"There was what?" Max asked during breakfast the next morning. He was leaning in interestedly as Al talked freely, Rose being at Quidditch practice.

"Writing, on the outside of our window, in tar probably, that's the only thing that would have lasted so long; half of it was worn away by this morning," Al summed up. "Scor here thought that it was all a spoof," he said, jabbing a thumb at Scorpius who was filling containers with breakfasts meats, eggs, toast, and muffins.

Scorpius rolled his eyes annoyedly and shoved the containers of food into a side satchel. "I didn't think it was a spoof, I just thought that it was a misunderstanding."

"I agreed with Gorpius," said Max, leaning back with his hands behind his head. "I wasn't gonna say nothing, but it did seem farfetched."

"Well now that you know it's not, are you gonna help us unravel this?" Albus asked.

"I am yours to command," Max smiled.

"Pity that we can't tell Rose, though," said Scor now trying to pack beverages. "She would probably be a big help."

"You're not going to tell her, Scor," said Al hurriedly knowing too well that Scorpius is notorious for leaking secrets.

"She will find out," said Max. Al stared at him severally. "I'm not going to tell her," he said quickly. "I wish I could, but I already promised I wouldn't. But come on, this is Rose we're talking about, she's gonna find out eventually, and always sooner than we'll expect. And you know how personally she takes things. If she finds out that we all know something she doesn't and are all intentionally trying to keep it from her, she'll be super offended."

The boys started toward the quidditch pitch heaving breakfast for seven starving players. Al was having difficulty down the hill; it was his week to haul the beverages. They stepped onto the slightly soggy Quidditch pitch and squinted through the sun to see seven players in red and gold robes flying through the air above them. Rocky was bellowing out inaudible orders and directions while Ishmael Stewarts was rephrasing and conveying, catching and passing the quaffle as is usual. Max, Al, and Scorpius began setting up the picnic after arriving in the stands. Rose caught sight of them and waved before having to duck to avoid Isaac Fisher swooping too low and hitting her. Al yelled in warning as she nearly fell and began back at the game as if nothing happened.

"Nah, Al," said Max glancing up from his newspaper. "Just let her get on with it. Injuries are an occupational hazard in Quidditch, especially with Rose."

"Scor, it doesn't have to be perfect," Al rolled his eyes as Scor readjusted the fruit bowl for the fourth time. Scorpius was always precise. He always set out plates, forks, knifes, napkins, and goblets neatly for the team. Al found it unnecessary but learned to let him get on with it. As for the fruit bowl, Al didn't understand.

"The best side faces out," Scorpius muttered seemingly content with the placement.

"It's a bowl, it looks the same from all sides," said Al.

Max looked over his paper and tilted his head. "No, Scor's right, that side looks fuller."

The Gryffindors came streaking to the ground as Max finished his paper. Actually, he had to be finished because Rose had tripped over Watson's shoe and had fallen through the sixth page. This was Al's favorite bits of the weeks, he no longer wished to be in Gryffindor; he no longer felt like he needed to be.

When first sorted, he had kept his mouth shut. He hadn't taken his father's suggestion of requesting Gryffindor from the sorting hat before the start of term last year. He wanted to and many times considered it but what Scorpius had said on the train was ringing through his ears. "I really just want to go wherever I'll do best. And if I don't try to meddle, the sorting hat will put me there, and wherever I'm put, I'll do well, so I'm not worried." Believe it or not, those words changed Al's life. If he never heard them he would have requested Gryffindor.

The first few weeks, months really, as a Slytherin were difficult. He had put a smile on and played satisfied purely for Rose's benefit. She was the only one who knew how much the idea of Slytherin conflicted him. Countless hours they had spent on those enchanted hand mirrors, him poring his heart out to her. He knew that his nightmare had become a reality and he knew Rose wouldn't rest. They were linked somehow, maybe by blood, but if he was noticeably unhappy so was she. He didn't want to ruin her year, he didn't want her feeling like she had to stay with him every moment she could, so, he smiled and over time, it became genuine. Scorpius was the only one to know how conflicted Al was with the circumstance. Though, to his surprise, he wasn't treated unfairly by the other houses, by Gryffindor. He had gotten a lot of crap about it at first from other Slytherins about the matter of him being a Potter, but their fun ran dry as Al's acceptance of his placement thickened.

He was glad to be a Slytherin, because of this, he and his family had changed their opinion of the house. Al himself was keen on being ambitious, cunning, and resourceful. Plus, without Slytherin, he would have missed out on Scorpius as a friend and he was Al's best friend.

Al grinned reminiscently. Around him were friends dressed in red and gold. They barked and boomed, and hit Al on the back, ruffled his hair, and joked around about his flying. They made him feel like a Gryffindor. He lived in the stands with these students and underground with the Slytherins; he was living the best of both worlds.

"Oh God!" Ishmael exclaimed through a mouthful of jam toast. "Classes!"

Al looked at his watch and rushed toward the castle to make it in time for Charms, Scorpius close behind. The two had become much faster and strong enough to run up and down this hill twice a day because of the multiple staircases they hiked up and down to their common room. People wonder why the Slytherins are so large; they'd have to be not to pass out halfway through.

Scor and Al burst through the Charms door late as usual. Professor Flitwick stopped mid-sentence to stare at them disapprovingly. The entire class turned to watch them take a seat. Flitwick began chattering again while Al scrambled to retrieve his book that he had left under his desk before breakfast.

"Potter, a word," Flitwick called as the class filed out. "Malfoy, run along to your next class."

Scorpius made a face at Al before collecting his books and turning to leave. Al slumped over to the teacher's desk. He would have been dreading this no doubt scolding from Flitwick, but he had always been so eager to see how in the world his Professor got down from his mountain of books built for this tiny man to see over his desk. Al watched in awe as Flitwick carefully and gracefully glided from his pedestal to stand in front of Al.

"When will we learn to do that?" Al asked excitedly.

"Do what?" Flitwick asked confusedly.

"Fly! When will we learn to fly?"

Flitwick smiled slightly then quickly concealed it.

"I was not flying, I was floating. And you've already learned how to perform the charm."

"I think I would remember if we-"

"Wingardium Leviosa, Potter," the Professor interrupted. "If strong enough and directed the right way, the charm can levitate its caster. But that's not until much later. I wanted to speak to you about your inappropriate behavior the night of your detention."

Al sighed and grabbed his hair annoyedly as he always did when he was stressed; maybe that was one of the reasons his hair was always so messy. "Professor, I didn't skip out," he tried.

"Oh but you did," Flitwick said standing at Al's waist not looking freighting at all. "You did not finish your task, therefor, you skipped out."

"But Professor," Al pleaded really not wanting another detention.

"You were startled?" he asked raising his bushy white eyebrows. "Potter, we live in a magic castle with magic beast and magic plants. There will be noises from beast all around you, many that can kill you, or eat your face off, petrify you with their cry, or…" he stopped when seeing Al's startled face. "What I'm saying is that I wouldn't have sent you to the lake if I didn't think it safe. I found the abandoned trash tools in the grass and footprints heading in the opposite direction. So, I stopped by your common room and asked the wall if you had entered and when finding that you had, I went to bed."

"Wait," Al interrupted. "How did the wall tell you?"

Flitwick looked confused by this. "It simply stated, the wall is alive after all."

Al suddenly felt sorry for all the times he had punched and kicked the stone wall because he wasn't let in after forgetting his password.

"Unfortunately, Potter, I will have to give you another detention."

Al huffed loudly and sat on Relctory's desk with his head in his hands.

"Don't worry, young man," said Flitwick. "I won't send you to the lake, and you only have to serve half considering you're only making up for the half detention you failed to complete."

Al told Scorpius what had happened in the Charms classroom on the way to Herbology. Scorpius found it completely unfair.

"It's not your fault!" Scor exclaimed.

Al nodded but knew that it was.

"You could have died! The monster was in the grass beside you, ready to pounce! You just made it out alive!"

"That's not at all what happened," said Al skeptically.

"It's called exaggeration, dear friend. It's manipulation's closest companion."

"So it's your closest companion?"

"Gee, Al, I'm flattered that you'd refer to me as manipulation itself, but I think that's a little much," he joked. "What do you have to do this time?"

"Professor Flitwick didn't say," Al shook his head. "But I'm not going back to the lake."

"And you're disappointed?"

"It would have been a perfect opportunity to find the beast," said Al frustrated.

Scorpius shrugged. "It knows where we live Al, it'll probably show itself eventually."

"Do you think Max has blabbed yet?" Al asked now emerging from the castle to find that it was pouring rain.

"You need to stop worrying! You don't trust anyone!" Scorpius had to yell through the downpour.

"That's not true!"

"Yeah it is!"

"I trust you!"

"No you don't!" Scor laughed. "You don't trust anyone. I'm not offended, but come on."

"There they are!" Al had just spotted Max and Rose ahead of them on the grounds with their heads down to the rain. They were easy enough to find; Max's hair wasn't easy to miss.

The two boys hurried over and Scor hit Max on the back which almost knocked him into the mud. Rose was looking displeased though she was the only of the four who had cover from the rain. The wand she was holding was producing the same type of invisible umbrella that Hermione had used in Diagon Alley.

"Wow, Rose, I didn't know you could do that," said Al impressed.

"I can't," she muttered. "This is Max's."

"Then why are you-"

"Because he said he'd feel bad having an umbrella if I didn't," she interrupted. "Because I'm a girl."

"It's Wingardium leviosa, guys!" said Max excitedly. "I just focus it on the rain above my head and it floats upward and off!"

"Why don't you do it with Rose's wand then yours?" asked Scor.

"I can't do it with her wand. Don't give me that look," Max said suddenly to Rose who had a sour expression.

"I feel bad," she said. "You're soaking wet."

"And if I had the shield and you were soaking wet you'd be wondering why I don't be a gentleman and hand it up, won't you?"

She opened her mouth to answer but he cut across. "I mean really, I'm a Gryffindor, I was placed in this house to be chivalrous, and courageous, and daring, and-"

"Humble?" Rose cut in finally smiling.

They turned into greenhouse two to find Professor Supple, a very fat man with earthy clothes and hair that resembled dry grass.

Last year, they had been taught by Professor Neville Longbottom, Al's godfather and friend. However, his wife, Hannah, had become pregnant with his first child, so he took the semester off to be with her. The entire class missed him very much. He was kind, and passionate about his subject, he knew his facts, and was always eager to help anyone who needed advice or had question, and he was always willing to share war stories from Voldemort's rise to power. They missed him most after meeting Professor Supple. Supple acted as though they were a nuisance who he had to babysit for an entire hour. He talked in a drone and made the fascinating and usually exciting subject sound like History of Magic; Supple came close second to Professor Binns.

"Grab a pair of gloves and start scrapping the film from the belly of the Gorg," he droned.

The class looked with disgust at the squashy mas that was bubbling and moving in bowls before them. It looked like an organ.

"We have to touch it?" Max asked with an upturned nose.

"Man up, that's why you have gloves," Supple said rolling his eyes. "And don't let the barbs hit you on the way in. There's a slit on the side that you must squeeze your arm through and careful when rubbing the film out, the plant is delicate and can be scratched easy. If you hurt it, it'll shoot a barb at you. It's not poisonous but'll hurt. Go on now."

"Aren't you gonna tell us what it's used for? What it can do or its befits?" asked Slytherin, Kelpik.

"Madam Pomfrey wants it for something," Supple shrugged. He scratched his scruffy chin thoughtfully. "I know what it's used for but I'm not telling you."

Kelpik scowled. "Isn't it your job to tell us?"

"If you really want me too then I will, but three fourths of you lot will likely ingest it at some point in the hospital wing," he grinned.

The students considered the slimy blob before them and shook their heads weakly.

"Well I still want to know!" said Kelpik angrily crossing his arms.

Supple gestured for him to come close, then whispered something in the boy's ear. The gray haired Slytherin backed away with wide-eyes and made a soft choking noise for a moment before sprinting from the greenhouse. The windows were slightly filmed so Al had to stand on her tiptoes to see his silhouette lean against the glass and vomit. Supple turned back toward the class with a triumphant grin on his face and stared at them for a long moment.

"Will any of you doubt my reasoning again?" he asked sternly.

Most of the students shook their heads quickly and terrified. Al wanted to say yes, but he held his tongue in fear of Professor Supple telling him what the film was used for.

They spent the rest of class using kitchen spoons to scrap the thick yellowish film from the belly of the gorg. It was disgusting.

Al stared at the lake as they exited the greenhouse. He was hoping to see... he didn't know, something, anything. Scorpius was sanitizing his hands with an upturned nose. He had vomited a couple times; Scorpius had always had a weak stomach. Scor bumped into the back of his friend who didn't seem to notice; he had stopped to squint at the lake, but everything was blurry. Scorpius looked from Al to the lake.

"We haven't asked Hagrid yet," he said. "He is the Care of Magical Creatures Professor anyway."

"Ask Hagrid about what?" Rose asked catching up at last, she was fiddling with the zipper on her bookbag and wasn't looking at them.

"About the-" Scorpius started but Al shoved something from his pocket into Scor's mouth which made him choke.

Scorpius, spit it out of his mouth and onto the grass.

Rose looked up curiously.

"Is that my sandwich from yesterday!" Scorpius shrieked in disgust at the clump of dried bread that was his half-eaten sandwich that had been in Al's pocket.

"He just thought you were hungry Scor," said Max clapping him on the back and looking disbelieving toward Albus. "Come on Rosebud, lunch is next!" He took her around the middle and led her away rather swiftly because her eyes were traveling toward the sandwich on the ground.

Al watched them shrink up the hill and let out a sigh of relief. Scorpius was staring angrily with his sleeve over his mouth.

"What the hell, Al?" Scor yelled.

"You were about to blab." Al reasoned.

"No, I wasn't! I was going to make something up before you tried!" He wiped his tongue on his sleeve. "If you wanted me to shut up you could have used your words, or kicked my shin like a civilized human being, my God!"

"I should ask Hagrid, that is a good idea," Al thought, ignoring his friend. "After Lunch?" Al suggested.

"I'm not hungry anymore," Scor replied thickly.

"Cool!" Al exclaimed grabbing Scorpius by the sleeve and dragging him to Hagrid's.

Hagrid was the Hogwarts games keeper, Care of Magical Creatures Professor, and their friend. He lived in a tiny wooden hut where ivy snuck from the grass and over the stone at the edge of the forbidden forest. Al and Scorpius trotted down the hill toward the shack and knocked on the giant wooden door. Al bounced on his heels but Scorpius looked as though the sandwich was still on his mind. Al had a sudden thought. What if Hagrid was angry with him? He had neglected to visit the giant because they saw each other in passing or at evening meals, but would he be offended?

The door swung open and the largest man you'd ever seen was towering above them. He was at least twice the size of the average man and had a thick brown and mostly gray beard which covered nearly all his face but his eyes and a thick mane of bushy hair surrounded his massive head. He wore a fur overcoat and fashioned clunky boots larger than their History of Magic book, which was saying something.

"'s bout' time!" Hagrid exclaimed ruffling both boy's hair with hands that were bigger than their head. "I was begin' ter think yeh lot forgo' abou' me."

"Sorry, Hagrid," said Al. "We just couldn't find time."

"Com' on in," The giant turned and lead them into the tiny hut.

The cabin had only one room with a large quilted bed in one corner and a blazing fireplace the other; an assortment of peculiar items hung from the ceiling and the walls.

"Max an' Rose arn' with yeh?" Hagrid glanced from the window to check if there was anyone else coming as he fiddled with tea. "So I 'spect tha' means yeh need somethin'?"

"We had a question that we though the Care of Magical Creatures teacher could answer," Al replied.

Hagrid set two tea cups in front of the two boys who had just taken a seat at the small round table, and he sat down himself in an overly large wooden chair that looked as though he had crafted it himself.

"How much do you know about the creatures of the lake?" Al said finally.

"He's the games keeper," said Scorpius without looking up from the leaves floating around in his tea. "He knows everything about everywhere at Hogwarts."

Hagrid grinned proudly.

"Hagrid," Al started again. "Can anything that lives in the lake read or write?"

Hagrid scratched at his bushy beard and thought for a moment, then he looked down at Al. "Why do yeh wanna know?" he asked.

Al didn't hesitate this time in telling Hagrid all about the occurrences of detention the other night and about the words in the sand and the writing on the window.

"I'm afraid to say I don' know," said Hagrid at last.

Al's heart dropped.

"The only beasts tha' are intelligen' at all are the Jirbbies, but they write in ancien' and forgotten languages. The giant squid isn' unintelligen', but it can' do wha' yeh mystery beast can. Then there's the merpeople, but they don't read or write and they stay away from humans if they can help it. Have yeh tried lookin' in books?"

"All of them!" Scorpius exclaimed. "Every book that has been written about water beast!"

"Yeh can've looked in every book in two days," Hagrid chuckled.

"He's exaggerating," Al rolled his eyes.

"Maybe yer monster isn' a water dweller. Maybe it's a sand beast."

"Are there any sand beast that can write?" Al asked.

"Er, no."

"Sorry I can' be of more help to yeh, but I don' thin' there is a beast that can do what yeh saying yours did. But le' me suggest somethin', if the thing really does come to yer window every night, then stay awake to watch it, maybe it'll come back tonigh'!"

The two boys stayed a while longer to eat lunch with Hagrid and a bit of fudge before heading back up the ginormous hill, weighed down by their rock cakes.

"Are you going to do it?" Scorpius asked.

"Do what?"

"Stay up all night to see if it'll come back."

"Yeah, I'll do it, but you'll need to help me," Al replied.

"I know; you'll never stay awake long enough."

The rest of the classes seemed rather dull or maybe that was because Al wasn't paying any attention. He was staring out of the window, back at the lake. What he overreacting? Scorpius thought so. Maybe Albs Poddr wasn't his name, maybe it was some crazy coincidence that the words sounded almost exactly like his name, was written right after he had said his own name allowed and was written all over the window where he slept. He was staying up that night; he saw no reason that the beast wouldn't come back.

"Al, Scor, aren't you coming?" Rose asked after dinner as she walked toward the library with her books to her chest and Max walking beside her.

"Er, not this time, guys." Al replied. "I didn't sleep last night and need to get a head start."

"Scor?" Rose looked at Scorpius.

Scorpius walked toward her and whispered something in her ear. Rose looked at Al with a slightly upturned nose.

"I understand," she said quickly. "You go do that, I'll be in the library," and she walked away.

"What'd you tell her?" Al asked.

"That you had a splinter in an embarrassing place and needed help," Scorpius grinned.

"You what!" Albus exclaimed hitting Scor over the head as he laughed.

"They weren't going to buy that story, Al, come on."

They made their way to through the familiar dark corridors and down staircases toward their common room.

"Ambition," Scorpius said the password so the stone wall before them would slide open and they could walk through and into their common room. It was rather crowded. After dinner was when most of the Slytherins retired to the dungeons; Slytherins weren't a very sociable lot. Al muttered greeting to his Quidditch captain Keith and didn't sit for the game of poker that the rest of the Quidditch team was beckoning him over to play. Al had been really good at the game he had learned beginning of last year, and the gambles looked good this evening, but he didn't want to miss the writing on the window.

He and Scor trotted down their stairwell and through a door with a marble number two on the front. To Albus' relief, nothing was written yet. They had another hour and a half before the other members of their dormitory would start retreating to bed. Al didn't know what time the beast would come to their room if at all. The first time it visited, it had been midnight. The second time, it had been just after studying in the library. If they were lucky, the thing would visit sometime in between.

Scorpius was right about Albus not being able to stay awake. Al was just naturally gifted at falling asleep. The two boys sat in their beds, Al had begun revising for potions and Scorpius was fiddling with a Rubix cude, completing it, rearranging, and completing it again.

"Don't you think you should be studying for a subject you're not good at?" Scorpius suggested.

"Don't you think you should be studying at all?" Al retorted back.

"Don't you think we should be watching the window?" Scorpius replied.

"Don't you think- oh, you're probably right."

"Why aren't the others here yet?" Al asked a few minutes later as he and Scorpius laid on their stomachs, staring at the large window into the murky green that is the lake's water.

"It's game night, remember?" Scorpius replied tiredly. "The guys will be up until dawn at least. Why do you keep your school books open at the window?" Scorpius asked.

"Because I normally sit on the window seal to study," Al replied becoming very drowsy. "I keep the books open because I'm lazy and won't feel like doing it later."

Scorpius had taken out his wand and shot a gust of wind at Al's books which caused the pages to turn abruptly.

"You're a jerk," Al said, standing up and flipping the pages back to where they belonged.

"Hey Al?" Scorpius whispered as Al knelt to read the pages.

"You don't have to whisper, we're the only ones here," Al huffed.

"No we're not…"

Al looked back at Scor who was staring wide-eyed at the window. Albus turned back around to stare into a pair of eyes through the window that were staring back at his. He froze and immediately knew that this was the beast that had written his name, if you could call it a beast.