He did not remember Hogwarts very well, which did not keep him from trying his hand at charting it in his first few days at Hogwarts. He had heard many times that his father had a map that was almost live, but wanted to make up his own rather than begging Dad for it, like James did. And, without further ado, Al began doing just that, aided by Amanda Dursley, when she wasn't too busy with her studies (she was taking the OWLs this year), and especially Bertie, his new friend. Well, and also…
"Mr. Potter, what are you engaged in here?" Professor Faust loomed over the boy. Al quickly raised his green eyes at the teacher and smiled. Bertie nudged him under the table; she was a bit wary of the Head of the Gryffindor house.
"Advanced studies, Professor," Al replied, drawing attention of the entire class – Gryffindors and Ravenclaws alike.
"Pardon?" the teacher must have already realized that he had made a mistake, not for the first time, but Al always made it a point to talk to professors calmly and politely, unlike James in his former years here. "And you think that the ordinary studies are of no use to you at this point?"
"I have already read this paragraph, a year ago," Albus answered truthfully: Uncle Severus had been bringing quite a few books into his dreams lately (probably at Grandpa Albus' request), and read them while Albus was working on one potion or another. More often than not Albus could not remember the potion he had brewed (or spilled-blown up-evaporated), but the titles of books that Uncle Severus recited from memory stayed with him and he would look for them later in the attic and read anew. The attic was full of them, carelessly tossed by James, carefully put away by Lily and Rose, indifferently stowed by Hugo. They were about many interesting things: dragons, Grandpa Albus, Dad, and medicinal herbs. The books were many, and at first glance they often looked the same. However, when opened, they were quite different, as though each book had its own soul. And so, Albus spent a lot of time with the books, sorting them into stacks: Rose's, Jim's, Lily's…
Jim's books were always interesting to peruse. They were either brand-new, to the point when they crunchy when opened for the first time or were covered with funny doodles, inscriptions and splotches. For instance, one wizard in a "Hogwarts: the History" illustration was always trying to hide, because Jim bestowed upon him spectacles, a beard, hoofs and a tail. Sometimes, notes would fall out of a book – Al could never decifer one of them: "Tomorrow is the beginning of operation "Mother Theresa"." Al liked the hedgehogs that frequently showed up in James' books. Then there was the letter "V", often meticulously written and outlined many times over, and a funny inscription in a different handwriting: "The hedgehog has been matched."
Rose's textbooks were well-used, but always meticulously repaired, without missing pages, like his brother's, but with a lot of bookmarks and highlights. There was an occasional note, but Albus could never make it out. He liked Rose's books, because he loved Rose and Theo, very much. And handling her books always made him think of Uncle Severus in the Christmas cap that he once put on his head. And Grandpa Albus laughed then, and Uncle Severus almost smiled. But then he was always a grave sort of person, just like Professor Faust…
"And, pray tell, what does this paragraph say?" Al could see that the professor was no longer cross: Faust liked students who studied hard. He just did not like it when students broke the rules or idled, like Alex Broon was doing right now, sitting behind Al and Bertie.
"Haven't read it, have you?" Al smiled, pulling the book closer. "It is quite simple and interesting, you might enjoy it." Bertie kicked him again under the desk. "It talks about the history of the Dark Arts. It starts out by saying that there is always evil and there is always good," Al was looking at Faust, but seeing Grandpa Dumbledore, as he sat on the barrel and explained where the bad wizards came about. "It's like sunny and shadowy spots: in the sun it is warm and nice, and in the shade it is murky and cold. If there are no shadows to flee from, then why would anyone need the sun?"
"Mr. Potter, please stay on the topic," the professor said evenly. He was not irritated, perhaps because everyone on the class was listening closely to Al now, even Broon.
"It is all the same. Like two spectacle halves," the boy touched his own. "When there is Good Magic, it gives rise to the Dark, bad Magic. Does it not? And so, the Dark Arts came along a bit after the good magic. And they were not created by bad, Dark wizards, but the ordinary wizarding folk. Well, they were curious, you see. They never thought that it would be used for evil. It's like our wands: the wand-maker makes them and sells them, not knowing if the wand would ever be used to hurt someone…"
"Enough, Mr. Potter," Faust cut the boy off. "Are these your advanced studies? This is not what's written on the book."
"Well, I believe that it is, Professor, but between the lines," Albus showed the Head of Gryffindor the parchment with the draft map of Hogwarts. "I am researching the history of the school."
"Give me this," Al realized that the teacher was cross after all. Oh well, not for the first time. The boy handed over his drawings (after all, new ones could be made). "At the next class you shall make a presentation on the Dark Arts during the Middle Ages.
Al nodded, watching the teacher walk away.
"Why do you always argue with him?" Bertie asked as they were leaving the classroom. "And not only with him."
"I wasn't arguing," Al remarked, hopping onto the window sill.
"He just wants to show off," Alex Broon stopped next to them. "PAS, you are like a walking encyclopaedia or something."
"Is that bad?" Al shrugged his thin shoulders, used by now to the nickname his friends had given him because they thought that saying his full name was too long and leaving out anything ruined all the charm. Therefore, "Potter, Albus Severus" that Faust called out during Sorting, causing ripples of excitement throughout the room, was quickly made over by Broon into "PAS". "At least my wand does not fly out of my hand and into Flitwick's eye.
"A special talent, indeed," Alex huffed. "And I do not fall off the broomstick…"
"And I have yet to get stuck on the moving stairs, while you have, thrice!"
"Twice!" Broon protested. "And I…"
"I…I…I… It's like you have a veila around!" Alex's sister Marin, the last member of their motley crew, walked up to them. She shook out her wave of black hair and winked at the always a little sad Bertie. "Faust will soon lock you up in the library, Al, to do your advanced studies."
"He can't," Bertie chuckled, "what will the other professors do? Slughorn is already daydreaming about Al taking his Potions OWL along with his NEWT…
"McGonagall will be all for it though," Alex interjected. The foursome headed to the Great Hall for lunch. "She will spend a long time gathering all the needles that our wonderchild spread around the classroom with his uncontrolled magic…"
"I hope she has plenty of matches left," Marin laughed, nudging Albus. "Hey, Earth to Albus!"
"I think I shall cut the next class," he said a tad sadly, thrusting his hands in his cloak pockets.
"Let me guess what you have after lunch," Marin rolled her eyes. "Stop this, Al."
"Well, we have this broom that refuses to carry Albus Potter, whose father, grandfather and other kin were superb Quidditch players and legacy members of the Gryffindor team, and whose brother is the Seeker of the London Lacewings," Alex taunted, which earned him a slap upside the head from Bertie. "Hey! Every word's true!"
"Shut it, Broon," Marin asked stopping just within the entrance of the Hall. "Albus, don't even think about cutting, or Arabesky will punish you again, and that will cost you the "Best First Year" pin for sure…
Al wanted to say that he didn't care about the pin, but he kept quiet, merely sighing for he knew his friend to be right. The young wizard Anthony Arabesky, who taught Flying just could not make peace with the fact that Al, so advanced in all the other subjects, simply could not master flying a broomstick. Plus, he was a "Potter". For some reason, Arabesky decided that Al simply was not trying, and has punished him twice already.
The boy nodded at his friends, and he and Alex headed for their table. It had been so easy back home, on his own broomstick: to speed up and fly into a snow drift. Or a pool. He had been flying for years, but did not follow any rules, just did what felt good to him. He did not like Quidditch much, but flying around the garden or playing tag with Dad, or tie Lily's cat to the broomstick and fly with him – that was fun… During class, Arabesky insisted that everything be done correctly, not the way Al was used to and wanted. As the result, he now had several points taken off and a few bruises. He should probably write Dad…
Too bad one cannot learn to fly a broomstick while sleeping. Simply flying was a piece of cake…
"I hate the broomstick," he sighed as he began to eat.
"Let's tie you to it," Alex suggested cheerfully.
"You have tried that already," said Amanda Dursley, stopping next to the boys. "Al, don't try that again, or you will stick with it indefinitely – Arabesky will not even think of helping you out; he will be enjoying it too much…"
"Yes, I didn't think of that," Broon scratched his head. "Shall we break your arm instead? Or a leg?"
"How about a head? Yours?" Amanda suggested and headed toward her table.
A group sigh rippled through the room, and Al glanced dejectedly at the teachers' table, where Professor Arabesky had just appeared.
Lily would probably find him attractive as well, but Al did not like him. He would have preferred Professor Faust…
"What is it they all see in him?" Alex pretended to vomit into his plate as he looked at Bertie and Marin who had forgotten about their food, just like a dozen other girls.
"He is good on a broomstick," Albus guessed. Suddenly, his eyes twinkled merrily behind his half-moon glasses. "How about if he just kept flying?"
"Meaning?"
"Well, let's glue him to the broomstick," Al shrugged his shoulders. "I have the superglue from the "Twenty ways to grow up a scallywag" kit…
Alex thought for a mere second, and then nodded: Broon was always up for sticking it to teachers, which was ironic, since his own father taught at the Boys' Wizarding Academy.
"Owl Post!"
Albus saw Bertie receive a letter, got up and walked over to her.
"How is your mum?" he knew that Bertie's mother has been very ill for a long time, and that his friend was very sad about it, try as she might not to let on.
"She wrote that she was better," Albus could see that Bertie doubted that.
"What did the Healers say, did she write about that?" Marin turned toward them.
"Let's go to class," Bertie stood up, tucking the letter into her pocket. She was always reluctant to speak about her family.
Al nodded, and let the girls through. The still chewing Alex caught up with them, and they walked out into the Entrance Hall.
"I have to get something in my room," Al winked at his mate behind the girls' backs.
"I'm with you, all right?" Bertie went up the stairs alongside Albus, clearly hesitant to say something.
"Are you sad because of your mum?" they walked slower, knowing that they still had time.
"Yes. She writes that she is better, but somehow I think she is not telling me the truth.
Albus often asked Bertie about how his mother was, because he remembered his father being in the hospital, and saying goodbye to his own mother, too. And he did not like dogs…
Bertie was silent, clearly dealing with her feelings, but Al so wanted to help. And how can one help without knowing what the problem is?! And he so wants to be certain that Bertie's mum will be alright!
He caught her sad gaze but for a moment, and nearly crashed from the stairs, grabbing the railing at the last moment.
"What?"
"Let's go."
Bertie stared in fear and confusion as Al turned around and headed back.
"Albus…"
"I know two excellent Healers who will not refuse to help your mum."
"Al, how did you…?"
He did not bother to tell her that he could hear her thoughts – he was in too much hurry.
"Quickly," he grabbed the girl's hand and pulled her along.
"You know Healers who…" she faltered, still uncertain of what he knew and how.
"Yes. One is my brother's wife and Theo is my cousin's fiancée," Albus practically flew down the stairs, shocked at how much time had been lost.
"Al, did you have too much to eat?"
They ran right into Marin and Alex.
"No, his brain swelled from all that clever thinking," Broon stood by the railing. "Where are you off to?"
"We have to get out of the school, in order to summon my relatives who are Healers to help Bertie's mum," Albus explained quickly, thinking of ways to sneak out undetected.
"Al, listen…" Bertie was trying to reason with her friend. Al did not listen. He knew now that her mum cannot get better because other Healers refused to treat her. Because Bertie's mum is a werewolf! Yes, they are bad, Albus knew it, but some of them are good… Bertie's mum. Uncle Ron, whom Albus remembered well. Too bad he was gone…
"We must go, now," Albus looked at his startled friends. "We'll find Theo and Xenia, and you, Bertie, will take them to your mum…"
Bertie's mum cannot die, what with no loving father and Hermione, only with an Uncle, of whom she spoke reluctantly.
"Al, you can write them!" Marin caught his hand. "We are not allowed to leave the school! And besides, how are you going to do it?"
"The letter may get lost, and we don't have time for that anyway, too much of it has been wasted already," Albus was determined to go through with his plan. "I'll go to Arabesky's office; he has a fireplace. I saw it when I served detention…"
"We are with you!" Marina and Alex said in unison, and the three of them looked at Bertie.
"Thank you," the girl whispered, clasping her hands. "But, Al, if you relatives are not willing…"
"Can someone explain why…?" Broon began, but Albus did not have time for explanations.
"Let's go, Arabesky is on the field already. We could be spotted by other teachers," the boy hurried along the corridor toward the familiar door.
"But aren't Hogwarts' fireplaces protected from breaking in?" Marin asked, trying not to fall behind.
"From breaking in – of course, yes," Alex laughed, "but from exiting, no. Especially, a professor's fireplace."
"Arabesky's office is bound to be locked," Bertie said hesitantly as they entered the hallway with the teacher's office. Al hoped that they would get lucky, to not have any other teachers show up here.
"No," Alex froze by the gray wall, close to the professor's office. "He is always running late for class – must be putting on his makeup – and closes the door with his wand alone…"
"And our wonderchild can certainly handle that," Marin finished her brother's sentence, looking at Albus touching his want to the door lock and whispering "Alohomora".
"What an oaf," Broon chortled, entering the study, which was horribly messy.
"He is cute," Marin could not help saying, closing the door behind the friends and looking around.
"Which does not stop his being an oaf," her brother had to have the last word, walking over to the fireplace. "So…?"
"I hope everyone is aware that we can be expelled for this?" Marin said, looking her friends over, a bit frightened. Albus was already scooping up Floo powder.
"He who is afraid can stay," Alex said decisively. He seemed to had been wanting to do something like this since his first day at Hogwarts.
"Someone is coming," Bertie blanched and shrank away from the door.
"Quickly, both of you!" Alex hissed, pushing Albus and Bertie into the fireplace. "Go to Diagon Alley! We'll meet there."
Albus nodded, grabbed Bertie's hand, and threw the powder.