Chapter 3: Friends and Flight

The Prank was soon discussed at length between all five of Hogwarts's new miscreants; Scorpius was elated, even Nikki was awed, and Maylin seemed to be doing rather a lot of running around the school. It was reluctantly decided that this was a bit of a complicated thing to try pulling off any time soon, and that it would be best done at the first Quidditch match of the season, slightly less than two months in the future. As Nikki said, there was no point in a good prank if it was caught in the first stage. However, Albus and Scorpius were keen for any chance to pull it off otherwise—both had inherited their parents' interest in the outcome of the Quidditch Cup, and both planned to try for Seeker of their respective teams starting their second year.

Further on the subject of Quidditch, the first-years had their first flying lesson the very next Wednesday. Al and Scorpius were delighted to learn that Slytherin and Gryffindor would be learning together, and in no time at all the boys were walking out of the castle toward about twenty-five broomsticks laid out on the ground, heads together in whispered conference. As soon as they spotted the brooms, however, they broke apart and raced for them—no matter that the broomsticks were old and splintery and not half as good as even the kiddie ones each of them had at home, they were brooms and it was time to fly.

Al found himself between Scorpius and Rose, who was chatting to a girl from her dormitory. (Rose had taken to pointedly ignoring the boys whenever they came within earshot; Albus guessed she still hadn't gotten over the part they'd assigned her in The Prank.) Glancing down the line, he noticed that they were some of the last to arrive, then, frowning, looked down again. Quite a lot of the Slytherins seemed to be irritated with Scorpius's appearance; almost all of them were glaring at him and one girl even cracked her knuckles. He'd never noticed this animosity before—but, now that he thought of it, he'd rarely seen Scorpius Malfoy in the company of fellow Slytherins. During double classes he generally sat with Albus and Rose, in the midst of Gryffindors, and often as not he found Al in the Great Hall before Al got around to the other table.

An old woman showed up at the end of the line of broomsticks. Albus, who had taken to watching James practice, recognized her as the referee that sometimes came by—that is, Madam Hooch. Last summer Al's father had expressed surprise that she was still teaching, commenting that she'd seemed to be right in the count of teachers who'd retired since his time.

"Right, everyone by a broom!" barked the referee without preamble. A few girls who'd been whispering at the edge of the field hurried to the end of the line. "Now, each of you hold out your right hand like this, and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" shouted the general assembly. Al's broom rolled over a little, then rose up into his hand. He glanced to either side and noticed that Scorpius's had positively snapped up, but Rose's had merely floated a few inches into the air before settling on the grass again.

Madam Hooch went on to explain how to mount a broom and the proper grip for it; Al and Scorpius, who already knew the basics, resumed their quiet conversation.

"—straightaway, the sooner that bit's done the better," whispered Scorpius.

"I know," answered Al fervently under his breath, "but we'll never get Nikki to—"

"Are you listening, boys?"

Both boys' heads snapped upwards. Madam Hooch was watching them with disapproval, but her expression changed slightly as she gave them a cursory glance.

"Not bad," she said gruffly. "Potter, I'm expecting as much out of you as your grandfather, father, and all of the Weasley relatives, you hear me?"

Albus nodded quickly and grinned at Scorpius, but saw with confusion his friend's sullen, resentful expression.

"What's up?"

"Well, she couldn't have mentioned my dad, could she?" the Malfoy asked roughly. "I mean, he was Seeker, and he was pretty good, wasn't he?"

Al was finding it odd that his friend, calculating and careless in most things, could be so touchy about an offhand comment. "Yeah, I dunno. My whole family's big on the game, is all, I guess…most of my uncles played, and Mum and Dad, and my granddad was supposed to be pretty good at it too…and, you know, James made Chaser…"

"Whereas my family's good for nothing but Dark Magic and failure?" retorted Scorpius. "Gee, thanks, Potter."

"I—" Al faltered. "I mean, I didn't…I don't know what you—"

"Just leave him alone, will you?"

Scorpius lifted his head and shot a glare at Rose, who had broken her attention away from the lesson to join the argument. She was glowering fiercely at him.

"It's not Al's fault he looks like his dad!" she hissed angrily. "It's not his fault Uncle Harry did something that made people remember him! And for Merlin's sake, it's not his fault your family was bad!"

There was a long, tense silence. Madam Hooch had finished her examination of the brooms and was now giving directions—they were about to take off. Rose watched Scorpius for a moment, then turned back to the lesson.

"What did you just say about my family?" the Malfoy said in a low voice.

"Hey, look, it's time to fly," commented Rose, ignoring the question, even as Madam Hooch shouted,

"On my whistle! One—two—"

The whistle blew, and the two Houses kicked off the ground. Scorpius had an angry, hard look on his face. Rose quickly turned and regained the ground before the rest of the class, but Al, who had risen a few seconds after his friend, watched in consternation as Scorpius leaned lower to the broom—kept rising—

Madam Hooch called, "Come on, boys, down now!" and Scorpius shot off over the forest.

Before he really realized what he was doing, Albus had hurtled after him. Madam Hooch gave a shout and rose up after them, but they had a lead—and either Scorpius had a better broom than Albus or was every bit as good at flying as Al's legendary family, because he was pulling steadily farther ahead…

"Scorpius!" the Gryffindor shouted unhappily. Scorpius gave no sign of having heard. "Come back, Scorpius, no—wait—I didn't mean anything, honest! C'mon, Malfoy, come back—Rose didn't mean it, she didn't—"

"She didn't mean it?!"

Madam Hooch forgotten, the Slytherin boy whirled around to face his friend, grey eyes glinting furiously. "What are you talking about, Potter?" he demanded hoarsely, and Albus saw with shock that there were tears on his face. "Of course she meant it, the same way every single student in this—school—You think you're so low on luck, Potter? You don't even know what happened while our parents were at this school, you don't know what your dad did—"

"And it's no picnic!" Albus yelled back, angered despite himself. "You think I'm so stupid, why won't you just tell me—"

"Boys!" Madam Hooch had caught up and was now circling around them, but it was clear there was little she could do without risking sending them all off their brooms; as they were now a good twenty feet into the air and over the Forbidden Forest, this was a bit of an issue. "Boys, down to the ground, now—"

Scorpius didn't seem to hear her. "You don't even know who you're named after, do you, Potter?" he mocked, shaking, voice choked. "Albus Severus—you don't even know who those people are! You don't even know your own dad! If you knew half of what I knew—"

"Why don't you tell me, then!"

There was a pause. Scorpius stared at his friend, then looked away, down at the forest below.

"If you knew half of what I knew," he said more quietly, "you'd hate me so much I couldn't look you in the face."

Fiercely looking away, as if by not seeing them he could hide his moment of weakness, the Malfoy swiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. Madam Hooch had fallen silent, but now resumed her reprimanding.

"Boys, this is the most undisciplined attitude I've seen on brooms in years and if I have one word to say about it you'll be in detention for a month—get down, now, I mean it—"

"Coming, Madam Hooch," the two chorused automatically, and kept a distance apart as they followed their teacher to the ground. Rose was staring at them openmouthed, and a dark-skinned Gryffindor by name of Jared Thomas whispered, "Nice flying!" to both boys as they went by. Neither one replied. The Quidditch referee marched them straight through the castle down to the Herbology office, told them roughly to wait, and bustled off to find the head of Gryffindor house. It wasn't until after the footsteps had long faded that Al dared sneak a glance at his friend.

"Hey…" he said tentatively. "Nikki would be, um, pretty disappointed if we quit the prank now."

There was a bitter twist to Scorpius's old grin, but it was there. "Yeah, well, you better hope your dad writes back soon, Potter."

To tell the truth, Albus had almost completely forgotten his father's letter in the rush of events. Now, though, he was wondering what was taking so long—whenever James wrote home, he got a response by the next day. It plagued him all through his detention Wednesday night—without Scorpius; he helped prune old student brooms with Madam Hooch—and by the time he got to bed he had gone over the worries that his father was angry with the missive, his owl had gotten lost, or his house had suddenly blown up and his family was dead. Worse, he was finding them all quite likely, and it was with intense anxiety that he waited for the owl post Thursday morning.

"Look!" exclaimed Rose as the owls flew in, and Albus gave a yelp, choking on his orange juice. Sure enough, Pidgey marked a white speck in the mass of brown and grey, and she swooped down to land between his plate and the butter dish, a letter in her beak.

"Thanks," Al muttered and shoved his mostly-empty plate in her direction; the owl gulped down the bacon rinds and orange peel, nipped his finger lightly, and took flight, soaring out of the room.

"Open it!" Rose urged, leaning over his shoulder. The words "Albus Potter" were marked in his father's writing. Al was sorely tempted, but shook his head, chewing a lip.

"You've got classes with Helen today, right?" Rose nodded. "Well, tell her to meet us up in the library during lunch break. Scor—I mean, they'll all want to hear too."

Rose looked down at her plate, fidgeting with her fork. "Right. And Nikki?"

"She'd probably be up there anyway," Al remarked wryly, "but I'll catch her before class."

So, a bit after twelve that afternoon, the five friends claimed a table in the library. Rose and Scorpius were sitting at opposite ends of the table, and did not so much as look at each other. Helen, who of course had not been present during flying class, was at a complete loss and looked to Al for directions. He just shrugged and pulled out the letter.

"Give it here," said Nikki next to him immediately, snatching it out of his hand. Before he could say a word, she was scanning it eagerly without speaking, Scorpius peering over her shoulder. After about ten seconds she let out a squeak, dropped it on the table, and raced out of the library without a word of explanation.

The four remaining students stared as they heard loud giggles coming from outside of the door. Scorpius squinted at Nikki's back, shrugged, and passed the letter back to Al.

"Must be an insane historian thing. Just read it, mate, I'm dying of curiosity."

With a last shake of his head, Albus took the letter, held it up, and began to read.

"'Dear Al,

"'Sorry it took so long to get back to you. Mum and I were away from home this weekend, and I don't think it occurred to Pidgey to come find us. Don't worry, he'll get better with a little training—give him to Hagrid for a bit.

"'It's nice to hear things are going well for you. Home is fine. Lily is complaining loudly that she's too old for Muggle stuff now that she's the only one at home. I just told her to be glad no one's tried to send her a toilet seat—but don't tell James, or he might actually do it!

"'As for a place to go with your friends, you could always use the library or an empty classroom, although I know they're not ideal. If you're really having trouble, I have something to go for, but I'm not sure whether the room still works after we had a fiasco in it my seventh year. It's called the Room of Requirement, and it's on the seventh floor. The corridor has an enormous vase at one end…'"

Albus trailed off distantly, not really noticing his friends' stares. "'…an enormous vase at one end, and a window at the other. The room itself is across from a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. You need to walk past it three times thinking about what you need…' I've been there before!"

The others' gazes sharpened. "What do you mean?" asked Rose.

"Well, see, I got lost on the way to the Owlery the other morning—and there was this door that appeared—I must've gone past it—that'd be great! D'you think it would work for us?"

"Dunno," answered Scorpius impatiently, "we can ask Nikki when she's over her laughing fit. What else does the letter say?"

"Right." Al looked back down at the letter and continued reading. "'I remember James mentioning last year how people stared at him. Don't worry, it wears off. I guess you could say I played the hero a lot when I was your age—always racing in, trying to save the day. I'm sure you remember me talking about the Triwizard Tournament and the defense group your aunt and uncle and I made up in our fifth year. Don't let it worry you, it has nothing to do with you and they'll forget as soon as something big happens. Love, Dad.'"

"That's all?" Scorpius asked, clearly disappointed. "He doesn't say anything else?"

"There's a postscript," interrupted Nikki eagerly as she came back to the table. "Read the postscript."

"What? Oh, right—" Slightly confused, Al read the line he'd almost missed.

"'P.S. You said your friend in Hufflepuff is named Helen Dursley. I doubt she's the person I think she might be, but could you ask her about her father for me?'"

"I knew it!" Nikki's voice was a strangled shout, and she quickly bent her head and lowered her voice as the librarian came near, eyes narrowed. "I knew I knew your name from somewhere!" Helen looked rather frightened.

"And?" asked Scorpius impatiently.

"You," she pointed at Al, "are related to her!"

"I…what?" echoed the Gryffindor, flabbergasted.

"You're cousins! Well, third or fourth cousins or something—but still! See, your father had a Muggle cousin named Dursley, and he got married and obviously magic runs awfully strong there for a Muggle family so—"

"Are you sure?" Helen asked a bit faintly. "You—er—know what you're talking about, like?"

"What was your father's first name?" Nikki demanded excitedly. "Where does he work?"

"Erm…Dudley, he's in some business that makes drills."

"I knew it!" the second-year yelped loudly, caught the librarian's murderous eye, and raced out.

Once again, the four first-years were left staring.

"I'll mail Dad back," said Albus awkwardly, "to, er, make sure."

A/N : There you have it, the first three chapters. Hopefully I'll be updating weekly from here on in.