Disclaimer: I own neither Albus Potter nor the Harry Potter series. The aforementioned are properties of J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers.
Author's Note: This story has been a long time coming, and I am proud to say that it has finally found its way from the paper to your screen.
This story follows the lives of Albus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy and the years they spend at Hogwarts.
Thanks again to my fabulous beta IvoryTroll – you've done so much for me. And now I bid you ado, and introduce you to Closed Doors.
Closed Doors
"And what…what, exactly, happened to the Elder Wand?"
It was a dangerous question; one he knew that would arouse suspicion and solidify any doubt the old man had had. But it was a necessary question – he'd been dancing around the old man for months now, trying to find out and he was running out of time.
From the corner of his eyes he watched the old man's face fall, smile crumpling into a sea of wrinkles. Sallow skin paled to the colour of bone, white on white against the sheets. He kept his head down, still tinkering with the small wand in his hands – willow with driad hair, not his finest work – feigning innocence.
"Why do you want to know, boy?" Even whispered, he could feel the tremor in the old man's voice, the fear. "Why do you want to know? It doesn't exist; it was destroyed! It's nothing but a fairytale now, as it should have been all along! Stay away from that wand!" the old man shrieked; skeletal hands clawed at pillows. He watched in shock as the old man drew himself into an upright position.
With speed he thought the old wizard was no longer capable of, he was on his feet and in his face, so close he could smell the stench of death and decay and see the cataracts that misted the still-bright silver eyes. "You stay away from that Deathstick, child. It is true to its name." he wheezed. "Now leave. I…I am tired."
Heart pounding in his chest, he nodded and backed slowly towards the door, pausing only to murmur, "Goodnight, Mr. Ollivander."
That night, lying in his bed, he thumbed the hollow groove of his chest, the place that would become his power and his sacrifice. "You can try and stop me, Ollivander." He whispered. "But nothing is going to keep me from that wand. Nothing..."
"Albus, if you don't get your arse out of that bathroom right now, I swear that I'm going to hex you so hard your eyeballs will fall out, then go back in, then fall out again. And then, I'm going to rip up every pair of your Holyhead Harpies boxers and toss your inhaler out the window. And then –" Inside the bathroom, Albus looked away from the container of gel he'd been fiddling with and frowned at the door.
"Gimme a second, James. I just want to make sure this is perfect." Something thudded against the door; probably James being dramatic again and throwing himself on it in a vain attempt to open it.
Albus' suspicions were confirmed when the muffled sound of James flopping to the floor outside filtered from under the door. "Ugh. Why?" his brother whined. "You've been in there for almost forty five minutes. Whether you're wanking or doing something incredibly stupid – which is more likely, because there's no way you'd be able to last five minutes wanking, let alone forty – I have to take the biggest dump of my fifteen year old life. So, if you would kindly remove yourself from that gorgeous porcelain hole of magic, I'd be much appreciative. Besides, you're not going to Hogwarts until September first. It's the thirtieth. You've still got another day. "
Rolling his eyes and scrubbing off a blush from the mention of wanking, Albus looked away from the door and focused back on the mirror. Looking back at him was a scrawny, pale young man. Green eyes stabbed out from beneath an unruly cluster of dark fringe and Albus fought back a groan. He'd spent just under an hour trying to make himself – or, more specifically, his hair – fit for society, but his hair was just as messy and ridiculous as it was forty five minutes prior, except now it appeared even stiffer than usual and wet.
Sighing, Albus leaned over and unlocked the bathroom door with an audible click. Milliseconds after he did, there was a cry of "Merlin's beard!" and James was stepping inside, a fat smile on his face.
"Wasn't wanking," Albus muttered, feeling another blush beginning. James just smirked impishly and nudged Albus aside to get at the cupboard underneath the bathroom sink. Reaching inside with one arm, James looked at Albus, apparently not needing eyesight to find what he needed.
"Mm. Of course not. You probably don't even know what wanking is. Tell me, baby brother, do you know what girls are? Or do you still believe they have cooties? I never can tell with you; you're so grossly introverted and underdeveloped, you probably still play with action figures…"
Albus ignored him. He looked in the mirror again, this time scrutinizing himself from every angle. His hair continued to look atrocious. Maybe more gel? Albus considered reaching for the container again when James cut him off.
"Lay off the gel; you don't need to look any more like a porcupine. Trust me, Albus. It's going to be hard enough for people to want to befriend you. Don't make things worse by making innocent strangers think you're going to stab them with your mop at the drop of a hat." James straightened up. In his arms there were a collection of white bundles. Through the mirror, Albus stared at them, trying to figure out what they were.
"James, is that all toilet paper?" Albus said incredulously. "Why do you have so many rolls? Three, four… you grabbed six rolls?"His brother took a few steps to the left, dumping the rolls onto the floor beside the toilet.
"What part of biggest dump did you not understand? As fun as this has been for me, you're going to have to leave. Aunt Angelina's bread pudding doesn't agree with me, so I bid you ado." James pushed him unceremoniously out of the bathroom, only adding a "And stay out of my hair gel!" before shutting the door and locking it.
Standing in the hallway, Albus stuffed tiny hands into his pockets. Well, obviously his hair wasn't going to cooperate with him, so he might as well go work on his wardrobe and re-check what he'd packed for Hogwarts.
Then the thought of Hogwarts got him excited, and he had to run to his room for his inhaler.
Albus Severus Potter was nothing like his brother.
Lying on his small bed, fingers curled against the rough patchwork quilt covering his blankets, Albus couldn't have thought of a statement more accurate. His room was an orderly assortment of grays and blues with shelves lining three of his walls (the other was his closet, also ordered neatly.) ; so unlike his older brother's. Albus huffed, blowing his obsidian black fringe from his emerald eyes. With a small groan he rolled over onto his side and buried his nose into his comforter. The sweet scent of the blanket rose up to meet him, and he felt content to just lie there forever.
James had always been the amazing child; he was funny and good looking and athletic, a stark contrast to Albus' frail and asthmatic self. He was the best Quidditch player of his year and had almost been the second youngest seeker in Hogwarts History, if Headmistress Granger hadn't been adamant about the "No first year" policy. On top of that, he was popular with the Gryffindors and well-liked by not a few of the professors.
But most of all- worst of all- James was his father's favourite. No matter how much his father swore that he loved them all equally, there was no denying that his father cherished James above him and Lily.
And who wouldn't? Albus thought ruefully. James is perfect at everything. He can run without needing an inhaler. He's not afraid of heights. He's handsome. Jealously coiled in his stomach but it was swiftly dispersed with an intense feeling of excitement. This year he was going to Hogwarts. He would prove that he was a son they could be proud of, that he wasn't completely useless and pathetic. He would join the Quidditch team in his first year, just like his dad, and he would make a lot of friends and become popular and so much more… Albus smiled at the feelings of granduer, even as they disappeared and he began to fall asleep.
He was going to become their dream son, even if he died trying.
"I can't believe we're going to Diagon Alley!" Albus gushed excitedly to Lily. She smiled and giggled, showing off the gaping gap where her two front teeth should have been. Albus wriggled into the coat his mother handed him and stuffed his hands in the pockets.
"I don't see why you're all excited," grumbled James as he too shrugged on a jacket. James raised an eyebrow at him and leaned against the fireplace mantle. "It's not like he hasn't been before."
"He's just excited, James," his mother said lightly. She was already dressed and ready to go. Her hair was up in a neat bun with some simple barrettes holding it in place. This was definitely the parent that Albus got his neatness from, even though he lucked out on the hair. "You were too on your first trip to Diagon Alley, remember? Albus, is that the jacket with the extension charms? Good. Make sure you put your inhaler in there. Can't have you losing it before school even starts."
"But that's what I'm saying! It's not his first trip!" said James, exasperated. "He's gone there a couple of times; it's really nothing special!"
"Then why is it an issue, James?" his mother said mildly. James scowled but said nothing. "All right then. We're taking the floo to Uncle George's shop. We're going to meet Uncle Ron, Luna, and your father there. Are you ready?"
The three of them chorused "Yes", his mother tossed in the dark green dust and as a group they passed through the flame.
The floo dropped them off in one of the Wizarding Wheeze's back rooms. His mother barely paused to adjust their clothes before ushering them out of the room and into the waiting arms of Uncle George.
"Why hello there!" cried George. He picked up Lily and twirled her. When he set her back down he smiled at them and shook each of their hands with a mock serious expression. "So good to see you all. James, going into your fifth year now, hmm? Good for you. And you, Albus – this year will be your first year. Excited?" Albus nodded meekly. "Good, good. Well," he looked up at his sister, "The rest of the gang is going to meet up at Fortescue's when they finish shopping, so I'll leave you guys to that."
"I wanna stay here with Uncle!" cried Lily defiantly. She crossed her arms and stuck out her lip.
"You can't, Lily, we have stuff to do -"
"But I wanna stay here with Uncle George!"
"Fine," she said, exasperated. "Albus, do you mind staying here with Lily while we finish the shopping? I wouldn't ask you, but, your Uncle can't really watch both her and the shop."
Albus nodded. He didn't mind; he didn't have to compete against her at least. He took Lily's hand and they waved goodbye to both his mother and George, who hurried out an apology and rushed off to tend to the large group of customers in the shop.
They wandered around the shop awhile, Lily stopping every so often to pick up an interesting object and poke at some of the potion bottles. Albus just watched it all with wide eyes. It really was impressive – from dung bombs to beetles the size of your palm, Wizard Wheezes seemed to have it all.
When they reached the Burn-o-Bees enclosure he bumped into someone. Blinking, Albus found himself staring into sharp grey eyes.
"Well, excuse you," Albus took a step back. The boy he had bumped into seemed about his age but, Albus was pleased to see, was shorter. Flaxen hair surrounded a burgeoning handsome and slender face and the pale tips brushed against the lenses of a pair of black rimmed glasses. The beginning of a smirk seemed permanently etched into his face, and there was something about the way he stood that made him seem different than the rest of the kids rummaging around the shop. Albus stumbled over an apology and tugged Lily towards him, making to get away. A hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"Sheesh, I know I'm beautiful, but there's no excuse for not introducing yourself," he said matter-of-factly. He thrust out a pale, small-wristed hand. "Hi. I'm Scorpius, soon to be the most attractive first year Hogwarts has ever known." Scorpius gave a mock bow. "Y tu? That means 'and you', by the way. My home study tutor spent the summer attempting to teach me Spanish."
Albus blinked. "I'm… Albus," he said, putting his own hand out unsurely. Scorpius took it and shook.
"Wow. Albus. Really? Your name is Albus?" the boy snorted and turned back to face the Burn-o-bees enclosure. "That's one heck of a name. You mean after Albus Dumbledore, the dodgy old guy?" Albus nodded, his neck heating up from embarrassment. Scorpius adjusted his glasses with a finger. "Well, there's no reason to be too ashamed. My dad said that after the war, a ton of people named their kids after war heroes."
"You don't have one, though." Albus pointed out.
"Nope," Scorpius said lightly. With swift fingers he wiggled his hands between the gaps of the Bee enclosure and grabbed one of the thumb sized insects right behind its head; it stepped buzzing and went limp. He stuck it in his pocket. "I have no idea why my dad didn't give me a name like you've got. But I like to believe he gave me the name 'Scorpius' because he knew I'd become a legendary wizard all on my own, making my own name famous."
Albus gaped at him. "You just stole something!" he hissed. "You can't do that! This is my uncle's shop!" In his pocket he felt the inhaler hum; time for a scheduled puff. He dug his hands into his pocket irritably, not taking his eyes off Scorpius as he did so, looking for the inhaler.
Scorpius ignored the last comment and instead moved uncomfortably close behind Albus and peered into his pockets. "Is that an Extension Charm?" he asked. Albus finally found the inhaler. He took a puff and stuffed it back into his pocket.
"Yes. My mum puts them on all my clothes so I never lose anything." Even through his anger he still felt embarrassed at the confession.
"That's very interesting. Is it undetectable?" Scorpius' eyes glinted strangely.
Albus only had the chance to nod before Scorpius patted him in a friendly way on his pocket. "Well, that's all very interesting, but I must be going now. I'm not actually supposed to be here," he said in a stage whisper. "So, until later, friend."
He was off and around the corner before Albus had the chance to shout, "We're not friends, you thief!"
When Albus stepped out of the fireplace, all he wanted to do was sleep. Fortescue's had been boring at best. He was too shy around his father to speak much, and as such spent much of the time staring into his ice cream being mildly disgusted by the floating bits and chunks. James had, as usual, run off at the first sight of his friends, leaving Albus alone with Rose. Which wasn't so bad, except that Rose had just picked up the last of her advanced course books and proceeded to ignore him for long periods of time and then list a series of complicated magical theories, expecting him to understand- or at least listen- and huffing at him every time he didn't. Then they had to go pick up the last of his school materials, which was not nearly as exciting as he thought it would have been. Most of the books had very drab covers, and the spells within them didn't look very interesting either.
The only good part of the trip had been his visit to Ollivander's. The wandmaker was frail and old and seemed to be hardly more than a breathing skeleton but he still somehow managed to help him pick out the perfect wand.
He stepped into his bedroom and emptied the bags full of school materials into his trunk on top of his clothes, closing the lid carefully before getting on his bed and pulling the wand – his wand – out of his chest pocket.
It was twelve inches of aspen wood and kelpie mane. It was pale in his hand as he rolled it across his palm. Barely a day with it and he loved it. He didn't know if wands had feelings, but he was sure this one did. It hummed encouragingly to him, not audibly but somehow inside him.
He placed it back in his pocket where it was swallowed by the Extension Charm. He removed his jacket, folded it neatly and then placed it on the bedside table so he knew where it would be for tomorrow. The big day.
He tried to quell his excitement and failed. Hogwarts. He was going to Hogwarts! He smiled to himself in the dark. Tomorrow, he was going to prove he wasn't just the pathetic son.
Tomorrow, he would make his father proud.