DISCLAIMER: Not mine but J.K. Rowling's (excluding the plot and original characters).
A/N: Okay, for this chapter, my author's note is at the top of the story, because I just realized what a grave negligence I made in Chapter 2. As a very helpful reviewer by the name of Rose pointed out to me, the Sorting Hat was indeed set on fire by Voldemort in Book 7 (p. 732-733). But later on at Platform 9 3/4, Harry mentioned to Albus that the Sorting Hat takes choices into consideration, which suggests that there is still a Sorting Hat at Hogwarts (p.758).
So (for the sake of Chapter 2) my explanation would be that in the 19 years after the battle, a new Sorting Hat was made by McGonagall to follow in the Hogwarts tradition (perhaps Harry or Neville had donated his hat since they are "true Gryffindors"- in CoS, Dumbledore said that only a true Gryffindor could have pulled out the sword from the hat). And let's just say that after 19 years of students jamming it on their heads and collecting dust in the headmaster's study, the new Sorting Hat made by McGonagall was not exactly in mint condition, thus its dirty, ragged, and patched-up appearance.
I'm so sorry for that mistake, you guys. Hopefully, there won't be any more little booboos. In the meantime, I highly applaud those who pay close attention to details because that takes some real skills!
And also a shout-out to my wonderful beta, J, who tirelessly worked on the plot with me and who rescued me from writer's block island. Paris-Hilton-Voldemort forever!
Chapter Three: The Midnight Encounter
Albus's first week at Hogwarts was a rather difficult one indeed. Finding his classes and getting there on time was a challenge in itself (what with the rearranging floor plan and numerous secret passageways and shortcuts), but James seemed to have made it his sole mission to send Albus on a wild-goose chase for his classrooms. Unlike Rose who quickly grew accustomed to Hogwarts's maze-like interior, Albus and Jake ran around the castle like headless chickens, apologizing over and over again for being late to class on a daily basis.
But aside from attendance, Albus was doing fairly well in most of his classes. Of course, the fact that he was hopeless in potions was a crushing blow to Professor Slughorn. And although he tried with all his might, he was unable to stay awake during History of Magic, which was still taught by the droning, old ghost Professor Binns. Nevertheless, he cottoned on to Charms and Transfiguration quickly to the delights of Professor Lovegood and Professor Bones and enjoyed Herbology tremendously, thanks to his Uncle Neville's comprehensive way of teaching.
When Friday rolled around, Albus rejoiced the prospect of lazing about for an entire weekend and happily went down to Hagrid's hut with Rose and Jake in tow. James was too busy practicing for the upcoming Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts but sent his respects to Hagrid.
The trio approached the small, wooden hut situated near the edge of the Forbidden Forest and was surprised to see the door swing open and Hagrid's friendly face emerging from the house. He must have been watching their arrival from the window.
"Come on in, yeh three!" Hagrid beamed, beckoning them inside. "Make yerselves at home." Hagrid's cabin was comfortably warm from the rather chilly September day outside. There was an array of hams and plucked chickens hanging from the ceiling against one wall and a kettle boiling in the fireplace. A humongous bed covered in a thick, woolen blanket stood in the corner of the hut. On the scrubbed wooden table was an arrangement of four bucket-shaped mugs, a milk pitcher, and a plate of lumpy-looking cakes.
Hagrid busied himself with the kettle as they took their seats, looking around at the fascinating little hut. Jake, in particular, was eyeing the row of cured hams and dead chickens with a look of mingled disgust and amazement.
"You have a charming home, Hagrid," Rose piped up, smiling at the bearded half-giant who had just poured each of them a steaming mug of tea from the kettle. From this close angle, Albus noticed that Hagrid's unruly black hair and beard were now laced with gray.
Hagrid nodded. "Aye, it didn' turn out half bad, me hut. Had to build it from the groun' up. Got it teh look just as it had before the fire and the battle, 'cept fer me quilt." He suddenly paused. "An' Fang." Uncomfortable silence ensued as Hagrid tearfully looked out the window. Albus squinted and spotted what looked like a crude grave marker in a grassy mound outside the hut.
Rose quickly distracted Hagrid, knowing that he was still lamenting over the death of his beloved companion, even though it has been years since Fang passed away. "Hagrid, this is Jake Greene," she introduced their nervous-looking friend who waved feebly at Hagrid.
Rose's attempt succeeded for Hagrid seemed momentarily distracted as he eagerly gripped Jake's hand in welcome. "Nice ter meet yeh. Rubeus Hagrid, keeper o' the grounds." Albus stifled a laugh as Jake nursed his hand under the table after the unsuspecting groundskeeper's handshake. Meanwhile, Hagrid looked around at them as if just now realizing something. "Where's James?"
"He's at the Quidditch field, practicing for tryouts," Albus quipped, inspecting a lumpy cake. Then he added, "He sends his love." Albus knew his older brother would be outraged if he knew, especially after James's little outburst at King's Cross about giving a professor love. He bit into his cake and almost broke a teeth at the rock-like hardness of it. Karma was a vengeful thing indeed.
"So how's Grawp, Hagrid?" Rose asked, ever the polite conversationalist. Albus nodded, surreptitiously checking that his jaw still worked. He remembered how Grawp used to hoist him and Rose onto his shoulders at parties and do squats, while they clung on for dear life and squealed with delight.
"Grawpy's fine. He's doin' real nice, travelin' an' all," Hagrid talked fondly of his half-brother, much like an indulgent mother praising a son. "Likes the mountains an' fresh air. He visits from time teh time or sends me a postcard when he can." He gestured to a row of dejected-looking postcards on his dresser, and a wistful look appeared in his lined, beetle-like eyes. Some were faced to show green valleys and craggy mountains, while others displayed the other side where chicken-scratch handwriting was scrawled across the paper.
Frankly, Albus wouldn't want to know how a sixteen-foot giant got ahold of postcards.
A knock sounded from Hagrid's door along with a muffled, "Hagrid?" Albus and Rose looked at each other brightly. Could it be–?
"Professor Longbottom!" Hagrid greeted their dear Uncle Neville as the jovial, round-faced wizard entered the dwelling, grinning hugely at the sight of the trio and Hagrid.
"Hello, Hagrid," Neville Longbottom addressed the cabin owner cheerfully. He procured a drawstring pouch from his robe. "Magical pumpkin seeds for the upcoming Halloween feast," he explained, handing the pouch to a confused-looking Hagrid. "So you won't have to use your umbrella," he said pointedly at Hagrid who was too ecstatic to catch his warning tone.
"Albus, Rose, and Jake!" Neville smiled at each of them, taking a seat. "How are you liking Hogwarts so far?"
They all launched into a summary of their first week at Hogwarts. Rose animatedly described her classes with much excitement, while Albus and Jake talked about getting lost in the castle, running into Peeves, and, in Jake's case, getting stuck in the trick staircase.
Once they were done rehashing their tales with much laughter from Hagrid and Neville on Albus's and Jake's expense, Neville said, "Your mother sent me an owl telling me you'll be at Hagrid's this afternoon for tea." He tipped his head at Albus in acknowledgment. "Thought I would join you. See how your classes and teachers are."
Surprisingly, it was Jake who spoke up first. "Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm rather disappointed after a week of Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was the class I was looking forward to the most and, frankly, it's a bit boring, isn't it?" He looked around at Albus and Rose in encouragement. Rose bit her lip, as if it was a sin to be displeased over a class, but Albus had to nod in agreement.
"Professor Draconis is a nice enough teacher, but all we've done so far is busy work from the textbook. We haven't done anything practical or even seen a demonstration," Albus said, wanting to see what his Uncle Neville and Hagrid had to say about the matter. Neville frowned slightly, but Hagrid just waved away the matter with a huge hand.
"Well, that's 'cause yeh three are firs' years," he said confidently, refilling their mugs with tea. Neville thanked him. "Yeh have teh know abou' the basic stuff firs' before movin' on teh the excitin' stuff."
"And perhaps Professor Draconis deemed it dangerous and unnecessary to do demonstrations during the first week of classes," Neville added. "It's still early days yet."
Hagrid nodded his approval, taking a sip of tea. "He's a nice bloke, that Professor Draconis. Came by teh visit me the other day." He puffed out his chest importantly. "Heard tha' I was the Care o' Magical Creatures professor. Asked me abou' me curriculum. Seems righ' interested in animals, tha' Donovan."
They spent another hour or two at Hagrid's hut, discussing random news and topics. Albus, Rose, and Jake felt quite sorry to leave the warmth of Hagrid's cabin and make the brisk trek back to the castle. They all said farewell to Hagrid and thanked him for the tea and the (inedible) rock cakes. At the door, Neville reminded all three of them of their Herbology homework due Monday and to send James his wishes. The kindly professor gave them one last wave before walking towards the direction of the greenhouses, whistling merrily as he went.
They made their way back to the castle in the sunset, the sky infused with an intense mixture of red and orange. Dinner would start in about an hour, so they decided to while away the time in the Gryffindor common room. They were immediately greeted by the chatter of Gryffindors and the familiar laughter of James and his friends as they crawled through the portrait hole and into the cozy common room.
"How was Hagrid's?" James looked up with a smile as they approached, his cheeks still ruddy and his auburn hair windswept from Quidditch practice. Connor and Theo, who were seated on armchairs next to James, were both similarly rumpled and grinning.
"Quite cool," Albus answered, taking a seat across from his brother. "I guess you weren't joking about the dead chickens hanging on the wall. For once."
James just laughed. "I don't joke all the time, you know, Al." He languidly got to his feet and stretched. "Anyway, now that you're finally here, I've got something to show you. Come on." He thumped Albus on the back and made for the boys' dormitory. Albus followed as Connor and Theo attempted to make small talk with Rose and Jake.
They climbed up the stairs to the second-year boys' dormitory, passing the first years' dorm on the way. Once they reached it, the room proved to be empty, which seemed to please James as he headed purposefully to his trunk. Albus took in the familiar scarlet decor and circular space before joining his brother. James's trunk was so full of useless things– broken quills, old parchment, textbooks, rumpled boxers, issues of Quidditch Quarterly, and miscellaneous Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes packages– that a growing pile of discarded stuff was accumulating on the floor beside him as he rummaged around for whatever it was he was looking for.
"Aha!" James triumphantly declared, holding up what looked like a folded piece of rumpled parchment. Albus was already lounging around on James's bed, his stomach growling in protest and growing more impatient by the minute.
He shifted his position on the bed and was now lying on his stomach, his head hanging directly overhead the piece of parchment that James put on the floor. "What is it?"
James did not respond but instead said confidently, tapping his wand against the parchment, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Albus was just about to ask if his brother had gone totally bonkers when, suddenly out of nowhere, lines and contours appeared on the parchment, forming what looked like a map. After a closer look, Albus could discern tiny, minuscule black dots with labels moving around on the map. He squinted to see what one of the labels read and gasped as he saw that an Argus Filch dot was prowling the fourth floor corridor, while a Peeves dot was bouncing around two floors below.
Albus could only gape.
James grinned rakishly. "Amazing, isn't it? Nicked it from Dad's study this summer."
"But– wha– how did you know how to–?" Albus vaguely gestured at the map, mouth still opened in awe.
"Uncle George showed me how. He was the one who told me all about this fantastic mischief-maker map in the first place. Seems like he and Uncle Fred, bless him, stole it from Filch when they were students here and gave it to our dad as a Christmas present in Dad's third year," James told Albus in a low voice, no doubt keeping an ear out for any approaching footsteps. He continued, "I figured Dad must still have it around somewhere, and sure enough, it was in one of his desk drawers." James then patted the map fondly. "I tried it out once or twice this past week. It's foolproof, this map."
Albus, who was still dumbstruck, was not entirely gormless. "So why are you showing this to me?" he asked his brother, genuinely curious.
Immediately, the atmosphere in the room changed. James scowled at his brother's statement, tapped the map with his wand, muttered "Mischief managed," and the entire floor plan of Hogwarts and its surrounding area was wiped clean. "Can you blame a bloke for wanting to share a secret with his brother?" James finally retorted, looking up at Albus who was still sprawled on his bed.
Albus looked sheepish as he flattened his hair unconsciously. "Well...you're not exactly the sharing type, James. I mean, remember when Mum and Dad had to buy me my own toy broomstick because you wouldn't share yours with me? There was a bunch of other stuff, too..."
"Oh all right, all right," James said rather snappishly. "Look, I've kept this map as a secret all through the summer and from the guys as well. No one knows I have it besides Uncle George. If I could I would continue keeping it a secret, except I'm just bursting to tell someone about it, but I don't know who to trust."
Albus couldn't believe his ears. "So you trust me?"
James looked annoyed by now. "Well, you are my brother, aren't you? And plus, if you ever lose it or rat me out to Dad, I'll tell Mum and Dad that you were the one who used to steal Dad's sneakoscopes."
"Hey! They were fun to play with!"
James ignored him, tossed the folded piece of parchment onto the bed, and closed the lid of his trunk. He nodded at it and said, "You can borrow it for the weekend. Study it. Use it. Whatever. Just do me one favor: keep an eye on Professor Draconis. I would do it myself if I didn't have to practice for tryouts this weekend."
"Professor Draconis? Why?" Albus asked, pocketing the map for safekeeping.
James was already heading for the door. "Don't ask questions. Just do it."
That night, while the boys in his dormitory were fast asleep, Albus quietly drew back the hangings, slipped out of bed, and tiptoed over to his trunk. He waited for a moment or two, listening to the other boys' rhythmic breathing and occasional snores, before carefully lifting the lid of his trunk and snatching Hogwarts: a History and a flashlight from its contents. He crept back to his bed, pulled the hangings close, hoisted the covers over his head, and turned on the flashlight. In the yellow light emanating from the flashlight, he gingerly opened the brand-new copy his Aunt Hermione had given him and Rose at Diagon Alley. A wave of relief engulfed him as he saw the square of dry, cloth-like parchment lying just beneath the cover of the book. He unfolded it with trembling hands and fetched his wand next to his pillow once it was laid flat on the bed.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he whispered. He watched as the map appeared, proudly showing a sleeping Hogwarts and its equally sleepy grounds. He wondered briefly if Filch was a vampire since the caretaker's dot could be seen making its way down deserted halls.
He promised James that he would look for Professor Draconis whenever he used the map, so he did just that, knowing full well that the professor might have already retired to bed. Surprisingly enough, he found Professor Draconis's dot in his office.
Albus kept watch for what seemed like ages, but the professor's dot was still rooted in the same spot. Feeling much like a proper stalker, he was about to put the map back into his trunk and sleep when he suddenly realized that he could use the map to help him get to classes. He knew the castle was ever-changing, but it certainly couldn't hurt to study the floor plan. Driven by a legitimate purpose, Albus eagerly scanned the map and planned out a route.
Ten minutes later, he turned off the flashlight, pocketed the now-blank piece of parchment in his pajama trousers, and emerged from under the covers. After making sure that his roommates were still asleep and thus oblivious, Albus drew back his bed curtains for the second time that night and snuck as stealthily as possible to the door. Once he was out of the boys' dormitory and creeping down the staircase, he realized how utterly vulnerable he felt in his pajamas. He paused for a minute but then resumed his climb down the staircase. He couldn't risk waking one of his roommates if he went back to fetch his robe.
Albus knew he was being quite stupid to embark on a nighttime prowl after hours, but he was feeling restless after studying the map and wanted desperately to test out his route. Plus, he had the map with him to check on Filch with and, like his brother always said, what good was life without a little mischief?
In the common room, he checked the map to see where Filch was (in the dungeons, near the Potions classroom) before setting out from Gryffindor tower. The Fat Lady grumbled in her sleep as he came out of the portrait hole with ease.
Once out in the hallway, Albus had to blink once, twice at how different the castle looked in the dead of night, and he felt the first grips of apprehension since he left the boys' dormitory. He never noticed how eery the torchlights looked in the darkness or how the slivers of moonlight from the window bars reminded him of his childhood vision of Azkaban.
Forcing himself to keep calm, Albus decided to go down to the Charms classroom first as it was on the third floor and would be on his way down. He got there in record time without getting lost once or running into anyone and felt a surge of gratitude for the map in his pocket. Thoroughly elated now, Albus checked for Filch on the map behind a suit of armor before setting out for the Transfiguration classroom.
Unfortunately, it seemed his immense luck had run out for voices could be heard from somewhere near the third-floor Trophy Room. Albus froze; his hand automatically reached for his wand in his pocket.
The voices were distinctly male and were not wheezy like Filch's. They also did not seem to belong to any professors for the voices were boyish. And steadily rising, which was definitely an unwise move for students who were out of bed.
"No, you listen here, you spoiled, little, Malfoy BRAT!"
"Don't you DARE call me a brat, Zabini!"
"Better a brat than a coward like your father, eh, Scorp?"
"You better watch your tongue when you're speaking to your BETTERS, Titus! My father is twice the man your father will ever be!"
A discordant pause.
"Oh yea? So tell me, Scorp, why is my dear father bedding your dear, old mum right under your dad's cowardly nose?"
"DON'T YOU DARE–"
But Albus never found out what Scorpius Malfoy would say to Titus Zabini for the next thing he knew there was a flash of red light, a loud bang, and a crash that rang down the empty hallways and seemed likely to rouse the whole school. A good two or three seconds passed before Albus could distinctly hear the hurried sound of footsteps fleeing the scene.
Once the guilty footsteps died away, Albus was caught in a whirlwind of internal conflict. From the sounds of it, it seemed like somebody was hurt. Whether it was Titus Zabini (who sounded like a right prat during the argument) or Scorpius Malfoy, Albus should get them out of the way before Filch came. But then again they were Slytherins; Slytherins who hated him because of his Potter and Weasley lineage.
Oh, to hell with it.
Albus emerged from his hiding place around the corner (he didn't even realize he had crept closer to the argument like a moth drawn to a flame) and stopped dead in his tracks as he surveyed the scene before him.
He was looking at the armor gallery, directly adjacent to the Trophy Room. A single wand rolled to his feet as he picked it up, aware that every single second he spent here would bring him closer to Filch or Peeves who would have surely heard the crash. Panicking slightly now, Albus looked around and found what he was looking for: the crumpled form of Scorpius Malfoy half hidden beneath a collapsed suit of armor.
He ran to the blond-haired boy and tugged him out of the rubble, picturing Filch running down the third floor corridor or Peeves bouncing and cackling towards him.
"Come on, Malfoy! Get up!" he urged the semi-conscious boy to no avail. Scorpius Malfoy just remained slumped on the ground, moaning slightly.
Annoyed and half-wondering what in Merlin's name he was doing, Albus hoisted the blond Malfoy's arm over his shoulders and rather carelessly dragged the other boy down the hall. He told himself that at least Malfoy was light. It could've been much worse; it could've been troll-like Forest Baddock he would have had to rescue.
Suddenly, like something from his worst nightmare, he could hear Filch's wheezy panting and eager shuffles from afar. "Students out of bed, students out of bed!" the old man's gleeful chanting reached Albus's horrified ears.
He half-carried, half-dragged Malfoy down the hall as fast as he could, wishing with all his might that they would reach the Charms classroom safe and sound. It would be rotten luck if I get lost now, Albus couldn't help but think bitterly.
Then like a blessed vision, the wooden door of the Charms classroom loomed before him.
"DAMMIT!" Albus heard Filch bellow from the armor gallery as he yanked the door open and shoved Malfoy inside. "DAMN THOSE KIDS! DAMN THEM ALL!"
Albus shut the door behind him just in time as Filch's furious shuffling could be heard passing by the classroom just moments later. Shaking, Albus promptly slid down to the floor against the door, immensely relieved that they had escaped Filch's wrath. Malfoy, who was thrown unceremoniously inside by him, was also on the floor a few feet away. The Slytherin was slowly getting up and shaking his head dazedly. He did not seem to notice Albus's presence at all.
After a few seconds of watching Malfoy cradle his head in his hands, Albus tossed the disarmed wand at its rightful owner and asked, "Are you all right?"
Quick as lightning, Malfoy's head snapped up to see the source of the inquiry. His wand rolled pitifully towards him, but he appeared disoriented from looking up so quickly. Still, Malfoy managed to narrow his icy blue eyes when they met Albus's emerald ones.
"What are you doing here, Potter?" He spat out the last word as if it dirtied his mouth to say it.
Albus seethed internally but forced himself to appear calm in front of Malfoy. After all, the boy had hit his head; he probably wasn't aware of the situation yet.
"I would expect you to be at least a little bit grateful to me, Malfoy, seeing as I just saved you from detention," he said coolly. A brief recognition of what had occurred flitted past Malfoy's face. His pale cheeks burned in embarrassment.
"How much did you hear?" Malfoy finally asked so quietly Albus almost missed it.
"Enough to know that you and Zabini probably won't be talking for a while," Albus said casually, his eyes still boring into Malfoy's. He refused to be the one to look away first.
As it was, Malfoy was the one who broke the intense staring match, opting to pick up his wand on the floor and pocketing it. Albus noticed that, unlike him, Malfoy was still dressed in his school robes. How long had he been wandering about the halls with Zabini before that fateful quarrel outside of the Trophy Room?
Without another word, Malfoy stood up by gripping a table for support, avoiding Albus's annoyed gaze. He had thought that Malfoy, who must have been brought up with impeccably snooty, pure-blood manners, would at least thank him, no matter how curt. But the blond boy just swept past a now-standing Albus, opened the classroom door, and disappeared into the corridor.
The next morning Albus went down to breakfast with Jake and Rose, utterly peeved. He had spent the entire walk back to Gryffindor tower last night, fuming about Malfoy's insolence after he had just risked saving him from Filch.
Someone ruffled his hair from behind, but Albus didn't even bother to acknowledge his brother as James fell into step beside him.
"Morning, Al!" James greeted him, all sunshine and daisies. He was unaware of the thunder cloud hovering over his younger brother's head. "Nice night?" He was looking pointedly at Albus now, knowing full well that his brother must have perused the map however briefly.
"Probably not," Rose cut in. "Albus looks like he woke up on the wrong side of the pillow this morning."
"Shut up, Rose," he snapped at his cousin, who looked briefly hurt at his stinging words.
They entered the Great Hall and, to Albus's relief, James promptly left them for Connor and Theo. As they took their seats at the Gryffindor table, Albus willed himself to break out of his rotten mood and apologize to Rose for his earlier rudeness. He would be damned if he became as rude as Malfoy.
"Sorry about that, Rose," he said to his friend, sincerely apologetic. He passed the syrup to Jake.
Rose shrugged but gave him a small smile. "That's okay. But honestly, Albus, you seem rather irritated this morning."
Jake nodded along, pouring syrup generously on his pancakes. "Rose is right, mate. You look like you just ate a dozen of Hagrid's rock cakes, going around with your jaw clenched like that."
After that, Albus managed to get through breakfast with his jaw unclenched and even contributed to Jake and Rose's conversation. He noticed that the dark-haired Titus Zabini was not sitting at his usual seat next to Malfoy, and that the latter was currently seated far away from his former friend. Malfoy, it seemed, pointedly avoided glancing at the Gryffindor table.
When the morning owl mail arrived, Albus briefly scanned for Olympus but continued eating his breakfast when he didn't spot his owl among the others. His parents had already sent him a letter congratulating him on getting into Gryffindor and inquiring after his stay at Hogwarts. Along with their letter, his sister Lily had drawn an illustration of him decked out in classic Gryffindor red-and-gold in front of her rendition of Hogwarts Castle.
He was not expecting any other letters, which was why he was entirely surprised to see a handsome eagle owl drop a tightly scrolled piece of parchment right onto his waffle. He looked around to see whether anyone else had noticed it and was relieved to find that Rose was preoccupied with unwrapping another set of books from Aunt Hermione and that Jake was craning his neck to see what Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes items James received from Uncle George.
Curious as to who it could be, Albus unfurled the scrap piece of parchment in his lap under the table and stared, unbelieving, as he read its scant contents. It only contained one word and a single letter:
Thanks.
- S
When his eyes sought the Slytherin table and met the cold eyes of his correspondent, there was no trace of the malice both boys had in their eyes back at the Charms classroom last night. Instead, Albus's green eyes were wide with shock, and Scorpius's eyes were carefully blank and expressionless. However, Albus Potter would bet a thousand Galleons that there was a tiny gleam of gratitude in those icy depths as Scorpius Malfoy gave him a curt and imperceptible nod.