Chapter Four - First Light

2nd of September, 2017

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

When Albus Severus Potter woke up, on the bright, morning that was Saturday the second of September, he had no idea at all where he was.

Looking up, he saw embroidered fabric instead of a dazzling white ceiling.

"Mum? Dad?" he called. He sat up to look around, and realized he was totally surrounded by the heavy material that formed curtains around his bed. Suddenly, everything came back to him - the feast, the ghosts, the sorting. The room was still and peaceful, so it was with a gentle hand that he drew back the curtain.

Gazing around the room, Al saw the room - literally - in a new light. The walls were panelled oak, the floor the same. With the heavy fabric, it could have been suffocating to the heavily modern Al, but the inclusion of some large windows more than made up for it. The sun was streaming in through them. There was a small desk, just for him, complete with a large box of parchment, ink bottles and a couple of quills. A communal mirror leant against another wall, and there was a chest of drawers and a bedside table for each pupil, who were all, with the exception of Al, asleep.

Scorpius Malfoy. Al's uncle Ron had seem very averse to him - could he be associated with all the dreaded things that had happened in the wizarding wars? Al wasn't positive, he was just guessing shrewdly - but like his namesake, his shrewd guesses generally turned out to be right. He guessed that Scorpius might be related to the the Dark Lord's assistants, a name he had only once heard pass between his mother and father - death eater. However, Scorpius seemed adamant that he wasn't like his father - whatever that meant - so Al decided he could trust Scorpius.

Thomas Wood. The name Wood seemed familiar - Al did remember his father mention the name before to uncle George, but he couldn't place the connection. Again, he seemed like a nice guy. Very into quidditch, from what Al had heard at the feast last night.

Augustus - or Gus, rather - Creevey. Again, a name he had heard before, yet couldn't quite picture where. He had a feeling it had been on a memorial - yet he wasn't sure that Gus didn't have a living father. Perhaps it was an aunt or something that had died.

Max. Al didn't even know his second name. Was it Johnson? Or Jacobson? Maybe Jackson? Al didn't know exactly, but he was sure it began with a j. Or maybe it was g? But it didn't really matter. All he knew was that Max was muggle-born, and that he enjoyed a muggle sport - it had a strange name. It was rug-by maybe? What rug-by was Al didn't know. He didn't know where Max was from, Scotland, he thought from the accent, but he'd never been to Scotland, until now, of course, so he couldn't really say.

It was a Saturday, which meant no classes, so Al dug some muggle clothes out from his trunk, and threw them on. He checked the time - it was a half past seven. That was pretty early, especially for him, who had a rule never to get up before nine o'clock. Al decided to grab breakfast, and then go for a walk. He used the small bathroom - fairly modernly furnished - before folding his letter to his father into his pocket.

He went back into his trunk to get his wand. It was, typically, at the bottom. Underneath it, there was a parcel. How strange, Al thought, but he slipped it into his bag all the same - he would open it later.

Then he slipped out of the dorm, shutting the door quietly, so as to not wake anyone else. Al glided down the twisting staircase and entered the common room. There was no-one there, nor on the stairs or corridors. It was eerily quiet. Al carefully followed the route he took yesterday and found his way to the Great Hall.

The doors were thrown open, and there was plenty food - more than Al had ever seen for breakfast - on the four, long, empty tables which seemed to stretch out forever. In fact, the only other person there was Kingsley Shacklebolt, sitting at the staff table at the very far end of the hall. He was reading the Daily Prophet, and gave Al a small nod when he noticed him, which was to say, immediately. He was an auror - he didn't miss a trick.

Al gave him a weak smile in reply as he made his way down the long hall. His feet clicked on the stone floor, the sound echoing in the empty space, magnified a hundred times. He was sure Professor Shacklebolt was watching him, and was probably getting quite annoyed at the repetitive noise.

Al's face burned red and he looked at his shoes - they were semi-formal, with the smallest heel, which was making the loud ´clicks`. How he wished he'd worn his converse.

He shifted his weight on his toes to stop the noise. Looking up as he reached the end of the benches, where he knew first years sat, Al thanked Merlin that Professor Shacklebolt was engaged in his paper and coffee and had not seen him looking ridiculous, or indeed, any way perturbed at the noise.

Of course, Kingsley Shacklebolt was an auror. He'd seen the entire thing, reflected in the milk jug, and was smiling internally to himself at Albus's behaviour. The boy was unmistakably nervous, and was also rather awkward. It was however, the sort of awkwardness that went away once one was comfortable with a situation, and that came with time.

Al made his way to the table where he'd sat the night before, the Gryffindor table, the second table from the right. He sat at the end nearest to the staff table, because that was where he had sat last night, and he was anxious not to sit somewhere where he should, by society of the school, not be.

He didn't know whether or not to say something to Professor Shacklebolt, but since the man in question was keeping quiet, he decided he'd do the same and get himself some breakfast.

Putting some bacon into a warm roll, Al added scrambled eggs, and what he thought was called a ´potato scone`. It brought back forgotten flavours of his childhood - they hadn't had bacon and egg rolls since James had gone to Hogwarts two years ago, and potato scones a long time before that.

Al poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice, and risked a sideways glance at Kingsley Shacklebolt.

He had taken a year off at the ministry to focus on ´other projects`. Now Al knew what they were - teaching at Hogwarts. It seemed a strange thing to give up the most powerful post in the British wizarding world for - indeed, the international wizarding community, for America's wizarding community was not at the same peak as the muggle one - but Al decided he was not in a position to judge.

As he set down his drained glass, Al dug around in his bag and drew out a quill, ink bottle, and parchment. He wrote a letter to his mother, telling her about his fellow classmates. He knew she'd be interested in who he'd made friends with. As he thought that, however, he realised he hadn't really made any. He'd made some acquaintances, certainly - his dorm mates, and the girl Sophie Boot. He noted their parentage, so his mother would know if she knew their parents. He explained about Kingsley Shacklebolt, and commented his thoughts on him taking up the position.

He also wrote a quick note to his sister, Lily, noting simple things like the food and his dorm. He carefully folded up the letters, along with his father's, and placed them in an envelope, before gathering his things and putting them back in his bag. Then he realised he had no idea where he was supposed to send it, or indeed, where his owl, Re, was kept.

He presumed it would be outside, so he started off with that as a place to look. He got up, nodded politely to Professor Shacklebolt, and withdrew from the hall.

Rose was fast asleep in her dorm. There were five other students in there, and she thought she knew all their names, or at least their first names. There was Sophie Boot, daughter of Terence Boot and Katie Bell, Gwen Stimpsom and Siobhan McLackerty, both muggle-borns, the latter being Irish, the former Welsh, and Marisa MacMillan, the daughter of Ernie MacMillan and his wife, a witch whom he had met whilst on holiday in Spain.

Rose didn't know much of the other girls yet - she'd mainly spoken to Al and listened to the chat of the people around her at the feast, who mainly consisted of older years. She thought they seemed a nice bunch of people, but she didn't want to get to tied down - not until she met someone she felt truly comfortable with.

Rose dozed on, as the clock ticked past eight o'clock.

Al emerged in the large entrance hall. The main staircase sweeping away to his right would take him up to the second floor, and then there was the moving staircases to get beyond that. He knew which corridors and flights of stairs took him to the Gryffindor common room, but off of the top of his head, he couldn't describe them.

In front of him were the main doors, thrown wide and letting in the fresh Scottish air. Al knew it was through those doors that he had entered the castle the previous night, but he wasn't exactly sure how he'd got there. He presumed it had been some path leading off to the left.

Deciding that going outside would be his best bet, he walked to the doors and had taken but three steps before he ran headfirst into Neville Longbottom.

Neville placed a hand on Al's shoulder to steady them both.

"Hello Al. You're up early," he said cheerily.

"Um, hi- eh- Professor," Al said awkwardly, not quite sure how to address the man who he knew quite well and had been at virtually every party and dinner his parents or other family member had thrown.

Neville sensed Al's confusion.

"Al, see outside of classes you can, you know, just call me Neville. James does, no matter what he tells your parents."

"Really?" Al asked, remembering James's parting words with his mother and the previous year when she'd asked him to give the Herbology professor her love when he'd replied scathingly, suggesting they weren't very close.

"Oh yes. He is very bright, you know, he's got a sharp mind, but he doesn't always use it. Always messing around." He rolled his eyes and gave a slight chuckle. "Ah well. Your father used to be a bit like that, when he was your age, and James's age too. Now then, how are you? How's everything going so far?"

Al was glad to have a familiar face and so discussed the night before and his sorting with relish. Neville smiled at the boy's tales.

"Well, I'd best let you go. You probably don't want to talk to a boring professor like me!"

He patted Al on the shoulder and turned to walk away when Al remembered.

"Can you help me with something?" he asked.

"Of course." Neville's smile was kind.

"Can you tell me how to get to the owlery?"

After the directions Neville had given him, Al reached the foot of the owlery fifteen minutes later, getting only slightly lost in the process.

It was a circular tower, sitting on top of a high mound of rock. The steps up to it were steep and cracked in places - Al was out of breath when he reached the top.

Inside, steps wove up the sides, but only a fraction of the way up. The shelves for the owls stretched high into the ceiling, at least six metres beyond the reach of the steps.

Al's tawny owl, Re, was sitting up on the highest shelf. Al didn't spot him immediately - he was gazing and trying to spot the needle in the haystack, but Re saw Al - he had flown down and held his leg out the moment he'd spotted him. Al smiled at his familiar and tied the three letters to his outstretched leg.

Sometimes Al felt the person who understood him the most was Re. He was always there when he needed him, he never asked questions, and was content to sit with Al in a peaceful silence.

Al dug in his bag and came up trumps with some owl treats. He gave them to Re to nibble.

"See you soon Re," he said, giving the bird and affectionate stroke. Holding out his arm, he let him fly off his arm away into the distance.

Al watched him go. The owlery had an incredible view of the lake - it seemed to stretch out for miles, the end was barely visible. The Scottish hills surrounded it, the lake reflecting their bright end-of-summer colours, purple heather and dried out moss and clumpy grass.

Al felt at a bit of a loss. What could he do now? Maybe he'd have a look around the grounds and explore the castle - surely he could find some secret place of his own. After all, from the stories his family told him about the castle, there must be somewhere he could call his own, a place he could go if he ever wanted peace. Or maybe everything had been discovered. But it was worth a try - and least then he could maybe just find a quiet place.

As Al descended the owlery steps, his father's words from a long-past conversation came back to him.

"Even the greatest wizards could never dream of assuming they knew all of Hogwarts's secrets."

No, Al would maybe never find out everything about Hogwarts. But maybe, just maybe, he could find out something for himself.

Al sat on a secluded bench, somewhere in the school grounds. He wasn't quite sure where he was, but he could easily find his way back to the castle. It did dominate the landscape, after all.

He'd explored what felt like the entire grounds, everything there was to see, but actually it was only a tiny fraction of the land Hogwarts occupied.

He'd avoided the forest, heeding only too many warnings from the teachers, his father, and other family members, and had explored some of the back grounds of the castle before changing course - to the lake. Al had felt like walking round it, and he'd made his way round a decent chunk of it, or at least that's what it felt like. He'd taken off his shoes and socks, and had walked simply in the shallow waters, liking the feel of the smooth pebbles and the numbness of the cold water against his feet.

He'd come across a few couples in seemingly compromising positions. The lakeside was very quiet and excluded, especially early on a Saturday morning, and even more so if that happened to be the first day back. Al had kept his head down and walked quickly past - luckily the couples had been rather - preoccupied - and were far enough into the trees to notice a quiet first year walking past.

When not dodging amorous couples, Al walked slowly, taking in the surroundings. He'd never been to a place like this before, with such magnificent scenery, and even when he'd seen beautiful scenery, the peacefulness of it all, the thing he liked the most, was disrupted by James's - often annoyingly loud- pranks on Lily.

At around eleven o'clock, Al felt he had walked a great distance around the lake, and decided to head back, in order to get back in time for lunch. To his dismay, he saw he'd barely covered a quarter of the distance and so decided to go back - albeit slowly - and then see where his feet would take him.

Unfortunately, there was a couple by the lake side. Al really didn't want to walk past - as they were only talking this time - so decided to cut up through the forest via the little path he could see, as he was nearly back at the place he had come down to the lake.

That path was the main one, leading directly down from the school. It was also the edge of the forest, the trees became very spaced out, and in between before stopping altogether. A few students were lounging there, hoping to soak up the little sun there was. Little did Al know that it was the spot where his grandparents had argued and that his namesake had made a big mistake.

Al took the small path, hoping he wouldn't go deep into the forest and vowing to return if he felt it was a little - well - dodgy.

He knew the path went up the cliff, but Al was surprised when the path led to a little jut in the hill. It stuck out just enough to have a view of the lake, but enough so it was hidden from below. Someone had very thoughtfully put a bench there. Al sat down gratefully, the wood taking the weight from his weary limbs.

He decided to put his shoes and socks back on - the ground wasn't very comfortable to walk on. He looked in his bag for something to wipe his feet on - a towel, jumper, scarf, anything - and saw the parcel from earlier sitting there paciently. Suddenly, with a jolt, Al felt an immediate urge to open it.

Somehow, he restrained himself enough to put his shoes on. He wiped his feet with moss - his feet were still filthy, but it didn't really matter, he could wash them later, and the socks could be washed too.

Now his shoes were on and tied, Al wanted to open that parcel. Carefully pulling back the wrappings, he tried to contain his excitement. He discarded the brown paper and string to one side and looked at the contents, then immediately wanted to cry.

An old, battered bit of parchment, completely blank.

A funnily patterned cloak, that felt strange to the touch, didn't even look very warm and had no fastenings as far as Al could see.

A mirror, perfectly rectangular shaped and exceedingly basic - as well as seriously un-masculine.

"Is that it?" he exclaimed.

"Is what it?" came a voice from behind him. It was Scorpius Malfoy, coming up from the lake. He looked as surprised to see Al there as Al was to see Scorpius. Al quickly stuffed the contents back into the wrappings and then into his bag, out of sight.

"Oh- nothing. I just- expected there to be more- uh- sweets in the packet," Al said, after spotting the packet in Scorpius's pocket. He got to his feet. Scorpius raised a blonde eyebrow, but didn't pursue it.

"Is that yours?" he asked, pointing at a note that was on the ground. He bent to pick it up, and waved it open. Al realised it was his dad's handwriting on the inside - it must have fallen out of the packaging. He snatched out of Scorpius's hand. Scorpius stared at him.

"Oh sorry, it is mine, it- er- must have fallen out my book." Scorpius just stared at Al.

"Oh is that the time?" Al asked, checking his watch. "I'd best be off. I want to get some lunch, I'm starving," he said. Scorpius opened his mouth, as if to say something, and Al remembered he had supposedly just eaten sweets.

"Sweets just aren't very filling, you know. I'll see you later, Malfoy," Al turned to go.

"See you, Potter," came the reply from behind him.

Al promptly began to march off towards the school. Phew, he thought, that was close! He could feel the excitement bubbling up in him again - the letter. He had a letter from his father, which confirmed Al's suspicions that it was him who put the parcel there, that possibly meant that the objects were more significant than he had previously thought.

It took him half an hour to get back to the main entrance, making the time a quarter to one. Al went in the main entrance and headed towards the hall. He hoped there would be something good for lunch - he was starving - but his experience of Hogwarts cooking so far told him there would be.

He was only about two metres away from the door when an annoyed-looking Rose appeared in front of him.

"Where on earth have you been?" she demanded.

A/N

Hi guys! It's been a few months since I updated, I think ... sorry. But school has been hectic. Yesterday, I had a french oral exam...it was pretty scary. Just Spanish to go now. But I think that will be a little better, I know more things off the top of my head in Spanish. But my French accent is better and I can sound more natural...sorry, I'll shut up now.

Anyway, thank you for actually reading this story. I have a Jily fic, and that gets undoubtedly more reviews (and to be honest, I prefer it) so it's nice to see this one getting nice reviews and things. It does tend to get put on the backburner a bit, so I do apologise.

I'm kinda sad because only one person reviewed (you know who you are, thanks so much). I do read every review and I really like to see what you think. So please, please review, it'll only take a minute and you could make someone (me!) very happy! And also please follow/favourite (if you like it) and that literally takes a second, you're just pressing a button.

Anyway, to the only person who reviewed, Lady Cougar-Trombone, thanks so much! And I'd heard that too...but in The Tales of Beedle the Bard, McGonagall is stated as headmistress. I don't know when that's set, but I decided to keep it. And she's still going to be teaching transfiguration, which she probably couldn't actually do, but I'll bend the canonness a little. And I do love her :) and I get what you mean about diversity, but I felt that they all suited Gryffindor. Maybe in the future... and sorry about the wait!

Please review, I have them on email notification, so I check my emails every day :)

Sorry again for the wait,

Jenny xx