A/N: Only slightly edited. Please do point out any errors you notice.

The Cost of Addiction

Albus Severus Potter's handcuffs clanked as he walked down the hall, today was his trial, today they would decide his fate.

He told himself that they had no right, no right to judge his decisions, his path, they didn't understand why. But at the back of his mind, a hint of the Albus who'd been, that eleven-year-old boy who'd been made of nothing but dreams tugged at the back of his mind. Didn't they?

He was situated in the chair and further chains and locks slid into place, he studied the assembled Wizengamot and smiled , they were afraid of him he realized.

The only family he saw in attendance was Scorpius, who was only family by his marriage to Albus' cousin.

It was expected, James had told him as much last night when the eldest of the Potter children had visited his younger brother in his cell.

Footsteps roused Albus from his study of the ceiling and he sat up on his cot, though he had nothing to mark time by he was fairly certain from the change in guards that it was late, much later than the average visitor was permitted.

It wouldn't be his father, too painful for the man, Uncle Ron wouldn't bother, still too confused in regards to his emotions on the matter, Aunt Hermione was too angry, and Uncle Percy was doing his best to stay disconnected from the matter – which left only one family member with the access required to be here at this time, James.

Albus stood and smoothed his robes, and turned to face the wall, as the footsteps stopped he smiled, "James."

"Albus," his brother spat his name as though it were a curse, "I just have one question left, and then you'll never see me again."

Albus turned and examined his elder brother, he'd lost weight, and the overly pale complexion and shadows under his eyes suggested sleepless nights, "well go on then, don't just stand there."

James snarled before shaking his head, "why else Albus? I know you've said power a thousand times now in answer; but I keep thinking that it had to be Mum didn't it, when she left us, you broke."

"She died James," Albus' voice was passionless, "she didn't leave us, she didn't pass on, she died."

"Was that it Al? If I'd...if we'd paid more attention to you when she died would that have made an ounce of difference, or are you really as terrible as you pretend to be?"

Albus almost sighed, but he held it in, as usual James was blaming himself, "there was nothing you could have done, I would have gone down this path, no matter who had paid attention to me, even if our mother had survived."

James was glaring at him suspiciously now.

"Oh go on James, leave me, I do not want and have no need of your pity."

And with that James turned to leave, "we won't be there you know, at the trial, it would be too...we won't be there Albus."

"Albus Severus Potter," Terry Boot who'd been chosen as an impartial Judge declared, "you have been brought before the Wizengamot on multiple charges of the use of dark magic so foul no lawyer would represent you; you have used countless unforgivables, and have shown no remorse, how do you plead?"

"Does it matter?" he asked sardonically, "are you not essentially here to carry out the already chosen verdict by the Ministry's public?"

"A plea Mr. Potter," Boot said coldly.

Albus laughed, "well then, lets say not guilty."

"Looking to draw this out I see Mr. Potter?"

Leaning forward suddenly to the furthest his chains would allow Albus spoke again, "I'll tell you what, I will give you your wanted plea, if you let me tell my story in full, publicly, first."

Boot's eyes widened – he was clearly curious, "a vote then, all in favor of taking the defendants deal?"

The majority of the wizards and witches in attendance stood.

"Very well, you will start tomorrow, a proper venue will be arranged."

As he was escorted back to his cell Albus smiled at Scorpius, the blond man to his credit barely twitched, but he could see it in his eyes, he knew what would come out at this public telling, Albus was leaving him very few choices, as he passed his old friend the dark haired man leaned in and whispered five words to him, "you'll have until the end."

The next day the guards found Albus fully awake and waiting for them, the escorted him down the passage ways and out into the main lobby of the Ministry where a chair sat on a stage in the center.

Old Rita Skeeter was there with the other reporters, the place was swarming with Aurors, and there at the front of the crowd was Scorpius Malfoy.

And then he began to speak.

It began in my second year over Christmas when we stopped at the old Black residence my father inherited, I found a book while I was there, hidden in the attic under a loose floorboard. Neither the nook, nor the book itself were actually magical, which is why I suspect they were overlooked in the cleaning out of the house by the Order.

It was a book called Praepotens Philtrum or Powerful Potions for those of you whose Latin is rusty, it was a book of potions that required no small amount of dark magic, but the potential results were fascinating to say the least.

I'd read the entire thing within the week; it was simply intriguing in a way that the magic we learned in class barely touched, perhaps it was the risk, or maybe I hungered for power even at the age of twelve?

It's hard to say now.

Suffice to say it was hardly enough for me, especially since putting those potions into practice at that age with the supplies available to me was impossible, and though I told myself it was theoretical studies, purely academic and such, it wasn't. I hungered to brew those potions, to see their effects before me.

The summer between second and third year I went to Knockturn Alley while my father was busy, mother was ill by this point so she hadn't come with us.

I kept my cloak's hood up and eventually found what I was looking for, more books, more knowledge, more power.

When I returned to school that year I was eventually caught by my housemates, thank Merlin I'd been sorted into Slytherin, because mostly they were just as interested as I was.

That is excluding Albert Rosier of course.

He tried to rat me out towards the end of our third year; you see he'd said he would leave me alone provided it stayed academic, but he caught me testing out spells on a first year in a larger broom closet, and while I successfully obliviated the first year, Rosier got away before I could do the same to him.

He went straight to the Headmistress with his accusations, but thankfully, after my housemates caught me in the first place I began hiding my books more efficiently than under my bed. Rosier could prove nothing.

I did feel bad at the time as I recall, about practicing on the first years, but I felt they'd bounce back easiest, they were certainly the easiest to obliviate, and really what good was all this information if I didn't know how to put it into practice should the need arise.

It was two days into our summer vacation that our mother died, my father felt that perhaps she'd been holding on until we got home, and I had no one to blame, no one to attack, nothing I could do. She was so small when we got home that year, the disease had wasted her away over the school year.

I spent the summer trying desperately to find some real way to return someone to life, which I of course like every other witch or wizard whose ever examined the issue found entirely impossible.

But further than this it spurred my first urge to find someway to stay alive.

After all I do not want to be a ghost, and I don't mind admitting that I am terrified of what may be beyond, or rather what might not be. As I can't be certain if I will continue existing after death, and being a ghost seems a fairly pointless existence I began my search in earnest.

I knew of course about Horcruxs, I'd heard my fathers stories enough times, and while I hoped to find some better method, it seemed prudent to create at least one while I continued my search.

So in fourth year I plotted Rosier's death; at first I intended to use someone else, someone anonymous and bland, someone I'd have no motive to kill. But Rosier made a nuisance of himself, following me around, trying to find evidence of what I was doing.

I convinced one of the other boys to lure him down a secret passage that led out of the castle and off the grounds, I had them tell him I was up to something at the end of that passage, and they promised him that they would call the teachers for him. Of course I didn't tell the other boy I planned to murder Rosier, but the pleasant result to my machinations was Rosier at my feet.

I took out my anger on the other boy, all of my fury, all of my fear, it was not a quick death, I did hesitate for a moment before I began the process of making a Horcrux, even there, moments from that small side goal, after everything I had done, there was a part of me that questioned.

Thankfully the irritating twinges of conscious became less frequent after that, I rather suspect it is a side effect of splitting my soul.

So Rosier went missing, and I swore to my compatriot that he had been fine when I'd left him.

In sixth year I found mention of a ritual attempted at some point in the dark ages, it had been passed by word of mouth before being recorded.

And while it didn't say what the ritual had been used for, it did specify an ingredient, lives, many, many, lives. The only thing I could think of that you get from life, is life, so I began to focus my search there.

In order to learn each detail of this ritual I had to go to great lengths, eventually discovering at the end of my seventh year, that the final bit of it, the key components – were in fact recorded somewhere, and had not actually been lost by time.

You see a muggle archeologist discovered a tablet that explained the ritual in it's entirety and then it was taken from him by our ministry, specifically by the Unspeakables. They clearly should have used obliviators for this endeavor as their own memory charms were simplistic to break through, far too soft and empathetic.

It was not easy to break into the Unspeakables vaults at the Ministry, it required the use of every contact I'd made, and every bit of stealth and conniving to succeed. That and my already growing following. My most loyal agent was key in succeeding.

My following of course had no idea what it was we were there for, but they didn't care, as long as I said it furthered our goals, they did as I said. In truth it did in fact further our goals, immortality is a incalculable advantage in regards to dismantling a leadership that while utterly ineffective also has far more support than it should.

I was correct of course it was exactly what I'd been looking for, the spell called for sacrifices of groups of people, each life sacrificed would add to my own, thus requiring that many more times I'd have to be killed, that many more lifetimes I'd have to live through. There are of course other components, but none so shocking as the sacrifices.

I suppose that when I started out to find immortality such a ritual would have been abhorrent to me, but I have found myself capable of nearly anything since that first murder.

I waited patiently for that first gathering, there were as I've been informed a dozen or more times now, fifty six people there that day. Unfortunate that I couldn't have made it fifty seven, but what can I say, I was still feeling sentimental I guess – so I excluded Lily from the spell, and she saw me. It didn't work, a miscalculation of my part in regards to some key requirements.

Lily told our father, and then I was on the run, hiding, preparing myself for a war that had not been my intention; but my sentiment had inadvertently revealed both what I was doing and that I had been gathering followers.

Though the identities of my followers were still hiding, it still gave the Wizarding World warning, when I would have much preferred to creep up on it.

But so be it, I resigned myself to a silly war until I could gain enough power to end it in a quick and final strike.

Already a prodigious wizard in my own right, or so I've been told time and time again, I knew that with the advantage of multiple lives I could do anything.

So I hatched a plot, it was simple really, a way to be in the place I need to dismantle, in the presence of some of the wisest and most powerful witches and wizards, where my family wouldn't be, and this time I'd be prepared, I'd have all the components set up perfectly this times, seeing as it only took me a few hours to determine where I'd gone wrong the first time...

"Is that why you were in Gringotts?" Boot asked.

"Oh yes, it most certainly was, very good, but I didn't intend to cast the spell there of course, there are nothing but goblins around in Gringotts."

"Then you're...you were planning to do it here?" Boot laughed, "every single person in attendance has been screened Mr. Potter."

"Not every single person," a quiet voice spoke from the crowd.

Suddenly the hall was chaos, Albus's followers apparating into the hall and rapidly knocking the force of aurors out.

Scorpius Malfoy mounted the stage freeing Albus with a flick of his wrist.

"But you...you married..." Boot exclaimed.

"Yes, yes I did, because I love her, but sadly for me, I started helping Albus, long before that," there was an almost dead look in the Malfoy's eyes, "and I'm not going to Azkaban."

Albus laughed as he stepped from the chair disarming Boot with a flick of his hand, rapidly the crowd was either disarmed or knocked unconscious; and then Albus swept into a deep bow in the center of the stage.

"Welcome to the future ladies and gentlemen, Skeeter, I see your quill is still taking notes, excellent, there should be some sort of explanation recorded when they find your bodies."

"You aren't staying?" the reporter squeaked, curious to the last moment apparently.

"In the Ministry? No of course not, I said I was dismantling a useless government – I never said I wanted to rule or some other such nonsense; have you any idea how much work being a dictator would require? Far to much effort for far too little payout if you ask me. No – I'm just here to cut out the dead weight."

Scorpius sighed, and walked towards the exit, he didn't need to see the results, he didn't want to, he was going home, he was going home to his pregnant wife, Albus would make sure that Rita's records didn't include him, and then he'd never have to see him again.

As the flames of the exit shot up Scorpius watched the burst of magic shoot out of Albus and begin to envelop the room.