He sat in the empty classroom, peering absently out the window, into the darkened world beyond. Only the glow from the nearly full moon broke the pitch blackness of the starless sky. One wanted to walk up to the window, take out the wand and light the stars, to give the night its peaceful – not frightening – beauty.
Smiling at the strange thought – even the most gifted wizards could not control everything in this world – Albus picked up his quill, unhurriedly dipped it in ink, and continued to write his lines, biting a little on his lower lip. His mood was good, which must have puzzled Professor Faustus, as he left him there. The Head of the House looked dubious, as he watched Al smile at his punishment.
Well, he couldn't help himself, could he?! He never thought that it would be so easy to get the information he needed. So, a professor's mind is no different than other people's. Too bad…
"So, this is where you are…"
Albus adjusted his spectacles and set aside his quill, watching Amanda Dursley enter the room.
"Were you looking for me?" it was easier to ask than to use eye contact with the all too trusting Amy. Better stay away from bad habits, as his dad reminded him rather often. He must be wary of Al becoming too much like Theo. Theo didn't like asking questions at all.
"Yes, I wanted to know where you had gone to," Amanda sat next to him and peered into Al's half-covered roll of parchment. "What chicken scratches you make."
"I know," the boy shrugged, a little embarrassed. "But I draw well; too bad there is no such detention at Hogwarts."
"And what is it you are writing? I can't make it out," Amanda frowned, trying to read the line Al had faithfully copied down over and over.
The First Year smiled:
"'Any and all plans of rescuing individual persons or the humankind as a whole must be vetted with the Head of House.' One hundred and fifty times."
Amanda chuckled:
"Professor Faustus has quite the sense of humour, whatever James says. So, whom were you rescuing this time?"
"Oh, it's a long story," Albus once again picked up his quill. "And it is not over yet."
"What happened?" the girl looked instantly worried, and Al knew why. Amanda was very attached to their family; she spent most of her vacations at their house, while her parents and brother Zach visited with her grandparents. "Is it Uncle Harry?"
"Lily," the boy breathed out heavily. "One man, who disliked Scorpius a lot, wiped him out of Lily's memories. They are all in tremendous pain, especially Scorpius."
Amanda pressed her palm to her cheek in dismay.
"Poor Lily… She… She doesn't remember him at all?"
Albus shrugged, returning to his lines:
"She does, just not the part where she'd fallen in love with him."
"Oh, Scorpius, poor dear…" Amanda's eyes filled with tears, and Al almost smiled: his cousin always steered clear of Lily's husband, feeling too shy when in his presence and a little wary, especially of Malfoy's sense of humour. Plus, Scorpius still called her "Butterball", although she'd grown much taller in the past three years, and her plumpness was much less noticeable. "But you don't look too concerned."
"One fifty," Albus put the last period onto his detention sheet, and then looked back at Amanda. "Love can defeat even the Killing Curse, what's some Oblivion spell against it?"
"You are repeating someone else's opinions again," Amanda reproached him, frowning. "Like an old man…"
"I share these opinions," Al hemmed, stretching. "It will all work out."
"Is it curable? Can Xenia and Theo do it?"
"Theo can't," Al shook his head. "Lily's memory isn't the problem."
"What is then?"
"I don't know," Albus was twiddling his quill. "Xenia knows, but she can't do anything, either, because she is afraid of making things worse."
"So, they'll just leave it like this?" Amanda asked in disbelief. "Just hoping and waiting?!"
"Says who?" Al smiled, taking a blank roll of parchment and dipping his quill in ink. "Love is good, but it still requires a nudge, occasionally…"
"Al, remember the lines you just wrote," Amanda warned. "I don't like the twinkle in your eye. You've got enough problems as it is…"
"I do remember the lines, which is why I've written Faustus a note – let him do the vetting," the boy grinned, feeling a bit like James. It happened occasionally, even with Al. 't was a good thing his brother didn't know it yet.
Amanda read out loud the note that Albus had tried to make legible:
"The plan of saving Scorpius Malfoy from himself: talk to Albus Dumbledore's portrait, send an owl, wait for S.M. in the study. Then act as circumstances dictate. Please vet."
"Al, you'll get detention again."
"Big deal. Are you coming?" he rose and picked up his things.
"Where to?" Amanda looked a little frightened.
"To the Headmistress' study, of course," the boy put both rolls of parchment on Faustus' desk. Too bad Broon wasn't talking to him: Al's friend thought that Al had abandoned him and ran off to have some fun. And Marin and Bertie must be at the Ravenclaw tower by now.
"And how will you get in?" Amanda followed Al into the hallway. "You must know the password, and only the… Oh, Al, please don't tell me that you… You didn't do it, you couldn't."
The boy merely smiled and winked at his cousin. What others knew could not often stay secret from Al. Especially since the professor's brain turned out to be no different than anyone else's.
"First to the Owlery," the boy decided, changing direction.
"It's late."
"It's just right."
"If Filtch catches us…" Amanda peered fearfully into the empty corridors.
"He won't, don't fret," Al quickly turned onto a side staircase. They made the rest of their way to the Owlery in silence.
Nearly all owls had left to hunt, and Al hurried to fetch a quill and parchment, write a few lines, and tie it to the leg of a somewhat discontented owl. They clearly meddled with her plans for the evening."
"My apologies, Madam Owl," Albus whispered, letting it out the window. "Off you go to Scorpius. Hurry!"
"Do we have to go to the Headmistress' study now?" Amanda asked anxiously. Perhaps, if not for her affection for Lily, she would have gone back to her Common Room. And Al was grateful to her for staying – company was always more fun. He thought again about the peevish Broon and even smiled: Alex would once again miss all the action, and this time, he has only himself to blame.
The gargoyle was asleep, and Al timidly touched it, to gain her attention. Of course, the form was not alive, but the boy was certain that even a statue deserved an apology when roused in the middle of the night.
"I apologize, but we need to come in," the boy said politely. Amanda quietly snorted behind him. "'The free elf'".
With a quiet rustling noise, the gargoyle began to turn. Al looked back at Amanda and boldly stepped onto the moving staircase.
He had never been to Professor McGonagall's study before. Although no, he had been, once, four years ago, but he was then taken to Madam Pomphrey's straight away.
Now he had time to look around. Still, the whole night would not have been enough to take everything in – his eyes wandered, and he wanted to greet all ancient wizards on the portraits. Alas, all of them were asleep, clearly not wanting to pay any mind to the uninvited guests. Only one old witch was smiling affectionately at them, and Amanda waved at her shyly, like at an old acquaintance. Al decided that he would learn that story later and walked straight to McGonagall's desk, behind which Grandpa Albus was smiling warmly at him from the portrait.
This was the first time Al felt shy, looking at the Headmaster. After all, he was now not inside Al's head, and the boy wasn't sure how he should address Dumbledore. What if the portrait was not even aware of their close acquaintance?
"No peace even here."
With a smile – open and joyous – Al turned toward another portrait:
"Uncle Severus! You…?!"
"Silence," nearly growled Professor Snape, looking around at the other frames, where the wizards began to stir.
Al tried to hide a smile and looked back at Dumbledore, who did not appear at all upset by the late visit.
"Do portraits eat candy?" the boy asked, and Amanda once again snorted behind his back. Albus the Elder took a lemon drop out of his pocket and put it in his mouth, squinting a little behind his spectacles. "That's good… Only that's not what I really wanted to ask about…"
"Al…" Amanda said nervously, afraid to be caught at the Headmistress' study. But the boy wasn't worried about that at all – he often thought school rules absurd, just like James did in his day. Come to think of it, the big brother had been right not to follow them, after all. Sometimes the circumstances are too grave to worry about pacifying the professors.
"Grandpa…" Al bit his lip, as though tasting the way he addressed Dumbledore out loud for the first time. The older man smiled, and the boy continued, bolder now: "Remember, you and I talked… What if a beautiful and free animal was to be caged, it would throw itself at the bars, hurting itself, for as long as it had the energy and the will to fight against its bonds."
"We spoke of a large cat, a ginger cat…" Dumbledore reminded the boy gently, without breaking eye contact.
"All right. But if the cage were moved somewhere, into the cat's natural habitat, for instance, it wouldn't change anything, would it? Because the cat would still be caged. Except it would thrash even harder with the renewed hope and hurt itself even worse, but would not be able to break free… Right?"
The Headmaster's portrait gave it some thought, and then nodded once again. Smile was lurking in the corners of his wise eyes, as though he was pleased that Albus had arrived at that thought on his own. That's how it was between them: Grandpa liked Albus to think independently.
"So, in order to set the cat free, it's not enough to place it in familiar surroundings…" Albus stared down at the floor, thinking hard. "We need the key, the right sort of key, to unlock the cage."
"A silver key," Dumbledore supplied quietly.
"And what if it doesn't fit the lock? What if this key fails to let the cat out?" Albus asked, looking at the old man with new concern.
"Then it would become necessary to break the bars by force, giving no heed to the cat's terror and fear, ignoring the cat's pain," Professor Snape injected slowly, crossing his arms. "Or to leave it be."
Albus couldn't help but smile: Uncle Severus normally couldn't stand these veiled allegories that usually served to mask real-life situations. However, this approach made it easier to distance oneself emotionally from one's personal problems and to find the right solution.
"But will he be able to do it? And the cat… What will happen to it when the cage is open?" Albus asked almost in a whisper.
"The pain will go away as soon as the cat ceases to thrash. It will resign to its captivity," Dumbledore supplied.
"And it will surrender, it will adjust," Albus realized almost with horror. "It will lie on the floor of the cage and watch indifferently at her life passing by."
"What does that mean?" Amanda reminded them of her presence. "What is this cat?"
"The ginger cat," Albus muttered, frowning. "I hope that owl does not stop for dinner."