get stuck in a chandelier?"

He flicked his wand, and Peeves slowly seemed to regain the mobility in his mouth. "Oh, no, Potty!" replied Peeves, mock-offended, reciting the nickname he had given Al's father. "No, no, nononono! I couldn't do that! I was going to drop it on the Malfoy boy this morning!" The poltergeist nodded erratically, showing a seemingly-genuine concern.

"Good, then," said Al. "But if I hear about another son of George Weasley's falling victim to one of your pranks, I'll have the Baron after you, this time!" Peeves floated back a few inches, showing distaste at the form of punishment Albus had threatened him with. "Good. I'll see you later, Peeves."

Al shook his head, smirking, as Peeves loudly blew a raspberry at him in the stretch of corridor he had just vacated. As he came upon the suspension bridge, Al watched as the sun rose higher in the sky, revealing the owls just in from their nightly hunt, the Hippogriff, Witherwings, who by this time had grown quite old, and a small herd of thestrals that had occupied Hogwarts grounds for many years. He smiled, taking in the air, smelling the alpine trees in the distance.

He noticed shortly thereafter that he had been joined by his sister, Lily. "Hey, Al," she said, grasping the vertical supports holding the bridge up and looking out, as if dreaming to fly amongst the owls. "Ready to get started on your final year here?"

"You know," said Al, "in a funny way, I am, and at the same time I'm not. I'd like to get started, but I don't want to leave this place. I've got friends here, and memories, but maybe someday I'll be back, after all this."

Lily nodded, her red hair catching the sunlight and turning it almost a copper color. "Yes. I've still got a way to go at Hogwarts, but I'll spend every moment I can, almost taking a photograph."

"That reminds me," said Al, taking a Prophet from his pocket. "Did you see the latest photo of James? Taking a leaf from Uncle George's book, you ask me, the old gaffer!"

"Yeah. I imagined he would. Those spectacles don't work, but he advertises them like they're a miracle with wire frames."

"That's why I've got glasses, thank you very much, Uncle George."

Lily walked off, and Al found that he was far hungrier than he had realized. Making his way to the Great Hall, he passed the chandelier that Peeves had loosened. As he neared the end of the corridor, he heard a crash and made his way back to that spot, where the chandelier had taken a very unfortunate, struggling Scorpius Malfoy hostage. "Peeves!" shouted the enraged Prefect. "Peeves, you bugger! I'll get the Baron on you for that!"

"Hey, Scorpius!" said Al, who to this day did not understand the old rivalries between Slytherin and Gryffindor, flicked his wand and freed the Malfoy boy of his bonds. "Peeves, erm...get you, did he?"

"I'll have that poltergeist banished from the grounds before I'm shot of this place!" muttered Scorpius. Noting that he was standing before Al, he nodded. "Oh. Yeah. I'm alright, Albus. Bit surprised. Damn poltergeist."

"Yeah. Hey, you heading to breakfast?"

"Yeah. I was just getting out from the Defense classroom, clearing up some unfinished business with a couple of First Years and Professor Lovegood." Scorpius kept in stride with Albus. "You hear what happened to old Minerva McGonagall? Died in her sleep, last night. Healers reckon it's what the Muggles call a heart-attack. It's natural...so they say."

"Yeah. I wouldn't doubt that. At ninety-two, you can't just dodge one of those."

They had arrived at the base of the Grand Staircase and could hear the voices of hundreds of other students either descending to the Great Hall or already there, slathering their eggs in ketchup. "Ready for Quidditch tryouts?" asked Scorpius.

"Yep. Should be a good selection, this year."

As Albus approached the Gryffindor table, hundreds of owls flew in overhead from the rafters and landed before their masters, holding their legs up to be rid of their burden of overheavy chocolates and other assorted letters. He stood before his fathers' bird, Hagrid, named in honor of Professor Rubeus Hagrid, who was aged but showing no signs of slowing down, and untied the letter on his leg. He recognized his father's neat, albeit imperfect scrawl and opened the envelope.

Albus, I've been made Head of the Auror Office. If she finds out I'm writing you to tell you this before she reads the Prophet this morning, she'll kill me. Salary should increase a few Galleons. Good luck on your Quidditch tryouts. I've heard about Professor McGonagall. She was a good, strong woman. She's being buried next weekend, and the Knight Bus should be there to pick you up. Much love, your father, Harry

Albus smiled, folding the letter and placing it in his pocket as Professor Longbottom strode over with a quill and long roll of parchment in his hand. "Albus," he said, smiling serenely. "Good to see you. How's your dad?"

"Not bad. Mum's busy plotting his murder, right now, but we'll make on, somehow."

"Heard about his promotion. Should be Minister by Christmas."

"I doubt that happening," said Lily, who appeared before Albus. "He said he won't take any position higher than Head of the Auror Department. Always noble old Dad, eh, Albus?" She smiled, taking a sausage and placing it on her plate.

"Yep," said Ablus. "Wouldn't want to see you mentioning that to him."

"Anyhow, it appears that Potions is your first class, followed by Care, a break, Charms, Transfiguration, History, another free period, and finishing up the day with Defense Against the Dark Arts." Professor Longbottom tapped the parchment with his wand and handed it to Albus. "Sound good, then? Right." As the Professor walked away, Albus could scarce help but let a whisper of a laugh slip from his mouth at the sight of an enchanted HEX ME! sign on the back of Professor Longbottom's robes.

"Erm, Professor?" said Albus, attempting to gain the attention of Professor Longbottom, but to no avail. "Be right back..."

"No. Scorpius already has the sign off."

Albus looked up as Scorpius took a seat next to him. "Albus. Lily. Potions first?" Albus nodded. "Ah."

"I'll see you later, Al," said Lily, standing and hefting up her bag.

"See you." Al piled his plate with bacon and eggs, listening to the usual drone of the students at their conversation.

He had scarcely finished his breakfast when he heard a soft voice behind him. "Hello, Albus." Al looked up to see a tall, silver-blonde girl smiling at him, neither embarrassed nor in any way unhappy.

"Hello, Katherine," he replied. Katherine was the daughter of Fleur Weasley, who had married Bill several years before. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks," she said. "Mother's still away in America for the international Witches Representation Squad conference. And you?"

"Not bad."

"Listen." Katherine sat beside Al, propping her head on her hand, elbow on the table. "I was wondering if you'd like to have a drink on the next Hogsmeade visit? If you've planned something already, that's okay..."

"No," said Albus, scarcely knowing that he was feeling far more confident now than his father ever had, even at his age. "No, that's fine! And, maybe sometime before, we could...have dinner, maybe? If you've got other things, I understand completely."

"I'm free a while, unless I have homework." She leaned in close to him, her breath smelling sweet and minty. "See you around, Albus." Katherine stood and made her way out of the Great Hall. Damn! thought Albus. Should have kissed her when I'd had the chance!

Albus stood, making his way back to the tower, intent upon collecting his bag.

Albus passed under the viaduct entrance just as the bell rang from the clock tower, telling him that he was on time for his class. Making his way down into the dungeons, he followed the other students who were already beginning to clot the door outside the Potions classroom. "In here, please," said Professor Rowel, who stood a head-and-a-half shorter than Albus. "Welcome back, Albus," said the professor, shaking his hand. "Excited, are you?"

"Yeah," replied Albus, taking a seat at the table in front of Rowel's desk. "Should be a great year."

"Should be, indeed," replied Professor Rowel. "Turn to the New Standard Potions Text, page eight, if you please. You should find sufficient, revised instructions for a nice, month-long work on the Polyjuice Potion, which is to be part of your final exam."

* * *

Nick strode into Ollivanders, having not visited for a few years. How unfortunate, he recounted, that Ollivander was nearing his time. He stroked his beard, seeing the old man standing there, organizing boxes of wands. "May I help you?" said Ollivander, raising his eyes. He seemed to be of poor vision, and placed the spectacles hanging about his neck on the bridge of his nose. "Hm...may I help you, sir?"

"I am in need of a wand, Mr. Ollivander, and I hear you are the best," said Nick, holding up the two halves of the broken wand he had received many years before. "Left wand arm, precisely thirty-six inches in length. The wand is not one of yours, but it is of high quality, as you should no doubt find." He placed the wand on the desk and stepped back, allowing Mr. Ollivander ample room to appraise the now-useless shaft of wood.

"Blue spruce...an odd selection, though no doubt it would have been good for Charms. Thirteen inches precise. A bit of an experiment, you ask me. And...I'll be damned." Ollivander had discovered the core of the wand. "Unicorn horn." He looked up at Nick. "I'll wager this was taken, most violently indeed, from the animal that had, at one time, possessed this. There are dark magics that I have seen in my day, but I have never seen something as horrendous as this. It is one thing to take the horn from a fallen unicorn, but quite another to have ripped it from the creature that had lived with this thing, symbolizing its elegance!"

"Too right you are, Ollivander," said Nick, who stepped forward. He grasped the front of Ollivander's robes and lifted him three feet from the ground. "Find me a wand, or it shall be much more painful than it need be."

Ollivander's lip quivered, but he did not take his eyes from Nick's face. "I should never do something that would disgrace the Wizarding world!"

"Have it your way, then," said Nick. He grasped Ollivander's wand and pulled it from the pocket of the old man's robe. "I shall enjoy this, old man." He snickered, letting the laugh grow into something far more sinister than Ollivander had ever heard. He could see the old man's eyes glistening and turning a pale, ash-gray. "Avada Kedavra!" With that final Curse, Ollivander fell sickeningly to the shop floor, not a twitch to be seen from his most unfortunate, broken corpse. Nick turned the man over and saw that Ollivander's face was stricken with a pure, utter horror. He had done as he had planned. Now, it was time to see the latest, greatest landmark, which would ensure his rise to power. He had much to do, and so little time to waste. Without a further sound, he walked back through the new-formed arch into the courtyard and Disapparated.