Author's Note 2016: The chapter that only took 4 years to write! Ain't adulting a bitch? Those of you who followed the story before may notice a few changes made to the first chapter. The good news about taking so long to write is that I've had plenty of time to think up subplots and characters, and I feel really good about where we're going with this. So let's jump right into it!

Content: Next Generation AU. Eventual AS/S shipping.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Anastasia.

Chapter 2: The Orphan's Birthday

Scorpius had a plan. He was going to find a boy to masquerade as the missing Albus Potter, present the Potters with the undeniable evidence of Albus's wand, become the hero of the wizarding world, and walk away rich beyond his wildest dreams. It was perfect. It was foolproof.

Except for one small problem.

Scorpius trudged home, exhausted from a long day of auditioning "Albus Potters." The entire affair had so far proved disastrous. Nothing but middle-aged men, crying children, and overly dramatic wannabe actors. So far the closest he'd gotten was a girl with a convincingly messy haircut, flat chest, and an obvious Pep-Up Powder addiction. Scorpius marked her down as a 'maybe.'

The problem was there were so few wizards of his age. So many had been killed in the attacks, that those that remained were well accounted for. Even if he could find someone who could act (which was beginning to feel impossible) it wasn't like age-changing charms or potions could work long term. They would fade way over time and Scorpius was not interested in spending his life of luxury running from the authorities for fraud.

No, if Scorpius was going to succeed, he needed to clever about it, think differently than everyone else. He was going to have to look beyond the meager pickings of the wizarding community for his "Albus."

Scorpius returned to the busy joke shop and was intercepted on his way to the stairs by George Weasley.

"Hello, Mr. Powell." George said, crossing his arms. There was a knowing twinkle in his eyes that made Scorpius feel immediately defensive. He crossed his own arms and straitened his back, tilting his chin up slightly, hoping he didn't look phased.

"Yes?" That was good. One syllable. Very aloof. Unfortunately George did not seem affected by Scorpius's hardened exterior.

"I found some people whispering over these today." George held out a flyer, and Scorpius swallowed hard. "You wouldn't be up to something, would you?"

Scorpius took one of the posters and recognized it immediately. It was one of the flyers he'd posted around Knockturn Alley, asking for actors for the part of Albus Potter. In hindsight, not the most inconspicuous choice he'd ever made. Scorpius pretended to read it over in interest, all the while racking his brain for a cunning plan to get out of this. It was in his Slytherin blood after all. He couldn't be defeated by a man running a joke shop.

"Never seen them before," he finally said. "But a fascinating idea. The Potters ought to be careful who they trust."

"Look Malfoy Junior, and yes I know who you are," George added before Scorpius had a chance to drop his jaw, "There's only one wizard in the world named something as ridiculous as 'Scorpius.' I've known who you were since the day you knocked on my door asking for a bed."

"And you didn't turn me away?" Scorpius tried to hide his surprise.

George shrugged slightly, maintaining his angry glare. "You were obviously desperate that night you came knocking on my door. I hoped I could salvage what was left of your generation with a bit of kindness. Or maybe it was just pity. It doesn't matter anymore."

George picked up a bag off the floor that Scorpius didn't notice before, but recognized as his own. George shoved the bag into Scorpius's arms, and he grunted under the impact.

"I gave you a chance, Malfoy, and that was obviously my own stupid move. But this ends now. You will end this little casting call, and stay away from that family. If I find out you have so much as mailed the Potters a Christmas card, I will end you."

Scorpius felt a tingle of rage build in his chest with every condescending word out of George's mouth. Too exhausted to think rationally, pride took over and Scorpius reached into his robes, wrapping his fingers around the handle of his wand. He didn't even get the chance to think of a spell before George had his own wand pointed at Scorpius, disarming him and binding him with invisible ropes.

'Crap, he's fast for an old man.' That was the last thought Scorpius had before he felt the floor leave his feet and he was levitated in midair, spun around a few times, before finally coming to a halt upside down, hanging from the ceiling, trying not to be sick.

Through a dizzy haze, Scorpius struggled uselessly as George walked up to him. He expected the older wizard to end him with a hex, and was surprised to see sadness and exhaustion stare him in the eye.

"The wizarding world has lost enough lives," George said softly. "I won't take another, though I imagine you'd look very handsome as a flobberworm."

George flicked his wand and Scorpius fell to the ground with an undignified yelp. He quickly picked himself up, holding his chin high, trying to look menacing in what where surely his final moments. Instead, George simply returned Scorpius's wand and tossed his bag back at his feet.

"Get out of here. Go visit your Father in Azkaban, or hide in that run down death trap they call Malfoy Manor. I don't care so long as you stay away from the Potters."

Scorpius picked up his things, turned heel and marched out of the Joke Shop before George changed his mind. He tried to ignore the sad smile he saw on the old wizard's face, and the guilty pang in his chest. He didn't feel guilt. He was a Malfoy, dammit.

As he walked through the calm streets of Diagon Alley, Scorpius tried to spin a new plan of attack. George would surely write to the Potters about his little plot. He'd have to be careful, work around their suspicions, definitively prove that he was delivering their son. He still had Albus's wand, something George did not know. He still had his ticket in. The rest would come down to how he sold it.

He was cunning, sneaky, determined. He was a Slytherin. A Malfoy. He would find a way to deliver an "Albus" to the Potter Family, one way or another.

Al was a highly unusual boy in many ways. For one thing, he didn't have a last name, at least not one that he remembered. For another, he had no memories at all of his life before the age of eleven, when he was found wandering around the streets of London in strange black clothes and no idea of who he was, where he came from, or even his real name. With no clues to his past or any reports of missing children, Al had been taken to an orphanage in the country where he would remain until he was either adopted or turned eighteen.

But perhaps the most unusual thing about Al was the mysterious things that seemed to happen around him. Mostly they were little things, like the way he always seemed to be able to catch a ball, no matter how horribly it was thrown in his direction, or the way all the owls in the bird exhibit seemed to flock towards him in their cages during a trip to the zoo. But as he got older, grander things would happen around him. When he was fourteen, Al overheard a pair of boys spreading rumors that Al was violently, mentally unstable. They next day those boys woke up to the sounds of screaming, as they'd ended up naked in the mud next to the neighboring girl's orphanage, and nobody had any idea how. Then when he was sixteen Al was forced to attend a dance with the rest of the kids, and the building where the event was to be held was suddenly condemned due to a sudden snail infestation.

Of course, nobody could ever prove that Al was the cause of all these unusual things. Indeed, Al himself wasn't sure he could be blamed himself, although things tended to work out in his favor more often than not. However, the result remained that most people wouldn't go near him, and Al was forced to spend most of his time alone. He didn't care much for the company of the other kids and teenagers at the orphanage anyway, but the constant rumors, attitudes, and complaints against him prevented him from being adopted, and that was the thing that hurt Al most of all.

He'd taken a peek at his file once in the middle of the night, when nightmares prevented him from sleeping. It was dark and he didn't fancy being caught in the offices, so he'd only quickly scanned the files, but words like "troublemaker," "manipulative behavior," and "sociopathic tendencies," stood out brightly to him. No parent, no matter how good-willed, would adopt a child that difficult. Angrily he'd shoved the filed back in the drawer, returned to his bed, and seethed until he eventually faded into unconsciousness.

The next morning the orphanage had been found covered in snow. In the middle of July. With no other part of town so much as brushed with a cool breeze.

For as long as Al could remember, he lived in that orphanage in the country, surrounded by children and adults alike who feared him, feeling completely and utterly alone.

So when one bright October morning, the day of his eighteenth birthday rolled around, Al couldn't help but feel immense relief as he was instructed to pack up his belongings and meet Mrs. Radford, the head of the orphanage, in her office. As Al dressed himself in second hand clothes, boots, and a tattered winter coat, he found that there wasn't much else he wanted to bring with him. He had a backpack, but no use for any of the school supplies. He'd finished all his compulsory education the previous spring, and he didn't have any keepsakes from those years. He certainly had no use for the uniforms provided by both the school and orphanage. Finally deciding on packing a notebook and pen, his one other set of normal street clothes that were worn for mandatory Sunday trips to Church, and a wallet that held a few small bills and school ID card, Al wondered if there was truly nothing else that he wanted.

Thinking for a moment, he crouched down next to the bed and lifted up a loose floorboard. Inside, wrapped in a pillowcase, were the clothes that he'd been wearing when he first arrived, seven years ago. Obviously too small to wear, Al kept the strange black robes, as they were all that he had from his past life. He ran his hands over the soft fabric, the silky lining, the meticulous design of the silver clasps, the burnt and torn edges that seemed so out of place on fabric that, despite being years old, still seemed brand new, as if by magic.

He'd had someone who loved him once, hadn't he? Someone to dress him in strange, but good quality outfits. Someone who would have missed him when he had gone. He'd spent countless nights thinking about every clue these clothes could offer him. Had there been a house fire? A car accident? A costume party gone wrong? He'd never figured it out, and yet couldn't stop trying.

Al folded the clothes carefully and placed them in the bottom of the pack before looking under the floorboard once more. There was one more thing, a small golden orb, barely the size of a walnut. It was light, with intricate designs and grooves that gave the impression it could be opened, though Al had never figured out how. No matter how many nights he stayed up pondering the golden trinket, he could never quite figure it out. But it was in his pockets the night he was found. It was a piece of his past. One of the only clues he had.

Al pocketed the orb, snapped his bag shut, and walked down to Mrs. Radford's office.

"Al, come in," she greeted stiffly, not looking up from the paperwork she filled out at her desk. Al took two steps into the room and waited. After a moment, Mrs. Radford finished her form. She folded it, placed it into an envelope, and finally looked up at Al, holding it out to him. "I've got you a job at the fish market and the number of a man who will give you room and board."

Al took the papers from her and looked them over.

"How am I supposed to get there?"

"There's a bus ticket inside. Walk until you reach the fork in the road, then make a left. That'll get you to where you need to be."

Al put the papers into his bag, then waited. Mrs. Radford moved on to another stack of papers. She then picked up her phone and dialed a number. While the phone rang she glanced up, and seemed surprised to see Al still standing there.

"You're dismissed," she said, before engaging in her call.

Al shrugged his shoulders and walked out of her office, heading straight for the exit. He wasn't sure what he expected, certainly not a tearful goodbye. They were both equally happy to see him leave, he was sure. But as he pulled open the front door and walked out into the chilly Autumn morning, he felt his heart race a little, and tears prick his eyes. He shrugged it off as a side effect of the cold as he walked down the road. But that wasn't true. It wasn't that he had anything halfway resembling affection towards the orphanage or Mrs. Radford. He'd just hoped that for once someone would have wished him a happy birthday.

Lily Luna Potter sat in a chair, looking sadly at the girl with the bright Weasley hair who lay motionless in the bed. Rose Weasley had been in a coma for seven years, and every day for those seven years Lily started her day by stopping by her room for a visit. When she had been little, it was always to check to see if her cousin had woken up yet, but as weeks turned to months turned to years, her daily hope had instead evolved into a ritual. Some days she just said a quick hello before rushing off to meet her hay. Some days she had more time and would talk about her homeschooling, her family, or her pet cat Magnus. Some days she would curl up next to her cousin on the bed and cry until she ran out of tears. And some days she did nothing at all, only watched the gentle rise and fall of the older girl's chest beneath enchanted blankets that self-cleaned and adjusted to the perfect temperature so that Rose would never need to be disturbed. Today seemed to be shaping up to be one of those days, until she felt a large, strong hand on her shoulder.

Lily looked up to see her Uncle Ron smiling sadly at her. He gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze before taking a seat in a chair next to her, holding a plate of scones.

"Had breakfast yet, Lily?"

In response, Lily took one of the scones and bit into it. Apples and spice, Aunt Hermione's favorite.

"Is Aunt Hermione coming back from France today?"

"She was going to, but apparently Hugo became enamored with some Muggle art museum, so they're staying an extra weekend to do some sightseeing."

"Figures. He always liked the snooty stuff like that." Lily smirked, an old memory returning to her. "Remember when we went shopping for Rose and Albus' first year at Hogwarts and we lost Hugo halfway through the day?"

Ron laughed, "We searched for him for hours. And to think we find him in Muggle London, talking to some bloke with a guitar about 'veganism?'" Ron wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, the things he tried to get Hermione to make for dinner the next week. It was like a Potions Class accident."

"I remember that. Luckily Rose put an end to it by charming all the Tofu into talking. Suddenly all the meatless food wouldn't shut up about their hopes and dreams and families."

"Absolutely brilliant, Rose was. Getting us all out of trouble before she'd even started her first year."

"I'm pretty sure Teddy helped her out with that spell, but yeah, she made it happen."

"I'm glad she inherited my good sense of priorities and her mother's brilliance, as opposed to the other way around." Ron's grin developed a sad twinge in the corner of his mouth as he reached out and stroked Rose's hair. Lily felt the lightness of the moment leaving her too.

Rose had once had so much potential as a witch. She should have been head girl, graduated at the top of her class, working for the Ministry of Magic by now. Instead she was resigned to this bed, for the rest of her life as far as anyone could tell. But at least she was here. Unlike Albus and James…

Ron must have been able to read Lily's thoughts, because he wrapped an arm around his niece, pulled her close, and kissed the top of her head.

"Have you seen your Dad yet today?" he asked.

Lily shook her head. "I wanted to say hi to Rose first."

"I'm sure Rose appreciates you looking out for her, and I know I do. But I think your Dad needs you more today. Rose will still be here tomorrow."

"Will she though?" Lily looked up at Ron. "It seems like hardly anyone stays anymore. My brothers are gone. Teddy spends more time doing correspondence overseas than he does here. Even Hugo is trying to go to Beauxbatons! Soon I'll be the only one left!"

"Oh Lily," Ron sighed. "I'm rubbish at this sort of emotional thing, but I mean it when I say your family will always be here for you. Rose, Hugo, me and Hermione, your parents. Even your brothers in a way."

"Do you think Albus is still out there?" Lily asked simply. One thing she loved about Ron was that he never treated her like a child. He talked to her like a person. And to Ron's credit, he didn't hesitate in his answer, which Lily appreciated immensely.

"I do."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I think he's alive because you and your Dad and your Mum haven't lost hope. And if he really was dead, if he was gone, I think we'd all feel it. We would know the world was missing our Albus Potter."

"If he is alive, it's been seven years. I figure he'd have come home by now if he was going to."

"He'll make his way back, I'm sure. Especially now that your dad's asking the whole wizarding community for help. If he can't do it himself, I'm sure someone out there can help bring him back to his family."

Lily nodded, big goodbye to Rose and Ron, then left to find her father, all the way wondering if there was truly someone out there who could bring her brother back.

Lily knocked on her Dad's office door before walking in. As expected, she found him not at his desk, but laying on the floor with his feet propped up above him on the edge of the couch, a position the family had affectionately come to call the "Potter Meditative State." Lily got onto her back next to her father, propped her feet up on the couch, and they sat there in comfortable silence for a long while.

"Your Mother will be waiting for you for lessons," Harry finally said softly.

"And I suppose you have a lot of work to do," Lily replied. Still, neither of them moved.

Lily glanced around the room, lopsided in her vision. The study, normally neat and simple was covered in letters and owl feathers. Dozens… no, hundreds of replies to the search for Albus and her father left to filter through them all.

"It's his birthday today," Lily whispered.

Harry nodded. Of course he knew. They all knew.

"Do you think he knows?" Lily asked, sitting up. "That we're thinking of him, remember him?"

"I don't know," Harry replied simply. "I sure hope so."

"Ron thinks we'll find him."

Harry laughed lightly in response. "Ron is quite the optimistic man, considering he's trashed more fake letters from this pile than I have."

"Only one needs to be real, though. Just one." Lily leaned over looked straight down at her Dad who still lay on the floor. "I could help you look, when I'm done with school work. Three of us looking at the same time will be so much faster."

"It's much harder than it looks, Lily."

"What am I going to do, suffer from papercuts?"

"I meant on the heart," Harry grunted, also sitting up. Lily noticed how tired he looked. How old. He would waste away in this pile of letters if he had his own way.

Lily took Harry's hand and pulled him to his feet. "Let's go find Mum," she said. "I think we'd be better off if we were all together."

Harry smiled, kissed her on top her head, and ruffled her hair, much to Lily's dismay.

"Dad, no! I'm the only one who didn't inherit your awful hair and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Okay, okay," Harry laughed. "Let's go."

As they exited the room, and walked the hall, Lily looked out the window towards to open countryside, the lights of the nearest village miles away. She imagined Albus there somewhere, walking the street alone, no idea that she was right at home, waiting for him. If she could only reach him. She just wanted him to know she was there.

Lily broke away from her father's protective arm and stormed to the window, throwing it open, a cold wind smacking her in the face.

"Lily, what are you-"

"ALBUS!" Lily called at the top of her lungs. She leaned out the window, staring at the horizon, begging the sky to carry her voice. "ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER! IF YOU CAN HEAR ME… I LOVE YOU! OKAY? ALL OF US, WE'RE WAITING FOR YOU!"

Tears stung the corners of her eyes, from the wind or from emotion she didn't know. She took a deep breath and shouted one last time, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ALBUS!"

She felt her father wrap his arms around her, and Lily leaned into his chest, letting him cry into her shoulder. She had to be strong. She had to find a way to bring Albus home, to make sure he never celebrated another birthday alone, would never be without those who loved him ever again.

A/N: That's all for now. I look forward to hearing your thoughts, and any feedback is welcome. What's nice about Next Gen is we have very little cannon about these characters, even without the AU, so I'm interested in what y'all think about everyone and the setup.

See you in 2020 for the next chapter! Haha.