A/N: Thanks and huge carnival-style swirly lollipops to all my reviewers :)

Chapter 4:

James sorted Gryffindor, another Gryffindor in a line of Gryffindors. Mum made him gold and red cupcakes and depending on their frostings they had either red or gold cakes. Albus didn't much care, but he thought James seemed much more like a Slytherin- like in Uncle Ron's stories, always bragging and being cheeky and carrying on, than someone who was brave and true. Who knew though-perhaps one day James would grow up and show his true colors and shock everyone-make them all stand up and take notice? Albus doubted it, but anything was possible all the same.

Albus didn't think he'd sort Gryffindor. He didn't have much stomach for being loud and brassy like Mum, or annoying like James, or brave and fearless like Dad. He just wanted to live and be happy and for other people to let him in peace. If there was a let me alone House Albus definitely thought that he would sort that.

When James left Albus was sure that he was not going to miss him, not at all, but after a few days he began to miss James' place in the family, miss him joking around their parent's mess like a little performing act. Albus often hated James for it, just like James hadn't Albus for always running away and being a baby, but now he felt badly. James was his brother, and like him he had learned to cope with Mum and Dad in the best way he could.

Time seemed to pick up speed with James away and Lily and Albus alone in the house. Lily was a quiet, solitary sort of girl, and Albus had Scorpius now, so they both amused themselves in their own way, he guessed. Every night, Albus would write a letter to Scorpius before bed, and every morning there would be a reply waiting by his bedside, just before dawn-Albus had figured out that if he left out a few treats for the owl, as well as his window open that Bertha would leave the letter and return to her perch in the attic.

Albus woke up this morning and rolled out of bed, ignoring his rioting bladder to grasp his letter.

Dear Al,

Last night I didn't stray too far beyond home, but I went to a graveyard. I sat for a while, looking at all the dates and things that people died, wondering all the things they might have did. Is that sort of messed up? I suppose it is-Father would say admitting it is a sign of weakness, but everything is weak, even the strongest creatures. My mum died eleven years ago today. I'm not such a fan of my birthday.

Your gloomy mate,

Scor.

Albus stared a long time at the perfect penmanship. What could he write back? Sorry you never knew your mum? You really shouldn't hang about in graveyards, mate? Everything sounded so stupid, so bloody fake when what he felt was honest and real -what he felt for Scorpius was the realest thing in his whole life.

Dear Scor,

I wish I was there with you.

-Albus.

Albus felt a breeze tingle on his neck and all down his spine as he leafed through the newest edition of Quidditch Weekly. Downstairs he could hear Mum's wireless in the kitchens playing the old romantic station as her knife went chop chop chop into her cutting board. With Dad working later and later hours and James away at school the house was a much quieter place-and Albus liked the calm.

"Hello," Scorpius grinned cheekily. He was seated on top of Albus' desk and he was popping some of Albus' Every Flavor Beans into his mouth that he kept in a jar that changed colors and said things like nearly nasty or delicious every time you took one and bit.

"You're here," Albus said, shocked. It was nearly winter again and so the sunny days were quickly disappearing into longer stretches of darker nights. "How'd you get in?"

Scorpius tilted head towards the window. It was open and Albus' curtains were fluttering outward into the night wind. Propped against the window and the wall was the Bolt Maximum. The Bolt line of brooms was the only line of brooms that was named after Dad that really took off after the war and remained successful-probably because the company actually made good brooms and didn't just rely on cashing in on Dad's name like every one else in the wizarding world tried to do.

"It was my birthday present," Scorpius smiled. "It's brill-maybe we can go racing one day."

"Not on your life," Albus scoffed. He only had a Firebolt Storm, which was no competition at all. "How was your birthday?"

Scorpius looked down so that his hair hung sadly over his face, obscuring it from view. "I don't like it. I mean it's all right on parchment-my cousins come over and we have cake and we usually do something stupid to pass the time like Quidditch or exploding snap-but, I don't know. Do you suppose it's possible to miss someone you've never known?"

Albus shrugged. He figured Scorpius was talking about his mother and his own mum was still alive, chopping up the veg for dinner downstairs. "Maybe you just miss that you never got to know her," Albus tried tentatively.

Scorpius looked up, his pale face with it's freckles curved into a sad sort of wry grin. "She died giving birth to me. Sounds like something stupid out of a sickle novel, doesn't it? Tragic witch without a mother marries a European heir or something- only the reason my mum died wasn't such a nice reason, in fact-"

"Al!" Mum hollered up the stairs, instead of using sonorus like any normal magical being. "Al, dinner's on in ten, you better wash your hands!"

Albus blush, while Scorpius laughed. "Is she always like that?"

"Just about," Albus grumbled.

Scorpius took his broom and mounted off from the windowsill, beaming. "Maybe one day you can tell your mum that she saved my eleventh birthday from being a ghastly sob-fest!"

Albus laughed.

Only after dinner did he realize that her hadn't asked Scorpius if he had gotten his Hogwarts letter or not. He waited until it was late to sneak up to Bertha and pen a snort note.

Did you get it?

Scorpius' reply was just as brief.

Yes. Father says we'll see. Cross fingers for Sept.

Albus began the countdown for his own birthday in his mind, which was six weeks away. It felt like a lifetime. He knew he was going to get a letter-Mum had repeated the story about how he had turned the red carpet in his nursery orange when he was a toddler so many times that the story had stopped being embarrassing and had turned annoying and then boring over the years. Now Albus had something to look forward to: if Draco Malfoy, MP said yes to his son going to Hogwarts Albus could travel with his best mate on the Express just like his dad had done all those years ago.

Soon the weeks whittled away-the heat wave passed into a slight cooler crispness and flowers bloomed in Mum's garden. Aunt Luna and Uncle Rolf came back from Peru with a stuffed llama for Lily's birthday and a flower pin which Lily wore and carried around for nearly a week. James got sunstroke from trying to tan off his freckles on the front porch and Scorpius' father took him north with his tutor to Iceland to study natural environments or some such rot, and Scorpius sent him a picture of his father, himself and Mr. Zabini who looked very suave on a glacier.

Albus felt the anticipation for his birthday tingling in his bones-if this was what it felt like for James it was no wonder he was an utter git on his own birthday.

Albus stretched and grinned opening his eyes. There was a small parcel by his beside, as well as a little card. The letters were in Swedish or something-Albus didn't understand-but the cartoon was of a polar bear getting hit with a Beater's bat and landing in a birthday cake. It was pretty funny.

Happy Birthday! Scorpius wrote inside

I had to owl this a day early so it'd reach you at night time like usual.

Save me some cake-or not!

Scorpius' present was a book Ways to Get Ahead at Hogwarts without Really Trying: the Lazy Students Guide to Success. Albus flipped through the pages; it seemed like a comedy book mocking all the histories of Hogwarts and the war-it too looked like a pretty good read. Scorpius had good taste in books; Albus would have to attack his library one day.

The book and the card turned out to be the best parts of Albus' birthday, all things considered. He walked downstairs and Mum was already dressed in her fanciest robes, the light gray ones with all the white sequins. Breakfast was burnt and in the trash, and the wireless was on the top of the pops.

"Oh Al," Mum sighed. "It's not a good day. I've got you a bowl of Crunchie Wiz."

Albus bit into the cereal.

"Mum," Lily whined. "The milk's gone off."

"No it hasn't," Dad grumbled. "I'm having tea and it's fine-eat your cereal, there's a good girl."

Mum sniffed the pitcher of milk. "Perhaps it has-you don't have to eat the cereal if you don't want to, honey, I'll make you lot eggs and toast if you like."

Dad huffed again and dropped his newspaper into his lap as though it spontaneously caught flames. "That's the whole trouble, Gin," Dad started up. "You give in to them on everything! They want eggs, you make eggs-they want to go out, you apparate them to Zanzibar! It really insanity, and the inmates are running the bloody asylum."

Mum crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Dad as if she could hex him blad, infertile and a squib just by the magic in her irises. "Oh," Mum snorted. "Like you could win any awards for Parent of the Year if those rag mags could see behind tight wards- when are you ever around, Harry? When it's convenient for your work schedule, that's what! I have to remind you of everything and if I do for my children, it's only to make up for what they lack in you!"

Lily winced from where she was beside Mum, but Mum and Dad only kept going, as though they were acting out a show. Finally, blessedly, Mum threw up her hands and said-

"You know what you are, Harry-" then she looked at Albus and Lily. "I can't, not with my children right here watching and listening to you carrying on with your pathetic excuses and lies-"

"You know what's a lie," Dad scoffed, "You when you said-"

Mum grabbed her shoes-now they were restoring to rowing as they were getting ready to leave! "I'm taking the children out!" Mum cried. "Albus, Lily! Get your shoes on, we're going shopping. Unlike your father, I would remember your birthday without a calendar!"

"Go," Dad tossed out. "Go spend my money, Gin! Not like I'd need any of the gold!"

Albus and Lily breathed a sigh of relief as the door shut.

Diagon Alley was practically empty on an early Monday morning. All of the shops were open on the high street but everyone was working, so it had a sort of gloomy, odd appearance. A few people came out of their windows to look at Albus, Mum and Lily, but most went about their business, too bored or too busy to carry on with the wizarding world's rather tarnished royalty. As much as Albus loved Mum he rather thought that Dad was right when he said that they could travel without escorts and just mingle along with the common people.

Mum made a beeline for the apothecary and got herself a headache remedy. Mum drank a lot of headache remedy and gillywater whenever Dad was around-she told Albus and the others that Dad made her nervous, but Albus couldn't imagine anything ruffling Mum's feathers unless she deliberately let it.

They stopped in Gringotts and got the usual sacks of gold for the places that Dad had banned Mum from having a credit account, and went off to buy books, a new cauldron, and all of the other most boring supplies that Albus didn't really care for. He didn't want an owl or a familiar either-he wasn't much for animals, and the only thing he was excited about was finally owning his own wand.

"A wand," Lily smiled. "Can I see?"

"Of course you can," Merry Bledstone, the proprietor of Ollivander and Bledstone's Custom Wandmaking smiled. After the war, Mr. Ollivander had gone off to Paris for his health on an extended holiday and everyone was surprised when he came back with a wife, a woman ten years younger, an apprentice in magical carving and woodmaking. No one begrudged him his happiness though-Ms. Bledstone as she preferred to be called, was every bit as talented as her husband, though not so very eccentric

"Now," Ms. Bledstone said. "My husband is away-our little boy has a cough, I hope you don't mind me fitting you for a wand, dear?"

"Not at all," Mum smiled. "My brother's new wand works very well. Would you like that, Al?"

Albus nodded early.

Ms. Bledstone took Albus's hand and dangled a crystal on a large string over it. Some said that she was a seer, other's said she merely did this to calm her jittery clients before getting to work. "You're not very much like your brother, I'd say."

"No," Mum tittered. "Not at all."

Ms. Bledstone picked up a dark wand with a wide handle. "Try that one for me my lad and tell me how you like the fit of it."

Albus didn't-it felt awful-like someone was pushing him away from something pleasant, like swimming against a current, or running backwards on one of those Muggle treadmills Granddad kept in his shed.

Ms. Bledstone shook her head. "Too much one way, and not enough another, I suppose. How about this way, little Albus?"

It was a cherry wand-Albus knew because Uncle George's wand was cherry as well. It felt nice, but not good, as though he was stealing from a store and taking a sweet-pleasant, but definitely guilty. Ms. Bledstone clucked her tongue and picked up the wand, placing it back up on the high shelf.

"You're very interesting," Ms. Bledstone said, giving Albus a firm look. "I think I have the wand for him, Mrs. Potter, but it's a rather costly one. It's the older models-the way they still make wands in the States, in Salem."

Mum's eyes glittered. "Anything at all-we'll pay it."

Ms. Bledstone nodded wryly. "Let's see if it works first."

She took out a box from display. "It's birch, Mrs. Potter-with opal set in the base. A very powerful stone as we well know. I think young Albus has an affinity for such things that are a bit more dangerous than are good for him."

Mum laughed. "Albus loves his scrapes."

Ms. Bledstone looked sharp, her dark hair and eyes seemed to peer into Albus' and right through him. "It's your wand, child. Take it."

Albus picked it up. It was. It felt like ice cream on a hot day-like being held by Mum when he'd been hurt, like the funniest joke that had every been told. It felt like water when you were thirty, and knowing somehow there would be more. Albus' wand felt like promise. Albus smiled up at Ms. Bledstone, but her firm, serious face showed little humor.

Mum handed over an entire sack of gold happily.

Albus thought about it for a little while-usually Ms. Bledstone was so kind, and so calm, she balanced out her husband Mr. Ollivander perfectly, who seemed to have the most nervous disposition in the wizarding world. How could it be that she'd gotten upset over his wand? No, Albus thought, it had to be that she was upset that her little boy was ill for the day and she had to work. Mum was always cross when he or Jamie wasn't well. Albus, Lily, and Mum went to tea at La Boheme and forgot all about poor Ms. Bledstone for the day.

Three days later, while Albus was sleeping, he felt a lukewarm hand flick him on the forehead.

It was Scorpius, grinning.

"Budge over," he said, sitting in the space the Albus made. Scorpius was wearing robes for the second time, expensive grey ones with silver threads.

"Hey," Albus said. "Why didn't you just write?"

"Write," Scorpius scoffed. "Writing this would be like writing a dream down-it wouldn't do it justice you git! Anyway, let me tell you what's been going on. My father has been writing to the Board of Governors at Hogwarts to see if they would assure me proper accommodations," when Albus snorted Scorpius rolled his eyed and said; "I told you he's over-protective. Anyway after talking to my tutors and blah blah blah they've agreed and Father will let me go!"

"Scor!" Albus cried, flinging him into a hug. Scorpius was tense for a long moment before hugging back. Albus let him go quickly-it wasn't on for two boys to hug anyway, but he was swept away in the moment of things! Scorpius would go to Hogwarts and they would be best mates all of the time and not just at night and in secret!

Scorpius looked a bit ill, but then perked up. "Have you gotten all your supplies, then? Have you got your books, too?"

"Yes," Albus said. "I've got a wand, and it's got a stone in it-opal!"

"Opal," Scorpius said oddly. "Imagine. Anyway, I got all my things by owl order-well, except my wand. I got my wand while we were in Iceland. It's made of oak which isn't very uncommon."

Albus nodded-he wasn't like James who would have crowed about how special his wand was or how fine his new school robes were. They talked for a little while about their books and their new satchels before Albus couldn't keep from yawning any more than he could keep his eyes from opening and closing.

Scorpius rolled his eyes at him. "You're tired-you lazy beast!"

"I am," Albus yawned widely. "I'm not like you-you never sleep."

"I do so," Scorpius sniffed. "Just not very much. I'll see you later. Goodbye." Albus yawned in response, closing his eyes as Scorpius hopped off his bed.

A/N: Birch is associated with the dead and the afterlife for several cultures, and opals with bad luck. Wonder what that means for Albus . . .