Chapter 8: The Letters from Someone
SNAP.
Squinting and then peering back at him in the bathroom mirror was his hazel-eyed reflection, as well as every single bit of his forehead.
Too much forehead.
James wasn't much a fan of ponytails. Other blokes could make it work - Murphy did it every so often and it looked fine on him. But James's features, including the length of his face, leaned toward the Weasley side. Fitting the contents of the last essay he did for Professor Crawford (this one over Persistent Charms) on his forehead wouldn't have taken much doing.
Or maybe it was just the fact that the girls on the Quidditch team typically tied their hair back that way. But James's hair was just long enough now to obscure his eyes if the wind blew it around the wrong way, and in a high-speed sport that required split-second reactions, it just wouldn't do to have one's vision obscured. It must have grown more than he'd thought since last year, he mused. He certainly didn't remember having this problem the previous fall...
"Had a question for you." On his right, Scorpius Malfoy had approached James so quietly he never saw him. Long-nosed, long-faced, and long-limbed, Scorpius was nearly as tall as James already.
"What's that?" asked James, assuming the query was to be something Quidditch-related. (Speaking of Quidditch-related queries, where had Isaac Conrad gotten off to?). He put his palm to his forehead and cringed. He could nearly fit the entire thing between his hairline and eyebrows - which was saying quite a bit, given the size of his hands...
"What's a reliable way to wake up Albus?" Scorpius replied. This wrong-footed James for a moment, and Scorpius must have seen James's expression, because he explained: "He was supposed to come down with us this morning. I tried everything. But… spark out." He shrugged.
James smirked. "He must have been tired. Stayed up too late with you-know-who, I'm guessing?"
A girl's voice echoed into the conversation from outside the bathroom - "Hey! I can hear you."
James stifled a laugh.
"And as you can hear, you-know-who isn't too happy with me," Scorpius muttered. "I really tried, but we couldn't wait for him…"
"Yeah, I get it," James said. "You know those Wildfire Whiz-bangs?"
"Like the ones your uncles sell?" asked Scorpius, already sounding a bit leery of where this conversation was going.
"Yeah. What you gotta do is take one of the small ones, put it right next to his…"
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.
A groaned swear came from inside one of the stalls.
"Yes, we know what you're doing in there - you don't have to announce it," James said loudly without missing a beat. Asher Rodney, on his way out to the main locker room, stole a glance at James, face twisted with the effort of fighting down a laugh.
"Alright, everyone, let's go!" Freddy's voice followed soon after; when he raised it, as he often did during practices, it was a strident, raspy kind of sound, sharp enough to cut through brick. The loud noise that had sounded signaled that only forty minutes were left until the match was scheduled to start. Ergo, teams had to report to the pitch in about ten minutes.
"I think Cresswell needs a minute, Cap'n, it sounded like he was having trouble in there," Rodney's voice could be heard informing Freddy very loudly.
"Hey, screw you!" snarled the voice from inside the stall.
James laughed. He caught Scorpius's lips flinching, but the expression morphed into a glare at James and left the bathroom, as if he was embarrassed to be seen amused.
James shook his head, starting to follow him, but was cut off by another boy emerging from another stall, looking a touch green.
James frowned. He hadn't realized Isaac had been in there too. "You alright?"
Isaac sighed morosely. "Looks like I'll be playing on an empty belly," he commented.
"Why'd you do that?" groaned James disapprovingly. "We went over this last night - you're not gonna be at your best like that. You gotta eat breakfast."
"I did eat breakfast," Isaac replied darkly, walking past him and toward the main locker room. James put two and two together. Poor kid…
The locker room was nearly full of the club's members by the time James arrived. As the restrooms were near the head of the locker room, James could see everyone from here.
On his and Freddy's right, next to the blank space where James's locker was, sat Isaac Conrad, who had just retrieved his Starsweeper XVII from his own locker. It really was a pretty broom, with a glossy, ebony-stained handle and well-manicured, blonde tail.
"So what's the deal with that Gabriel Gordon?" James heard Cori Pike ask Sylvia. "He's going out with one of the girls from your year, right?"
"I don't know what all that is," Sylvia replied, waving a hand. "Both of them follow him around, fawning like fangirls. Not sure if it's Liz, Nina, neither, both… I haven't asked."
"Would you?" Cori asked. "...If you weren't dating Albus Potter already, I mean."
"...I literally haven't thought about it," Sylvia replied flatly, perhaps growing annoyed with the younger girl's line of questioning.
"God, Cori, you're so nosy all the time," chuckled Dorian Cresswell as he passed in front of James and Freddy and down past Isaac, Asher Rodney, and Cecil Brookstanton to his own locker. Coraline Pike made a face at him as he passed, and a few of the other team members laughed.
"Alright, looks like that's everybody," Freddy said loudly. James started away from Freddy and toward his own locker, but stopped when he felt a tug on his Quidditch robes. "Listen up! This is the first match of this season, us and Hufflepuff. Some people might tell you that's a disadvantage. I don't buy it. We have a chance to set the tone. We can show the rest of the houses that the path to that cup goes through Gryffindor. I want all of us to play smart, play fast, remember what you felt when you practiced that same thing ninety-nine times until you were about sick of it-"
"Those bloody cross-hoop shot drills," Asher Rodney muttered. Cresswell, Sylvia, and James, who all mainly played Chaser, laughed appreciatively. A Chaser's job was to shoot the Quaffle through one of three hoops spaced in a line several feet apart. Making a shot through the hoop on the left while approaching from the right, or vice versa, was one of the hardest shots in Quidditch to make - but also one of the hardest for a Keeper to stop. And thus, Freddy had spent some time drilling this particular type of shot with the Chasers.
Over.
And over.
And over.
"Yeah, but you got it eventually, didn't you?" Freddy quipped in response.
"Sort of," muttered Asher, not meeting Freddy's eye.
"I guess we'll find out soon," Freddy commented, before raising his voice to use the phrase he did to start every practice: "Alright, let's hunt!"
The team began gathering brooms and filing out of the door on the far side. James and Freddy were left to leave last.
"Why'd you stop me?" James queried, finally starting toward his own locker.
"What did you see?" Freddy asked.
James was confused. "Everybody. I saw everybody."
"What did you actually see?" Freddy pressed the question. "Like… tell me what Conrad looked like."
"He's nervous," James answered. "Really nervous."
Freddy nodded. "What about Wood?"
"Also really nervous," James pointed out. "But not for the same reason."
Freddy, after a pause, nodded somewhat noncommittally. "Fair enough. Let's hunt."
Still a bit confused as to what the whole point of that exercise had been, James followed Freddy to the pitch, broom in hand, trying to remember who was on the Hufflepuff side. For James, it had been about two years since he had played against Hufflepuff. It hadn't been a fun match; he'd broken his shoulder and the Gryffindors had lost.
"Goals are gonna be hard to come by, probably," Freddy commented about halfway through the walk. "The Mack twins at Beater, Trembley at Keeper… Chasers, I'm not sure about. Heard there's been some turnaround since Conway graduated."
"So who's the new captain? Trembley?" asked James.
"Yeah," replied Freddy. "Might be a two-match season for him, though. I heard Wimbourne and Tutshill both sent people up here to watch today, and they're not the first."
"What?" uttered James. "He's still a sixth year, right?"
"Yeah, but you can get taken on out of sixth year as long as you're turning seventeen before the new season starts," Freddy reminded him. "You've got to be stupid good, and Trembley's definitely that."
"He's gonna be extra motivated not to let anything through," James muttered. "Brilliant."
Freddy and James arrived just in time; the arbiter was already crossing the pitch toward the Gryffindor side and calling for "Captain!"
"Whoops," Freddy uttered, breaking into a jog. James, following him, arrived just as Arbiter Thomas handed Freddy a card. James surreptitiously tried to glance at it over Freddy's shoulder - which didn't work as Freddy was about a head taller than he was. So he craned his neck around, squinting. They had a new Seeker, Embry… Al's year? No, that's a '3', they're the year below him… He saw Trembley's name. Of course… Andrew and Alexander Mack were still the Beaters...
"WHAT THE -"
"What?!" James's profane exclamation freaked Freddy out a bit. Several of his teammates turned to look at him.
"Language, Potter," Arbiter Thomas warned him - and he seemed just as confused as everyone else as he walked away.
"The hell was that about?" Freddy asked James, still flummoxed. Shocked into silence, James simply raised a finger and pointed it at the spot on the parchment. Freddy peered at the spot for a moment and then muttered, rather nonchalantly, "Huh. That's interesting."
A shrill whistle blew, signaling both sides to the center of the pitch. James made the walk silently, torn between a mix of shock, confusion, and even a bit of anger. Guess that explains why I couldn't find him this morning, he thought to himself. But why didn't he tell me?
The two teams approached each other on either side of Arbiter Thomas. Owen Trembley did not have his helmet on yet, his hair (which was brown and messy, if James remembered correctly) mostly hidden by a black bandana. He'd smeared two thick lines of what looked like black paint under his blue eyes, giving them a piercing quality. James could see, even from a slight distance, that the Mack twins had hit growth spurts since the last time he had played against them. Rather unhelpfully, they had hit just about the same growth spurt and he still couldn't tell the bastards apart.
He glanced up and down the Hufflepuff line - he saw a couple of faces he recognized (was Shannon Stebbins always a blonde?), and a couple he didn't. A very pale, freckled girl with reddish-blonde hair stood out. She'd be the new Seeker, he assumed. He hoped for her sake that she was tougher than she looked. Then again, Scorpius looked like a ghost more often than not, and he did well enough for himself.
Toward the end of the Hufflepuff line was a girl with shiny, dark brown hair tied up in a half-bun. Her eyes found his.
I'm not gonna hold back, James thought. I sure hope you know what you're getting yourself into.
"Captains, to the center," Arbiter Thomas announced loudly. Freddy and Owen Trembley stepped forward from their lines…
With the fifteen brooms in the air minutes later, James soon found himself face-to-face with the same brown-haired girl.
"Trembley put you on me?" James called across the air space. "That's a mistake. He should've gone with Coleman."
The girl said nothing - only lowered her goggles over her eyes. She had the oldest brother's eyes, James noted. He glanced slightly to his left, waiting for the Quaffle to rise…
Arbiter Thomas's arm twitched -
James bent prone over his broom and it shot forth like a javelin. She barrel-rolled out of his way, and he had a clear path to Trembley…
The scream of a whistle brought everything to a halt.
"Foul! Red, thirteen!" Arbiter Thomas yelled. "Offside! Penalty shot to Hufflepuff!"
James, muttering another swearword to himself, floated back toward Freddy a bit abashedly as the latter wore a disapproving-parent type of frown.
("C'mon, man," Asher Rodney's voice groaned from somewhere outside James's line of sight.)
"I tried to jump it," he muttered, not meeting anyone's eye.
"Yeah, I saw," Freddy replied. "Never mind that, the Chasers can't try to attack Trembley one-on-one. We're not gonna score that way."
"You don't think I can get a goal past Trembley?" James queried, a bit wounded.
"There's Chasers in the Brit right now that couldn't get a goal past Trembley," Freddy replied grimly. "Our best shot - literally - is to send at least two bodies down there, make him make a decision, then hopefully put the Quaffle where he isn't."
"And all that while hoping the Mack brothers don't mash our skulls in," Rodney approached with Sylvia. "This game's gonna be fun."
"I'm just letting you know, if Stebbins pulls my hair again, I'm throat-punching her," Sylvia commented in an ominous aside. "Repeatedly."
Freddy ignored this threat and glanced up to where the penalty shot was taking place. Taking this as a wordless signal, James, Sylvia, and Asher Rodney all looked in that direction as well.
"An interesting move here," a girl's amplified voice announced. James had just happened to catch the name of the new commentator during introductions - Tammy Falstaff, who had been on this very Hufflepuff team two years ago. "Hufflepuff's captain has chosen one of his newest players to take the penalty shot - Anna Murphy, a third year student that was apparently a surprise standout during Hufflepuff's tryouts."
"'Surprise'... yeah, I'd say so," muttered James.
"Murphy?" Rodney asked Freddy. "Is that Cole's sister?"
Freddy visibly winced for a moment, then confirmed, "Yeah."
James watched as Anna came level with Athena Wood, holding the bright red Quaffle under her left arm.
Is Anna left-handed? he thought. I don't remember Murph mentioning that…
Arbiter Thomas's short, shrill whistle blast pierced the crisp morning air. Anna leaned down against her broom and started forward rather slowly toward the center hoop. She gave a lean toward the right after a while. Athena drifted to her left, mirroring Anna's motion…
Quickly, Anna went into a barrel roll toward the empty side of the hoop, cocked her right arm back…
BONGGGGGG.
"Murphy clanks it off the hoop. Gryffindor gets a bit lucky there and we're still scoreless," Falstaff announced from somewhere well out of James's sight line while the gathered Gryffindor players all slackened in tandem, breathing sighs of relief.
"That was close," Rodney said. "You sure Wood can hold up?"
"It's one shot," Freddy answered. "No need to panic." Then he looked at James. "We're going to Hawkshead once play starts back up. James, you take point."
"Already?" James blurted out. "You sure we don't want to hold that back for later?"
"No, I want to see what they do with it. Don't worry, I'll take care of you," Freddy answered, glancing distantly at Trembley on the other side of the pitch. Then he flew off to resume his place.
"Son of a bitch," growled James once his cousin was out of earshot, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He's gonna have me in the hospital wing again…"
"Again?" Rodney was confused.
"You don't remember that? Mack busted my shoulder when we played year before last," James explained.
Sylvia and Asher Rodney glanced at each other.
"Which one?"
James shook his head, rolled his eyes, and floated away from them and back into position. The Hawkshead Attacking Formation was a popular Chaser gambit, long in use by professional players. But James had watched enough matches to know that defenses typically countered it by attacking the point and forcing the wings away from each other.
The short version: James was about to get at least one Bludger aimed at his face.
Play resumed, and Gryffindor received the Quaffle off the penalty miss. Once Athena Wood threw it to James, he floated to a height about level with the Hufflepuff hoops on the other side. He glanced to either side of himself and saw Sylvia and Rodney take their places on either side.
"Don't go rushing ahead of me, Rodney!" exclaimed Sylvia across the whipping air.
"I know," Asher Rodney replied. Rodney had an old-but-still-good Firebolt II, which generally had better top speed than Sylvia's or James's Cleansweep models. Rodney would have to hold back in order to keep the formation clean.
"Alright, we're going!" James announced, leaning low to his broom handle with his free arm. He zeroed in on Trembley, who centered himself after several moments floating between hoops and looking a bit bored.
A female cry sounded like it might have been Stebbins: "That's a Hawkshead! Mack, break the point!"
"Oh, here we go…" James muttered to himself darkly, eyes darting left and right for any sign of one of the Mack twins or a Bludger.
There was a nasty sound of impact and a loud grunt. James couldn't place the location and therefore tried to ignore it. Then a voice - "Hey, on your left!"
James ducked his head just a bit waiting for a Bludger to miss him by inches. But it was an entire broom and rider that came into view on his left side. Alphonse Gold had swerved in front of him, deflecting a Bludger with either his bat or his body. James dove to avoid him, looking up just in time to find one of the Mack twins javelining straight at him.
With a snarl of effort, James yanked his broom back upward, finally in empty space. He tucked the Quaffle back under his arm…
Something hit the Quaffle from behind, trying to knock it from his clutches. James barely kept his grip, but the impact threw him off balance and his broom into an involuntary roll. "Hell was that?!" he snarled, righting himself. Chase Coleman was flying nearby…
"James, you're in too much traffic, pass the ball!" Sylvia implored, raising a hand on his right. But Anna Murphy came into view on that side, just about where he'd want to throw the Quaffle.
"I can't!" James shouted back, faking a throw to see if Anna would react. She raised a hand for a moment but that was it. Sylvia dove out of sight. She emerged a second later right in front of James…
"Drop it off!" Sylvia called. They weren't far from Trembley, who could see the whole thing.
"That's going to Nine! Kill it!" he was shouting Sylvia's jersey number, but the Quaffle was already out of James's hands - he was swerving sharply away from Sylvia…
Thank God for the Cleansweeps' cornering…
No sooner had James pulled out of his bank (amidst a thump and a sharp yell that might have indicated Sylvia taking a Bludger) than James heard "Potter!" and saw the Quaffle arcing over Anna Murphy's outstretched hand. He pushed himself to a near-stand on the broom, reaching high to bring it down one-handed. He was within feet of the hoops.
"That's your shot!" he heard Freddy yell.
James pulled his arm back. Trembley guided his broom toward the rightmost hoop…
Heart pounding fast, James fired the red ball… across his body, with all the might his arm could muster, toward the middle hoop Trembley had just vacated. But with a superior feat of cornering, Trembley banked around the back of the right hoop and came out in front and approaching the middle hoop again. He stretched out a quite long arm toward the incoming ball, nearly launching himself headlong from his broom in the process.
His fingers grazed it. Barely…
BONGGGGGG…
James's oath was loud but still drowned out by the drone of "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH…." from the Hufflepuff students below.
A few moments later, there was no sign of the Snitch, and Gryffindor was down by twenty - objectively not an insurmountable deficit, yet with Trembley playing Keeper it felt like being down by several hundred. James couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief when his cousin called timeout.
"I am never wearing these pants again," Freddy grunted through his teeth as they walked back toward the bench. James's legs felt wobbly and unsure after being in the air for… only a little bit? Surely they hadn't flown that long.
"What's wrong with them?" asked James.
"Chafing," replied Freddy tersely.
"Like, your legs?" James probed.
Freddy only gave him a dark aside glance in response.
James winced. "Sorry I asked."
"...Anything?"
Freddy was not asking James. He was talking to Scorpius Malfoy, who was walking a few steps ahead of them but stopped and looked over his shoulder.
"Once or twice," Scorpius admitted. "But their Seeker - Embry? She was closer. Might've gotten there before I did if I'd made a move. What time is it?"
"About half past, I think?" Freddy guessed.
"What?! We've been going nonstop for half an hour?" James shouted. It had not felt like it had been that long.
Freddy sort of ignored him. "Hey, listen, if we get down fifty and haven't scored and you see the Snitch, go after it. We'll make the points up in another match. It's record first, then points."
"If you say so," Scorpius agreed.
"Hey, the score's only twenty-nil, right?" Dorian Cresswell was the first one to speak as they approached the bench.
"Yeah," confirmed Freddy.
"Then why does it feel like we're getting the crap beaten out of us?" he asked bluntly.
Sylvia, who had something pressed to one of her lips, took it off, revealing a nasty, bloody split, and said, "Because we're getting the crap beaten out of us."
"Ouch," Cori Pike leaned around Sylvia, cringing theatrically as she got a look at Sylvia's busted lip. "No kisses for Albus Potter after this match, I'm guessing -"
"Shut it," Sylvia snapped, actually sounding genuinely annoyed by this quip. Cori giggled.
"Sorry about that last goal," Athena Wood apologized, biting her lip morosely. "The Beaters screened her off. I thought they were coming after me."
"They can't do that," Cecil Brookstanton pointed out. "That's a penalty. I thought you of all people would know that's a penalty."
"The penalty is if they make contact," Athena replied, her eyes blazing. "I'd rather not get hit by Bludgers at all. It hurts." She added, as if Brookstanton didn't know this fact or had simply forgotten.
Meanwhile, Isaac Conrad said nothing at all, and simply watched…
Albus
"Ow-ow-OW. Shit!"
"Well, stop flinching," muttered Albus semi-apologetically, holding a ball of cotton up to the corner of Sylvia's mouth.
"I can't. It burns," she grunted through grit teeth.
"Well, do you want Madam Pomfrey to do it? It's either me or her." Albus withdrew the little cotton ball from her face.
Sylvia pouted. The reddish-purple bruise-looking thing on one side of her lip made them look bigger, exaggerating the effect. "And be stuck in the hospital wing all weekend? Hell, no."
"Let me finish, then," Albus implored her, returning the cotton ball to her lip. "This'll only be a couple of seconds."
"Ugh. Fine," Sylvia agreed grudgingly, and closed her eyes. She made a semi-cute, semi-amusing face akin to an overstuffed squirrel as Albus dabbed her lips again. He leaned around her head to see her face from straight on. Her lip was pink where it had been cut open earlier, but the wound was already starting to heal.
Albus, feeling satisfied, let out a sigh, walked over to the fireplace, and dropped the ball of cotton into the flames, where it blackened and shriveled in a near instant. When he returned to Sylvia and his mortar and pestle, she was looking up at him with one eye.
"How's it feel?" Albus asked.
"Better," Sylvia replied. "How's it look?"
"Good as new," Albus told her. Sylvia frowned.
"You don't have to lie to me, Al," she said.
Albus frowned in return. "No, I'm serious."
Sylvia raised her eyebrows and then held out a hand. Hesitating in confusion at first, Albus finally helped her to her feet, where she swayed and winced visibly.
"Something else hurting?" Albus asked.
Sylvia gave him a dark glance in reply. "Everything else is hurting."
"Maybe you should go rest, then," Albus suggested.
"You're joking, right? After that match, I could eat a hippogriff."
"Same here," confessed Albus. "I didn't even play."
Sylvia giggled and put a hand to her lip.
"Wow, it really worked," she commented, sounding impressed. "You've really got a talent for this sort of thing."
"It's not that difficult a potion," Albus muttered dismissively. "It's not really even a potion. More like a… powder."
"Anyway, you're good at it," Sylvia told him. A smile crossing her face, she asked, "Why is the idea of being good at something so weird to you? You've always been top of the year in Potions anyway - don't think I haven't noticed -"
Albus was about to tell her that all being good in Potions meant was that he was good at taking and following orders, but he choked it back. "I only learned that one because I figured you or Scorpius would get dinged up during a practice one of these days… where is he, anyway?"
"I guess he figured there'd be more people here," Sylvia replied.
"He hates crowds," Albus said. The common room after today's Quidditch match had been much more low-key than Albus had been expecting. That might have had something to do with the unusually nice weather for this time of year. It was Saturday afternoon, and a lot of Hogwarts students were taking advantage of the outdoors. Now that it was November, it would not be long before the bitter cold of winter set in. "Or maybe he went to eat already. Or might be he's gone to meet Lena."
Sylvia made a visible face. "I might be a total ghoul for even thinking this, but… you know, being sad about someone like him… I mean, he's a person just like any other, just not… not a very good one, I guess…"
"...Well, she knew him longer than we did," Albus reasoned. "Maybe long enough to know the person he was."
An amused-sounding scoff escaped Sylvia. "Is there anybody you don't forgive?"
"I never said I forgave him," Albus replied. "But what I think wouldn't matter to Lena, anyway. Sometimes it's not as easy as… just throwing somebody away if you care about them. Even if they did something awful."
He thought for a moment…
"Can I meet you at the Great Hall later?" he asked. "I've gotta nip off to the Owlery."
"The Owlery?" repeated Sylvia. "Why?"
"You remember that essay Scamander gave us on wizard pets?" Albus reminded her. "I thought I'd do it on owls. And seeing as I haven't got one of my own to observe, well…"
Sylvia had picked cats for the same essay, which Professor Scamander had assigned over the weekend. She had always wanted one, but her mother, who was allergic, would never allow it. "I'll come with," she offered.
"I won't be long. Just wanted to take a few notes," Albus rejected her. Sylvia frowned.
"Well… alright," she finally agreed. "And if you happen to run into Scorpius…"
"I'll bring him," Albus promised. "Or at least try."
He grabbed his mortar and pestle from near the fireplace, and started up to his dormitory. By the time he returned, Sylvia had already gone.
Albus breathed a sigh of relief once he got to the landing that led to the grand staircases. Sorry, he thought, producing a large square of oddly translucent silvery cloth from inside his shirt and unfurling it to its full size. They had shared many things together… but he couldn't share this. Not yet.
Besides, as he'd found out that summer with his siblings, trying to move multiple teenagers under this thing was slow at best, impossible at worst.
He had an odd thrill once he passed a stomping, fuming Desmond McLaggen on the staircase and realized that he was indeed invisible to the naked eye. He didn't believe he was technically breaking any rules by owning and using the cloak - and if he was, who was going to catch him? It took an exceptionally powerful wizard or special artifact to see through this cloak. His father had told him he wasn't sure there were many living that could do it.
People-watching without the people you were watching knowing they were being watched was interesting. Hogwarts was as lively as ever on a Saturday morning, both inside the castle, where students were starting toward the Great Hall for lunch, and on the grounds, where a few were still outside taking in the nice weather.
"Yeah, that was a close one. I thought Mack was gonna take his head off," a familiar voice laughed. Freddy was striding across the grounds with Roxanne and another girl Albus didn't think he knew. Maybe Freddy had a new girlfriend? Or maybe not - the girl was on Roxanne's other side.
"But you could do worse," Roxanne pointed out. "I mean… last year's champions…"
"We're gonna need to make up points against Ravenclaw and Slytherin, though… unless we beat all three outright."
Albus thought to wave at them, and then realized - right, they can't see me… He moved on.
Gabriel Gordon passed by a few feet away, holding that blue book that he must have checked back out of the library recently. Albus had no desire to wave at him - but it was curious, he thought, to see Gabe without Liz or Nina. The two girls from their year typically circled around Gabe, except when their electives took them their separate ways. From what Albus could gather, Nina and Liz both took Muggle Studies, but Gabe had opted for Ancient Runes with Albus and Rose. Albus didn't remember why he'd even chosen Ancient Runes. He didn't much like the class and already knew he had no interest in carrying it past his O.W.L. year.
Oh, yeah… he thought to himself morosely. I did it so Rose wouldn't be by herself - seeing as there was no chance in hell any of us were taking Arithmancy.
And now, he and Rose weren't speaking. Which was awkward anyway - but given that there were only a handful of students in the fourth year Ancient Runes class, it was even more awkward. They were paired with Slytherin most of the time, and there weren't many friends across the two houses in that year. Tellius Nott and Kadric Howell weren't antagonistic or anything - they just didn't speak much. Never did, as far back as Albus could remember. But they had both been there that day…
The Gryffindor side was quite a bit larger, with Albus, Rose, Gabe, Nina, Liz, and Rowan, who had lasted a week in Arithmancy in his third year before dropping it because Ancient Runes made more sense - which said a lot about Arithmancy. Albus wasn't sure Rose wasn't the only Gryffindor in their year taking the class now, come to think of it. Vaisey had been in that course, too, before….
The switch from Halim to Professor A had a few benefits. Professor A liked essays rather more than Halim had and was a bit more exacting overall, but on the other side of that had rather more to say about his own travels since leaving Hogwarts as a student years ago. The students had already heard captivating stories about several countries and wizarding societies outside of Britain:
Nigeria, in Africa - the professor had extended family there;
Bangladesh, which Albus was fairly sure was near India;
Guyana, which was in South America near the… Caribbean? God, they really should have had someone, anyone other than Binns handle geography...
Professor A had spent the past few years teaching at Ilvermorny in America as well; he and Gabe had gotten into a rather animated exchange about the differences between that school and The Oasis, whose students apparently tended to look down on Ilvermorny as being 'old-fashioned.'
The more Albus heard about Gabe Gordon's time at his original wizarding school, the more Albus got the impression that he had enjoyed it immensely.
So then, what had made him come all the way out to Britain to finish his education here at Hogwarts? Gabe had never explained that. He had his secrets - that was for sure. Which was terribly unfair, because Albus still had this weird impression that Gabe knew what he was thinking sometimes.
There was one morning - not the first time it had happened - that Albus had woken up from a… well, a dream of sorts. He had told no one about them, least of all Sylvia, who probably would have freaked out. But he could have sworn that he'd seen Gabe smirking at him that morning as they all made ready to go to their first class.
Then again, Gabe was always smirking. Maybe that was just his face.
And if that was Gabe's face, then Albus wasn't sure if he liked Gabe's face.
But if Albus didn't like Gabe's face, that was nothing compared to how McLaggen felt about it. Albus often caught sight of McLaggen glaring at the back of Gabe's head. But then, McLaggen was always glaring (at Albus, too, but at least Sylvia had a solid theory on that), so maybe that was just his face now -
God, it was all so confusing. If you had told Albus on the last day of August that this term he'd be sure where he stood with Sylvia but unsure about literally everyone else, he would have told you that the world must have turned on its ear…
Albus planted his feet firmly on the first two steps of the stone staircase that spiraled snakelike up the beaten tower that served as the resting place for the owls of Hogwarts Castle and its students. It was a habit born out of paranoia. His brain knew that it was November, and that it was actually still quite mild outside. But these stairs were dodgy at best in the rain and downright dangerous in the winter, where they could ice over. Once you slip once, that fear doesn't go away. And with the added need to keep himself from tripping over his cloak, he'd have no chance to put his hands down if he lost his balance…
He could not help but breathe a slight sigh of relief after he reached the landing.
"What are you doing here?"
Scorpius's voice. Definitely. Albus slipped into the tower.
"Don't sound so accusatory," a girl's voice replied, sounding hurt. "Am I not allowed to just take a walk around Hogwarts? Make use of the Owlery just like anyone else?"
Albus, keeping his footfalls as quiet as he could, rounded the corner.
Scorpius was near one of the windows, still in his uniform and silhouetted in the ray of light entering the tower through a film of dust. Between him and Albus was a girl with braids down to the middle of her back.
"You're a fourth year," commented Scorpius. "You know we can't use the post owls on Saturdays. If you don't have your own…"
"Same for you," the girl replied. "So what brings you here?"
"Because nobody comes to the Owlery on Saturday afternoons," Scorpius finally said. "It's a nice place to be alone and think."
"...That's a problem, isn't it?" the girl said. "I like coming here alone to think."
"You're right. That is a problem," Scorpius agreed. "We can't both be alone in the same place, can we? I'll leave you to it, then."
And he started across the Owlery, past her and toward where Albus was standing.
"Scorpius."
Scorpius stopped. Neither had turned to look at the other.
"Lilith?"
Albus stood there in the dusty, deafening silence.
"Your… flying today was, um…" Lilith trailed off. She paused again, bit her lip, and then- "You know, there was a time that I'd have liked to… my parents wanted me to wait a year or two but… well, I figure there's no way they'd have me now, after everything that's happened..."
Scorpius didn't seem to know what to do with this. "Maybe you should've done it anyway," he finally suggested.
"Maybe I should've," Lilith said with an odd smile. "Guess I'm not as brave as you are..."
"Please stop."
There was a blankness in Scorpius's quiet interruption that was heartwrenching. The breath Albus heard Lilith take in was a shuddering rattle, almost as if the wind itself had been knocked from her. Muttered gibberish escaped her for a couple of moments as she cycled through several different ways to vocalize a response, failing after the first syllable or two each time.
Meanwhile, Scorpius, his gray eyes cast at the floor, swallowed hard and strode from the tower. His first few steps were an apologetic trudge, but his next several were a hasty trot, as if he now wanted to put as much distance between himself and Lilith Cross as possible.
"Good going, moron," she sighed, clenching her fists at her sides. She seemed more angry at herself than heartbroken. "As if he needed reminding of that after what happened last year. Stupid."
Albus couldn't do anything to comfort her. First off, he had no idea what to say. Second, even if he had, he wasn't entirely convinced that popping out of nowhere to reveal he'd been eavesdropping would go over too well. One thing he did know about Lilith Cross was that she could be volatile - one might even say paranoid.
And really hard on herself, Albus thought, turning to depart the tower and leave Lilith alone with her thoughts. Now that I think about it, they actually have a lot in common…
Scorpius must have taken his time on his way back up to the castle. Albus beat him to the Great Hall, removing his cloak with him as he blended in with a throng of students on their way to lunch. Nobody noticed him. As he approached, he happened to lock eyes with an older girl with a familiar face. She saw him, and did an inquisitive sort of double-take, as if she recognized him. But she couldn't have-
"Ty!"
The girl's eyes, dark in color but bright in expression, shifted to look over and around him - and visibly brightened even more.
Albus felt an arm encircle his shoulder and was confused for a moment until Roxanne Weasley's face came into view.
"So you've finally met Albus?" Roxanne asked the girl, whose lips went circular.
"Ohhhhh," she sang. "Albus? Really? After Albus Dumbledore."
"Yeah," Albus confirmed.
"Harry Potter's son," she guessed.
"Right again," Albus said, putting on a smile. It couldn't be helped. "How'd you guess?"
"Are you kidding? You two are practically twins," she answered, proffering her hand. "Tyla Haines. Sixth year, Hufflepuff."
"Tyla's…" Roxanne paused. "She's a... good friend of mine."
"Nice to meet you," Albus said politely - but as he shook Tyla's hand, he couldn't help noticing something change on her face.
"What year are you in? If you don't mind me asking," Tyla queried.
"Fourth," Albus replied.
Tyla's head turned to Roxanne. She stared at her for a moment…
Then turned on her heel and walked into the Great Hall without a further word.
"Oh, crap." Roxanne seemed to know something was wrong. "Sorry, Al." She gave his shoulder a little pat, then took off after her friend. "Hey, Ty, wait a second! Tyla!"
Albus stood there for a moment, completely confused, before deciding that he had enough to think about. He strode into the Great Hall, his eyes darting to his and his friends' usual spot at the second table from the left. Sylvia was there already. She fidgeted in her seat when she saw him approaching, trying a bit too hard to look casual.
"Finished your owl watching?" she asked.
"Oh yeah," Albus answered. "Got loads of useful information. Saw somebody else there, too."
He hadn't seen much of any owls, truth be told, unless you counted the Owlery floor, which was practically made of dried droppings at this point. And he hadn't exactly lied to Sylvia - he did still have to finish that essay. Sylvia, he guessed, was going to go back up to her room to rest after they had lunch. Maybe he'd nip back over there and watch the owls properly this afternoon...
"Scorpius?" Sylvia queried - but she didn't look at Albus.
"How'd you guess?" Albus asked - but he didn't pick up the hint.
"Guess what?"
Scorpius was lowering himself onto the bench opposite them - again, trying too hard to look casual.
"He said he saw you at the Owlery," Sylvia replied.
Scorpius frowned. "You couldn't have, though."
"I definitely did," Albus disagreed. "I got there just as you were leaving. Maybe you just didn't see me. You did look kinda distracted."
Scorpius grimaced. "I've got a lot on my mind," he said. "Lena's… she's in a bad way. Has been since… well, you know. On top of that, the curse…"
"...Curse?" repeated Albus.
"I told you about that, right?" Scorpius queried. "The blood curse that runs on my mum's side of the family? Lena's worried about it. It typically skips generations and her mum - my aunt Daphne - seems like she's fine. Most of the cursed Greengrass women don't make it past forty, and she already has, so… maybe. That's what we're hoping. But at the same time… if it's not my aunt, who is it? My mum? Maybe Lena? Or Titania?"
Titania Urquhart was Lena's younger sister. Albus forgot her exact age, but she was still a few years away from coming to Hogwarts.
"I'm going to find a way to end that curse," Scorpius declared. "Somehow. At least I can end theirs…"
Albus didn't want to let it show on his face, but he was a bit annoyed with Scorpius feeling sorry for himself constantly, so he looked away and down the table where he saw a rather interesting scene. A tall, dark-skinned young woman Albus recognized as Lilith's older sister, Laurel, was looming over James and Brynne. (Murphy was conspicuous by his absence.) Laurel Cross had been made Head Girl for this year, and if Albus recalled correctly, most of his family didn't like her much. She'd had a rather messy breakup with Freddy three years back and, although Freddy himself had moved on ages ago, James and a few others still seemed to hold a grudge for some reason.
Come to think of it, Laurel and Lilith weren't really that close for sisters...
In any case, whatever conversation Laurel Cross was having with James, it wasn't very long, and it ended with him holding… something. Maybe an envelope?
"You shouldn't talk like that," Albus heard Sylvia say suddenly. She was looking at Scorpius with an unusually grave expression, and Albus wondered exactly what he'd missed. "I'm sure that… I mean… someday, somebody -"
"That's not the point," Scorpius interrupted. Shaking his head, he said, "Even if you're right…"
Scorpius trailed off. Sylvia glanced at Albus, looking lost for a moment. She bit her lip. "Is it because…" She was having a hard time asking the question. She kept peeking over at Albus for guidance, but Albus was confused and had lost the plot of the conversation completely. "...Is it that you don't… I mean… it's perfectly fine if that's…"
Now Scorpius was confused. "What are you talking about?"
"Nothing. I was just gonna say I wouldn't have any problems with it if you… never mind. Forget I said anything." Sylvia not only looked like she wanted to escape the conversation; she looked like she wanted to jump and sprint out of the Great Hall entirely.
Whatever it had been, it made lunch incredibly awkward, with nobody speaking. Scorpius didn't seem extremely upset at Sylvia, for what that was worth - just lost deep in thought. And Sylvia was too afraid to talk and Albus had no idea what had happened and didn't want to bring up the other thing either because that would also be awkward. It was far too miserable a lunch considering two of them had just won a Quidditch match a couple of hours ago.
When they got back to the Great Hall, Sylvia (as per Albus's prediction) went up to take a nap. By that time, though, the common room had become far too crowded for his or Scorpius's tastes, so they both retired to their dormitory as well. To Albus's surprise and fortune, the dormitory was empty save for the two of them.
While Scorpius changed out of his Quidditch kit, Albus was content to wait. He made himself busy with a copy of A Collection of Above Three Hundred Receipts in Cookery, Physick, and Surgery. A well-meaning Aunt Hermione, remembering that fourth years had used the book as a text in Potions during her time, had gifted it to Albus for his birthday that summer. (The Potter family could fill a small library with all the books they had received from Aunt Hermione as gifts.) James, however, had quickly informed him that Professor Ambrose no longer used it as the primary Potions text, believing it to be outdated. Given that the original text had been written in 1734, it was possible that Ambrose had a point. Even by his own admission, though, the book served as a fair reference material and "might provide insight into historical potioneering methodologies, which will be of some assistance if and when you carry this course to N.E.W.T. level." Or something like that.
"Go, go, Gryffindor! That's how it goes, right?" a boy's voice chuckled. Albus peered over the book to see Gabriel Gordon walking in. Scorpius saw him, too, and rolled his eyes. "No, but seriously, good job out there."
"Thanks," Scorpius answered hesitantly. Gabe, to his credit, didn't ever seem to take Scorpius's standoffishness personally. But then Gabe rounded on Albus.
"...A Collection of… You read that for fun?" he queried.
"Look who's talking," Albus replied, feeling a bit needled. "That's gotta be, what, your third time checking out that book?"
"Yeah, but this book's interesting," Gabe quipped, holding up the blue-backed copy of Evolution of the Wizard and tossing it nonchalantly onto his bed.
"Really? What's in it?" Albus didn't know why - he just always felt when talking to Gabe like Gabe was trying to get one up on him. And he always felt like he couldn't let it happen.
"All types of cool stuff," Gabe said. "Like, going way back. Probably further than this school does. Haven't you ever wondered, like, how wizards controlled their magic before wizard schools were a thing? It's got information on that - and even weirder stuff. What about yours?"
"Er… Potions," Albus said, a bit ashamed of his own stammer. "Obviously."
"Do you really need any extra reading in Potions?" asked Gabe. "You're top in the class, aren't you?"
Albus grimaced. "I think it's interesting and might be useful one day."
"One day?" repeated Gabe. Yes, that's what I said, Albus thought. Gabe made a face. "You studying to be a Doctor or something?"
"A… sorry, what?" Albus repeated. "No, that's a Muggle thing." He'd heard of Muggle 'doctors' from his father and from Grandad Weasley, but the way they did their craft was a little bit different.
Gabe was confused. "...No, it isn't. You guys don't have people that study how to fix injuries and stuff?"
"You mean Healers?" asked Albus.
Gabe's eyes widened in clarity. "Oh. Okay, yeah. US-Britain thing. We just call them all 'Doctors' in America. Even the wizards. So are you studying to be a Healer?"
Albus frowned. "Haven't… really thought about it."
"You haven't?" Gabe queried. Then a smirk came across his face. "Not even with a certain somebody as a practice patient?"
Now Albus was confused. "Huh?"
Gabe let out a scoffing laugh. "Never mind. Well, I've got places to be. Catch you guys later."
Scorpius did a weak wave as Gabe departed again.
"Finally," muttered Albus. This received a look from Scorpius.
"Wow, do you really hate him that much?" he chuckled, seeming genuinely surprised.
"No…" Albus replied unconvincingly. "Uh… maybe? Never mind him. I wanted to talk to you about something. What was the deal with Sylvia earlier? At lunch, I mean?"
Scorpius grimaced, probably thinking Albus was being protective. "That was… we're fine. Unless she's pissed off at me or something."
"No, if she was pissed off at you, you'd know it," Albus replied grimly.
"Fair point," replied Scorpius, just as grimly.
"She seemed like she was worried about you," said Albus. Then with a smile, he added. "She cares about you, you know. More than she probably lets on."
"She lets on enough," Scorpius said reassuringly. "I just let slip that… well… since last year I kinda see what my dad was thinking. He wasn't planning to get married or have children. And me, we'll be seventeen in a couple of years and… I don't think I will at all. That's all I said, that I don't think I'm going to want a family. I think her head went somewhere different, though."
"Really? Where?" asked Albus.
Scorpius slackened. "Honestly, Al, how sheltered are you?" Albus frowned; he wasn't going to pretend he was as streetwise as, say, Sylvia, but Scorpius calling someone 'sheltered' was a bit rich. "I'm pretty sure she thinks that I… you know, don't like girls."
"...Oh," was all Albus could say, but inwardly he was cursing himself for being an idiot. Through all the planning and subterfuge Albus had been engaged in, that possibility hadn't even occurred to him. Neither had the possibility that the 'secret admirer' from last year whose letter Scorpius kept to this day, wasn't a girl - or that Scorpius had even wanted it to be a girl. It was a closed-minded mistake on Albus's part, he knew. "Well… do you?"
He wished he had been able to figure out a way to ask the question more delicately than that, but put on the spot, his typical gift for tact failed him, if only for a moment.
"Yes," said Scorpius just as bluntly. "It's just… after last time…"
"...Last time?" repeated Albus.
Scorpius, not meeting Albus's eye completely, heaved a sigh. "...I fancied one girl once. A lot. I think she was the only girl I ever liked like that. Definitely the first. Her name was…"
Just when it seemed he was about to name this mystery girl, his mouth moved soundlessly and he trailed off at the last second, his gray eyes turning toward the wall.
When he finally spoke, it was with a hollow, dead, matter-of-fact sort of voice - almost as if dissociating completely for a moment was the only way he could finish the sentence. And the name Albus was waiting for never arrived:
"It was your cousin."