That spider, the one with seven legs is back again, scrabbling, looking for some way out of this prison-my prison. For twelve years, I've been here, holding on to that last hope that everyone I love is still alive and not dead. Where's Sky? I often ask.

I was the one that killed him in a flash of anger.

I hope Albus doesn't hate me. If he does, he's got a really good reason to. Adolpha must be angry with me, or Lily. I have no idea which one's which. Again. One's red and the other's blonde. Both hate me. And Romulus...

How is he? My grandkid. And I'm less than fifty years old. How has this happened? What made Sky hate me so much that he cannot trust me with his own kid? Maybe Albus will send me a photo. No, that new Minister, Harry Potter was in here last week. Gave me this week's Daily Prophet. It now says it's the twenty-third of November. Romulus is already on his house's Quidditch team. He looks great in green.

Matches his eyes.

I was Slytherin's Seeker, back in 1999. I was in my sixth year then, before the turn of a millennium caught me in my finla year. I remember dancing to the classics, like 'Dancing Queen' or 'Dance Like A Hippogriff'. I snogged my wife on New Year, midnight, to the beat of 'Her Green Eyes'. Lovely song. Think Harry Potter wrote that one. Good times.

I wonder what year it is now. That darn newspaper don't say anymore. But I know something. I have to get out of this hellhole soon, or another year will pass me by. Maybe I can find Romulus and tell him everything. He is so handsome. Reminds me of Sky. He has his father's talent on the Quidditch field, Romulus. Keeper.

I hope he isn't in Hufflepuff.

That wound me up with Sky. Bloody Cedric Diggory, with his good looks. I saw his film, Twilight. Yuck! I can't believe he managed to shave his chest for Breaking Dawn. That must have itched a lot. Oh Romulus. I like that name. Sounds big. Like Sky.

Not the broadband!

Romeo and Juliet. Maybs I'll nickname him Romeo for now, then I'll adopt him and he can go and change his name. I ain't having Romulus. Can't it be something without 'us' in it? Sirius, Albus, Severus, Romulus and Scorpius. I could name twenty others!

Names are a dowright scandal!

I am getting out of here soon. I will be in my Animagus form, soaring over the clouds like a wolf with a jet-pack or something like that-no, I am not doing it with Jacob Black of bloody Twilight, even I would like to strap him to a jet plane an video him as he flies! ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! That would be bloody wicked.

~\o0o/~

Oh look! Most of the wall has crumbled away so I am free, at last. I change into my eagle form and I take flight. It is time to go home. I shall thank Neptunes later. I soar, only just finding North England before my power reserves are worn out. I spot the Hogwarts Express, chugging away from England so I flop onto the roof for a bit.

I think will be fine for a further five minutes so I transform back into my wizard self. Someone foolish has opened a window so I instantly become an eagle and swoop into the window. Romulus has opened the window so he must recognise me. No one else is there.

I wait for the trap to be sprung, but Romulus examines me.

Apparently I meet his expectations because he settles me onto the table, occupying most of the room, and shuts that blasted window.

"Hello, Granddad," Romulus whispers, scratching my crest. I transform and flop down onto the empty seat by the window.

"Hi Romeo," I answer. "Have you got clean clothes?" Romulus passes a parcel to me. It feels like there are clothes in it. It is also covered in muddy brown paper. It is proper Slytherin robes.

"You can change by the door. Draw all the curtains and no one can see you," points Romulus. I canter to the space he has pointed to and I find it surrounded by curtains. I quickly change, wanting to know more. My green and silver tie is perfectly lined with my sweater.

I return to my seat and Romulus flicks his wand at my face. My hair has been shortened and brushed. The little goatee I'd grown had been shaved off completely. I now look like the old me.

I have yearned for so long of that of a wand. It is all I can to stop myself from snatchong the jet black wand out of hand.

"Thanks," I murmur. "Wand."

"Ah, you want a wand?" asked Romulus curiously before passing me a wand.

"Ash, unicorn tail, twenty inches. Flexible, too. "

"Won't someone recognise me?" I demand. Romulus shakes his head.

"No. You can sign up for the Potions position. As a teacher of course. You'll have to call yourself Chaser Flint. You look like him," Romeo said.

"Won't you get in trouble?" I ask.

"No. The Minister said that you had spent long enough in Azkaban and blew up the Southern Wall so you could get out. It's all right. You can sign up as Rufus Riddle now. The Headmistress would probably put you in that position."

"Oh."

"Harry Potter likes you, too."

"Wait. What house are you in?" I demand. Romulus laughs and shakes his head.

"You don't really want to know, Granddad." And with that, Hogwarts came into view. The homely castle that I hadn't seen for always three decades is still where it was in my time, after Harry Potter.

I wonder if that blasted cat, Mrs Norris is still alive. I'd like to kick her. No way if she's a ghost. Won't be much fun if me foot goes right through her, will it?

"Is Mrs Norris still around?" I ask. Romulus raises his eyebrows. "I'd like to kick her, y'know, the cat? Mrs Norris?"

"No, I don't think so." I close my eyes and imagine my foot going though her. Great. Ten points if you get your foot through her tail.

Time I found out whether or not a ghost cat can bite you.

This is a fan story in response to SeekerDraconis23's creations. So if you want to find out more, just search SeekerDraconis23 or type in Albus Severus Potter and the Year of the Badger in your browser.

A MASSIVE THANKS TO SEEKERDRACONIS23 FOR HIS CONTIBUTIONS TO THE ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER SERIES.

Please review and tell me what you think and whether or not I should should write another FanFiction based solely on Sky Ellis or whatever. Poem? Just ask me. Song? Story?

Barty The Second