- March 1945 –
Thin paned glass rattled in its iron frame. Albus looked up from the paper he graded. It was dark outside and the rain came down in a continuous sheet obscuring any view of the quidditch pitch or the forest or the lake. His warm breath condensed on the glass and fogged over the night. He huffed a deep breath and turned back to his marking.
Strigiforma – a spell that turned owls into opera glasses and evidently, students into trolls. He scratched a large letter T on the paper and tapped it with his wand. The black ink turned red.
Footsteps pattered outside his office door and muffled whispers followed.
"Where are we? I thought we were going to kitchens."
"Wait, is this Professor Dumbledore's office?"
"Ssshhh, he's going to hear us. Quick, quick."
It was well past student curfew. Albus leaded back in his chair and listened to the chorus of poorly concealed giggles and hurriedly retreating footsteps. He smiled and closed his eyes.
- June 1899 -
It had grown quiet. The common room crowd had thinned over an hour ago as students headed off to bed one last time before summer break. Only seventh years remained, a group of girls by the chairs under the window discussing a ministry internship, some boys crowded around the table playing chess, the quidditch captain recounting his moments of glory on the pitch with other team members. Their voices were rough and muffled with the exhaustion of exam week but they refused to go to bed in attempt to put off the inevitable. Tomorrow they would graduate. Hogwarts was a second home to every student and no one wanted to say goodbye.
Albus laid on the sofa, his feet rested across Elphias' lap. A breeze blew through the window periodically, drifting over the back of the sofa and shewing away the warmth that radiated over his upturned face from the fire. Despite it being June, the fire in the Gryffindor common room was lit. It was always lit, offering a flickering light and a soft steady crack to any student in search of company.
"What did you write for the necromancy essay?" Elphias asked.
"That it is dark magic that has never been successful," Albus said. "Inferi, charmed skeletons, zombies, none of these can be classified as real, living people."
"How did you argue that?"
"There's no continuity of self. The creatures have no soul. They do not act like they did when they were alive or retain any memories. They do not have free will. They are essentially empty bodies which the animator can control."
"Continuity of self – that's good. I couldn't figure out how to word that."
"I then argued that the ministry actively engages in this practice by imprisoning wizards in Azkaban."
"What?" Elphias looked over at him, his eyebrows furrowed.
"They are imprisoned – no free will. They are subject to Dementors that suck out their soul. They go mad because they lose their sense of self. Necromancy creates the living dead from the dead. The ministry makes them from the living."
Elphias looked at him, his mouth hung open in a circle as round as his wide eyes. Albus lifted his head from the arm rest and stared back, eagerly awaiting the challenge. The group of girls by the window stood from their chairs and walked past them. They were at the portrait before Elphias noticed. "Hey. It's after curfew." Albus smiled and returned his gaze to the ceiling.
"We're just getting a snack," one of the girls said.
"You're planning on sneaking all the way down to the kitchens?"
"It's the last day of school. What are they going to do?"
"Not let you walk across the stage?"
The girls laughed.
"If you bring me a slice of pumpkin pie, we'll let you go," Albus offered.
"Hey." Elphias slapped his leg in protest where it rested across his own.
"Now where's the free will in that?" Fingers combed through Albus' hair, twirling it, as Eliza continued. "Exams have drained my soul. I can't think in full sentences. I can't remember what I wrote on the DADA essay this morning, let alone what I had for dinner. And now I'm being forced to wait on you hand and foot. I think Hogwarts makes the living into the living dead."
Albus hummed as she played with his hair. "I hope that's what you argued that on the exam."
"You should come to the kitchens with us. One last hoorah. Give Elphias' legs a break. They're probably numb."
"No, I'm alright."
The fingers disappeared from his hair and the footsteps retreated. A draft blew into the room as the portrait door swung open. Elphias watched the girls leave and looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. Albus looked back at the ceiling. Elphias sighed. Elphias didn't care that the girls snuck out. His judgement was pointed elsewhere, through the open portrait hole where Albus failed to follow. Albus twisted the button on the cuff of his sleeve and watched the glow of the flames cast upon ceiling. The light ebbed and flowed with his thoughts, thoughts of Eliza and how she was pretty and smart and friendly with him in a way that drew attention from others. Thoughts of how his indifference drew attention of a different kind. Maybe Elphias was right. Maybe he should have followed her though the portrait hole. In twelve hours it wouldn't matter. They graduated tomorrow and the world, vast and grand, far beyond the empty midnight corridors of Hogwarts, waited on the other side.
"I can't wait to see them" Albus said.
"See what?" said Elphias
"The Inferi. In the lakes in Romania."
"Yeah, that'll be a sight."
The girls returned within the hour. The glow cast on the ceiling scattered wildly and the calm was shattered as they flung open the portrait door. They giggled wildly over something Peeves had said or done. Albus attributed their amusement largely to delusion from the sugar rush, graduation, and exam season exhaustion. They skipped up to the girls' dorm tower. Eliza trailed, closed the portrait door with a thud and dropped a small plate on Albus' chest. The plate held a slice of pumpkin pie and two forks. "Goodnight Albus," she said. Her words were short and devoid of the sing song melody they had carried earlier.
Elphias leaned over, picked up a fork, and scooped off a bite.
- March 1945 –
The window rattled again and Albus startled as a pair of large yellow eyes stared pointedly at him. The owl flapped its wing against the glass. Albus leaned forward in his chair to open the latch. It was tricky, sticky with rust and Albus had to jiggle it. The owl flapped it wings again. He didn't blame the creature. Flying in the rain was dreadful.
The latch gave way and Albus' hand smacked into the frame from the applied force. He cursed and shook out his hand. "Here," he said, picking up the student's failing paper and placing it in front on the owl. "For the puddles."
The owl hopped on and hooted in reply. It shook out its feathers, showering several other papers. They were likely just as deserving. The owl lifted its left talon and Albus untied the scrawled note.
"He can do it. Meet me at the Chemist."
Albus' heart raced as he re-read the note and then tossed it into the lantern on his desk. The owl gave a sharp hoot. "Don't worry. You didn't fly all this way for nothing. It's just the times we live in." He tore off some parchment from the bottom of a student's paper. "Gone hunting," he wrote. The owl nipped at his hand. He quickly added, "P.S. the messenger is very deserving of treats." He rolled up the parchment and tied it to the owl's talon. "Headmaster. Please," he added for good measure, opening the window again. The owl hopped onto the still and back out into the rain. Albus grabbed his blue corduroy coat, wand, and the brown leather satchel that hung on the back of his door. He walked quickly and quietly through the empty halls. On the third floor, he stopped in front of the one-eyed-witch statue and tapped its hump with his wand. "Dissendium." The hump slid open revealing a black tunnel. It was steep at the top, like a shoot. Without hesitation, Albus jumped in feet first. He slid for several seconds before the tunnel leveled out. It was cold and he couldn't see his own hand when he waved it in front of his face. "Lumos." He squinted and blinked. The light from his wand was blinding in the dark surround. He shrugged on his coat, threw the strap of his bag over his head, and then he ran. It was an hour's walk to Hogsmeade through the passage. He could run it in half that.
- June 1899 -
Albus and Elphias brought their trunks down to the front entrance and added them to the pile marked for the train. They entered the Great Hall and waited with the other seventh years huddled around the house tables in black robes and pointed hats for the ceremony. Some paced, some fidgeted. Albus sat at the end of the Gryffindor table and watched. They had all sat seven years' worth of exams. They were all smart, dedicated, and talented witches and wizards who could ward off Dementors, Inferi, and the Imperius Curse, and yet something about walking out the castle doors induced nervous jitters.
"What are you smiling about?" Elphias asked.
"Nothing. We're almost done."
The headmaster walked in at ten to the hour and lined everyone up. He led them out of the Great Hall for the last time and through the grand entrance doors. Two sections of chairs lined the front lawn filled with parents who craned their necks to spot their children as they walked up the center aisle and waved with great enthusiasm. Albus looked straight ahead at the back of Elphias' head. No one was looking for him or waiting for him to wave back.
After the ceremony, after his speech – Focus, Stamina, and the Well-Timed Flick of a Wand – after the great storm cloud of black hats thrown triumphantly into the air had returned to the ground, the graduates and parents milled about the grounds.
Mr. and Mrs. Dodge walked excitedly towards he and Elphias holding two leather travel bags adorned with red and gold bows. "What'd'ya say boys? You think these will do?"
"They're perfect, Mr. Dodge. Thank-you."
Elphias tried to mutter out a similar thanks while his mother smothered him in a tight hug and several cheek kisses and pats.
"I hope they're big enough. Although you don't want to lug your entire existence around Europe. The shop keeper said they come with an extendable charm that triples their size. I'm sure you could no doubt double that if needed," Mr. Dodge said and to Albus. "And," he lifted the zipper pull. It was a small metal ring with a W in the center. Mr. Dodge pushed on the base of the W and rotated it upside down within the ring to resemble an M. "It has a muggle worthy setting so you shouldn't have any trouble at the boarders."
"Clever," Albus said.
"Yes, I thought so. So what's the plan boys?"
"I'll go transfer my trip things into here," Elphias said patting his new bag. "I'll give you my trunk to take home. And then Albus and I are going to take the train back to London, spend a few nights at the Leaky Cauldron, gather a few more things, go to the ministry to get travel papers, and then we're off."
"Romania, Greece, Egypt, Morocco."
"You have your room booked at the Leaky Cauldron?" Mrs. Dodge asked.
"Yes," Elphias nodded.
"And you have an appointment set at the ministry?"
"Yes."
"Do you need anything? Any money?"
"No. I'm all set."
Albus caught Elphias' rolling eyes and smiled.
"Well we tucked a few galleons in your bag anyways. If you need anything, send me an owl and we'll send it down to London."
"Ok, Mum."
"Let's go get your trunk," Mr. Dodge said.
Albus waited outside for Elphais to return. They had brought out a snack table. Albus weaved through the crowd to get a pumpkin pastie. He was stopped just feet away.
"Albus, that was a wonderful speech. Your parents must be so proud." Mr. Wingarick said as he took his hand and shook it with rigor.
"Thank-you," Albus said. Would he think it as wonderful if he knew the titled advice was given to Albus by his father who the ministry had locked in Azkaban? Albus ignored this and the way Mr. Wingarick looked around as if expecting to be introduced to his parents. Eliza stood several paces behind her father, her hands shoved deep in the pockets of her black robe. Albus smiled at her, a peace offering. She looked at the ground.
"I must say I was disappointed not to see your resume come through. You would make a fantastic Auror," Mr. Wingarick said.
"Maybe one day. I'm going to travel first." Albus held up his new bag. "See the world beyond Hogwarts and the ministry."
"Excellent choice. It will put the world in a whole new perspective. Get in touch when you're back. We'll always be happy to have you."
"Of course," Albus nodded.
He picked up a napkin but before he could load it with pumpkin pasties Professor Merrythought appeared at his side. "Prison reform? That was quite the topic for your exam essay."
Albus shrugged. "It captured your attention. That's half the battle with exam papers. Professors have to grade so many of them that anything dull and repetitive is going to suffer. But yes, if we're going to send wizards to Azkaban, we all need to fully understand just what it is we're doing to them."
She looked at him for a minute. Albus looked down at his shoes. "I gave it top marks." She patted his arm and walked off towards a student calling her name.
"Ready?" Elphias asked, grabbing the last pumpkin pastie off the tray.
"Bloody hell."
"What?"
"Nothing. Let's go," Albus said. They slipped through the crowd and took the path to Hogsmede. Carriages rolled past them, stacked with trunks, and turned off onto the station path on the outskirts of the village. The maroon engine of the Hogwarts Express gleamed through the forest trees and dwarfed the small wooden platform. It sat unusually quiet on the tracks apart from the rumble of trunks being loaded into the back luggage cars, like a beast snoring in its slumber.
"Pub?" Elphias said.
"Honeydukes first."
The door chimed as they stepped inside. Albus looked up at the small bell hanging on the door frame. He had never noticed it before. On Hogsmede weekends the shop was filled with students and their chatter must have drowned out the bell's ring. The shop was empty and quiet. The shelves of sugary candy crackled and sizzled in the sun's rays and the white marble floor was tinted in a rainbow of colours as the light reflected through the sweets. Albus walked to the bulk bins. The crisp clack of his shoes echoed through the shop. He felt out of place. He quickly filled a bag with sherbet lemons and took it to the till.
"Beat the crowds. Smart boys," the shop keeper said as she rang him up. "Give it an hour and you won't be able to walk in here." She nodded to a basket of red lollipops on the counter. A banner stood over it and waved in a non-existent breeze. It read: Congratulations Class of 1899. "Help yourselves."
Red confetti shot in the air from the bottom of the basket when they each reached in for a lollipop. The confetti disappeared as it floated down towards the counter. Albus smiled and thanked the shopkeeper.
They found seats by the window in the pub and drank butter beer and watched as the village filled with students waiting for the train back to Kings Cross. Albus fiddled with the zipper pull on his new bag. He rotated the W into an M and rotated it back again over and over. Muggle worthy. He was about to set off on the trip of a lifetime and what was the primary concern? That he was muggle worthy. Worthy of their presence. Worthy of their tolerance. Worthy of some small sliver of their vast world. He had an urge to spin the letter until the enchantment wore off, muggle boarder crossing be damned.
"You think we'll ever be back here?" Elphias asked.
Albus nodded. "One day. When I'm old and grey. Get away from all the muggles."
"Hey, there you are." Albus looked up. His brother, Aberforth, stood at the pub door. "It's almost two. Everyone's heading to the platform."
They quickly finished their drinks and joined the crowds funneling out of the village. Albus unwrapped his lollipop and stuck it in his mouth.
"Where'd you get that?" Aberforth asked.
"Honeydukes," he mumbled, his mouth full.
"What'd you get me?"
"Nothing." He pulled it from his mouth, slick and shinny with spit, and waved in Aberforth's face. "Want a lick?"
Aberforth ducked away. "Eww! No!"
Albus laughed and popped it back in his mouth.
The three of them found an empty compartment on the train and sat down as the whistle blew and the car jerked forward. The train rolled across the Scottish Highlands and down though the English countryside. The trolly witch stopped outside their compartment. Albus had finished his lollipop and needed something to wash away the stale sugary aftertaste. More sugar wasn't ideal but it was the only option. He got a handful of chocolate frogs and tossed two each to Elphias and Aberforth.
"Faris Spavin, Minister of Magic," Elphias said.
"Same," Aberforth said.
Albus turned over one of his packets and read the name on the back. "Egbert the Egregious." Aberforth and Elphias joined him as he read the rest of the card, the blurb locked in their memory. "Egbert the Egregious lived in the middle ages and is best known for slaughtering Emeric the Evil in a ferocious duel."
"They need new wizards," Aberforth said.
"I'll send you my card when they make it," Albus said. He whipped his Egbert card at Aberforth like a frisbee.
Aberfoth threw it back at him like a throwing star.
"What would be your claim to chocolate frog fame?" Elphias asked.
"Most obnoxious wizard of the twentieth century," Aberforth said.
"Slaughtering someone in a ferocious duel." He smiled. "Most likely, my younger brother for being a blast-ended skrewt."
Steam billowed down over the widows as they pulled into Kings Cross. It cleared after the train jolted to a stop and revealed platform nine and three-quarters, crowded with overly enthused parents jostling for position as close to the tracks as possible, waving and shouting greetings to their kids. "And they complain that kids are rowdy," Albus said.
"You see Mum?" Aberforth asked.
Albus nodded to a brick pillar. Their mother stood back from the crowd, huddled against the pillar. She clutched her purse tight to her chest and rubbed her knuckles. Her eyes scanned the train cars and her lips pulled into a tight smile when she spotted them. "We should be quick."
They filed off the train and Elphias grabbed trollies while Albus and Aberforth pushed their way to the luggage car. The found their trunks and pulled them from the pile. They loaded them onto the trollies and made their way back through the crowd to their mother. She pulled them both into a tight hug. "Congratulations, Albus. I'm so proud. I wish I could have been there."
Albus nodded. "I wish Dad could have been there."
His mother slapped his shoulder and looked around for any eave's droppers. "Don't speak of your father."
Albus shook his head and stepped away from her. He opened his trunk and quickly transferred the contents for their trip into his new bag, some clothes, parchment, ink, quill, maps, several vials for collecting exotic elixirs. He handed his mother the small paper bag of sherbet lemons. "For Ariana. Tell her I miss her and that I'll be home soon."
"She'll love them. I will."
Albus hugged his mother and brother goodbye and he and Elphias stepped through the brick wall and onto the walkway between platforms nine and ten.
- March 1945 –
"Oof. Bloody Hell." Outrunning the light from his wand, Albus tripped over the first stone step. He pushed himself back up and started the climb to the cellar beneath Honeyduke's. The trap door creaked as he opened it. "Nox." The light from his wand flicked off. He climbed through the trap door and up the stairs to the main floor of the shop. The air was thick with the scent of caramelized sugar. His teeth ached at just the smell. He detoured past the bulk bins. Second row, forth bin from the left. He took a couple sherbert lemons, popped them in his mouth – sweet and sour and familiar. He unlatched the door and raised the bell that hung above it so he could slip out in silence. The streets of Hogsmeade were empty and the shop windows dark. One light flickered from the apartment window above the Hogshead down the lane. A figure stepped in front of the light. Albus waited, huddled in the doorway. Water dripped from the eave onto his nose. The drop trailed down the bridge until it reached the jagged crook halfway down where it was redirected down his left cheek and got lost in his beard. The figure moved out of the window. Albus stepped into the rain and disapparated.