DIFFICULT CHOICES

Harry slammed the letter on his desk. He clasped his hands in front of his mouth and inhaled deeply.

This was madness. Fat lot of rubbish.

For an hour and a half, now, owls had not stop knocking at his window and the mail they brought was making less and less sense.

First a letter from James:

"Dad, we better quickly set up a crisis cell. Al has created a diplomatic incident ..."

James scarcely answered his parents' letters, it was unthinkable that he would write on his own initiative.

Then an envelope with the seal of Hogwarts had arrived.

"Dear Mr. Potter,

I have the regret to inform you that due to recent events, the schooling of your son Albus Severus Potter could be seriously disrupted ..."

Followed by two feet of parchment covered with Neville Longbotom's erratic handwriting.

"Harry, if we had known… we should have foreseen ... should have told him. We could not imagine it would turn out like this, but it would not have been too late if ..."

That sounded like the bitter words a very old man had said, years ago, in a room only lit by the fireplace.

"If I had known ... I did not think ... I should have explained at this point ... I did not have the courage to tell you at the time ..."

Adult apologies to a child who did not know grown-ups had marked his past and decided of his future.

Harry swallowed hard.

Memos revolved around his desk lamp like moths. Earlier, Ginny had burst into his office with a letter from Lily.

- "HARRY, WHAT DID YOU DO TO ALBUS THAT DAY? WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SON?"

Her eyes were furious, disappointed, betrayed, anguished. She was hysterical and he did not know what to say. Now that she was gone - he hoped she would be a little calmer when he'd go home - he tried to find rational explanations.

Yes, he was wrong, because he had kept quiet for such a long time and still was.

Yes, he deserved that look.

The one he had deliberately chosen to avoid by not telling her anything.

But how to tell her the decision taken at the top of the snowy mountain ... Charlie's story and what Neville had seen...?

Ginny was Albus' mother. A mum would have never believed the dragon. She would have ... yes, like Lily once - surely - she would have rather died instead of her child.

"Sometimes I woke up suddenly at night and I heard Charlie's voice:" Harry is going to kill Albus, Neville " and I wondered... I really wondered if everything had been over that day. And now I know it wasn't over. We should have known, Harry. He wasn't going to give us Albus' life without something in return... "

Neville's sentences overlapped on the parchment, tight and black and distraught.

Harry closed his eyes.

That day, though, I took the right decision. I made the right choice...

Someone quietly knocked on the door and he looked up.

- "Come in", he called wearily.

Kingsley Shacklebolt popped his head inside.

- "Harry? Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Harry rose mechanically and offered the minister of magic the velvet armchair beside the small table.

- "I think it is necessary", he whispered.

The wizard shook his turbaned head, his eyes staring at the envelopes piled up on the desk.

- "I see you've received just as much mail as I did in the last half hour ..."

- "I'm sorry ..." muttered Potter, taking off his glasses to wipe them with his sleeve, like a schoolboy.

Shacklebolt smiled.

- "If this had not reached the ears of journalists, I would have given you some time. But now I really need to know your own version of this story."

He sat back in the armchair, joined his hands on his chest and his quiet brown eyes gazed at the young man who sat across him, still as slim as he was when they had met the first time.

- "Explain why you're accused of casting an Unforgivable Curse on your own son and how it is that the rumors spread from Hogwarts."

Harry sighed for the umpteenth time.

It was the story of his life.

Explain, always explain.

All eyes on him.

Being branded a monster by those he loved most.

And protecting dark secrets in order for the light to keep shining over the world.

oOoOoOo

Terrence had followed the house elf a little reluctantly at first.

"The young Mister Malfoy asked Fetloack to take you there, sir, but Fetloack thinks - oh, oh oh - it is not a place for an elf let alone a wizard ... the… it's ... Fetloack is honored coz he has seen Him - yes, yes, yes - but he would not like to be seen, Mr. Swanson - oh, that, no, for sure. It would not be proper. It would be too much."

The boy had wondered what could put the small gray creature in such a fretful state.

Then the elf had mentioned how he worried about the "young master", wringing his skinny hands and Terrence had picked him up and started to run.

The house elves rarely showed themselves to the students and even though Fetloack had decided to give a hand to Scorpius, it remained very unexpected. But they loved Albus and gave him all sorts of titles, vying for his attention.

There were tons of "young misters", but there was one young master at Hogwarts - and he didn't fancy much to be called like this.

Terrence had climbed the stairs leading to the gallery four at once, the elf tucked under his arm.

- "F-f-fe-e-et-lo-o-oack w-w-would l-l-like t-t-to b-b-be p-p-ut d-d-down!"

The double door was closed and Terrence hurled himself against it, hammering it with his fists.

- "Scorpius! Malfoy, I know you're in here! Open up! Albus! Malfoy, get your arse here and open up!"

He had quieted down when words had appeared on the wooden doors, in ephemeral magic letters.

"Shut up. I'll open. Count to ten and make sure you're as CALM as you can get."

Next to him, the elf who had rolled on the tiles when he had been released from the arm lock, had gotten up and started on carefully smoothing back to normal his parabolic ears.

- "Fetloack. What are they doing in there? What happened?"

The bulging eyes of the creature had stared owlishly at him.

- "The young Mr. Malfoy ..."

- "Fetloack!" Terrence had shouted impatiently.

In response, the elf had fled down the stairs, squealing, instead of disappearing in a snap of fingers.

And now the teenager understood better why he had acted so hyper.

He turned to Scorpius and did not have to speak.

- "It just happened like that, I did nothing", retorted the blonde. "I was losing it and then suddenly the bloke in the portrait – the one at the end of the line, with the big nose – came back in his painting with an elf that was completely nuts and wouldn't shut up. I didn't know what to do, I thought ... that if someone was going to get you, you'd know."

- "An elf?" Terrence finally repeated hoarsely. "Who was speaking? In the gallery?"

Scorpius nodded, frowning, lighting the candles on the chandelier above them with his wand that trembled a little.

- "Yes. Dolly, or Bob, I dunno, a name like that. Anyway, apparently there's a picture of him somewhere in the castle and the elves know him well. Well, he died, but - rah, I don't care, all I know is he offered to send one of his mates to get you and that was okay by me because I couldn't see how I'd left him on his own in here!"

The voice of the blond boy had gone high-pitched at the end of his sentence and Terrence quickly put his hand on his arm.

- "He's looking at us", he whispered.

- "That's what he's been doing for the last half hour", Scorpius scowled back. "Do something, Swanson. He's your best friend. You got to have a way to get through to him."

Terrence swallowed hard.

- "Problem is… I'm not quite sure he still knows who we are... He seems completely lost."

On the painting at the end of the gallery, the pale man in a black high collar was watching them, as if waiting to see how the teenager was going to handle the challenge.

Terrence clenched his fists.

Don't be scared. Don't look for explanations at the moment. If Al's in there, somewhere, he must be terrified. Help him. Go get him, don't be a big baby.

He closed his eyes then opened them again.

I can do it. He's my best friend. He's waiting for me - he trusts me.

He straightened up and smiled feebly.

- "Hey", he called softly.

He reached out and took a step forward.

I'm okay. I'm not six anymore. I can do it. I can face my fear.

Except that even a perfectly executed "Riddikulus" was not likely to solve the problem.

Scorpius gasped.

In the darkness, the candlelight glinted in the green eyes of the dragon, like small golden hot sparks.

His ears folded back, the creature carefully watched as Terrence approached. His massive shoulders rolled back and his spine arched. His long jet black wings unfurled and his ace of spades-shaped tail swiftly swept the carpet.

- "Be careful ..." breathed Malfoy to whom the motion reminded of an angry cat.

- "Hi there ..." Terrence murmured, trying to push to the back of his mind the image of the fire-breathing lizard who had appeared before him during DADA class.

I mean you no harm ... I just want to know if you're Al...

His fingers were almost touching the black satin muzzle.

Please, don't hurt him... give me back my best friend…

The dragon snorted and suddenly sneezed.

He took a small step back, startled by the sound he had produced and stumbled on one of his wings. He tumbled back and his confused big head bumped against the wall on which were hung the paintings. Several things toppled off the shelves and the fluffy ears of the animal flickered, worried, as he opened his golden split green eyes, sitting up clumsily.

Terrence laughed and Scorpius could not help grinning too.

The dragon tilted his head to the side, looking a little puzzled. He got up smoothly and his whiskers twitched. He stared at the teenager who had just removed his glasses and was cleaning them on his sweater.

The dragon began a cautious groveling approach maneuver along the wall.

- "Malfoy, don't you think he looks a big kitty?"

Scorpius shook his head, never letting his eyes off the animal which was slowly coming closer to Terrence.

- "Be careful, though ... he's bigger than you. If he gets angry, he will have no trouble turning your head into a quaffle."

The other boy grinned.

- "He won't hurt us."

He crouched down and held out his hand again.

- "Come on, boy."

The candlelight gleamed on the shimmering ebony fur of the dragon flattened on the carpet. He wrinkled his nose, blinked as he carefully observed Terrence then crawled towards him, swaying his tail like a happy doggie.

- "You're so ridiculous" giggled the teenager. "Look at you, mate ..."

He let the dragon sniff his fingers and nuzzle in his palm.

- "He likes you, I reckon", breathed Malfoy, a little stunned, still at cautious distance.

Terrence scratched behind one of the fluffy ears and got exactly what he expected: a gleeful purr rose in the throat of the animal.

- "That wasn't so difficult…"

Scorpius shrugged disdainfully.

- I touched him before you - not on purpose at first. But I think I scared him when I started screaming. It was a shock to see that Al had turned into a dragon, see.

The high pitch of his voice made the other boy laugh, but the man in the portrait rolled his eyes.

- "It's not funny, Swanson. Albus looked like he was in horrible pain and everything went black ... it was really scary, I had never felt magic like that - all around me, everywhere."

Terrence went serious. He gazed at the dragon who had his big paws curled under his crop of dark fur and was still purring, eyelids half shut.

- "D'you think he knew he could turn into – this?" Scorpius asked. "He was acting perfectly normal, we just chatting, and then ... it's not something usual, even in the wizarding world! Do you reckon it was because of the ... well. Because of what his father was trying to do to him?"

Terrence did not answer. He was deep in thought, not noticing that his fingers were playing absently with a silky handful of black fur.

The pain and the scar.

A nightmare.

"Dad, no, Daddy, please ..."

The Boggart.

And now this.

He sighed.

- "Don't you have an idea?" Scorpius impatiently prompted. "You're the one with brains, Swanson! If you don't know what to do, who will?"

The dragon opened his eyes and a strange noise rumbled in his throat, like a reproach.

- "What?" snapped back Scorpius who was now sitting on the carpet as well. "I can't believe it... He's a lot more touchy in this form than in the other" he muttered, turning to the other side sulkily.

Terrence grinned again.

In the end, the whole situation was rather comical.

- "Well, I don't think we can handle this alone. We have to tell a teacher. We need help. Al needs help – a grown-up who will understand what's happening."

On the painting, the man with hollow cheeks nodded approvingly.

Professor Longbottom seemed to know something. At first, they could go to him ... And then someone were to ask Harry Potter why his son had this kind of buried memory... perhaps James knew something...

Malfoy frowned.

- "I'm not sure, Swanson. It's ... a magical creature. It's complicated. A lot of people won't be pleased. Albus could be expelled from the school."

Terrence stared at him, confused.

- "What? Why..."

The dragon suddenly sat up. He opened his mouth strangely, gasping as if he was trying to swallow something. His golden split green eyes widened, surprised and a little frightened and his wings puffed up.

- "Did you feed him something?" immediately asked Terrence, rising up in alarm.

Scorpius frantically shook his head, getting up too. He stepped back.

- "No, I was petrified, I told you! You ... d'you think he's going to ... Damn it, Swanson, it's a bloody dragon! If he sets the paintings on fire, it's going to be chaos!"

But the creature's maw did not kindle. He coughed, opened his jaws so big they saw his glottis swinging and crackling off blue sparks, then slouched down, looking pitiful.

- "What's the matter with you, poor ol' fellow?" asked Terrence, a little worried, smoothing one of the black silk wings.

The big golden split green orbs looked up. The dragon put his paw on his muzzle, moaning softly.

Scorpius came closer.

- "What's next?" he muttered.

His fingers were two inches away from Terrence's sweater. He found it hard not to grab it for reassurance.

The other boy pushed up his glasses on his nose. He was about to answer when the dragon began to dissolve into thousands of glittering particles.

The boys raised their arms instinctively to protect themselves from this whirl of black sand.

Then Terrence risked a glance and fell to his knees.

- "Al!"

He cradled the hand lying limp on the carpet. His heart did a loop and then hung back onto its place.

Alive.

Scorpius crouched next to him, his bulging eyes staring at the teenager – unconscious and naked - who was now lying on the floor of the gallery.

- "He's back", he stuttered.

Terrence quickly took off his sweater. He rolled it and put it under his friend's neck, looked around him.

- "Malfoy, get me that tablecloth."

Scorpius moved his wand mechanically.

- "It's there again", he croaked.

- "I know", said Terrence as if it did not matter that the flower-shaped scar was again visible on the unconscious boy's chest.

He wrapped Albus' legs in the heavy damask fabric.

He needed to do something to avoid losing his mind. It was all far too complicated, far too weird, far too much for fourth grade students.

- "Let's call Professor Longbottom", he finally said when he was done tucking the corners of the tablecloth under the cold and motionless body of Albus.

Malfoy was opening his mouth to protest again when he met the glare of the man with the black robes. The portrait was slowly shaking his head.

- "Can you fetch Mrs Abbot?" Terrence asked, not looking at him. "I don't think it's a good idea to carry him in his state..."

He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants.

Okay. Here, you've officially blown up the record of bizarreness, Al.

A DRAGON? You couldn't be any less special, obviously. But what on Earth are you? An animagus?

His friend's face was so pale, like one of a ghost. Terrence's heart sank.

Why? You didn't ask for any of this, I bet... Who did this to you? Who's your father, anyway? Why are we told nothing about him before our 7th year? Is there something really creepy about him?

Malfoy, who had started to get up, grabbed his arm.

- "Hey, he's waking up."

The two boys leaned over Albus who was blinking feebly.

- "You okay?"

Their perfectly synchronized voices echoed in the gallery filled with the candles smoke.

Albus sat up with difficulty, helped by the other two. He ran a hand over his face, cast a puzzled glance around him. His eyes met Scorpius' and he smiled apologetically.

- "Sorry", he breathed. "We were talking... What happened? Did I - faint?"

He stared at the windows onto which clung the night.

- "Is it evening?"

Malfoy nodded silently. Terrence was scanning his friend's face.

- "What do you remember, exactly?"

Albus did not answer right away: he had discovered how he was dressed and obviously it did not make him feel better at all.

- "What happened?" he repeated in a trembling voice.

Scorpius bit his lip.

- "You don't remember?"

His gray eyes were dilated under his white bangs.

Albus' face fell. He turned to Terrence, distraught.

- "What did I do? Why am I naked?"

His friend's blue orbs locked with the emerald panicked eyes.

No. Nothing golden. No trace of the dragon.

- "You did nothing", he said finally. "Don't worry. It's a bit of a long and complicated story, but ... well, I'll explain about your clothes. Later on. But it's nothing serious, trust me. Do you think you can walk? We'll help you to the infirmary. Professor Longbottom looked ready to send an army of Valkyries after you, earlier."

Malfoy glared at him.

" HOW CAN YOU HIDE THIS FROM HIM?"

Albus waved off the hand offered to help him up. He stood up on his own, swayed a bit on his feet.

- "Where is my wand?" he asked curtly.

Scorpius handed it to him without saying anything.

Terrence swallowed hard.

- "You're not going to hex me, are you? Because, just in case you didn't notice, I'm not armed."

Albus grunted something unintelligible that was probably not politically correct, then tapped on the tablecloth, using a spell that neither of the two other boys knew.

The damask fabric assembled itself in the form of pants and Albus breathed in deeply, a bit relieved.

- "What was that?" Terrence asked, fascinated. "Where did you learn that one?"

- "My grandmother used to make clothes for my sister's dolls when we were kids", shortly answered his friend.

- "Can you teach m-"

- "Terrence", cut in Albus firmly.

- "Okay", sighed the blonde. He removed his glasses and wiped them on the corner of his shirt. "I'll tell you the truth, I promise, but not here - not now."

The supper bell rang, echoing in all Hogwarts with perfect timing.

- "Go ahead, I'll make a stop by our bedroom to get a change of clothes", Albus said wearily.

Scorpius shook his head.

- "No", he gritted. He shoved off Terrence who wanted to stop him. "You shouldn't be left alone. What if someone saw you morph again?"

Albus paled. Instinctively he sought the gaze of the portrait at the end of the gallery, as if to hold on to something normal.

- "Morph?"

- "Yes", Malfoy squealed. "In a dragon."

On the painting, the man's lips thinned. He pulled back a strand of dark greasy hair and rushed out of the frame, swinging his sleeves like bat wings.

In a daze, Albus watched him disappear. He was feeling like if he was drowning.

- "In a dragon?" he croaked. "If this is a joke, it's not funny, Scorpius."

- "This is far from being a joke", suddenly said a grim voice from the doorstep of the gallery, startling the three boys.

TO BE CONTINUED

Next chapter: The New Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts