[A small town outside of London, Potter Residence]

Albus Potter lay sprawled across a red leather chaise lounge in a sunny corner of the Potter's large home library.

Given the strong association of their family with Gryffindor house, many of the decorations were colored to match those of the Gryffindor common room. Albus, a Slytherin, had insisted that a green armchair be added so that he could show his house pride as well. Although, now that it was there, he hardly used it. Could he help it if the red chaise lounge was the comfiest one in the library?

The room connected through the back of the home office, and had been clearly added on in segments with bookshelves and chairs, lamps and ladders all of mismatching styles.

Across his lap lay an old tome with lots of scribbling in the margins and on the window ledge by him was a tall goblet of Madame Squash's pumpkin soda.

"Albuuuuuuuuuus." his mother's voice pierced the walls and echoed through the homestead with a gusto that could only be expected from a daughter of grandma Molly.

Albus calmly set his book aside near his beverage and rubbed his eyes, foggy from hours of poring over the newest arrivals in the library. Albus had been a prolific reader from the time he'd learned to sound out his first words. Although he read indiscriminately, from Witch Weekly to old arithmancy reference books, his favorite were histories and novels, anything with a story!

Ginny's head whipped around the corner of the doorframe "Albus, go outside. You've only got a few more days left in summer vacation." she insisted. "Trust me you'll be complaining about your readings in two week's time."

"Yes mother." Albus said, standing from his reading nook and scurrying past his mother and out

the door.

"And no books, you should play with your brother!" Ginny huffed. One boy wouldn't read a thing and the other wouldn't stop!

Outside the sun was blazing and unrelenting. Albus quickly shed his sweater in favor of the lighter t-shirt underneath.

"Albus, come on we need a seeker!" James' voice called across the large front yard. He was hovering a few feet above the ground on his broomstick. Behind him some friends from Hogwarts who lived in the area were already passing a quaffle around, Teddy Lupin amongst them as usual.

The Potters lived on the outskirts of town and had charmed their property for appropriate discretion amongst the muggles who shared their town. It was the family's love for quidditch which had driven the Potters to find a larger property in a small town.

"Not likely!" Albus called back. "That snitch is getting old, last time we played it ended up two cities over!"

Albus set off toward the back of the house. "Ah whatever. Slyther away Albus!" James taunted from where he hovered.

"Stupid James." Albus huffed, looking up the side of the house to the third story window ledge of the library. His head swiveled for a moment, checking to be sure he was alone, then reached for a pipe running along the back of the house. He clambered up onto it, taking a moment to find his balance, then reaching out to grab a hand-hold where an old brick had fallen out of its mortar. Albus scrambled in this fashion up the side of the house until he was able to pull himself up by the window.

He stood on his tippy-toes on the window ledge of a second story room to peer into the library. Looking behind him, he gulped "I should have just used a broom…" he said. Determined not to stop now, Albus extended his reach and felt his fingers touch the book he had deliberately set by the window. He reached in and secured the tome, holding it close to his chest. Using one hand he tucked his shirt into his pants and stored the book inside his shirt, a sort of makeshift pouch.

He was about to climb down when the sun glinted off the side of something orange. Albus' pumpkin soda.

He licked his lips in determination and hoisted himself up by his arms, his feet now dangling. Quickly, he reached out to snatch the goblet from where it was resting. He carefully lowered himself back down, attempting to keep one hand on the goblet. As his toes touched the window ledge he had been standing on, one of them slipped and Albus lost his footing.

His arms flailed as he tumbled backwards, head over heels, down the side of their house. Miraculously, he landed squarely on his feet, and then fell over onto his bum. He was covered in spilled pumpkin soda, but looked rather pleased with himself otherwise. He stood up and brushed the grass from his pants, untucking his shirt and heading toward the treeline in the backyard with his book in hand.

The Potter's home was built adjacent to a several-acre wooded area. While James and Lily loved to zoom around the house on their broomsticks, Albus greatly preferred the cool shade and interesting plants and animals of the woods.

Albus walked a familiar path winding through increasingly thick trees and shrubbery. All the while he licked the sticky pumpkin drink from his hands and forearms.

After ten or so minutes, he found the small stream that ran through the woods. A small clearing wreathed this particular stretch of the stream, and on the other side of the water a small makeshift hideout was constructed in the low branches of a tree.

Albus hummed to himself as he pulled his shirt and pants off, testing the water of the stream. It was cold! He set his clothes aside and put the book beside them. Then, gathering himself, he splashed into the stream and stuck his head down between his legs to wet his hair, washing the soda from it. He rinsed his shirt and wrung it out, then his pants, hanging them over a tree branch to dry for the time being.

Then, in naught but his soaked boxers, he climbed up into his tree fort. The fort was constructed of branches tied together with vines and pieces of string all perched precariously in an old oak.

Albus opened his book, picking back up from where he left off. He chuckled at the comments written in the margins. At first glance they might have indicated how loved the book had been, but upon closer inspection it became clear that the book had belonged to his uncle Ron. Ronald had apparently found this subject less engaging than his nephew did.

It was in this way that Albus most liked to pass a lazy summer afternoon. As the hours grew the shadows of the trees, Albus got lost in the book's pages until he was surprised by the last page-turn.

He sighed and set the book aside, awash in the unique ennui that came after finishing a book and before starting the next.

Albus slid out of the tree branches carefully, his bare feet hitting the dirt. The boy walked to the bank of the stream, squishing his toes in the satisfying mud. He washed his feet off in the water and kicked sat on a rock beside the stream to kick them dry.

A cool breeze blew through the trees suddenly, making Albus shiver. The wind was remarkably cold considering the heat of the late summer day.

Albus hurried to where his clothes had been drying for the past few hours. Still damp. Making a face, he slid into his shirt and trousers with their sticky-cool wetness. He was reaching into his tree fort when he heard it.

Borne on another chilling zephyr, he could swear he heard his name.

Potter…

The voice had a familiar lilt to it.

Potter!

The voice was angrier now. Had one of the townspeople from the community chanced upon him? Was he on a neighbor's property? He didn't think he'd wandered that far to build his fort!

Albus turned around quickly, pulling his wand from the book where it had been serving as a bookmark. Nothing. Nobody. He was utterly alone in the clearing.

The boy. The boy who lived?

The voice sounded like it was right behind him now. Albus started and tripped backwards over his shoes, crying out.

"D-Dad?" he asked. So the voice wasn't calling for him?

As he caught his balance something in the water caught the corner of his eye. He approached the stream cautiously only to see the light dancing on the water in a colorful spectrum.

Albus rubbed his eyes, staring at the same spot again, but by then it was only a plain gurgling stream of water.

The boy's brow knitted, but he knew if he stayed out here he might find himself caught by the setting sun.

Albus made the trek back through the woods in silence, alert now to all the little sounds in the trees and the rustles in the brush. As he broke the treeline he could hear another voice calling out for him.

"I'm here, mum!" he called across the Potter's back yard. Gripping the book and his wand closer to him, he ran across the intervening space and into the warmth of his family's home.