Disclaimer: Everything related to Harry Potter is property of J.K Rowling, including the characters and places. I do not own anything. Everything presented here is just for fun!

Note: Please let me know if you find grammar errors or otherwise!

Note2: See what I did there with the chapter name? CoS Anyone?

Chapter 4

The Worst Birthday

As November approached, Albus became steadily more and more nervous. The first Quidditch match was to be Slytherin against Gryffindor, and it was scheduled exactly the same day as Albus' birthday, the first Saturday of November.
The day before the Quidditch match Albus was already a wreck. He'd put so much pressure upon himself that he ended up having more than couple of panic attacks throughout the day.
Later that day he decided to go to the Great Hall to have some dinner before going to sleep. He wanted to have an early night so he could do well on tomorrows match, although he didn't feel hungry at all. He sat beside Tom at the Slytherin table.

"Looking a bit pale, eh Al?"

"I'm Freaking. Out, Tom." Albus replied, emphasizing every single word. He picked up a toast and put it in his mouth without really wanting to.

"Ah! What're you going on about? You'll do fine, you're the best chaser in Hogwarts, everyone knows that. And Gryffindor's Keeper is James, so that's surely an advantage. Don't worry!" said Tom, patting him gently on the shoulder.

Just then he saw James approaching the table quickly, with the Scamander twins walking by his side. The three Gryffindors sat at the Slytherin table across from Albus and Tom.

"HAPPY BIRTHDA-" James started to sing very loudly, with a grin on his face and waving his hands as if he were conducting a full orchestra.

"SHUT UP! It's not my birthday yet!" hissed Albus through gritted teeth. Some faces had turned around to watch him.

"Oh sorry, my bad!" said James. "I'm just so excited for tomorrow I can barely wait, little bro." He looked extremely relaxed and good-tempered. "So much to expect. Your birthday, the Quidditch match...by the way, don't worry about the match, eh Al? I've already Owled dad and he said he's definitely buying us the tickets anyway, so no pressure."

Albus's face twisted into a scowl.

"I don't want dad's tickets! I'm gonna win the match, and the Quidditch cup!" he said, dropping the toast. The words coming out sharper than intended.

"Wow, Al, don't flip out on me. I ain't done anything, I was just saying that—"

"No, I don't want the tickets if I can't earn them for myself, so forget it James."

James looked confused. He couldn't understand why Albus was so keen on winning the match. It didn't make sense to him.

"Why do you even care so much." he asked absently, his eyes slits and his tone dry.

"Why is everyone asking me the same question?! I just happen to have objectives in life and—"

"BOOORING." cut out James, before Albus could say another word. "Listen, I'm not gonna let you win just because otherwise you won't go to the World Cup. So good luck tomorrow, but don't expect too much." He grabbed Albus' cheek just to tease him, but Albus quickly yanked his face away.

"Wait 'till you see my birthday present tomorrow, Al. You'll love it!" said James, still in good spirits, and with that he turned away and walked out of the Great Hall, whistling the birthday tune.

Lorcan and Lysander stayed at the Slytherin table, keeping Albus company.

"You'll cheer for me tomorrow, won't you?" Albus asked, hopeful.

"Are you mental? We're Gryffindors, we can't publicly support a Slytherin!" replied Lorcan, making it sound incredibly matter-of-factly.

"Wow, thanks mate," said Albus sarcastically. He wasn't hungry at all, so he decided to just go to bed and be done with it. He said goodbye to the twins and Tom, and hurried back to the Slytherin common room.

The next morning dawned incredibly cold. But at least there wasn't a sign of rain. Albus woke up from an unsettling dream and stayed with his eyes open looking at the tester for a couple of minutes. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the huge pile of presents stacked at the foot of his bed. He always was the first to wake up in the morning, so he had time to go through his presents before going for breakfast. He tried not to think about the Quidditch match that was coming while he opened up the packages one by one. He received a lot of candy; books from Rose and other relatives; a complete broomstick care kit from his parents, and a parcel that contained an unhealthy amount of chocolate along with a letter that shamelessly read:

Happy Birthday, Albus Severus Potter!
Yours Truly,
The Daily Prophet
Always a supporter of you and your family.

Albus rolled his eyes. Obviously the Daily Prophet was trying to get on his father's good side by stuffing his son with chocolate.
There was only one parcel left, and Albus knew it was from James.

"So no presents from Emily", he thought absently as he sighed loudly, preparing to open James' present.

"Oh dear, here we go..." he whispered to himself, and held his breath as he grabbed the package and put it over his crossed legs, but the moment he touched the parcel, it exploded in a gigantic cloud of dark green smoke, making a deafening exploding sound while the dark, dense smoke expanded to every corner of the room. The five other boys in the room woke up with a start, bolting upwards. And in a matter of seconds the entire dormitory was covered with the dark smoke, like a house on fire.

"What the fuck?" Tom shouted from his bed, trying to make sense of what was happening. Nobody could see anything, the smoke was far too dense. From somewhere in the room Tom could make out Albus' silhouette moving his arms frantically to dissipate the fog.

"FUCKING JAMES!" shouted Albus, coughing while he extended his arms over every hard surface trying to grab his wand.

"Oh. That makes sense..." reasoned Tom, realising that it had probably been James' present.

Everyone knew that James loved playing pranks on everybody.
Albus finally found his wand lying on the bedside table.

"Finite Incantatem" he said, making a sweeping motion with his wand, and an instant later the fog in the room dissipated completely.

The six boys in the room looked at each other with faces of extreme disconcert, each one sitting in their respective beds, until suddenly Tom started laughing. It began as a contained snort, but started building up and grew stronger as Andrew and Henric joined him, their perplex faces quickly giving way to a smile, until they finally started to laugh as loud as Tom. Albus' anger started becoming amusement, and finally he gave up and started laughing too. Scorpius didn't really understand what was so funny about it, but the other guys' laughter made him chuckle too, and as he joined, the laughter of the rest grew stronger still.

It was a good way of starting the morning, and in a bizarre kind of way Albus thanked James the relief and good moments his present had given him before the match.
After the birthday greetings, putting on his Quidditch robes, and having a quick breakfast, Albus was now in the middle of the pitch with all the other players from Gryffindor and Slytherin, and Madame Hootch. The day was still cold and extremely windy, and the stadium was packed with cheering students, staff, and some Hogsmeade people who came to see the first match of the season. Albus' heart was beating quickly, adrenaline rushing through his veins. He concentrated, focusing on his goal, and as soon as he heard the whistle he shot through the air in a desperate attempt to get hold of the Quaffle. The match had begun.

"And the first match of the season begins!" Lorcan Scamander's voice roared through the speakers, the audience used to him being the official Quidditch matches commentator.

"–And Gryffindor is in possession, Chaser Lee speeding, he's getting too near Slytherin's chaser Hemis, but delivers a perfect reverse pass to Dinna Bones. And she goes—goes, dodges the Bludger, here she comes, C'mon Dinna, aaand—" The audience held their breath. "—Gryffindor Scores!"

Albus could hear the cheering of the crowd in the background, avoiding Bludgers while trying to gain possession of the Quaffle.

Suddenly 10 minutes had already gone by and Slytherin was winning 40 to 20, with Albus flying towards the goalposts once again.

"–Young Potter speeds up. Wow, that's what I call acceleration, he's making a spectacle here–"

Albus didn't hear a word Lorcan said, trying to gain as much speed as possible. he dodged Dinna Bones and went straight for the goalpost, leaning forward to gain more speed. He felt the wind hurting his face and absently registered a Bludger heading towards him from behind. He was far enough to be able to throw and then dodge it, but he saw his brother with his eyes wide open making stop signs with his hands. He couldn't hear what he was saying because he still was too far and approaching quickly. James left his keeper position and started speeding towards Albus, apparently to meet him halfway, still trying to make Albus stop. But Albus wasn't stopping; he was going far too fast to stop now, he ignored his brother approaching and lifted his arm with the Quaffle, aiming at one of the hoops...

"ALBUS, NO!" He heard James' voice piercing the air. And a split second after, he felt something hit him on the side with the strength of a speeding truck. He felt his ribs breaking. The speed made him fly through the air like a ragged doll, and the last thing he felt was his head collide against one of Gryffindor hoops. Everything went black, and he felt his body falling from up high as he lost conscience.

When Albus regained conscience he was surrounded by darkness, and he could hear distant voices approaching through hazy blackness. He slowly started regaining awareness of his surroundings, as well as the unbearable pain on his whole body, specially his head and below his right arm.

"Shut up, will you? I'm trying to think!"

"But what if he doesn't?"

"SHUT UP!"

He realised he had his eyes closed, and slowly tried to open them. The darkness became a blur of faces staring down at him, finally defining themselves into familiar people.

James was the closest to him, almost on top, looking extremely worried. The moment Albus opened his eyes, James' expression changed completely into relief; the change so dramatic that he almost looked like another person altogether.

"Oh Thank–" he stopped himself abruptly. "–Don't you EVER do that to me again Al, you hear me? I've almost gone mental waiting for you to wake up. Look at me! Look at this beard!" James raised a finger pointing towards his chin. "Look at this white beard. I'm old, Al. I became old waiting for you to wake up! What would I say to mom and dad?" Albus just blinked twice, which apparently James mistook for disdain. "Oh! Oh, you think I won't tell them? I'll tell them you wouldn't listen to me, I told you to stop! What were you even—"

Albus could barely understand what James was talking about, so he was grateful when Lysander interrupted him.

"Will you shut your mouth already? He doesn't want to hear it. He almost died back there, let the poor man rest, you'll make his brain go all fuzzy!"

"How long have I been unconscious?" whispered Albus. He was going for a casual tone, but his voice had apparently left him. He looked around and realised he was in the Hospital wing. He tried to remember everything that had happened.

"'bout six hours, perhaps a bit more." replied Lysander, biting the side of his lower lip.

"Took your bloody time, innit?" James' voice rose again. "I bet you did it just to see me go psychomentalcrazy waiting here to see if you were still alive." he finished. His face was a confusing mixture of relief and anger.

"Don't be daft, James, we're lucky he came back so soon. You were bleeding like mad, Al. We really thought we'd lost you for good this time."

The memories of the match returned to him in a blur, but he could recall the Bludger behind him, his brother screaming, and banging his head against the Gryffindor goalpost.

"What happened with the match?" he asked suddenly, trying to sit, but failing miserably. His whole body ached too much.

"We won" replied Lysander.

"We won?"

"Not you, idiot. We," James made a circle gesture with his finger to signal Lysander and himself, "Gryffindors, won." he finished, still in a foul mood.

"What? How?" Albus felt the pain in his body intensify tenfold.

"I don't know, do I? I had to bring you back here to the Hospital, sign the papers for the coffin. What the hell were you thinking? Did you even see the Bludger flying towards you?"

"I just...wanted to score." Albus whispered absently, the news of the match result sinking in painfully. He didn't know why he hadn't stopped. He was so caught up in the moment, that perhaps the excitement took the best of his judgement.

"You just wanted to Score!? You just wanted to—what the hell is the matter with you Al!"

James words were drowned at the sight of Madame Pomfrey, who reappeared looking happy as she saw Albus awake.

"Oh what a relief. Thank Merlin you woke up. Everyone please leave, the boy needs medication and I need to do some examinations."

"Yeah, I better be going, before I kill him myself." muttered James, turning around while grabbing his hair, wanting to pull it off. "I'll owl dad tonight, and I'll tell him about this. And I'll use big, dramatic words. I'll look them up in the dictionary..." his voice got lost as he started walking out of the room with Lysander behind him.

"He's been here the whole time waiting for you to wake up. He was looking very distressed a moment ago." said Madame Pomfrey, pouring Skele-Gro into a vase. "He's a torture to have around, your brother, but his heart's in the right place. Alright, bottoms up."

Albus drank the liquid, feeling as it burned his throat. He was used to drinking Skele-Gro, product of several injuries playing Quidditch.

The day was starting to get darker, so after a quick meal delivered to him, he got himself as comfortable as he could, and closed his eyes. He still felt sick from knowing that they had lost, and felt the chances of winning the house cup quickly slipping away.
He sighed heavily, and tried to sleep away this terrible, terrible day.
He barely slept at all, caught in nightmares one after the other, his body aching at every move, desperately wishing for the sun to rise outside the window. He knew his body would hurt all over during the night because the potion was mending the bones, but somehow everything felt the same. The injured areas seemed unaffected, and as dawn approached, he started getting more and more convinced that the potion wasn't working.

When Madame Pomfrey reappeared the following morning and noticed that there hadn't been any changes, she waved her wand all over Albus, pointing at different regions of his body while muttering complicated spells. Finally, she put her want back in her pocket and and sighed heavily.

"I'm afraid I've got some bad news, Potter." she sighed, looking at him with sad, sympathetic eyes.