Sorry for the long wait but RL was keeping me busy. Let's just say I'm back and happy to write again.
For all those who asked, no, Al's project will not be a chapter in this story, perhaps an excerpt or two, but not nearly the whole thing.
When I imagine it in my mind, Al's project has the thickness of a complete book, little overachiever that he is.
The story is not about the project itself but about the how, the why and the reactions.
I know a few of you are enamored with the idea, but this is not what this is about.
If somebody wants to write the project: Just tell me were to dump the whole concept sitting in my mind and you can write it. I would be happy to read it.
Imagine a room full of people in black cloaks and silver masks.
Imagine a thin man with scaly skin and red eyes looking at you. Knowing that he can read your very thoughts. Imagine yourself not believing, knowing one idea of your real thoughts will bring you a very slow and painful death.
The Death Eaters.
Now imagine a room full of people glaring, despising and hating you. Knowing they don't care one iota about your life or the danger your facing on a daily basis.
Knowing not one of them believe you about anything, they don't give you information you need or lie and make your work harder just because they can.
The Order of the Phoenix.
And now tell me how long you could have worked like that.
Albus sighed and looked over the books.
He had needed something about his own father. The relationship between Severus Snape and Harry Potter was not something he could leave out on in his project, even if he never wanted to do something like that.
It would be incomplete without the part and Albus hated not doing his best.
Just for this he read something about his own father.
He remembered it from before, James was always sitting on the edge of his bed when uncle Ron was talking of the past and about their Hogwarts years.
James laughed about the runs to Hogsmead in the night and the things they did in class, or the pranks of uncle George and his dead twin.
And Albus were in his bed and just thought how stupid, ignorant and imbecilic they had been, bringing themselves in danger over a bit of chocolate or a butterbeer from the kitchens.
His small narration was not really something that one would expect of the son of Harry Potter but at least Albus was honest.
Fact was: Harry Potter didn't really have any rules to follow in school, everything was different when it was about him.
He shouldn't have been able to get into NEWTs Potions class, and he never would have managed the class on his own, being a mediocre brewer. If he were anybody else Auror training would never have been attainable.
And he never finished his NEWTs. Yes, in the last year of his schooling was the war, but enough people went back after the war to get their NEWTs, like aunt Hermione.
Albus smiled lightly. When he gave his project to Binns James would hate him. His brother glorified their father and Albus writing something critical would be like blasphemy for him.
His father would understand him or would at least accept his position. And his mother wouldn't be happy but she wanted her children to have an opinion for themselves.
A little sigh.
He could already imagine the loud and vocal reactions of Uncle Ron and grandmother Molly…
The resolve to write exactly what he thought and not what was expected of him had been strengthened by something Madam LeCroix had said when he talked to her about it.
"This war was just a violent disagreement in opinions. And about the right to have different opinions."
If you defined the Voldemort wars like that, or wars in general coming to think of it, then it was his duty to offer a different perspective.
A small grin. It would be interesting to see what Binns would think of his work.
