Chapter 11: Birds and Beatings

Dear Mum and Dad,

Sorry I haven't written in a while. It's been mad around here. Everybody's buzzing about the Halloween feast, wondering what the Professors are putting together for us this year. I heard a really scary rumor that someone let a mountain troll into the school once for Halloween, years ago. Is that true?

Classes here are going along great. We're learning all sorts of new spells in Charms class. I also finally managed to Transfigure a needle into a toothpick last week. I think so, anyway. I just turned in a foot-and-a-half essay Professor Ambrose set us on plant root poisons and their antidotes, and I think I did pretty well on it. Maybe well enough to earn an O, and Professor Ambrose doesn't give those out easy. The only class that's not going so well is Defence. Maybe it sounds dumb, but Professor Malcolm just doesn't seem to like me all that much. I try to just keep my mouth shut and stick to my work, but he's very rude sometimes toward me and the other Gryffindors. But he knows his stuff, definitely. It almost makes me wonder what he's doing teaching. He could probably be an Auror or something if he really wanted.

Rowan Lester and Stephan Vaisey, my two 'friends' I told you about last month, don't really talk to me anymore. They're together all the time, but Rowan's terrified of girls, and Vaisey doesn't much like Scorpius Malfoy. Since I mainly hang around with Scorpius Malfoy and two girls, there you have it. Rosie's doing just fine, by the way. She's near the top in all of our classes.

I'm not seeing a whole lot of James lately. He's been really busy. He and the team have had long practices about twice a week. He doesn't even eat with me or Rose or any of us, really, except for Freddy. He's on the team, too, if Uncle George hasn't told you all. The first match is this weekend, so I expect he's just getting ready.

Hope you're well. Give Lily a big hug for me. And say hello to Kreacher, too, I guess.

Love,
Al

P.S. Rosie says hi.

Albus furled his parchment letter into a neat little roll and tied it to the leg of one of the school's many barn owls, who looked down at him with questioning, yellow eyes.

"Potter House, Ottery St. Catchpole, please," he said clearly, a part of him still wondering whether the bird would understand him. The owl gave a hoot and nodded before taking flight out of a nearby window and into the yellowing October dusk. A breeze blew into the Owlery. Albus heard Rose shiver beside him.

"It's getting cold out here," she murmured. "We should probably head back down."

"Poor Scorpius is probably half-frozen to his broom right now," remarked Albus with a laugh.

"I don't think he minds much, though," Rose reasoned.

With the first game of the Quidditch season fast approaching, Scorpius had become something of a topic of conversation in the Gryffindor common room. Albus and Rose, of course, had seen him in flying lessons and tryouts and weren't surprised in the least bit. It turned out that Scorpius was the first Gryffindor to start at Seeker in his first year since Harry Potter himself – a margin of over a quarter-century. Albus, truth be told, was extremely relieved.

"You know…" Rose said, and she sounded a bit nervous. "A lot of people think Scorpius is even better as a first year than Uncle Harry was."

She whispered, as if she'd been afraid to say this. Albus, however, was unperturbed; he shrugged his shoulders. "That'd follow, wouldn't it? I mean, Dad says it himself. For the first year, he was just raw talent and instinct. He didn't know a ruddy thing about Quidditch until the Captain explained it to him. Scorpius, though… he eats, sleeps, and breathes Quidditch. He's almost…"

"…Obsessed, I know," Rose said, frowning. "He's always the first to get to practice and the last to leave. He… asks me for help with his work a lot of times."

"Really?" asked Albus, who was surprised by this. "He seems to be getting along alright."

"I don't think he concentrates on the finer points of our classes," she said.

"His Defence grade's alright," Albus argued. "And that's with Malcolm teaching us."

Rose's frown became more pronounced. "You haven't bought into the bile James is spewing about Professor Malcolm, have you? He seems perfectly decent to me."

"Well, he's not so obviously rude to the girls, is he?" Albus asked, looking at her suspiciously. Muttering to himself, he added, "or to anyone whose name isn't Potter."

"Well… maybe he's still alright," said Rose, sounding flustered. "I mean, our parents ended up being completely wrong about Severus Snape – wrong enough so you're named after him."

"I know," said Albus impatiently, "and I wish Dad hadn't done that. I know what he meant to do… well, actually, I don't. Uncle Ron said he doesn't care much that Snape was on the right side after all. He was still an unpleasant —"

Albus stopped abruptly. Rose looked at him. "Still an unpleasant what?"

Albus frowned, nodding his head meaningfully.

"Oh, honestly, Al," Rose groaned, exasperated. "I'm not five years old. And this is my father we're talking about. Whatever he had to say, I'm sure I've heard it before."

Albus sighed. "Okay, then…"

And he leaned over and finished the sentence in Rose's ear. She giggled and went a bit pink.

"Yep, that sounds like him, alright," she laughed.

"I mean… I'm all for honoring the people my dad respected most in his life," Albus said, "but… he could have at least tried to be a bit more creative with the names. I don't much like being named after dead people."

"But Albus Dumbledore was a genius," Rose contended. "Well… both of them were, really…"

"I just…" Albus shook his head. "I don't understand. I mean… two Headmasters of Hogwarts is one thing… but why those two? As if being Harry Potter's son wasn't enough pressure to be going on with…"

"I think people are more than willing to accept the fact that you're not Harry Potter," said Rose, her voice a bit clipped. Albus caught onto the change in tone almost immediately. "Your father left a good legacy to follow. You should be thankful."

Albus didn't appreciate being scolded in this manner – especially since he was a few months older than Rose.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, now growing irritable.

"It's a lot harder," she replied, "I think… when your parents don't have a good legacy. Then you have to try so hard to convince people that you're not them."

She huffed. Albus found this bit of 'advice' thoroughly unhelpful.

"Everything's about Scorpius with you, is it?" he asked hotly.

"I never said anything about Scorpius," Rose answered in the same clipped tone.

Albus grumbled, giving up on the conversation entirely.

"I wonder what Sylvia's off doing…?" he muttered to himself.

"Truth be told, we probably don't want to know," said Rose, rolling her eyes.

"Really, Rose… what did she do to you?" Albus groaned. "I mean… yeah, I remember she laughed at you when you fell getting into the boats back at the start of term, but I thought we were all over that."

Rose responded with a huffy sort of sigh. "You're so thick, Al. You're almost as bad as James."

"Wh-what?" the boy stammered. "What do you mean, thick?"

"You know she only cares anything about you because your name's Potter," Rose said smugly.

"Our parents knew each other," said Albus, growing irritated again. "Our dads all lived together for most of six years. How's it any different from, say… the fact that Freddy and Roxanne hang around with Tommy?"

"Well, it's mostly Freddy and Tommy now. Roxanne can't deal with Freddy's girlfriend," Rose said briskly. "Anyways… Uncle George and Tommy's dad have stayed in contact all these years, right? When was the last time Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny heard from Dean Thomas? If they were such close friends, you shouldn't have been meeting Sylvia for the first time."

"Sylvia said her dad didn't want to… you know what, why don't you ask her?" asked Albus. "You two sleep in the same room…"

Albus rethought this for a moment.

"On second thought, you might want to talk to her in the Great Hall or something," he muttered darkly. "You gotta be careful what you say around Nina and Liz…"

"Oh, those two…." Rose sighed.

"Erm… are you friends with any of the girls in our year?" Albus asked as they finally ascended Gryffindor Tower.

"I think the lot of them are daft, to be honest," Rose said. "Nina and Elizabeth are both gossiping busybodies, and Sylvia…"

"What's wrong with Sylvia?" Albus asked. "You still haven't given me an answer."

"I'm just a bit tired of her acting like I don't exist," said Rose. "Especially when we're all together."

As much as Albus hated to admit it, he did get the sense when the four of them were in a group that Sylvia was going out of her way to dodge any direct conversation with Rose.

"You think maybe there's a slight chance she knows you don't like her much?" questioned Albus seriously.

"Whose side are you on, anyway?" Rose suddenly raised her voice.

"Side?" Albus repeated incredulously. "We have 'sides' now? I thought we were all friends."

"Well, then, you're an idiot," Rose said fiercely as they approached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Lux astria!"

"Oh, my, someone's in a mood today, hmm?" the Fat Lady intoned as her portrait pulled away from the wall, revealing the hole that led to the Gryffindor common room. She climbed halfway inside and then whirled around. Albus was surprised and dismayed to see that her eyes were shining with tears.

"They might be your friends, but I'm your family!" she said. "I thought that meant something, Al. I really did."

And she climbed into the hole. But she had struck a nerve – and the normally reserved Albus was determined not to let her have the last word.

"You're a filthy hypocrite, you know that?!" he leapt into the common room after her, shouting. People's heads were turning, but he didn't care. "All you ever talk about now is classes or Scorpius, Scorpius or classes. You don't hear me accusing you of not caring!"

"That's not anybody else's business!" she snapped. "I trust you not to go telling everyone in Hogwarts all the things I say to you!"

"No, you don't," Albus countered. "Because, if you did, I wouldn't have to figure them out myself! You never told me why you're such a snob to Sylvia and the other girls, but I know why! You're scared of being rejected!"

He'd regretted the words as soon as they'd come out. He hadn't had a row this serious with Rose in years, and he wondered why he'd gotten so angry in the first place. But the damage had been done, and it was evident on Rose's reddening face. To make matters worse, the vast majority of the common room was silent – all eyes on the two cousins as they put on their shouting match.

"Albus Potter," Rose said. She hadn't yelled, and Albus found himself sincerely wishing she had, for the cracked whisper that issued forth from her made him feel a thousand times worse. "You… you are such a—"

Then she made use of the word her father had once used to describe Severus Snape – causing a few gasps and giggles in the process. She turned on her heel, crying, and ran full-tilt up the stairs to the girl's dormitories.

"Don't feel too bad, Potter," a voice said through the silence. "After all…"

Albus didn't turn around. He really didn't feel like dealing with McLaggen at the moment. As the speaker came to Albus's front and forced his presence upon him, Albus was surprised to find golden blond hair hanging in a very neat ponytail. "Anyone who fancies a Malfoy deserves such treatment."

"Rose doesn't fancy Scorpius," Albus answered through grit teeth. He did not know why he had answered so – after all, he was no longer sure himself. "And even if she did, it's none of yours."

"You want to know what I think, Potter?" Vaisey was still being maddeningly polite. "About this whole Scorpius-as-Seeker business?"

Albus, who was sure this could not possibly be anything good, said, "You're probably going to tell me anyway, aren't you?"

"Desmond and I have a theory," Vaisey said. Albus was hating the sound of this already. "You know the old saying, 'like father, like son'? Well, Desmond suggested that a few Galleons – or perhaps a few hundred – changed hands before the tryouts."

"That's rubbish," Albus answered as calmly as one could. Vaisey could not have caught him at a worse possible time. "Desmond's just got his bloomers in a twist because Scorpius is first line and he's on the bench."

"In fact…" Vaisey went on, ignoring Albus's argument. "We both agreed it was… a bit odd that Sean Polkiss suddenly ends up in St. Mungo's days before Scorpius Malfoy is set to board the train to Hogwarts. Add that to the fact that Draco Malfoy is still quite rich and almost never seen in public these days… you're not that thick, Potter. You must know what I'm getting at."

Albus couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Shove off, Vaisey," he simply said. "I've been around Scorpius. I trust him. That's good enough for me."

"You 'trust' Malfoy, hm?" Vaisey said savagely, his eyes now glittering. "My grandfather trusted a Malfoy once. Why don't you ask him how that turned out, hm? Oh, that's right, I forgot – the Malfoy he trusted killed him!"

Albus frowned. Vaisey's quarrel with the entire Malfoy family, while still stupid, in Albus's opinion, suddenly had a bit more reason to it.

"I'm sorry about that," Albus said seriously. "But it really isn't Scorpius's or my prob—"

Albus went reeling to the ground. Screams erupted in the common room; before Albus knew that the first blow had struck, Vaisey was hitting him again – and again – and again. Vaisey hadn't even bothered with his wand, and Albus hadn't had time to go for his own. This was no duel; this was a beating, administered in the way of Muggles, and with the same brutish savagery. It was all poor Albus could do to cover his head and not get his face bloodied.

"Come on, Stephan, stop it!" called a small voice.

"Piss off, Rowan!" Vaisey snarled.

"All right, all right, all right!" another voice joined the fray.

Albus felt Vaisey's weight leave him and finally uncovered his head to see what was going on. Tommy Jordan had physically pulled Vaisey – whose face was now as red as his hair was blond – off Albus.

"Lucius Malfoy struck him down right in front of my mother's eyes," Vaisey spat. "She was just a little girl! She never got over it! NEVER! The Ministry could have killed him just like he killed my grandfather! And it's not Scorpius's or your problem?! Damn you! Scorpius Malfoy shouldn't even exist! Your father should have destroyed the lot of them, just like he destroyed Voldemort!"

Tommy began to lead (or more like drag) Vaisey away, but the boy was still screaming.

"Remember this! Remember, when Scorpius Malfoy and the rest of his lot are knocking down your door and cursing you and your families! Remember the Ministry let the Malfoys live!"

Albus sat up, trying to decide whether to favor his swollen eye or his battered arms.

Students began to talk around Albus.

"Well, that's the last we'll be seeing of him. Even if Longbottom doesn't expel him right off, Harry Potter will be here soon enough to see after his son, and then Vaisey'll be in for a world of hurt."

"I know the Malfoys are – were – bad news, but does he really hate them that much?"

"That was completely barbaric. I'd have just shot a good hex or two and been done with it."

Albus stood up, feeling the vague warmth of dozens of eyes trained upon him. He was in the spotlight for all of the wrong reasons, and now he wanted nothing more than to be alone. In a semi-haze, he walked vaguely toward the common room's exit.

James

James hadn't realized it nearly as much when he'd been in the air, but he was so drenched with sweat, it was as if he'd jumped into the Black Lake with his Quidditch robes still on. With the first match quickly approaching, Cole Murphy had started to drive the team harder and later. James didn't mind much, honestly – Quidditch practices were a perfect opportunity for him to put off his homework from Professor Malcolm. He hated doing Malcolm's essays – especially since, no matter how much effort he seemed to put into them, he would always end up with 'A's and comments from Malcolm to the effect of something being missing. He'd resisted the temptation to cross out 'Potter' on his essays and replace it with another name, then take the essay up to Malcolm and ask him if it was any better in that state. He had to talk to Neville at some point, if he was ever not practicing or doing homework. Surely the way Malcolm seemed to have it in for him was some sort of breach of a Professor's code or something. He preferred not to think about it, really. He'd compare class notes with Murphy as usual when he got back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Hey, Potter," a girl's voice called. James looked up and over his shoulder (grimacing as he felt a twinge of soreness around everything). Greta Stanford, his fellow Chaser and the fifth-year Prefect, was now standing next to him, wearing a tired smile. "Murph and I were just talking about how well your practice went. Good to know we have someone to count on if something happens to the first line, right?"

First off, James still had to get used to people (Oakley and Mitch included) calling Cole Murphy "Murph" – a nickname James himself always used for Cole's younger brother, Rick. Second, he was starting to tire of the way Greta in particular coddled him. He was already short on experience – not to mention, compared to the other Chasers, just plain short. It didn't help matters that most of the team all talked to him like he was their little brother. After all, he usually flew every bit as well as Asher Rodney, the other reserve who mainly played Chaser – if not a bit better.

James felt awkward on this team. He had no one on the Quidditch team he could call a friend – except for Freddy, but Freddy was a Beater. Although (he thought as he sniggered darkly to himself), being on friendly terms with a Beater did tend to cut down on the number of Bludgers coming at your skull during any given Quidditch match. He wasn't particularly close with any of the other Chasers, though. They were all so much older. And he hadn't bothered to figure out whether Scorpius had yet forgiven him for their fight earlier in the term. Then again, Scorpius didn't say much at all during Quidditch practice. Normally, James would have thought that Scorpius wasn't all there. Now, though, the general thought was that he was 'there' so completely that anything else not Quidditch-related was a distraction, and not worth his time. Personally, James thought he should have been trying to do a better job at some team unity.

Then again, if his focus helped him to catch the Snitch before the other team's Seeker, the Gryffindors would keep winning matches – 'team unity' or no.

The sky was now dark blue with the approaching night, and the lights had gone on in the castle. As he and the other players entered from the courtyard, James thought he'd caught a glimpse of a dark-haired boy sitting alone on a bench in the breezeway.

"Hey –" someone grunted as they bumped him from behind. Cole Murphy stood over him, looking weary. "C'mon, kid, move it or lose it."

James let himself be shunted forward in the small group. Meanwhile, Scorpius Malfoy brought up the rear, his steps halting and furtive…

Albus

Albus tried to ignore the murmur of the group going by him. He didn't even bother opening his eyes to see who they were. Maybe it was someone he knew. If so, he didn't feel like talking. He shivered as a chilly breeze blew through the covered walkway. The high screech of approaching dusk, of the nocturnal creatures in the nearby Dark Forest awakening, filled his ears.

"Oi… Albus," a familiar voice cut through the sounds of nature. "Albus?"

He felt his shoulder shaken.

"What!?" Albus snarled, opening his eyes to see… "…Scorpius?"

His blond hair was no longer slicked back, but wildly scattered around his head. He looked a bit red-cheeked as well, as if he'd been flying headlong into wind for the last several hours. To boot, he was still holding a broomstick in one hand.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked. Albus shook his head and didn't answer. What was he supposed to say?

Albus stayed silent for a moment. "Scorpius, how much do you know about your grandfather?"

Scorpius frowned. "Enough. I know that he wasn't the most pleasant of human beings to be around. He's still a bit backwards. 'Course, he'd call himself 'conservative', but that's being too polite…"

Albus didn't know if this had been the answer he was looking for, but it was enough for him to keep talking. "Does he still believe in… you know…"

"He still doesn't trust Muggle-borns much," Scorpius admitted. "I suppose he's set in his ways now as far as that goes. But, he does admit now that Voldemort's plan was no good. Or, as he says it, it 'may have been a bit extreme.'"

Scorpius punctuated his quotation with a roll of his eyes.

"Do you know of him murdering anyone?" Albus asked.

Scorpius grimaced. "Grandfather did many things he and the rest of us aren't proud of."

Albus didn't speak for a moment. Why was he troubling Scorpius with this? It didn't have anything to do with him. Hadn't that been the whole point?

"Where's Rose?" Scorpius asked. "I don't think I've ever seen you two separated."

He added the second sentence as something of an afterthought. Albus shook his head again.

"Maybe that's not such a good thing," he said heavily. "I can't be joined at the hip to my cousin forever."

Scorpius frowned. "Did you have a row with her or something?"

Albus grimaced painfully.

"You did, didn't you?"

"I thought she was being stupid about Sylvia…"

"What about me?" a girl's voice jumped into the conversation.

"Speak of the devil, and she shall appear," mused Scorpius under his breath. Albus looked up. Sylvia was standing a few paces down the breezeway, hands on her hips.

"Well, that's not very nice," she groused, walking toward them.

"It's a figure of speech," sighed Scorpius impatiently.

"Well, it's not a very nice figure of speech," she said snippily. "What are you two doing out here? You know Longbottom'll have our heads if we're caught out after—Merlin's beard, Al! What happened to your eye?"

Albus stared up at Sylvia. Something in his facial expression must have caught her eye, because her expression changed as well.

"It was McLaggen, wasn't it?"

Albus shook his head.

"Was it… Rose?" Sylvia asked rather cautiously. "I mean… I figured you two must have had a row… I went up to my room and saw her crying and calling you – well, some really rude things… I didn't even know she knew words like—"

Albus shook his head again. "Vaisey."

"What?" chorused Scorpius and Sylvia.

"What did you do to make him that angry?" she asked. "I mean… God, that came out wrong…"

Albus swallowed hard. "He said…"

He cut himself off. Scorpius was staring straight at him and Albus wasn't about to further a rumor he wasn't sure was true. "He said something rude about Rose standing up for Scorpius, and I told him to shove off."

"Bet he loved that," said Sylvia grimly.

"And then I told him it wasn't Scorpius's fault that Lucius Malfoy killed his grandfather—"

Sylvia put her hands to her mouth. Scorpius went snow white.

"Next thing I know," Albus explained, "he's on top of me. He didn't even bother with his wand – he just kept punching me over and over and over…"

His voice cracked and he blinked hard, but he could not stop the tears from coming.

"That…" Sylvia fumed for a moment, as if she could not find a word strong enough to describe the perpetrator of such actions.

"Vaisey's a coward," said Scorpius, his eyes now assuming the same frightening intensity they always did whenever he talked about Quidditch. "He doesn't have the guts to duel me to my face…"

"Oh, come off it, you don't want that," said Sylvia seriously, turning her attention from Albus for a moment. "He hates you, Scorpius. I mean, really hates you. If he did this to Albus…"

"He probably wants to do ten times worse to me, but I don't care," Scorpius snarled. He was as enraged as Albus had ever seen him – with extra fury to spare. "I've caught grief for trying to defend the Malfoy name… but that should be my fight – mine!"

Scorpius's shout echoed in the breezeway and castle grounds.

"Well… what happened to Vaisey?" Sylvia asked, obviously trying both to ask a question and head Scorpius off before his anger got the best of him. "They didn't just stand back and let him pound on you, did they?"

"Tommy stopped him," Albus explained, finally getting his composure back. "I'm not sure what's gonna happen to him now…"

"They'd better chuck him out," Scorpius said darkly. "…Because if he shows up in the common room tonight, he'll wish they had."

And, hurling his broom to the ground, he stormed away. Sylvia watched him for a second, wide eyed, before turning to Albus.

"We'd better stay with him in case he tries something daft," she said grimly, picking up Scorpius's broomstick. "Come on…"

Albus stood up, a bit ashamed to look Sylvia in the eye.

"For what it's worth…" she said, sounding a bit diminished from her usual confident self. It was this sudden vulnerability in her voice that got Albus's attention. When he looked up at her, though, she wasn't meeting his eyes. "That was a good thing you did. I'm sure… I'm sure your dad would be proud of you."

Somehow, this made Albus feel just a bit better.