Albus Potter and the Dream
The feast was absolutely amazing, in the most informal explanation possible. Curved tables were lined around the dining hall, almost like an amphitheater, barring the characteristic incline. On the tables were hundreds of gleaming silver plates and brilliant bronze goblets, each draped with napkins showing the Aquila Academy seal. Albus and Scorpius sat down at a table in the fourth row where three students were already sitting. The first was a tall girl with defined muscles, who was wearing the Aquila uniform with a backwards baseball cap. Next to her sat a scrawny bespectacled boy who was shuddering and staring intently at his plate. Lastly, a boy with ruffled blonde hair and a somewhat strained smile sat with an iPhone in hand, fiddling with the wiring.
"You're that Potter kid," said the scrawny boy, not taking his eyes off the plate, "I'm Samuel Morgan."
Taking in the off-putting comment, Albus opened his mouth, but he could not get any words out before the muscly girl started talking.
"I'm Carly Gonzalez, and I've heard all about your dad. Did he ever tell you about how he defeated the Dark Lord?"
"What am I, chopped liver?" Scorpius asked irritably.
"Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, son of Draco Lucius and Astoria Asphodel Malfoy. Birthday is November 16th, blood status is pure-blood, and current place of residence is Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire," the scrawny boy said, again keeping the plate in his line of sight.
"Don't ask," the blonde boy said, "he just knows stuff. Elliott Rosenberg, great to meet you."
"Hello Elliott, Carly, and Samuel. Er, are you excited for the tournament?" Albus asked.
"Definitely," said Carly at once, "You can bet I'm rooting for Hogwarts. My dad went there, and so many famous people did too – Dumbledore, Merlin, your dad . . ."
A loudspeaker screeched, drowning out Carly's statement, and Professor Canton's voice boomed throughout the hall.
"Let's eat!"
The plates in front of them filled with food as nearly invisible nymphs frolicked through the hall, delivering delicious meals of anything from pasta to filet mignon. The goblets filled at once with a blueish liquid bearing no resemblance to any drink or potion Albus had ever seen. Not at all anxious to find out the effects, he decided to take his attention off the goblet.
"So," Elliott started with a mouth full of food, "You got any cool Quidditch maneuvers to show us in the matches?"
"I, er, no. I guess I could try a Dragomir Fumble."
"That one move where you drop the Quaffle but then dive under to catch it again?" Carly asked interestedly.
Albus tried to speak again, but was interrupted by Elliott. Are all Americans this talkative? thought Albus.
"I've never been big on Quidditch, though. My whole family's full of Quodpot players – my dad played professional for the Minneapolis Blizzards, and my grandpa played minor league for the Houston Golems."
The entire meal went on like this; Albus or Scorpius would try to speak, only to be immediately talked over by Carly or Elliott, and Samuel would occasionally say something absentmindedly. Albus was overjoyed when dinner had finished, and he approached one of the teachers to find his sleeping quarters.
"Where do I go next?"
"Hogwarts, right? In that case, you're going to want to go to the third floor and make a left into the Hall of Flags. Then, someone will help you with the password by the Oregon flag."
"Thanks!"
Albus and Scorpius broke off into a run, sprinting up two flights of stairs and turning left sharply. The Hall of Flags opened up in front of them, and they ran to a blue flag donning the word "Oregon."
"Need the password?" asked a voice.
Albus was puzzled, as he couldn't find the voice. Then again, disembodied voices weren't exactly abnormal in the wizarding world.
"Back here," it said again, and the flag swayed.
Scorpius pulled back the flag, and an annoyed golden beaver was beckoning to the left. A door was behind the flag, and it led to what Albus presumed was a common room.
"Just for next time, the password's 'Portland'," said the beaver.
It was already ten o'clock, and Albus was extremely tired. He found his way up to the boys' rooms and found his things spread out at a bed labeled with his name. Scorpius's name was on the next bed over, and unfortunately, the other beds had the names "Elliott Rosenberg" and "Samuel Morgan." Albus didn't care, however, and promptly went to sleep.
"Potter, Albus."
Albus found himself reliving his past. He was eleven years old once again, standing in the Great Hall as Professor Flitwick called out his name. The old and frayed Sorting Hat was sitting on a stool, and he walked up to it. However, he didn't do it of his own accord, merely as if he were a passenger in a vehicle on a predetermined path.
The hat was set on his head, and a voice whispered in his ear.
Not Slytherin? Your father said the same thing.
"I can't be Slytherin – so many bad wizards," Albus grumbled.
Think about Merlin, Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, Horace Slughorn, and even your father would have done well in Slytherin. You're not so much unlike him.
"Not Slytherin," Albus mumbled through gritted teeth, "I don't want to be evil."
That's not really what you feel.
"I don't want to be evil."
Slytherin doesn't make you evil, but choosing to be evil does. You show cunning, ambition, resourcefulness, and an understanding of free will. All traits that Slytherin values.
"What about Gryffindor? Or Ravenclaw? Or even Hufflepuff?"
Many traits of all indeed. The daring of Gryffindor, the wit of Ravenclaw, and the loyalty of Hufflepuff. But alas, I say that Slytherin fits you more that it would have ever fit your father. You can find many friends and make many connections, and even perform feats of greatness. That is what you want, right? You want to rise above your father, to step out from under his shadow of glory.
"I can't be Slytherin! My family would hate me!"
Would they now? Your father expressed his indifference to your placement of House just this morning, did he not? Your sister loves you with all her might, and your brother loves you the same, no matter how much he teases you. Motherly love is one of the few things one cannot live without, and your mother will never truly stop loving you. Your House does not matter to the ones who love you.
"Stop egging me into this!"
The past changed. The story changed from how Albus remembered it, and the voice of Carly Gonzalez rang out in his ears.
"Did he ever tell you how he defeated the Dark Lord?"
Albus's vision was warped, and he suddenly felt free reign. The dream wasn't controlling him anymore, but the other way around. But then Carly's voice rang out again, speaking words Albus had never heard her speak before.
"Did he ever really love you? You know what is ahead of you, in your heart of hearts."
Albus struggled, but he felt like he was stuck in quicksand. The Great Hall distorted around him, the Sorting Hat strangled the top of his head, and the windows broke with a high pitched scream. The scene changed to a dark forest, with only moonlight illuminating the ground from the canopy. Two figures were covered in shrouds, huddled over a small figure that Albus knew too well.
"Tell me, Albus Severus Potter, is this real, or is it just an illusion?"
The high, cold voice pierced Albus's ears like a knife, and the cloaked figures turned around with their wands at the ready.
"Sit," the voice said again, and the scene changed to a decrepit attic. Albus was forced down into a small wooden chair, and the two figures sat down next to the source of the voice. "Feats of greatness," the voice said mockingly, "I always knew that Sorting Hat had no brains. I hope you're wondering why you're here."
Albus tried to speak, but he felt invisible hands clenched around his throat. He looked up, and two shadowy dementors were choking him.
"Some people never learn. Bellatrix, Wormtail, can you fetch the prophecy?"
The two shrouded figures hovered away, returning shortly thereafter with a bright blue ball.
"Now, should I reveal this information to you, or should I leave it to some big man like your father to tell you?" asked the voice.
"Tell – tell me now!" Albus struggled, the dementors increasing their grasp.
"Potter, you don't know who I am, do you boy? I don't think someone currently locked in a dream should be screaming at Lord Voldemort."
"TELL ME NOW!" Albus screamed, and the dementors were now almost cutting off all circulation to his brain.
"Tut, tut, Potter. Every time you do that, they will increase their hold. In fact, I don't think I need you here at all. Consider your options, for I am to return soon, and danger will grab hold of the world like never before. Avada Kedavra."
A blast of green light hit him, and he woke up, screaming.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU SCREAMING FOR, YOU IDIOT?" Scorpius bellowed.
Albus took a look at the clock, which now read 2:52 AM, and back at Scorpius. Elliott and Samuel were now awake as well, and they looked less than happy.
"V-Voldemort . . . he said – he said he's coming back. To – to consider m-my options," Albus panted, a cold sweat falling down his face.
"Al, You-Know-Who isn't coming back. It was a dream," Scorpius said calmly.
"But it wasn't a dream, Scorp!" Albus yelled, "I was there, and he was there! And two others – Bellatrix and Wormtail, he said – and he said he's coming back."
"Al, You-Know-Who is dead!" Scorpius said sternly.
"But he's coming back! He's got some sort of prophecy and some magic, and he's coming back! Tell someone, please!"
"He can't be coming back! He's dead!"
"This is Voldemort we're talking about! He's found a way to come back, and he will! He trapped me in a dream, for God's sake!"
"We have to tell Professor Canton," said Samuel, who jumped out his bed at once.
Albus and Scorpius followed Samuel and Elliott to Canton's office, which was on the ninth floor, and they were careful not to be seen by the lurking security trolls.
"Come in," Canton said singingly as the four students rapped on his door.
"Professor Canton, Potter had a dream about You-Know-Who," Samuel said quickly.
"And you came up here for a dream? Dreams aren't real, they're just fantasy," said Canton angrily.
"But it wasn't a dream! He trapped me in an alternate reality, and he was there! He killed me in another form of reality!" Albus yelled.
"I've been telling you about the signs for months, Professor," said a new voice, one that sounded familiar.
"Professor Mortelux!" Albus sighed, and the suave man stepped out from the shadows, wearing a pinstriped suit as always.
"Potter, Malfoy, you'll be sleeping in here for tonight. It's much too dangerous right now. Morgan, Rosenberg, back to bed," Mortelux ordered.
"Atlas, you can't do this-" Canton protested.
"I can, because the Dark Lord will return, and he just confessed it to the person he's most afraid of right now. He's heard that prophecy, and he knows how to return!" Mortelux snarled. "Potter, get some sleep. I'm afraid that a good nights' sleep may be the only source of refuge we will have for a couple of months."