"Mr Potter," Truman's voice bought Albus back to earth and his nervous feelings returned. "Please sit," Truman gestured to the seat by the Headmaster's desk, and Al's knees were wobbly as he sat in it.
Truman had sandy blond hair that was ever-so-slightly peppered with grey and receded off his forehead ungracefully. He had a lined face, and looked to be maybe forty-five. He was very tall, far taller than Albus's dad, and had broad shoulders. Maybe the build of a beater, but not a teacher. His eyes were a warm grey, but he had several scars across his face and arms, and Al wanted to ask about them but his politeness stopped him.
"You must be wondering why you're here," Truman said, lacing his fingers together and smiling at Albus.
"Not really," Al said in a small voice. "Aren't I in trouble for breaking curfew heaps?" Al shrunk in his chair. Truman looked amused, his eyebrows rising.
"You really think you'd get sent to the Headmaster for being out of bed four times?" He rumbled, laughing a little.
"I thought it was a little... weird." Al admitted, his cheeks tinging a little pink. But Truman just laughed.
"No, Mr Potter. I admit I did have Filch send you to me next time he spoke to you, but the out-of-bed thing was just a cover up. I just wanted to talk to you." Truman moved the potion to the side and got out what looked like a list from the desk drawer, but Al was too confused to be bothered to make it out. Talk? Couldn't he just have found Al in the grounds of Hogwarts? Then it hit him.
President Truman must want to know about Harry Potter.
Al's expression darkened immediately. This wasn't the first time this has happened. People had come up to him and questioned himself, James and even little Lily about what Harry Potter did in his free time; was he ever angry? Sad? Depressed? Guilty? They asked and asked, but Al had just learnt not to answer. But he definitely felt betrayal towards Truman for even attempting to interrogate him. The list must be a list of questions for Albus about Harry Potter. He almost snapped at him, hut just when he opened his mouth, Truman spoke.
"How are you finding Hogwarts, Potter?" he asked, glancing up and smiling from his list. The accusing words died in Al's throat. He racked his brains. What did what he thought of Hogwarts have anything to do with his dad?
"It's fun," Al said shrewdly, trying to depict where Truman was going with this.
Truman waved his hand, quill poised over the parchment. "I'm going to need more than that, Potter." He said.
"I like it because it allows me to be an individual whilst belonging to something. And we learn cool things." Al barked dutifully, eyes still narrowed as he racked his brains.
"Excellent answer, Albus." Truman complemented, writing it down. "Now, is there any way you think the curriculum could be improved?" Truman raised one eyebrow and waited eagerly for Albus's answer.
"What?" Al said, dumbfounded.
"I mean," Truman was very patient, "Do you think there is any way possible for us as teachers to improve our teaching standards or courses?"
"What does that have to do with my dad?" Al asked, frowning deeper as he tried to interpret Truman's meanings.
"Huh?" It was Truman's turn to be surprised. "What about your dad? Is everything okay with Harry?" His questions were now intense, and he was leaning over the desk, getting closer to Al.
"No, no, everything's fine!" Al held up his hands in the universal surrender pose. "I just thought you'd be asking me questions about my dad, trying to get the 'famous children' point of view." Albus finished bitterly. Truman's eyes widened with understanding, and then he laughed loudly.
"No, no, no, no, little Potter," Albus cringed at the nickname "I was asking you questions about the school! I know Harry Potter! Why would I question his children?" he roared with laughter, causing the pictures on the walls to hiss at him, telling him to be quiet. He looked guiltily in their direction, and then back at Albus. "You see?"
Al was still confused, so he shook his head. Truman's eyes were kind as he explained. "This," he gestured to his sheet of parchment in front of him. "Is a list of questions I ask first year students annually to see if we can improve Hogwarts. I'm surprised your friends Miss Thomas, Miss Lindle and Mr Malfoy didn't tell you. I have seen all of them. After you I just have Miss Macmillan, Miss Weasley and Mr Creevy to go." Al was shocked but also instantly relieved. He smiled casually, leant back in his seat and said,
"That's awesome! So, what do you want to know?" Truman beamed back and copied the eleven-year-old's movements.
"Everything," he said.
Exams were upon them, causing Rose to worry, Poppy to become quiet, Verity to take her wand everywhere, Scorpius to stop laughing and for Al to get in the zone. The five were usually found in the library after their exams, working through notes and revising spells. During the day, they would be eating a half-hearted breakfast while Rose chanted all the facts for that day's exam, and then everyone would contribute when she asked questions. The weather outside was beautiful, which annoyed everyone stuck inside the castle, but made the end of the last exam, History of Magic, all the sweeter.
"Freedom!" Albus ran outside of the oak front doors, arms spread wide, Poppy skipping behind him, laughing and running in circles. Verity was doing some sort of jig, but tried to look calm, bobbing next to Rose and Scorpius who were deep in discussion about the exams. But Verity couldn't hold it in and ended up running to where Al and Poppy were taking off their shoes and socks so they could finally relax and dip their feet in the water. Scorpius and Rose eventually joined them, but sat on the bank of the lake until they had finished reviewing their questions and had to go catch Al and Verity because they had been throwing water at them the whole time they'd been sitting by the bank.
Even James came to join them after he had finished his exams, demonstrating his second-year skills and causing a wave of water to dominate all of the first-years and cause them to frantically haul themselves onto the shore because Poppy screamed that something had caught her ankle and giant squids were on everyone's minds.
To apologise James stole them all a picnic from the kitchen that they ate while watching the sun slowly sink behind the Forbidden Forest's trees. Poppy was looking accusingly at the piece of lakeweed that she had mistaken for a tentacle and was banished to under a shrubbery close by, and she was listening as James and Albus spoke of the upcoming Quidditch finals. This year it was Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor, so they were discussing the strong and weak points of both teams.
Scorpius and Verity were discussing the holidays and what they were planning to do. "I think my parents want to holiday in Italy or somewhere these holidays," Scorpius was telling Verity. She nodded, her mouth pulling down.
"I thought we were all meeting at Al's house over the summer?" She said. Scorpius smirked.
"Maybe I'll get dad to apparate back and drop me off," He laughed at the thought, and Verity laughed a little too. "What about you, Ver? You must be doing something besides meeting with these losers," and indignant 'hey!' came from Albus and James at the same time "On the holidays?" Scorpius finished coolly, hardly noticing that Al playfully punched him on the shoulder.
Rose was watching fourteen-year-old Louis and Roxanne Weasley run around the side of the lake, trying to tickle the giant squid's tentacles. Louis, though still young, had a flock of female admirers watching from behind books as he raced up and down the lake shore, laughing as brown-skinned Roxanne splashed him. She also saw fifteen-year-old Dominique and seventeen-year-old Victoire Weasley, who were in Ravenclaw with their brother, watching from amidst a big group of male supporters. Though she hadn't doubted Victoire's loyalty to Teddy this year, having seen and heard about the many guys she's turned down, Rose still found it funny to watch all the boys in seventh year drool over bold Victoire.
Dominique was no better. With her strawberry-blond hair, glittering blue eyes and availability, boys were sitting so close to her they were practically in her lap. But while she seemed to be basking in their affection, she didn't appear to be accepting any of it. She would laugh and smile at the attempts of flirtation, but would glare pointedly at a hand on her shoulder or a comment that was, Rose predicted, to roughish. It made her smile to see her cousin being so impossible. Dominique caught her eye across the lake and waved. Rose waved back, and then turned back to her friends and rescued Poppy from Al and James's Quidditch talk.
