-Chapter Seven-
The Firebolt's Last Flight
"I need to check up on Herwina," said Albus with an air of finality at lunch on Wednesday.
Scorpius swirled a spoon in the remains of his soup and gave a noncommittal shrug. "Whatever."
"Come with me," Albus ordered.
"Why?" Scorpius whined.
"Because," began Albus, lowering his voice, "if James catches me alone, he'll kill me."
Albus was indeed telling the truth. Unfortunately, when he and Elina had come out of the forest the other day, James had spotted them. If jealousy had a form, it would have been James at that moment. He had been hunting down Albus for a week now, determined to catch him unawares and strangle him for walking within a twenty-foot radius of Elina.
Scorpius gave a long-suffering sigh and stood up, pushing the empty soup bowl away. "Fine. But I doubt that me being there would stop him."
Albus ignored these words and started out of the Great Hall. To his horror, he realized that James and his friends (more commonly known to the Slytherins as his cronies) were not sitting at their usual places at the Gryffindor table. Where were they, then?
This question was answered almost immediately. The moment that Albus and Scorpius reached the third floor, they were ambushed by James and his usual thugs.
Albus groaned. He didn't have time for this. With a sigh, he asked, "What do you want, James?"
James, unsurprisingly, was at the head of the group. Garret Abath, Eric Derlwin, Richie Red, and several other older popular Gryffindors boys were with him, leering down at the two unpopular Slytherins. Albus and Scorpius took out their wands, eyes narrowed defiantly.
"Hey, hey," James said, smirking, "I didn't come here to fight!"
"Sure," Albus snapped. "Because you just like taking your thugs around with you all the time."
James glared at Albus with obvious loathing. "Shut it, Snivellus. Do you want to settle this the easy way or the hard way?"
"Settle what, exactly?" Albus asked in exasperation.
"You and Elina. Stay away from her. What—don't—you—get—about—that?" James said slowly, as if Albus were three years old.
Albus gritted his teeth. "It's a bit difficult to do that when she's one of my best friends—"
"Stop hanging around her!" James yelled. "Just—just go invent a potion or something stupid like that! She fancies me, not you—"
"Oh, really?" Albus snarled. "Then why isn't she your girlfriend already? Is your head too inflated to consider the fact that she might not fancy you?"
James roared with laughter. His friends echoed him. "So, who else does she fancy? You? You, the Loser of Hogwarts, the disgrace of the family?"
Albus held onto his wand so tightly that it nearly cracked under the pressure. It was taking all his self-control not to cast the Cruciatus Curse on James. "Me. The one who saved the world twice, the one who tricked Dark Wizards, faced monsters, battled the embodiment of evil, and saved Elina's life—," said Albus hotly, not caring if he sounded arrogant. He was done with being the loser. He wanted some respect now.
"What's he talking about?" Richie Red spluttered, looking confused.
A look of horror passed over James's face. He forced out a chuckle. "It's all rubbish, everyone. See? He's so desperate that he's making stories up! What a loser..."
Albus couldn't take it anymore. He whipped his wand through the air, sending a nonverbal Bat-Bogey Hex towards James, who had been expecting the move. Quickly, he pulled up a shield, blocking the hex.
The fight had begun. Scorpius, who had been watching the scene quietly, leapt into action and began to duel Derlwin and Garret Abath at the same time, trying to ignore their taunts about him being 'Death Eater's spawn.' Meanwhile, Albus and James slowly advanced through the corridor and down the stairs, shooting spells at each other the whole time. Richie Red was moving between the two duels, helping to outnumber the two Slytherins.
Then, completely without warning, the staircase that they were on began to move. All of the boys yelped and stumbled, desperately trying to keep their balance as the stairs shifted alarmingly fast. In the split second that Albus's attention was divided, James struck. Albus teetered on the edge of the stairs, not daring to look down. He was still holding his wand, and he ran any spells that might help through his mind. But nothing came to him. In desperation, Albus lashed out and grabbed onto Derlwin's cloak. Derlwin screamed like a little girl and ran backwards. Albus held on to the cloak, using it to steady himself. But Derlwin was too clumsy; his foot sunk through the next step, and he fell forward with a sickening crack. It had been the trick step.
"My ankle!" Derlwin howled. "It broke!"
The stairs jerked to a stop, causing all the boys to sway where they stood. At that moment, a group of first-year Ravenclaws arrived. They stopped at the bottom of the stairs, comical expressions of shock on their faces.
"Well?" James growled at them. "Go get help! My friend is hurt! Get a professor now!"
The Ravenclaws squeaked and obediently darted away. A moment later, they returned with a leering Luke Irving.
Albus and Scorpius gulped.
"Fighting, are we, boys?" said Irving coldly, a sinister smile flitting across his features. "No doubt that the Slytherins started it. Am I correct, James?"
James nodded smugly while Albus seethed, imagining several ways in which James could die a painful death.
"Very well, very well," sighed Irving. He fixed Albus with a sadistically delighted grin. "You Slytherins never learn your lesson, do you? Thirty points from Slytherin House."
Albus's fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white and his fingernails were making indentations on his palms. What he wouldn't give to pull his fist back and smash Irving's nose until it resembled nothing but a smear...
"My ankle broke!" wailed Derlwin, struggling to his feet with the help of Richie Red and Garret Abath. "And the match is coming up in a week! How will I play?"
Scorpius's mouth fell open. "Are you serious? Madam Pomfrey can heal it in three seconds, and you'll be playing on a broomstick, so you'll be flying, you idiot."
Irving grinned even wider. "Ten more points from Slytherin for back-talking to a Gryffindor."
Scorpius shut up, but continued to glare at Derlwin with the deepest loathing.
"Mr. Derlwin, don't you think that the Slytherins need to be taught a lesson?" asked Irving, smirking.
Albus and Scorpius were gritting their teeth so hard that the grinding noise was loud enough to be heard.
"Since you need to heal, Eric, Gryffindor's match against Slytherin will be postponed until the end of the year. Instead, Slytherin will play Ravenclaw."
"You can't do that!" Albus shouted, losing control.
Irving gave one last cackle and swept off, leading the Derlwin and some of the Gryffindors to the Hospital Wing. James stayed behind to show Albus a very rude hand gesture and strutted off a moment later, looking as if Christmas had come early.
"Unbelievable," Albus hissed. "The whole wizarding world just can't help babying the Gryffindors for being war heroes and everything, and they can't help treating Slytherin like the scum of the earth."
Albus and Scorpius scowled as Derlwin showed off his bandaged ankle over at the Gryffindor table. Scorpius was particularly sore at the fact that Rose had swallowed up the story and was dumping sympathy on Derlwin. Lily, however, had laughed derisively when she had heard Derlwin's story and hadn't believed a word of it. Needless to say, James wasn't talking to her, but Lily did not seem to care. She merely aimed a hex at her oldest brother's back, shared a snicker with Hugo, and burst out laughing when James tried to get up and found that his pants were stuck to the seat.
Albus would have laughed, too, if he hadn't been so worried about Headmaster Triton's announcement. At the start of dinner, Triton had informed them, "Due to an accident earlier today, Gryffindor's match with Slytherin has been postponed. Ravenclaw will take Gryffindor's place. Just as a reminder, because the Colorful Competition will be starting next week, the first match of the season has been moved up. It will now take place two weeks before Halloween, which means the first match is scheduled for this Saturday."
Hemley choked on his spoon and had to be nursed by Patty Parkinson, and—judging from the commotion at the Ravenclaw table—the members of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team had just had similar responses.
"This Saturday?" gasped Hemley, finally managing to stop coughing. "In three days?" He stood up, bodily dragged his fellow team members to their feet—Albus, Blaire Zabini, Patty Parkinson, Edward Mylens, Quentin Trollon, and Atticus Ridden—and pulled them out of the Great Hall for practice.
"GET OUT TO THE DAMN PITCH!" he bellowed the moment they were in the changing rooms. "We're going to stay out there practicing until the sun rises! GO! GO! GO!"
Early Saturday morning, Albus dragged himself to the breakfast table. His back was aching—thanks to having been hit by a Bludger twice because he had been so tired during training. Hemley had forced them to practice for five hours straight the previous night, as well as the other two days before the match. They would have gone on throughout the night, but they had been kicked off the pitch fifteen minutes before curfew. Albus, wracked with worry, hadn't gotten much sleep. He'd kept imagining scenarios in which he had fainted on the field and wasn't able to play. It seemed likely enough, since he seemed to attract enough bad luck for a lifetime—even if he had only been alive for thirteen years.
To further ruin his mood, the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall depicted stormy skies. It had probably already started drizzling, and the clouds looked volatile enough to produce a rainstorm, complete with thunder and lightning. It was not going to be a good match. Albus casted an Impervious Charm on his glasses in some attempt to prepare for the weather, but doubted that it would help much.
Fortunately, Rose had come to support him and was trying to shove some toast down his throat. "Come on, eat. You've got to eat! Have you seen the weather? It's going to kill you!"
"Forget about him," Scorpius muttered. "It's going to kill the rest of us. We're going to have to sit out there in the cold for Merlin knows how long! Catch the Snitch quickly, Al. I've got a two feet-long essay on the usage of Murdoch Roots, and I haven't even written one millimeter yet."
Rose gave Scorpius a very dirty look. "You should have thought about that, shouldn't you? Maybe if you'd finished it yesterday—"
"Oh, shut up! I'm clever enough to finish it in about ten minutes with my eyes closed," Scorpius snapped. "Why don't you go snog Derl-lose over there?"
Rose stared at Scorpius, an eyebrow raised. "What?"
"You keep fawning over him and his stupid broken ankle—which isn't broken at all, might I add! You don't care about Al at all. You're just happy that Gryffindor doesn't have to play in this weather. You're even supporting Ravenclaw!"
Rose glared at him. "Excuse me?" She shoved a silver-and-green scarf in his face. "For your information, I'm supporting Slytherin. And I care very much about Al! And, for goodness's sake, I know that Eric's ankle isn't broken anymore. I'm getting quite tired of all his moaning."
Scorpius was still not looking suitably embarrassed for his loss of control.
"And you know what else I'm getting quite tired of, Malfoy?" Rose added angrily, clenching her fists. "You! You've been in a bad mood all year, and you keep acting like a git for no reason! I just don't understand what's up with you anymore! You know what, maybe I will snog Eric!"
She stomped off to the Gryffindor table, her orange hair flying behind her like flames gone wild.
Scorpius pulled up a sneer on his face. "Fine! What's her problem? Why does she have to get all worked up for no reason? She's a hypocrite." Scorpius smashed his bowl of cereal down onto the table so hard that some milk spilled over the edge and dripped onto the tablecloth. "And I doubt she'd risk her precious popularity over in Gryffindor to support us! Have you seen her, Al? She's always flirting with Derlwin and those other disgusting idiots!"
"You're jealous," Albus interrupted, smirking. "You fancy her."
Scorpius stabbed his spoon into his bowl so furiously that it nearly bent, but did not deny the statement. "Whatever. I just—I just don't like how she's ignoring us, that's all!" He stuck his nose up in the air.
"She's not ignoring us," Albus pointed out. "She came over here to sit with us—at least until you drove her away—and she's supporting Slytherin in the match." He looked at the Gryffindor table to see that Rose indeed was getting questioning looks from her popular friends regarding the silver-and-green scarf that was around her neck. She simply ignored their furious insults and continued eating, her head raised in a dignified manner.
Scorpius looked very guilty now.
"Why do you two always argue about the stupidest things?" Albus continued, determined to chew Scorpius out. "I mean, are youlooking for a fight? And telling her to go and snog Derlwin? Scorpius, are you trying to give her ideas? It would be awful if she went out with him! He's kissed about fifty girls already!"
Scorpius looked wistfully into the distance. "Lucky bloke."
Albus snapped his fingers in front of Scorpius's face. "Get out of your stupid fantasy, whatever it is!"
"How did he get so many girls, anyways?" Scorpius growled, shooting Derlwin a hateful glare. "What's so great about him?"
Albus sighed, wondering why exactly Scorpius needed to be given a lesson on the social ladder of Hogwarts. It was common knowledge to every single Slytherin that they were on the very bottom. This social ladder was cruel to them, but they had still managed to memorize every level and the people found in each level. "Look, he's best mates with James. He, and that Richie Red idiot, and that thug, Garret Abath or whatever—they're on the top. They get whatever girl they want—and more than half of the girls here want them back. We aren't even last resorts for the most desperate girls, because we're losers and everybody hates us—and we're not exactly material for the 'Hottest Wizard of the Month' page in the Witch Weekly magazine, are we? Get it now?"
Scorpius shoved the spoon into his mouth and continued to glare at the back of Derlwin's head, giving no indication that he had heard Albus's long explanation. Albus sighed and returned to nibbling at his toast disinterestedly. His eyes wandered over to where Elina was sitting. She didn't seem to be supporting either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, and was wearing her usual red-and-gold scarf. At that moment, she had been laughing at something Lily had said. As usual, Elina's laugh made Albus feel warm all over.
The moment that James scooted over to sit next to her, however, Albus's heart plummeted to his feet. James, unlike his best mates, did not fool around with girls, even though they practically threw themselves at him. He seemed to have eyes only for Elina, who really was the only girl who wasn't obsessed with impressing James. Unlike the rest of the girls, who treated James special because of his father's fame, Elina judged him fairly and did not care about his last name. Perhaps this was the reason that James had fallen for her as hard as Albus had.
As Albus watched Elina and James at the Gryffindor table, Elina turned around to give Albus a smile. James turned around as well, but only to give him a mental message: 'Stay away from her.'
Albus's silent message went: 'You stay away from her.'
Elina didn't notice anything. She beamed at him again before turning back to her breakfast.
James held Albus's gaze for a few more seconds, though, and Albus didn't break it. They glared at each other so furiously that lightning could have passed between them. Before Albus could make a rude hand gesture and mouth a swear word at James, Hemley jerked him back to business with a bellow loud enough to make everyone jump three feet off their seats.
"OI! AL! GET OFF YOUR LAZY ARSE AND GET TO THE CHANGING ROOMS! The match is starting in a few minutes!"
Albus stood up nervously, leaving his toast half-finished. Rose got up from the Gryffindor table and ran over to hug him and wish him good luck. Before she sat back down, she gave Scorpius a pointed glare. Elina hugged him next. "Good luck. You'll be great. You always are," she whispered into his ear before skipping off. Her hair had smelled so wonderful that he was stunned for a full minute afterward, dreamily looking after her.
Once he had reacquired his senses, he didn't feel quite so tired anymore. A big grin on his face, contrasting shockingly with the angry weather, Albus walked down to the changing rooms.
"When did you get so popular with the Gryffindor princess?" asked seventh-year Edward Mylens accusingly while Albus carefully polished his broomstick handle.
Albus nearly dropped his Firebolt. "W-What?" he stammered, blushing.
Fifth-year Atticus Ridden smirked over at him, taking his head out of his locker long enough to say, "Well, she was practically hanging off of you. She fancies you."
Albus tripped and nearly collided with the wall. He hastily picked himself up and assessed his broomstick for damage, trying to hide his rapidly reddening face from view. A second later, in a small voice, he asked, "R-Really? Y-You think so?"
"It's obvious. You should've seen your git of a brother when she hugged you—he was ready to kill," said the sixth-year Beater, Quentin Trollon.
Albus grinned widely. Did Elina really fancy him? He found himself pulled into a fantasy in which she was his girlfriend, they held hands, kissed, and went on dates in Hogsmeade, and he also saved her from a gory death by flying her away from danger with her in his arms princess-style...
Unfortunately, Hemley seemed determined to ruin his fun. "GET YOUR STUPID HEAD OF THE CLOUDS AND STOP THINKING ABOUT GIRLS! WE'VE GOT A GAME TO PLAY!" he roared, causing Albus to jump so high that he smacked his head on the locker above.
Ten minutes later, the Slytherin Quidditch team walked out onto the pitch to deafening booing and jeering. It had already started to drizzle, and Albus had to hurriedly wipe his glasses, which were dappled with droplets of water, on the edge of his robes. After recasting the Impervious Charm, he took his place in the middle of the pitch. The Ravenclaw team walked out next, and was greeted far more positively. Both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were watching the match interestedly, wondering who would start off the Quidditch season on the best foot.
Richie Red started with calling off the names of the players. He recited the names of the Ravenclaw players without pause, but he found it necessary to add a nasty comment for each of the Slytherin players' names. "First up, Hemley! They say he had a scandalous enemies-with-benefits relationship with the old Gryffindor Captain, Olivia Wood"—Hemley turned very red and looked at his muddy shoes—"Parkinson! Goodness, that girl can't get any uglier"—Patty blinked back tears—"Zabini! She's lovely, except for the fact that she's preparing to tear our guts out for looking at her"—Blaire cracked her fists menacingly—"Mylens! They say he hasn't had a girlfriend for all seven years he's been here"—Mylens kicked the ground in humiliation—"Trollon! He looks and smells like a troll, obviously"—Trollon sniffed himself and shrugged, unoffended—"Ridden! I'm surprised he managed to find the pitch without being led there on a leash. Careful! He might attack like the rabid dog he is"—("If he keeps being the dragon dung he is, I'll rip his throat out," muttered Ridden under his breath)—"Aaand—I refuse to taint his last name—Alpus Snivellus! We know enough about him. But, just to refresh your memory, he's the resident freak!"
Albus froze with anger. Thankfully, Red's commentary of the Slytherin players was over. None of the Slytherins looked as if they could stand it any longer. Madam Hooch swept onto the pitch, the box of balls in one hand and her broomstick clutched in the other. The Slytherin and Ravenclaw players faced each other, sizing their opponents up. The Ravenclaw Seeker, Albus knew, was Renee Ranch, a fifth-year girl with two brown braids and too many freckles. (Though Albus had no right to talk—about the freckles, that was, not the braids.) As the school watched, Madam Hooch let out the Bludgers and Golden Snitch. She held the red Quaffle in her hand, steadying it. The fourteen players plus the referee rose off the ground, and Madam Hooch threw the Quaffle into the sky. It was on.
"Aaand... Wendelyn Pawson from Ravenclaw with the Quaffle! I repeat, Pawson with the Quaffle! She's speeding toward the Slytherin hoops... damn! A Bludger to the back from the idiotic Slytherin Beater, Quentin Trollon." The professors did not bother to scold Richie Red for his colorful language.
Albus started to circle the pitch. The Ravenclaw Seeker, Renee Ranch, was tailing him closely. Albus knew that was a sign of weakness and insecurity. She was depending on him to find the Snitch for her. This was the perfect opportunity to trick her.
"And Parkinson from Slytherin with the Quaffle! Damn—damn—damn! Come on, Ravenclaw, you can beat the Slytherin losers!" Red shouted into the magical microphone. "Wait a second—NO!—Snivellus has seen something!" Albus had indeed spotted a glint of gold on the far end of the pitch. He sped toward it, and Renee flew behind him, barely managing to keep up. But it turned out to be a Ravenclaw Beater's watch. Disappointed, Albus jerked to a stop and rose higher. Renee, confused, nearly ended up crashing into the stands. "And it was a ruse—or something. That slimy cheater. I don't know how a loser like him got to be Seeker—I'm surprised he can count to three..." The crowd laughed appreciatively. Albus scowled and did a lap around the pitch, scanning every nook and cranny for a hint of golden.
"Parkinson with the Quaffle—hit her with a Bludger! YES—excellent shot there from the Ravenclaw Beater! I hope it hurt, Parkinson. And now Iantha Pawson with the Quaffle. Pawson with the Quaffle again! And she scores!"
Albus sighed with the rest of the Slytherin team. "Ten to nil, Ravenclaw!" Red announced. Albus looked down at the stands to see the Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Gryffindors cheering for the Ravenclaws and sending nasty glares to the Slytherins. The rest of Hogwarts was united against them. Albus spotted James and Elina sitting near the top. James leaned over and whispered something in Elina's ear. She giggled.
Albus felt the evil power blaze within him, filling him with dark strength. His eyes glinted, and a strong hatred consumed him, feeding the terrible power. He struggled with it for a moment, alarmed. Finally, he managed to push it away. Not for the first time, Albus had felt murderous, as if he would not hesitate to strike his own brother dead. Feeling dizzy and exhausted in the aftermath of the dark, deadly feeling, Albus flew as far away from the Gryffindor stands as he could. His head was spinning, and his surroundings seemed blurry. He clutched his head, which seemed to be splitting. It took a few minutes for the pain to ebb away. Relieved that it was gone and that he could return to the match, he circled the pitch again.
The match went on slowly. Iantha Pawson had scored twice more, bringing the score to thirty-zero, Ravenclaw. Just then, Edward Mylens, another Chaser, scored, bringing the score to thirty-ten, though Ravenclaw was still winning. The drizzle had let way to a full downpour, and Albus's Quidditch robes were completely soaked. Then, without warning, a boom of thunder shook the sky. The clouds ripped open violently, letting loose the rain that they held captive. The water rained down like a vertical flood, drenching everyone and everything in the pitch.
"Bloody hell! Where did all that rain come from?" yelled Red, his voice muffled from the noise of the water.
Albus gritted his teeth against the buffeting gale, trying in vain to see. He seized his wand from his the waistband of his Quidditch robes and muttered, "Impervius" for the third time. It didn't seem to be helping clear his glasses that much. The spell was relatively useless now—he ought to invent a better version.
How was he supposed to find the Snitch now? Perhaps the match would be postponed. It was too difficult for the players to see what was going on, let alone for Red to commentate. Even so, the match continued. If Albus squinted hard enough at the stands, he could see that most people were huddled under magically enlarged umbrellas. He flew through the rain, trying not to get deafened by the thunder or struck by the lightning. Red wasn't even commentating anymore. Nobody seemed to know what was going on. They all seemed to be waiting for Triton to cancel and reschedule the match for a less rainy day, but he didn't. Albus searched for the Snitch in desperation, wanting to end the game and go inside.
Then, without warning, everything went absolutely silent. The rain continued on, making no noise. The wind howled silently. Albus opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. An enormous Silencing Charm had been put on the pitch. Then it began to shake. The very ground itself shifted. Albus would have screamed, but he could not. The silence continued unbearably, choking him. What was happening? A split second later, he had his answer. The ground uprooted and was thrown away as if something slumbered within it. Albus let out a silent gasp and stumbled away on his broom, unable to believe his eyes. From the ruined ground came muddy figures, their glowing eyes the only beacons in the darkness.
Earth Soldiers. Terraxes.
What were they doing here? To come for me, he realized. People began to hurry down the stands and tried to escape the pitch, but were met with invisible barriers, preventing their escape. The professors ran down the stands and onto the pitch and started firing silent spells at the Terraxes, but Albus knew that it wouldn't work. The Terraxes reformed every time they were hit with a Blasting Curse, and nothing could hurt them for long. The pitch was still completely silent, and none of them could make a noise, no matter how much they wanted to. The noiseless battle continued, causing the pitch to shake so hard that it felt like the worst of the worst earthquakes.
Albus knew what he had to do. Nothing could destroy the Terraxes—nothing except for him. He took his wand out and collected all his energy. The symbols on the wood of his wand lit up and shone bright green. He aimed at the Terraxes, and they all slowly turned towards him. A jet of emerald green fire shot out of the tip of his wand and zoomed at one of the Terraxes. The moment it made contact, the Terrax disintegrated into ashes, leaving one less to deal with.
But it wasn't over. The signal of the death of one of their own seemed to have ignited a new determination in the Terraxes, and they began to combine into one. Each and every one of the soldiers merged together, becoming a wall. It rose higher and higher as Albus watched. The wall began to move forward like an earthen wave, destroying the stands and tearing the ground into shreds. He stayed in place, frozen. He could do nothing but stare as the wave came closer and closer, obliterating everything in its path.
Then the situation clunked to place in his mind. Albus sped away from the wave, pushing his Firebolt faster and faster. That thing—whatever it was—was after him.
The wave quickly overtook him. It swallowed him as if he were a meal. Darkness pressed in on him, and he knew that he was inside the wave. It stretched out on either side of him as if it were a cave. Albus gripped his broom tightly and kept flying, trying to get out. He put all his strength into the Firebolt, begging it, pleading it to fly like it had never flown before. With a silent splatter, Albus burst from the wall, drenched in mud and rain.
Suddenly, the spell broke. Noise returned in a split second, and the pitch seemed to rip apart from the screams that were finally heard. Albus was screaming, too, but he hadn't noticed it before. The wave of mud was still in hot pursuit of him. Then he saw it: a lone figure in the middle of the pitch. It was wearing a black cloak, and its face was shielded from view. If Albus looked closer, he could see a dark, spiked crown on the figure's head. The figure raised a hand, and the wave copied its movements.
Albus zoomed forward, barely paying attention to the wave. His eyes were locked only on the figure, and with a yell of fury, he dove for it. The figure's hood blew away in the wind. Beneath it was the sunken face of a man, and golden eyes shone from the folds of skin. Albus noticed, too late, that the wave was upon him at last. This time, it was not to be denied.
The figure's hand made a movement—a clenched fist. The wave contorted, yawning over Albus like a terrible mouth. Albus locked eyes with the figure and flew closer, not giving up. He was so close...
The wave closed over him, only leaving a crack of light. The crack was growing smaller with every second. Albus knew that he had to get out. He launched himself off his Firebolt and through the crack, barely clearing it. The wave closed, trapping the broomstick inside of it.
Albus was out.
But he was falling.
The figure was right below him, and an evil grin split its face. It narrowed its golden eyes, which shone in the darkness. With one last smirk, the figure sunk into the ground, taking its crown with it. The wave stopped moving and splattered to the ground, now nothing more than a fresh layer of dirt. Albus's fingers brushed the air where the figure had been a second before, scrabbling desperately to get ahold of something—anything at all—
Then he slammed into the ground. Every bone in his body seemed to shatter on impact, and pain like nothing he had ever known before consumed him.
Albus could barely breathe. He felt as if a full-grown whale was lying on top of him, suffocating him. Groaning, he opened his eyes. He looked at his arm to see that it was bandaged. In fact, everything was bandaged. He didn't feel much pain, which was strange. Perhaps Madam Pomfrey had put a spell on him. Albus tried to move something, but found that he could not. He tried to open his mouth to say something, but it would not move. Even his teeth seemed to be bandaged.
Fortunately, he did not have to say anything. At that moment, Madam Pomfrey and a crowd of Healers appeared and began to fuss over him.
"Call the boy's parents," someone ordered.
A plump Healer asked, "How are you feeling? Can you talk?"
Albus said nothing.
"Oh, dear. It'll take a few more days. It's a miracle you survived, you know. Nearly every bone in your body broke. You should have died—the shock of the pain should have killed you almost immediately. It took all our magic to save you, and we didn't think even that'd be enough..."
Albus closed his eyes, wanting to slip away from reality. He could hear the Healers—who had evidently come from St. Mungo's to help—bustling around and casting spells on him. He vaguely remembered his parents, Lily, and even James (though he had probably been forced) coming to visit, but they were shooed out before long. As they tended to him, the Healers whispered among themselves, discussing his accident.
"Definitely shouldn't have survived..."
"There's something strange about that boy..."
"He escaped death..."
Albus slipped in and out of consciousness, only catching snippets of conversation. Finally, feeling seemed to return to him, and he could move his limbs. The next time he opened his eyes, it was pitch black. He raised his head and looked around—
And saw a shadowy figure near his bead. He let out a hoarse squeak, his heart pounding.
"Shut up, boy. It's only me, Professor Sapienta."
"Wha-what are y-you d-doing here?" Albus asked shakily, barely in control of his voice.
"I need to talk to you. When you're recovered, come to my office. There's something very important that I have to tell you."
There was utter silence. Albus heard the footsteps receding, and knew that Athena Sapienta had gone.
Three days later, Albus had nearly reacquired the use of all his limbs. He wasn't strong enough to attend classes, so Scorpius and Rose brought him all his assignments and told him what was going on. Apparently, Renee Ranch had caught the Snitch afterwards, but it really hadn't been a fair match. Even so, Albus felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had a lost a match for the first time, and Slytherin was now losing for the Quidditch Cup.
Even worse, he had been informed that the Firebolt was missing and probably destroyed—the very same resilient Firebolt that his father had owned for so many years. Even though it had been lost in the war, it had turned up in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office as a broomstick that some old Muggle woman had found lying in the trees near her house. It had been largely undamaged, and was still one of the fastest brooms in the world, as well as a classic. It was supposed to have been immortal, but it was gone now. Albus wasn't sure what he was going to do about Quidditch now that he didn't have a broom. He supposed that he could have gotten a Lightningbolt III, but he didn't want it. He wanted his Firebolt back. It had been so special to him because it had belonged to his father, and their connection had strengthened because of it. Nothing could replace something as priceless as that.
Scorpius and Rose also told him that the rest of the school was shell-shocked about the attack. Several parents had sent angry letters to the Headmaster, demanding to know what had happened, though no one really seemed to know.
It must have been Rayan Lyserian, thought Albus, recalling the distinctive golden eyes he had seen on the man on the pitch. Rayan Lyserian, the assassin, was after him. He had turned up on the field, but had gone unnoticed in the darkness and chaos. He had tried to kill Albus in the most dramatic way possible, but Albus, through some lucky twist of fate, had managed to survive.
And that meant that Rayan was going to try again.
A second later, Albus felt like he had been slapped awake from a foggy, uncertain dream. The train. The Terraxes. Rayan Lyserian had sent the Terraxes on the train! He was controlling them and the earth, like he had at the Quidditch match! The Terraxes were probably under his orders. He had awoken them from their slumber underneath the surface. Rayan Lyserian was behind it, not Cryptan as Albus had previously thought. The assassin that was after Albus was even more powerful—with the powers of the earth on his side—than Albus had feared.
"Uncle Harry and some other people from the Ministry are coming to see you," said Rose out of nowhere, jerking Albus out of his troubling thoughts. "They want to know exactly what happened. I think they'll come tonight."
"When are you going to get out of here?" whined Scorpius. "I've only got Nesbitt the Witless for company."
Albus shrugged. "Tomorrow, I think."
After that, Rose and Scorpius left for dinner. Albus stayed in his bed, feeling restless. He had barely moved around ever since he had woken up, and he felt energetic enough to run around the grounds twice. Trying to find something to do with his hands, he started to fiddle around with his glasses. He stopped, however, when the door to the Hospital Wing swung open and Elina entered. He hadn't even had enough time to properly shove his glasses back on before she launched herself at him. "I tried to find time to see you, but I couldn't until now! I'm sorry, Al!" She tightened her arms around him and pulled him closer.
Getting hugs from her feels really nice. Really, really nice. Amazing, even, thought Albus, hugging her back. At that very moment, he realized that she was practically on his bed, and his face heated up rapidly. Perhaps she had realized this as well, because she drew away, her cheeks pink.
"I was terrified," she whispered, pulling a chair up to his bedside and sitting down in it. "What happened there?"
"I'm still thinking about that," muttered Albus.
Elina bit her lip. "Remember Diagon Alley this summer? I was with you, remember?"
Albus wasn't likely to forget in a hurry. He nodded.
"Well, you said something about that assassin being after you. After that, your parents dropped me back off at the Leaky Cauldron, so I didn't hear the whole story. What did you mean by that? Is that assassin—Rayan Lyserian, or whatever his name is—really after you?"
Albus was impressed that she had figured this out, considering that it wasn't public knowledge.
"I mean, I was puzzling over it," Elina continued, talking very fast. "I just kept wondering why that wave of mud went at you and no one else—though it could've hurt someone who got in the way—and I thought, maybe, that something else was after you. And then I thought of this assassin, and—"
"You think that it's the assassin that did that at the Quidditch match," Albus finished her sentence for her. "I've figured that out a moment ago, too. I think he could be controlling the ground, or something."
Elina paled. "I'm really worried. W-Why would an assassin be after you?" she said, her voice shaking.
Because I stuck my nose into trouble, and now all the enemies that I've surely made have come back to kill me, thought Albus dryly. And worse, they can control the earth and send giant mud waves after me. Out loud he said, "I-I guess stuff I've d-done made some people pretty mad."
"The stuff you did in first year and second year?" Elina asked in a hushed voice.
"Yeah—wait a moment! How do you know about what I did in first year? You weren't involved like you were in second year. Who told you about Hoffman and the Orb and everything?" asked Albus.
"Rose," said Elina. "She kind of blurted it out at the end of last term. It was just before we were getting on the trains to leave. I was really shocked that you'd done something amazing in first year, too. I promised not to tell anyone, but I wish I could. You deserve to be known for that. You were really brave."
Albus blushed at her praise and studied his fingers as if they were the most fascinating appendages he had seen in the entire world. Elina had called him brave!
"Anyways, I have something for you," said Elina. She took out a scroll from her pocket and held it out for him to see. "Professor Sapienta gave this to me and told me to pass it on to you when I got the chance. She told me not to read it, so I don't know what her message is."
Albus took it, not very surprised. Sapienta had told him a few nights ago that he had to see her. Perhaps she was elaborating more on the reason in her letter.
Elina peered over Albus's shoulder at his watch and said, "It's time for dinner. I guess I'd better go. Madam Pomfrey'll be coming with food for you any time now, I think."
"Ugh. Don't remind me about that awful potion that she makes me take along with meals. It ruins the taste of everything I eat afterwards!" Albus groaned, burying his head in his arms.
Elina giggled, holding her hand to her mouth. "Well, good luck with swallowing that down. I pity you." She paused for a second, and then did something completely unexpected. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. Instead of pulling away at once, her lips lingered on his cheek for a few long seconds before she finally drew away. She waved and left the Hospital Wing, her cheeks tinged with color.
Albus sat there, utterly numb, his head spinning and his heart performing cartwheels and pirouettes and bizarre tap-dancing, his thoughts being processed at a sluggish rate—if he was thinking at all, that was.
A few minutes of pure shock later, he realized where he was and remembered Sapienta's note. He unrolled it and scanned it. As he did, his expression changed to one of interest.
Potter—
I know for a fact that some members of the Ministry are coming to see you tonight. Do not tell them about this note. I think I know what happened at the Quidditch match. Tomorrow at five o'clock, after classes, come to see me in my office. It will be worth your time.
And beneath the letter, in a messy signature, was the full name: Athena Hecate Sapienta.
Albus rolled up the letter again and stuck it in his pocket. At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over with a tray of food for him. Albus, irritated, ended up pouring his the potion medicine into the nearest flowerpot (which caused the flowers to dry up), and when Madam Pomfrey found out what he had done, she shouted at him for twenty minutes, lecturing him on the importance of following his prescription. Albus rolled his eyes the whole time.
Fortunately, Madam Pomfrey left him alone after shoving the medicine up his nose. Albus was so bored that he half-wished that someone would attack him again. He leaned his head back on his pillow and stared up at the ceiling, willing time to move faster. Tomorrow, he'd be able to leave. There were less than twenty-four hours to go now. To pass the remaining time, he imagined how nice Elina's long, smooth hair would feel against his fingers, how nice her soft, pink lips would feel on his—
The door to the Hospital Wing banged open, cruelly jerking Albus out of this wonderful fantasy (which would have gotten quite inappropriate if his thirteen-year-old boy's mind had been allowed to continue). In came a whole crowd of people, lead by his father. At once, Albus was overwhelmed and tried to sink into his bed. Madam Pomfrey came out of her room and started shouting at everybody. "Only six visitors!" she bellowed, waving her fist threateningly in front of her to ward them off.
"Fine," said Harry respectfully. "Ron, Ewan, Edgeworth, Reyna, Kingsley—you can all stay."
"What about me?" squeaked a very round woman wearing all blue, reminding Albus forcefully of a blueberry. "I need to interview the boy for my article. He's news! News to make me rich!"
"Get out," said Harry testily, his patience wearing thin.
The Blueberry Woman tried to protest, but after seeing the murderous look in Madam Pomfrey eyes as she growled, "I'm only allowing six visitors! That's a stretch already!" the Blueberry Woman scurried away as fast as her fat legs could carry her.
Slightly apologetic, Harry turned to his son. "How are you today, Al? Madam Pomfrey says you'll be released tomorrow."
Madam Pomfrey sniffed as if she did not agree and would rather have kept him for the rest of eternity.
Albus, however, wasn't even paying attention to his father's words. His attention was instead focused on his father's companions. One of them, of course, was Uncle Ron. The other three were newer, though. One, Albus recognized as Tutterskope—whose first name was evidently 'Ewan,' which Harry had just addressed him as—the other, he knew, was Drake Edgeworth, another, he realized, was the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and the last was Reyna Lyserian. Edgeworth was staring at him suspiciously, his hazel eyes glittering with pure loathing. Kingsley looked very worried, but pulled up a weak smile for Albus's benefit. Reyna Lyserian looked intrigued and was watching him interestedly. Tutterskope, on the other hand, simply looked bored.
Albus looked towards his father, mutely inquiring, 'Why the heck did you bring these people here?'
Harry seemed to have understood the silent question and opened his mouth to answer, but Edgeworth interrupted and began to say, in an annoyingly self-important voice, "The accident that took place on the Quidditch pitch a few days ago—"
"It wasn't an accident," Albus corrected, focusing his currently ice-cold green eyes on Edgeworth, sending him a silent challenge.
Edgeworth's look of hatred became more intense. He now seriously seemed to want to throttle Albus. Albus smirked, staring unflinchingly at Edgeworth. Edgeworth took a deep breath to calm himself, but evidently failed. He began, "Mr. Potter—"
"Mr. Potter?" Albus raised an eyebrow. "Are you talking to me or my dad? I thought you say 'Mr.' to somebody who you respect. And you don't respect me. So, cut all the pleasantries, because I'm not going to waste my time returning them."
His father and uncle looked as if they were trying to keep a straight face, but a vein was bulging in Edgeworth's forehead. "Very well," he spat. "Potter."
"You're saying it as if you have a really dirty taste in your mouth. Of course, I'm not really insulted. Because, when I address you, I'll call you Edge Worth Nothing." Albus was very much enjoying this.
"Watch who you're talking to," snapped Edgeworth. He gave Harry a very nasty look and said, "No disrespect meant, Mr. Potter, but you could stand to teach your son some more manners."
Harry pretended to look embarrassed and gave Albus a stern look that did not seem very stern at all. "I'll have a talk with him," he said, trying his hardest not to smile.
Edgeworth's mood seemed to have worsened in these few seconds.
"Albus—can I call you 'Al?'—you ought to listen to him. We've got some very important things to say," said Reyna Lyserian sweetly, boring her golden eyes into his. "Though, I must admit, one must admire your boldness to talk back to one of the most important people in the Ministry of Magic. How interesting this is. I'd have thought you to be a modest, shy, and stuttering little boy among your peers. Yet, when you are faced with a powerful member of the Ministry, you have no trouble insulting him. I see this as rebellious. Very interesting indeed."
Albus stared at her. Her words should have been criticizing, but she only seemed to be observing something. In fact, she seemed rather impressed.
"Thank you, Reyna," said Edgeworth, evidently back to business, his voice crisp. "Yes. Let's get back to the subject at hand. The—er—issue that we had on the Quidditch pitch..."
Albus, wanting to annoy Edgeworth some more, opened his mouth, but shut it after a quick warning look from his father.
"...was very unexpected. In fact, we've got no idea how it happened. The protective enchantments around Hogwarts were set up, and any outsiders should not have been allowed in. Whoever attacked the pitch that day came from within the castle or its grounds. It's either that or the protective enchantments are flawed, and as they have been functioning perfectly for many, many years, I don't think that's the case."
"R-Rayan Lyserian attacked me," said Albus, his voice shaking slightly. "I know he did. There was a figure. His eyes were really golden. He looked the same as he did when he attacked me in Diagon Alley, but this time, he was wearing a crown..." Albus didn't know what to make of it. "He must have tried to kill me and tried to make it sort of look like an accident—but that's stupid! There's no way anyone could have believed that was an accident! And those Terraxes—where did they come from?"
"Terraxes? Boy, how did you know they were Earth Soldiers?" growled Edgeworth. "Terraxes haven't been seen for a thousand years! They were supposed to be a myth! It took ages for our best researches to find out what those creatures were, and we could barely find any information!"
"I-I know some things," said Albus, his voice shaking slightly. He decided that it was time to change the subject. "Anyways, I've been thinking, and I'm pretty sure that Rayan Lyserian's in control of the Terraxes and probably the ground, too. When I saw him on the pitch, the wave obeyed his hand motions. He sunk into the ground after that, and I—er, you know—fell."
"I can't understand how he managed to get past the protective enchantments," said Uncle Ron.
"Maybe he burrowed under the ground," suggested Albus's father. A moment later, he shook his head. "No... the protection should extend even deep underneath."
Reyna Lyserian laughed. Everyone stared at her. "Of course, I'm sure nobody believes that he came from outside. He must be hiding somewhere on the grounds. Maybe even under the ground." She stressed the last three words significantly.
This made a lot of sense. Too much sense, actually. Albus glared at her suspiciously. "How do you know so much? You're his sister! You might have tried to help him!"
Reyna Lyserian narrowed her eyes. "I'm his sister, you say? I'm his half-sister. Please get your facts right. Secondly, would you help your brother, simply because you have similar blood? No. In fact, everything that I observed during my visit to Hogwarts a few weeks ago suggests that you've been fighting against him. If it is perfectly fine for you to hate yours, why is it suddenly strange to hate mine?"
Albus blushed, embarrassed. Lyserian made a good point. Blood meant nothing in the end. Right? He bit his lip uncertainly.
"Al, pay close attention to me," said Harry, calling his son's attention back to him. "You've got to be very careful. Keep your nose out of trouble."
Albus thought his father was being rather hypocritical, but respectfully kept quiet on the matter.
"A dangerous assassin is after you, and he's very close by. He's also got powers of the ground, to call them that. You're in a lot of danger. Promise me you won't go looking for him! Promise me, when you leave the castle, you won't ever travel alone! Promise it right now!"
Albus nodded right away, alarmed that his father's voice was rising with every syllable.
"I'm going to dig into this with the Aurors," Harry continued. "Hopefully, we'll be able to track him down and find out exactly how he's getting to you. You may see Aurors at the school, but they won't bother you. They'll only keep an eye on you from far away—"
"The parents and children at the school deserve to know that an assassin is after one of the students. This is a dangerous man, and who knows how many people he'll kill to get to the boy? I repeat, the students need to know that they are in danger," said Edgeworth.
Albus blanched. Tell the students that he was once more endangering them? Last year, they had tried to kick him out of the school! If they found out about this, he'd be tortured endlessly...
Harry didn't look happy about this. He was clearly thinking the same thing. However, Edgeworth's reasoning won. It was true that the students and their parents had a right to know, and not even Harry Potter could take that right away. He agreed with a short nod of his head.
"I'll inform Triton of the situation," said Kingsley in his deep, calming voice. "He'll let the students know tonight."
"Is there any way that we can keep it anonymous? Couldn't we just say that Rayan Lyserian is after one of the students, but not mention which one it is?" said Harry, worriedly looking at an ashen-faced Albus.
Edgeworth smiled nastily. "Oh, no. The friends of this boy will be just in much danger as him. The students have a right to know who exactly among their number is wanted by an assassin."
Albus gritted his teeth. Edgeworth was enjoying this. He was retaliating to Albus's earlier insults. Edgeworth was far more influential, and was basking in the fact that he could easily destroy Albus's social life with a snap of his fingers.
Harry sighed and gave Albus an apologetic look. After discussing a few more things in hushed tones, the adults made to leave the room. Harry stopped at the door and said, "I suggest you don't go to Hogsmeade, Al."
"No way!" Albus wailed. "Dad! You can't take everything away! I've been looking forward to go to Hogsmeade for years!"
Harry looked torn. "All right. But you'll be flanked by Aurors whenever you go, especially by Ewan Tutterskope. He's in charge of you, basically. If the Aurors that are stationed in Hogwarts order you to do something, like stay inside at night, then you must obey them. This is for your life."
Albus nodded solemnly.
Harry gave his son a bracing smile. "Look, it won't be all bad. The Colorful Competition's going to begin this Saturday. Triton was going to announce it tonight, but I suppose it'll have to be told to the students with the bad news. Look, Al, don't pay attention to what others say."
"I don't, not really," Albus mumbled. "They all hate me, and I'm used to it." He laughed mirthlessly.
Harry pulled Albus into a tight hug, nearly cracking his ribs again. "I was terrified that I was going to lose you," he whispered. "Al, why do you have to do everything that I told you not to do?"
Albus felt bile rise up his throat, suddenly remembering something. "I-I'm sorry I broke the Firebolt! I'm so sorry! I-I know it m-meant a lot to you—"
"You mean much more to me, Al."
Two generations, father and son, stared at each other with identical emerald green eyes.
