HARRY POTTER IS A SAGA BY J. K. ROWLING


Hogwarts was an impressive place, but also really intimidating. Stairs that changed their direction at whim, the Whomping Willow, that grumpy goblin called Peeves, ghosts...Not to mention the terrible stories he had heard about the horrible battle taking place inside those walls, the blood spilled, the pain and the horror the castle had been witness; traces that never went away. James insisted again and again that there was nothing to be afraid of. He just had to be careful with those things, but that was all. Albus wished his older brother was there to take care of him, he almost expected it, but James was two years older and, as an older brother, he had his own issues to take care of, and he also didn't have the smallest intention of becoming his brother's nanny. It seemed unfair to Albus, because he was determined to take care of Lily when she reached the age to join them.

His greatest terror was to get lost in those endless hallways and tall towers, and in his first year that happened way too often. It almost seemed that not just his brother but all older students had some kind of problem with the smallest, because it wasn't easy to find a veteran who could help him find the class he had to go to. He almost always got help from some domestic elf, portrait or ghost. He was lucky if he found a prefect. And in many occasions that didn't help him avoid the punishment everyone got for being late.

"Potty Wee Potter wouldn't find lice in his own head!"

And Peeves not only didn't help and mocked his lack of sense of direction, but made things harder every time he could.

At that moment he would have loved being with Scorpius or some other acquaintance, because he didn't have the courage to face him alone. The poltergeist knew it and took advantage of it.

"Eh, Peeves, I'll take care of this one!"

Peeves never obeyed anyone, but this ghost in concrete. When he saw him appear, he bowed and vanished. Poof! And that ghost stared at him.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here, so alone and with such a suspicious look? Were you planning to make mischief at the dungeons?

"No...I was just looking for the History of Magic classroom..."

He didn't want to admit it, but young Potter didn't trust ghosts. Although, like all dead people, they were inoffensive, he couldn't quite feel sympathy for them, not even Nearly Headless Nick, who was kind even with those who were not from the house he was bound to, Gryffindor. Perhaps it was due to that extreme paleness, or the idea that what awaited people when they died was to wander those hallways for all eternity (a not very comforting perspective).

But not all of them were intimidating. There were very ancient ghosts, from the Medieval ages, but also very young, dead just twenty years before. Many, many boys like his brother and him. Although they were still floating corpses, almost having coincided in time, the fact that they were their parents' former class or schoolmates seemed to help not to find them so sinister.

That ghost in concrete had a wide and pretty naughty smile.

"You're going the very wrong way, did you know that?" The ghost said. "Worse than wrong: if you wanted to go as far away from History, it's this way. But don't worry, Binns won't even notice you didn't attend. He usually falls asleep. What a pity. I could show you a funny way of having fun at Potions."

"I just want to go to class..." Albus shyly said.

"Well, alright, if that's what you want, I know of a passage with which you'll be there in less than you say 'quidditch'."

It was funny, but his face was familiar to him...

"I would be so grateful..." The boy muttered.

"But you'll have to give me something in return." The ghost said, floating in horizontally like he was lying on a hammock.

What? What could a ghost want from a first-year student, a being who could get everything he wanted whenever he wanted?

"Anything you want." Albus told him. He just wanted to reach his class as soon as possible.

It seemed he was pondering about it (some trickery, seeing his smile) when a sparkle from the pocket of his tunic distracted him.

"Say, isn't that thing you got there from Weasleys's Wizard Wheezes?"

"Y-Yes, it's a prototype...My cousin's given me a lot of them so I give them to the boys in my house and try them..."

"Your cousin?"

"My cousin Fred. Fred Weasley. From his father's business, who's my uncle. W-Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

There was a moment of silence. Albus felt a light shiver, noting that the ghost was staring at him very closely. Then, his grin grew wider.

"Weasley...So you are a Weasley too?"

"Yes...Eh...F-From my mother's side. My name is Albus Severus Potter."

"Potter! And Weasley too! Well, well, well..."

Albus had heard many comments about his ancestry before. He expected one more. But the ghost said nothing. His eyes like translucid pearls seemed to shine.

"Of course, a Weasley...I thought so...Alright, Albus Severus Potter, for being who you are, I'll show you the way to your classroom. On two condition. The first being that you give me that prototype. No one's allowed to use a prank items if I don't give the approval. And second: send your father an owl and ask him for the Marauder's Map. Tell him you're going to need it more than he will. Tell him it's an order from Freddie."

Albus nodded and as he followed the ghost through the dungeons of Hogwarts, he did nothing but gaze at this ghost and tell himself that he had seen this face before.


THE END