The Next Generation by werekitten



Summary: “I won’t! I won’t be a Slytherin!” So says the youngest son of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley just before he leaves for his first year at Hogwarts. Albus Severus Potter’s worst nightmare is to be sorted into Slytherin, house of the Dark wizards. Despite reassurances from his father, he still worries that it might come true… and it does. How does little Al cope with being a Slytherin? And can his family accept it? *This is actually a H/G story, although it doesn't sound like it from this summary*
Rating: PG starstarstarstarhalf-star
Categories: Post-DH/PM
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2007.07.27
Updated: 2008.03.30


Index

Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Off to Hogwarts
Chapter 2: Chapter 2: The Sorting
Chapter 3: Chapter 3: The First Night at Hogwarts
Chapter 4: Chapter 4: Acceptance?
Chapter 5: Chapter 5: The News Comes Home
Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Something Wrong
Chapter 7: Chapter 7: At the Burrow
Chapter 8: Chapter 8: Rejected... Again
Chapter 9: Chapter 9: Trouble at Home
Chapter 10: Chapter 10: A Bunch of Idiots
Chapter 11: Chapter 11: The Return
Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Friends Again?
Chapter 13: Chapter 13: Winter Vacation
Chapter 14: Chapter 14: Family


Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Off to Hogwarts

Author's Notes: So, this is my first multi-chapter non-challenge fic... now we'll actually see if I can make up a plot. XD
Mega thanks to my beta Erik (Victor Aagaard) for getting this back to me faster than most betas, despite the lack of internet.
For those of you who are dubious as to whether this will actually have Harry and Ginny in it, trust me, it will, but you'll have to wait 'til chapter 3 or 4 before they play a major part.
I know you've heard this many times, from many authors, but, I'm begging you on bended knee, please review. Thanks in advance!


Albus Severus Potter sat all by himself in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, speeding towards Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He anxiously stared out the window as the train pulled out of Platform 9 , but he wasn’t really noticing the platform and the waving parents, which were quickly fading into the distance. He knew he shouldn’t be worried, but one concern after another kept circling round in his head.

What if he wasn’t sorted into Gryffindor? Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff might not be so bad, but what if he was put in Slytherin? Would the rest of the family forgive him? His father had said that his placement didn’t matter, but his elder brother James had said otherwise. What if he was terrible at magic? Mum and Dad were quite good, but that wasn’t an indication of his own powers. What if he was really a Squib and no one had realised it yet? And what if he made no friends at Hogwarts? Already he was sitting all by himself, and –

Al’s thoughts were interrupted as the door to his compartment slid open. A small girl clutching a wicker basket stood at the door, her worried face a mirror of what his own had been. She had hazel eyes that sparkled with intelligence and a long, brownish-blonde, plait running down her back. Hesitantly, she asked, “Do you mind if I sit here? It’s just that everywhere else is full.”

He nodded quickly. His own brother had told him to leave and find a different compartment and even his cousin Rose, also a first year, had left to sit with her friend Quintessa Lovegood-Longbottom. Al knew what it felt like to want to be included, if only by having a place to sit.

She came in, started to sit down, then paused. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Are you allergic to cats?” A plaintive mew came out of the whicker basket.

Al grinned. “No, I love them! We’ve got one at home, her name is — don’t laugh — Athena. Sounds nerdy, I know. My mum thought of it.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “Athena? She’s the Greek goddess of wisdom, right?”

Al nodded. “But Nini — that’s what we call her — isn’t very smart. She chases her tail, sometimes.”

The girl smiled. “Minerva used to do that, too.” She reached inside to stroke the cat, then looked back up at Albus. “Minerva is the Roman goddess of wisdom.”

“That’s right! I’d completely forgotten! I used to study gods and goddesses all the time, but I moved on to Goblin Rebellions a few years ago. I just love all of their funny names!” He made an exasperated noise. “I’m so sorry! I’ve been so rude — what’s your name?”

“Oh, I’m Mir– Miranda, I guess. But everyone calls me Miri. Who are you?”

“I’m Albus — Al.”

Her eyes widened. “Albus Potter? Harry Potter’s son?”

He nodded hesitantly. “But please don’t judge me by my father. James — that’s my older brother — says that everyone expects him to be wonderfully brave and clever and all sorts of things that Dad is.” He bit the edge his lip nervously. “But I don’t think I can be any of those things. I’m going to do the best I can, of course — I’d love to be top of the class, or a prefect, or something. I just wish people wouldn’t measure me up to famous, perfect Harry Potter. I love Dad very much, but, from what James says, being the son of a legend is good deal like work.”

The girl’s expression softened. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll do very well. At least you grew up in a wizarding family.”

He gave her a curious look. “Are you Muggleborn, then?”

She shook her head. A strange shadow flicked over her eyes, but it quickly passed. “No, my mum’s a witch; I think she’s pureblood, not that it really matters.” She hesitated, then plowed on. “I don’t live with her all of the time though, just visit her occasionally. I grew up in a Muggle family, though I always knew of the magical world. So,” she said, changing the subject quickly, “which house do you reckon you’ll be sorted into?”

Clearly she did not want to talk about her family, and Al could respect that. He allowed himself to be draw into an involved discussion of the houses as the anxious frown returned to his face. “I dunno which I’ll be in. James said I might get Slytherin — that’d be terrible! My entire family’s always been in Gryffindor, and I’d love to be there to, but what if I’m not?”

“Well, the other houses are just fine, too. Personally, I’m hoping for Ravenclaw. My mum was a Hufflepuff, but that doesn’t mean anything. I think it’d be wonderful to be with people who actually care about studying, and grades, and about, well, just learning.” Her face was shining with excitement.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait until we get to Hogwarts to find out…”

*~*~*


Lily Nymphadora Potter wiped the tears from her eyes. She had jumped up and down, waving, as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station.

Two more years, she told herself. Just two more years, and then it’ll be my turn. In two years, it would be she, not Albus or James, who would receive her first ever letter from Hogwarts by owl post. It would be she who excitedly went to Diagon Alley and got measured for her first ever set of school robes and purchased her wand — Ollivander had finally began training a replacement, but he still insisted on serving all the Potters. It would be she who excitedly boarded the train, searching for old friends, making new ones. It would be she who her mother and father promised to write to, who they would miss all year. She would be the one who rowed across the lake with Hagrid, or maybe Grawp, his assistant, and she would be among the group to be sorted. Just two more years. It seemed like forever. But for now, she could at least say goodbye to her lucky older brothers who would be at Hogwarts this year.

Lily kept waving until the shiny red and gold train was out of sight, then turned back to her parents. Ginny put her arm around her daughter and smiled sadly. “Miss them?” Lily nodded. “Don’t worry, they’ll be back soon enough. In the meantime, Hugo’s still here,” she added as Ron, Hermione, and Hugo came over. Hermione looked close to tears.

Ginny smiled at her old friend. She had long since stopped feeling angry at Ron and Hermione for going with Harry to hunt Horcruxes and leaving her behind. After all the deaths, such grudges had seemed petty and insignificant.

As Lily walked with her father to the car — Harry having legitimately passed his driving test several years ago — Ginny passed a handkerchief to Hermione, who took it.

“I’m just being silly, I know Rose’ll do just fine at school,” she muttered as she blew her nose.

“The first one’s always the hardest,” said Ginny, remembering how she had felt a year ago when James had left for the first time. “Just remember your first time at Hogwarts — sure, you were scared in the beginning, but then you had so much fun with all your friends that school seemed like home.”

Hermione nodded, wiped her eyes again, and dried off the handkerchief with a wave of her wand. “Thanks,” she said, handing it back to Ginny.

“Gin?” called Harry, from up ahead. “You coming?”

“Yeah, be right there!” She turned back to Hermione. “Why don’t you come over for dinner, say, tomorrow night? With Ron and Hugo? We can only hope that the kids will have written by then — I can’t wait to find out which house Rose is in!” Ginny was fairly certain that Al would be a Gryffindor — she had overheard Harry’s advice about the Sorting Hat, and was now convinced that if Al truly wanted to be in Gryffindor, all he had to do was ask. Rose, on the other hand, would make a fine Ravenclaw as well as Gryffindor, or maybe even Hufflepuff.

“Alright, dinner sounds great. See you tomorrow night!” said Hermione. The two families had remained very close over the years, and often were at each other’s houses. Ron and Hermione had settled in Godric’s Hollow, in a house near the cottage that Harry’s parents had lived in. Harry had had the cottage repaired, keeping as much of the original as possible while still making it comfortable for a family of five (and a cat).

Ginny ran to catch up with her husband and daughter as they climbed in the car.

“Remember the time Ron and I flew to school in your dad’s car?” Harry asked, grinning.

Ginny laughed. “How could I forget? It wasn’t really funny at the time… I was so worried! There I was, sorted into Gryffindor, but only three of my brothers came to greet me. And,” she grinned impishly, “famous Harry Potter, my not-so-secret crush, was gone, too! We had no clue where you were!”

“Granddad has a flying car?” asked Lily incredulously, eyes wide.

Had,” corrected Harry. “Your uncle Ron and I crash-landed it on the grounds at Hogwarts.”

“Wicked!” said Lily excitedly. “Tell me how!”

Harry laughed, but there was sadness in his voice as he told his daughter how the brave house elf Dobby had tried force Harry away from school, where the Chamber of Secrets was about to be opened.

Ginny was silent, remembering everyone who had fallen in the war against Voldemort. George had never quite recovered from the loss of his brother, and while Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes was successful with Percy as the business manager and George as the inventor, the surviving twin was never as cheerful or creative as he had been with his brother. The third eldest Weasley brother had completely given up the idea of an ambitious Ministry career, and was quite content to work in the family joke shop.

The loss of Tonks and Lupin had hit everyone very hard. Teddy, their son, had been raised with his grandmother Andromeda, but he was over at the Potters’ or one of the Weasleys’ houses so often that he was more like a son than a friend to Harry and Ginny.

That reminded Ginny of James’ announcement. “So, Harry, what do you think of little Teddy and Victoire?”

Harry grinned again. “They’re so sweet together. Teddy’s just like Remus was — too studious, most of the time. Some snogging will be good for him.”

“Ewww!” came an exclamation from the back seat. “Snogging is gross!”

Ginny laughed. “Just you wait, Lily. I’ll remind you of that when I see you in Madame Puddifoot’s.”

Harry groaned as Lily asked, “What’s Madame Puddifoot’s?”

He snorted. “You don’t want to know.”

~*~*~


Hours later, at Hogwarts, Al and Miri were climbing into one of the little boats on the lake. Hagrid was to take them up to the castle, which comforted Al slightly. An old family friend, Hagrid was often over for dinner.

As they drew nearer to the castle, Al’s stomach began to squirm. James had said that the Sorting Ceremony involved slaying a dragon — Al didn’t quite believe this, but he was nervous all the same.

Finally, they reached the opposite shore of the lake. A small thrill of excitement ran though Al — finally, he was at Hogwarts!

Back to index


Chapter 2: Chapter 2: The Sorting

Author's Notes: Well, here's the second chapter. This one doesn't go to the older generation at all, but it's a very important chapter for Al at Hogwarts.
I didn't want this to be a really angsty story, but this chapter especially sorta turned out to be.
Thanks so much to Erik for his invaluable beta-ing skills!!
And don't make too much fun of the Sorting Hat song. :D It's not my fault that nothing rhymes with ambitious! Erik wrote an alternitive song, if you want to see it, but I felt guilty using it in this story...
Please, please review! They really make me want to post the next chapter!


“Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

The stern voice made Albus jump. He turned behind him to see that Minerva McGonagall had entered the small chamber were the first years were clustered. Hagrid had led them to a little chamber, told them to wait there, then left.

Al was surprised to hear Minerva -- No, he told himself, she’s Professor McGonagall the Headmistress now -- sounding so stern. She occasionally came over to the Potters’ house, and she’d always seemed quite nice. But this is different. Just like Ne–Professor Longbottom. They’re not family friends, they’re your teachers. Al sighed.

“I am your headmistress, Professor McGonagall,” she continued. “Soon we will go to the start-of-term banquet, but before you take your seats, you will be sorted into a House — Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin. Each house exemplifies different qualities. During your stay at Hogwarts, your house is like your family…”

Al’s thoughts drifted as he listened to Professor McGonagall explain the importance of houses. Oh, they’re important, alright. he thought grimly. James’ll never forgive me if I’m not a Gryffindor.

“…the Sorting Ceremony will begin in just a few minutes.”

The nervous mutterings began as she swept from the room. It seemed that Albus wasn’t the only one with worries about which house he was to be placed in. He distinctly caught Rose saying, “My dad’s already told me to beat all the Slytherins — what’ll he say if I am one?” Al couldn’t help a shudder at the thought — despite reprimands from Aunt Hermione, Uncle Ron was still filled with Gryffindor pride.

Al got involved in a discussion of the benefits of being in Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor with Miri. The two had definitely planted a seed for friendship on the train. The discussion of cats had continued when Miri had let Minnie — she had quickly told Al to use Minerva’s nickname — wander about the compartment. To her surprise, Minnie had settled down on Albus’ lap and started to purr. James had stopped in later during the ride, as had Rose and Quintessa. The latter had pointed out that Minnie’s purrs could be the growl of a Conular Tritenbor — Quintessa had inherited her mother’s beliefs in strange creatures, though she took after her father in looks.

All the talking stopped as the door creaked open again. Professor McGonagall had returned.

“Move along now,” she said as she herded them through the door. “The Sorting is about to start.”

Albus’ stomach did a flip-flop, but before his imagination had time to run away with the idea of him being sorted into Slytherin, they had reached the Great Hall. He couldn’t help but let out a gasp as he entered. He had heard about the four, long house tables, the vast ceiling that reflected the sky, the floating candles that filled the room, but it still quite impressive to actually see them.

The first years shuffled into a line at the head of the room and watched as the Headmistress placed a stool in the front of the room, and put a patched, raggedy, pointed hat on top of it. Professor Longbottom gave the hat a fond smile.

Suddenly, to Al’s surprise, a little tear at the top of the hat opened up, and the hat and began to sing:

Throughout the years it’s been my job
To put you in your proper House
I may be shabby and well-worn but
I’m smarter than your average mouse.
Long ago, the Founders four
Each picked out a set
Of students who exemplified
The traits each did covet.
Brave Gryffindor chose to take
Those who are brave of heart
No cowards are in Gryffindor —
Their courage sets them apart.
Ravenclaw took the cleverest:
Those who loved to learn
If you are quite intelligent, then
A place in that House you’ll earn.
And Hufflepuff praised students who
Tried hard, and never shirked.
All Hufflepuffs are just and loyal
And unafraid of work.
Last but not least is Slytherin,
The House for the ambitious,
If you have cunning, clever plans
In Slytherin you’ll be propitious.
Now sit right down and place me
Atop your head, like that.
I’ll Sort you to where you belong
For I’m the Sorting Hat!


And then the rip in the hat closed back up, and, as the entire hall applauded the hat, Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a list of names.

“As you heard,” she said, unrolling the list, “you are to step forward when I call your name, sit on the stool, and try on the hat.”

Al felt rather weak-kneed with relief. All he had to do was try on the hat? But what if it couldn’t decide the right house? What if–

“Asher, Jennifer.”

A small girl with very long hair ran forward to the hat and put it on. Less than a minute later, the rip in the hat opened and it called out, “RAVENCLAW!” The table second from the left exploded in cheers, and the girl, looking relieved, ran to join them.

“Baylor, Cassandra.”

A girl with darker skin and wavy black hair tried on the hat next. She sat there a full minute before it called out “HUFFLEPUFF!” The table on the far right cheered as she sat down among them.

“Buckley, Nicholas” became a Gryffindor, and Al looked on with longing as he was welcomed to the table on the left by so many people in Al’s family.

A few names later, “Greer, Allison” became the first new Slytherin, and Al couldn’t contain a shudder as he looked at the table cheering as she calmly walked over to them. These were the people, or at least their children, who had made life so difficult for his family so many years ago. Maybe he was biased, but he thought they looked like a rather nasty group.

Miranda Kay was among the first to be called. Albus watched her try on the hat. After talking for hours with her, he was fairly certain that she would be a Ravenclaw, and he wasn’t disappointed. The hat sat on her head for just a few seconds before calling out, “RAVENCLAW!” Albus watched as Miri happily ran over to be greeted by her new House.

When the Headmistress called “Malfoy, Scorpio,” Al watched with interest as boy with slicked-back blonde hair placed Sorting Hat on his head. So this was the son of Draco Malfoy, his father’s enemy at school. Uncle Ron loved to tell of the time when the elder Malfoy had been Transfigured into a bouncing ferret as a punishment. The hat had hardly touched Scorpio’s head when it called out, “SLYTHERIN!”

His hands grew sweaty as McGonagall approached ‘Potter’ on the list. Cameron Nelson became a Hufflepuff, then she called Nova… O’Neil… Palmer… Polk… and finally:

“Potter, Albus!”

The students began to mutter. “Potter, was that?” “Harry Potter’s son?” Al distinctly heard James say, “That’s my brother, that is. I’m sure he’ll get Gryffindor.”

I hope so… thought Al as he shakily walked up to the stool. Hands trembling, he shoved the hat onto his head and sat down.

Hmm… said a little voice. Albus felt sure it was the hat’s. Interesting. Another Potter, is it? Gryffindor, for most of them, and yet… I see ambition here, plenty of it. You want to live up to your father’s name… and intelligence, and a willingness to work for what you want… You, little Albus, could do well in any of the houses.

Gryffindor, please, Gryffindor…
thought Al, remembering his father’s words from the train station.

He could have sworn that the hat chuckled. Just like your father, aren’t you? But inside your head, perhaps not quite as similar as you think… No, I’m fairly sure I know which house you’ll do best in.

Not Slytherin…
please not Slytherin…

Now, Albus, remember that my job is to put students where they’ll do best, not where their brothers are.


Albus slumped visibly in the seat, making the crowds watching murmur. He didn’t hear them, for all his thoughts were focused on the hat, which was saying, The proper house for you, without a doubt is…

“SLYTHERIN!”

Albus felt numb with shock. Slytherin. He just couldn’t believe it. His father, mother, brother, all of his extended family, too… he was supposed to be a Gryffindor, a brave lion, not a sly, evil, snake…

The numbness lasted less than a second, and was replaced by a cold dread as he slowly stood up and lifted off the hat. More murmurs were going throughout the hall. “Slytherin? Slytherin? I just don’t believe it…” “He’s the son of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, shouldn’t he be a Gryffindor?” “A Slytherin?”

Slowly, dreading the result, his eyes found James’. The sight that greeted him was worse than any murmur. The shock on his brother’s face was slowly morphing into a look of anger and betrayal. The emotions, so new to his brother’s face, gave it a twisted, unfamiliar look.

Al could feel his eyes filling with tears. Shaking his head, he tried to keep them back. He would not cry in front of the entire school. A cold dread began to fill him as he stumbled towards the Slytherin table. The Slytherin table. I never would have dreamed that I’d sit at the Slytherin table…

What would his parents say? How could he face them, even in a letter, knowing that he was now part of the house that bred Dark Wizards, far more than any other? True, his father had said he and Mum wouldn’t mind if Al was a Slytherin, but why then had he told him to ask the Hat to be in Gryffindor? ‘It doesn’t matter to us…’ Sure. And his father’s suggestion hadn’t worked anyway… he had asked to be in Gryffindor, but the hat had ignored him.

My job is to put students where they’ll do best… Albus felt a sinking sensation in his stomach as he remembered the hat’s words. So he was meant to be in Slytherin? He was meant to be a sneaky, conniving monster? There had to be a mistake…

No. There was no mistake. He was in Slytherin, like it or not. Even if his family never forgave him, he was still a Slytherin. So what if James hates me? Al thought, hating himself. I’m a Slytherin. I’m supposed to care for no one. I’ll run away from home, or… think up something clever, something that helps me and no one else. That’s what being a Slytherin is all about, right? He smiled bitterly as he sat down at his new table, noticing the shock on so many faces. Yeah, they can’t believe it either. Albus Severus Potter, son of the great and the good, put among us? That’s what they’re thinking.

But his middle name reminded him of the man it had once belonged to. Severus… Severus Snape, he was a Slytherin. And my father admires him so much… But then Snape’s role in the war came back to him. So what if he was good in the end? He still spent, like, twenty years killing people… Sure, it was just his orders, but he did it, right? So here I am, Slytherin, House of the murderers, Dark wizards, plotters, and me.

He looked up to see that he was sandwiched in between Alison Greer and Tyler Hawkings, two of the new Slytherins he had watched being sorted. He realised that he was thinking of them with mild disgust, just as he had been raised, if unconsciously, to think of Slytherins… And now I’m one of them. The looks that they gave him were more curious and confused than shocked or angry.

But some of the Slytherins’ stares were downright accusing. That’s right, Dad is responsible for the death or imprisonment of their parents. What a wonderful way to make friends… “Hi, my father locked up yours, what else do we have in common?”

Carefully avoiding the end of the Gryffindor table where James sat, Albus looked around the room. Almost every head was turned in his direction — no one was watching Ross, Clara being sorted. The looks he was getting ranged from mild puzzlement to deep loathing, presumably from those who had been raised to hate Slytherins and all they stood for. Like James…

Not one face looked happy to see him in Slytherin, at least no one that he could see. Through his shock and disappointment, Albus managed to find a small sliver of sarcastic humor. Well, the one thing you can say about this is that it’s bound to be an interesting year… if not in a good way.

Back to index


Chapter 3: Chapter 3: The First Night at Hogwarts

Author's Notes: Well, here's chapter three. Harry and Ginny come back into the story, though not as majorly as they will later.
And now, for the age-old appeal for more reviews: Please leave a review! If you love it, tell me to boost my moral. :D If you hate it, tell me and I'll try to improve. Thanks to those of you who’ve reviewed so far!
Thanks as always to my absolutely, incredibly brilliantly wonderful beta Erik (Victor Aagaard). I read other people's A/N's about how the chapter was delayed because their beta was working on it, but Erik always gets my chapters within a few days. He's the one who introduced me to fan fic in the first place, for which I am eternally grateful.
I say all this because, for the time being, he can't beta for me any more. His internet is down (and likely will be for a while), and to top it off he can't access his e-mail even when he does get internet. We've tried a few solutions to this, but none were working out, so I'M SENDING OUT A PLEA FOR A NEW BETA.
Please, if you have any interest, PM me or e-mail me saying so. I'd prefer someone with Britpicker experience, but that's not necessary. Know that I'm overly fond of commas. :D
I have up to Chapter 5 beta-ed, but after that I can't post anything more until I have a beta, so, please could someone help me out?


Al wasn’t quite sure how he made it through dinner. Luckily, he was sitting between two first years, who, being such, weren’t imbued with other students’ unpleasant views of him. While Alison and Tyler didn’t try to start a conversation with him — for which he was grateful, as he was still coming to terms with his Sorting — they were not malevolent or even unfriendly towards him.

And so he ate in relative silence, thinking one horrid thought after another. He couldn’t bring himself to look at James again, not when he knew that he would only face more rejection.

Towards the end of the meal, the two Slytherin prefects stopped to say a few words of welcome, as they did to all the first years. They seemed reluctant, or at least the female did. The boy nearly had to drag her towards Al — it was quite clear she was averse to being in the same house as Harry Potter’s son.

Professor McGonagall made a short speech after dinner, welcoming everyone to Hogwarts and mentioning a few things that were forbidden. Al nearly smiled when he heard that everything from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was on the list — Uncle Percy would be rather horrified -- but he couldn’t quite manage to express any positive emotion.

After dinner, the Prefects led the way to the Slytherins’ dormitories. The common room did nothing to ease Albus’ doubts about Slytherin — the corridor leading to the Slytherin area clearly led underground, and the dcor of the common room was just as unpleasant: it was filled with skulls, and the greenish lamps gave the room an eerie feel.

As the Prefects escorted all the first-years, Al used the opportunity to examine his class. He noticed two or three who seemed openly hostile towards him, if nasty glares were any indication. Most, including Draco Malfoy’s son Scorpius, seemed more curious than anything about his presence in Slytherin, with just a hint of distaste in their stares. And a few even seemed as if they were trying to be friendly to Al — they shot him sympathetic glances and tried to stay closer to him as they walked. Two of these, Al noticed, were Alison and Tyler, the two first-years between whom he had sat during dinner.

Al felt rather hopeful as he noticed these sympathetic people, and resolved to be friendlier to them. He knew that school would be miserable if he was all alone, and it certainly seemed as though James wouldn’t be giving him any companionship. As they entered the common room — “The password is ‘serpentine’,” said one of the prefects — Albus hesitantly tried smiling back at Tyler.

The boy grinned back in response, but his eyes held uncertainty. Suddenly, Al was reminded of the qualities of a Slytherin: What if he doesn’t really want to be my friend? Is he just trying to get in with the son of Harry Potter? Remember, Al, you have to start thinking like a Slytherin — they, we, care for no one, and work only for our own gain. He sighed. It sounded like a miserable way to live.

Al’s posture and expression had suddenly become a lot less friendly.

The boy prefect let Al, Tyler, and three other boys down a corridor that led off to the left of the common room and into a room with a silver plaque reading “First Years” on the door. “This,” he said, “is your dormitory. You sleep here, obviously,” he added, sneering slightly as he gestured towards the beds. “Your trunks are at the foot of your bed — now you can do whatever you want for the rest of the evening. I suggest you sleep — tomorrow is not going to be an easy day.” Smirking, he left the room.

Albus looked around the room. While not exactly homey, it looked comfortable enough. A thick, plush rug in dark green covered the floor, and there were five four-poster beds lined up against the wall of the rectangular room. The hangings and covers on each were the same green as the rug, with silver trimmings. Yep, Slytherin colors. If Dad could see me now…

Al sighed as he sat down on his new bed. He supposed he would have to write to his mother and father — they’d want to know what House he was in. He got up and opened his trunk, remembering how excited he had been as he purchased his new books and first-ever set of school robes. Had that really been just a week ago? Now, it seemed as if he’d never feel excited again — after all, Slytherins didn’t get excited over trivial things like new robes, did they?

He dug through the trunk until he found his parchment, quills, and ink. He uncorked the bottle and breathed in the fresh scent of new ink, not caring as his nose brushed the rim, leaving a little smear of blue on the tip.

Suddenly, he looked up, aware that his roommates were watching him. He decided to give friendliness one last effort. “Hi. I’m Al — Albus, but no one really calls me that. What are your names?”

The boy in the bed closest to the wall gave him a suspicious look. Al felt guilty even as he was shocked that the boy would regard friendliness as a plot or something — was that how Tyler had felt after Al had stopped returning his grin?

Tyler was in the bed next to Al’s and, even though Al knew his name from the Sorting, Tyler got up off his bed and went over to Al’s. He held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Tyler. Nice to meet you, Al.” The formal words sounded odd, coming from the rather short boy, but Al quickly set down his ink and shook his hand.

The boy in the bed two away from Al had clearly been watching the encounter closely, so Al wasn’t surprised when he also stood up and introduced himself as Jordan Greyling.

The boy in the bed closest to the door was Scorpius Malfoy — Al didn’t need an introduction to see that. He, too, went over to Al’s bed and shook hands, saying, “I’m Scorpius Malfoy. I believe our fathers,” he hesitated for the barest second, “know each other.”

Al hesitated too, wondering what to say. Start thinking like a Slytherin. Get this boy on your side — it can’t hurt, he told himself. Just don’t mention their old enmity. “Yes, my father speaks very highly of yours.” While this was perhaps stretching the truth, it was true that Harry Potter sometimes praised Malfoy as one of the few former Death Eaters who had never fully given in to Voldemort.

Scorpius nodded, seeming satisfied with this response, then went back to his own bed.

The boy in the bed farthest towards the wall was still looking at Al suspiciously. It was clear he wasn’t planning to come over, so Al decided to go over to him. “Hi,” he said as he approached. “I must have missed your name — what was it?”

The boy was now looking almost murderous as he saw that his almost-open signs of resentment were being greeted with friendliness. However, he seemed to realise that he couldn’t refuse to give his name without being unreasonably rude. “Raymond Dolohov.”

Al had to suppress a gasp when he heard the name. Dolohov? But he was a Death Eater… one of Voldemort’s originals, actually. Al had tried to learn as much about the Second War as he could, even though his father was reluctant to speak of it. He desperately wanted to inquire as to whether Raymond was related to Antonin Dolohov, but decided that it would be practically accusing Raymond of agreeing with Voldemort’s policies. He thought there was little chance that the two were not related.

“Nice to meet you, Raymond,” he said at last. With that, Al went back to his bed and picked up his writing supplies. He dipped his quill in the ink and held it over the paper, trying to think of how to tell his parents that he was in Slytherin.

He was interrupted by a voice from two beds away. A boy -- Jordan, Al told himself, time to start using their names -- was saying, in a slightly sarcastic voice, “Writing to Mummy already?”

Al looked up, determined to keep his cool, though his opinion of Jordan had just gone down several notches. “Yes, well, I’m sure my parents will want to know -” that I’m a filthy Slytherin, he finished in his head. But aloud, he said - “which house I’m in.”

Jordan smirked. “Oh, I see.” But this time, Al didn’t think he meant to be rude — Jordan was merely amused as he thought of famous Harry Potter the Gryffindor learning that his son was in Slytherin.

Al went back to his letter. Dear Mum, Dad, Lily, and Athena, he managed to write, but that was as far as he got. What can I say now? How do I tell them?

He decided to put it of for a few more minutes, and wrote several paragraphs about how pleasant the train ride had been with Minerva and Miri, and how impressed he was by the castle, and other generic bits of fluff.

He sighed deciding to just write it plain and simple. I’m not quite sure how to say this, but I was Sorted into Slytherin. Please don’t be angry: I did ask the Sorting Hat to put me in Gryffindor, but it refused.

Al wrote a short closing to the letter, then signed it, resolving to send it the next morning as soon as he could figure out where to get an owl. His father had offered to get him an owl, but Al had declined, because Athena was really more his cat than anyone else’s. She slept on his bed, and sat on his lap most often. He had wanted to bring her to Hogwarts, but Lily had wanted her to stay at home, and his mum had given in to her.

As he rolled up the letter, he looked around at the dormitory. It appeared that most of the boys were getting ready to go to sleep, so Al decided to do the same. Although the day had not been physically active, Al still found himself quite tired.

As he got underneath the plush green covers with the silver thread, he tried to convince himself that he would have a good time in Slytherin. It’s not like your House really matters, he told himself, knowing full well that it was not true. And Slytherin is a fine House to be in — you’re practically guaranteed to have a successful career. James’ll realise that eventually, and as for Mum and Dad — well, they already said that which House I’m in doesn’t really matter to them. It’ll all work out… eventually.

And on that happy note, he fell asleep for the first time in the Slytherin dormitory.

~*~*~


Back in Godric’s Hollow, Lily was also preparing for bed, thinking enviously of her brothers at Hogwarts. They’ll be in their dormitories now, she thought, going to bed with all their friends. Hogwarts must be like an endless slumber party. She sighed, and repeated her new mantra. Just two more years.

At least Hugo was still here — she was not quite alone. But Lily and Rose had always been very close friends, and it hurt to think that Rose got to leave two years before she did.

As she tried to fall asleep, Lily wondered which House Al had been sorted into. I bet he’s a Gryffindor, or maybe even Ravenclaw. He’s always reading… but then again, the Weasleys and Potters are always in Gryffindor. Yeah, I’d bet that’s where he is.

She sighed enviously. I can just picture it. He’ll be in a circular room in Gryffindor tower, with red hangings all over. Dark red, she decided, getting carried away with her imaginings. Burgundy, more like. And everything has gold tassels. Red and gold, the Gryffindor colors.

She continued inventing details of the Gryffindor tower, looking forward to her own stay there in just a few years. After all, I just know I’ll be in Gryffindor. Both my brothers are. There was no longer any doubt in her mind that Al had been Sorted into the House of both his parents.

~*~*~


A few doors down the corridor from Lily’s room, Harry was sprawled across his bed reading the Evening Prophet. The quality of the Prophet’s articles had greatly improved ever since Rita Skeeter had been sent to cover the politics of Luxembourg. Harry disliked using his fame and influence for anything other than moral causes, but he had made an exception for Rita Skeeter: he had asked the Prophet to ‘promote’ her as soon as he had heard rumors of her drafts for a new book, Harry Potter: The Life Behind the Scar.

His wife, Ginny, was going through Harry’s side of the bureau, re-folding all his clothes. “Honestly, Harry, I don’t know how you manage it.”

He looked up. “Manage what?”

“To mess up all your clothes again, just after Winky’s done the laundry!” Ginny said, grinning. Two house-elves served the Potters: Winky and Kreacher. The latter had asked to stay at Grimmauld Place, and Harry had readily agreed on the condition that Kreacher make the place livable for someone who wasn’t a descendant of the Blacks. After the Battle of Hogwarts, Winky had been reluctant to return there — many house-elves had died, and the fighting had scared her greatly. At Hermione’s request, Harry had taken her on, even offering wages (which she declined).

Harry shrugged and smiled back at her. “It’s just one of my talents, dear.”

Ginny sighed in mock irritation. As she went back to folding, she said, “So, the boys’ll be at school by now. I do hope Al likes it at Hogwarts.”

“How can he not? Hogwarts is, well, amazing.” He put down the Prophet as Athena the cat leapt up beside him on the bed. “Hi, Nini,” he said as he stroked her. “Missing Al already?”

Ginny smiled, watching her husband pet the cat. “But do you think Al’ll get in Gryffindor? I’d feel so much better knowing that both my boys are together.”

“I just know he will be,” said Harry confidently. “Trust me on this one.”

“But how can you know? Unless, of course, you double as the Sorting Hat, and you just didn’t tell me?” she teased.

Harry shook his head. “Remember how I told you that the Hat considered putting me in Slytherin, before I asked it to put me in Gryffindor?” When Ginny nodded, he continued. “Well, I know that Al wants to be a Gryffindor, and I’m pretty sure he could be, so I told him to just ask the Hat to put him there, and it almost certainly will.”

Ginny nodded hesitantly. "Yes, I heard you telling him that at the Platform… Well, I suppose… still, he could go somewhere else." Seeing the stubborn look on his face, she added, "You really want him to be in Gryffindor, don't you?"

Harry nodded. “Of course.”

Ginny bit her lip. “But you will be alright if he’s in a different House, right? You won’t be mad at him?”

“Ginny, I really don’t think-”

“Harry, just because you’re a Potter and I’m a Weasley does not mean that he’ll be in Gryffindor!”

Looking mildly alarmed at Ginny’s ferocity, Harry said, “Alright, alright! All the other Houses are fine, too! I have a mild preference to Gryffindor, is all.” Just as long as he’s not a Slytherin, he added to himself. Harry did not want his son to live amongst the sons and daughter or, in some cases, grandsons and granddaughters, of Death Eaters.

Ginny nodded, still unsure. “Alright, then. He’ll probably owl us sometime tomorrow.” She sighed, hoping that her youngest son would love Hogwarts just as much as she did.

Back to index


Chapter 4: Chapter 4: Acceptance?

Author's Notes:
Well, here's chapter four! Hope you like it -- it starts to get into what people think of Al's sorting.
For all you canon police, I did change the date they learn the Levitation Charm. It's Halloween in canon, but I've made it the first day of school. I just liked what I could do with that charm, so... yeah. Maybe the curriculum’s changed in 19 years? Call this AU if you want…
I'm still looking for someone to beta this story. If you have any interest at all, please please please e-mail or PM me.
As always, I'm begging for reviews. If you're an author, you know how much it means when someone takes the time to just write a sentence. If not... well, it means a lot when someone takes the time to just write a sentence. So thanks in advance! :D


When Al woke up the next morning, he was momentarily surprised to find himself surrounded by green hangings. It took him less than a second to realise he was in his new dormitory — his new Slytherin dormitory. He still wasn’t happy about being in Slytherin, but he supposed he really didn’t have a choice in the matter. I’m stuck here, now. But was necessarily such a bad thing?

He drew back the curtains around his bed to see that there was no light coming from the windows — until he remembered that his dormitory was underneath the lake, so there were no windows. Another glance around the room showed that none of his roommates were up yet.

He picked up his watch from his night table, intending to check the time, when he saw the letter he had written to his parents last night. Right now would be a perfect time to send it — he wasn’t sure how busy he’d be during the day, and he wanted to send the letter home as soon as possible.

As quietly as he could, Al got dressed in his new Hogwarts robes, with the addition of the Slytherin-colored badge and tie that he’d been given last night. He decided not to even try to brush his hair — he had inherited his father’s unruly black mop.

He put the scroll in his pocket and silently left the dormitory. Only after he’d left the common room did he realise that he had absolutely no clue where he could find an owl.

Oh well, thought Al. I’ll just wander along, and someone who can tell me will turn up eventually. In the meantime, I’ll just have to be careful to remember how to get back to my common room.

As he walked along, trying but failing miserably to get back to the Great Hall where they had eaten dinner last night, he watched the portraits moving along the walls, holding conversations, playing games, or, most commonly, drinking. Suddenly, it occurred to him to ask a portrait for directions. The next one he came to pictured a short little knight and his grey pony in a meadow. The knight was slumped on the ground, snoozing gently as he leaned against his horse.

“Hello?” asked Al hesitantly. “Sir?”

The knight woke with a start. “Stand and fight, thou naughty varlet! The great Sir Cadogan is always alert and ready for battle!”

Albus couldn’t help laughing. “Alert? But I just caught you snoring next to your pony.”

“It was merely a ruse, young sir, to lure you into a false sense of security!”

“Alright, if you insist,” said Al, grinning.

“Thou believest me not? Then we shall test thy courage in the jousting lanes! Name the place, and we shall do battle!”

“Whoa, wait a minute!” said Al, slightly alarmed. He had begun to wish he had approached a different painting. “I never said--” A thought occurred to him. “Okay. We can ‘do battle’ in the Owlery, right now. Does that work?”

“Sir Cadogan shirks not from any battle! Follow me, and we shall fight presently!”

Al smiled. The knight was going to lead him to the Owlery! He looked back to at the painting to find that Sir Cadogan had already mounted his pony and was just vanishing into the next frame.

Al set off at a run after the knight, who somehow always managed to stay a few frames ahead of him. When Al finally heard hooting and the sounds of wings, he was out of breath. “Sir Cadogan! We are here, now please stop!” he called to the painting.

“Thou wishest to do battle here, thou knave?”

“Sorry, little guy — I don’t think we’ll be doing battle any time soon.”

“Thou coward! Seek thou to avoid facing the mighty Sir Cadogan?”

“No, it’s just that you’re inside a painting, and I’m not. That makes confrontation of any sort a bit tricky.” With that, he set off up the stairs to the Owlery, where there were no paintings for the enthusiastic knight to follow him. His shouts were soon drowned out by the sounds of owls returning from hunts.

One side of the tower had a sign saying “School Owls: For Use by Students.” Albus headed over there and picked out one of the many owls who had been following him with its gaze. It was a pretty owl, if not unusual, with tawny colored feathers and large amber eyes that seldom blinked.

“Hi,” said Al softly as he tied the letter to the owl’s leg. “Could you take this to the Potters’ cottage, in Godric’s Hollow?” The owl hooted in response, which Al took to be a yes.

As the owl flew out the window, Al looked around the Owlery. He spotted James’ owl, Jaemari, and went over to say hello. As he stroked the owl’s beak, he heard someone else come into the Owlery.

He turned around to see that it was none other than James himself. “James!” he cried happily, momentarily forgetting how angry his brother had seemed at the Feast last night. “How are you? I was afraid I wouldn’t get to see you at all, because, you know, I’m in Slytherin, and I wasn’t sure how much you get to see people in other Houses, and of course-” Al stopped babbling when he realised that James had yet to give any sign that he had seen his brother at all.

“James?” he asked uncertainly. “You alright?”

His brother ignored him. Al hurried over to the other side of the Owlery where James stood, intent upon another owl. As soon as Al approached him, James swept over to where Jaemari was perched, a letter in his hand. He turned away from Al as he passed, but Albus still caught an unmistakable flash of rage in his older brother’s eyes.

“C’mon, you’re not still mad that I’m in Slytherin, are you?” Al asked hesitantly. Is he actually upset about that? I mean, it’s a surprise and all, but is he really that prejudiced? “James?”

When his brother continued to ignore him, Al felt the cold shock and dread that had consumed him last night again. “Stop it!” he cried, angry at his brother now, searching for any excuse to explain his brother’s behavior. “This is the James-Ignores-Albus game, right? Not funny anymore!” But he knew that his brother was not joking or fooling around. “James! Please! Just talk to me!” He watched his brother carefully for any sign of a reaction — there was none, only the cold indifference with which James had behaved ever since he had entered the Owlery.

James finished tying his letter to Jaemari’s leg and watched as she flew out the window.

“You are still mad, aren’t you?” Al was nearly shouting now. “You think I wanted to be in Slytherin? That’s where the Hat put me, not my choice! I wanted to be in Gryffindor!”

At this James whirled around to face his brother for the first time, and sneered, “But the Hat never chooses wrong, Albus. You’re a bloody Slytherin, now.” His voice rose as he continued, until he, too, was shouting. “A bloody Dark wizard with a superiority complex! Think you’re better than me, Al? Think you’re better than a low-down Gryffindor who’s friends with Muggleborns? The Hat doesn’t lie!” He took a deep breath, and his voice became deathly quiet. “You’re a traitor to the family — I can see that now.” With that, he turned on his heel and stalked out the door of the Owlery.

Al was stunned into silence as his brother was speaking. As he left, Al found his voice again. “I’m not a bloody traitor, James!” he shouted after his brother, know it was no use. “I’m not a Dark wizard, and you know I love Muggles!” Tears began to flow freely down his cheeks. How could James say such things? “You’ve known me all my life — how could you think that of me?” Some part of him registered that James couldn’t hear him, but he no longer cared. If he could just keep explaining things to James, it would be alright, wouldn’t it? “You know I wanted to be in Gryffindor, just like you, just like Mum, just like Dad!” He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “I’m your brother,” he finished softly, his voice starting to crack.

By that time, James was long gone.

~*~*~


“Ouch!”

“Wha– oh, sorry!” Al looked at the feather he was supposed to be levitating to find that it was now quite out of his control, poking his partner, Tyler, in the eye. “Professor?” he called to Flitwick. “My feather-” he began, gesturing with his wand. As he did so, it dropped back on the table. “Oh, never mind.”

Al turned to Tyler. “Sorry about that — my mind was elsewhere.” I was thinking about my bloody brother, who can’t accept the fact that Slytherin does not mean evil! He scowled.

Tyler misinterpreted the grimace, and smiled at Al. “Don’t worry, it’s just our first Charms lesson — you’ll get better at control. At least you got it in the air! Look at them!” He gestured to the pair working across the aisle from them. Al, too, looked over, and saw that he knew both of the Ravenclaw girls — Rose and Miri.

“No, I think you’re saying it wrong,” Miri was telling Rose. “Win-gar-dium Levi-o-sa. Make the gar nice and long.” Rose chuckled at this, and looked over at Al. Their eyes met, and they smiled, remembering Hermione’s stories of how she, Ron, and Harry had become friends.

“Right,” she said to Miri, and tried the spell again. This time, the feather shot up into the air.

“Al?” asked Tyler, bringing his attention back to his own feather. “Want to try again, without poking me in the eye?”

Al grinned. “Sure.” The two had become friends during their first day of classes — being a Slytherin was not quite as lonely as Al had feared. But James can’t see that, can he? All he sees is the history of Slytherin, the Dark wizards and Death Eaters, not the Slytherins like me, who are perfectly decent, and--

“Albus! You’re doing it again!” Al looked up, and, sure enough, the feather was once more poking Tyler in the eye. “Sorry,” he said ruefully. I’ll pay better attention next time.” He tried to grab the feather and bring it back to the table. For a few seconds it flitted out of his reach, then he grasped it and laid it back on the desk.

Wingardium Leviosa!” he said, and this time the feather rose straight up into the air, and came back down when he gestured with his wand.

“Very good, Mr. Potter!” squeaked the tiny Professor Flitwick.

Al was watching Tyler levitate the feather, so he didn’t notice as Rose told Miri that she and Al were cousins.

“He’s your cousin?” asked Miri incredulously. “And he seemed so nice…”

“He is nice!” protested Rose. Seeing Miri start to shake her head, she added, “Don’t you think so?”

“No,” said Miri firmly. “I sat with him on the train, and I thought so then, but…” She stopped, and refused to say any more.

~*~*~


“…and just before we came over here, we got a letter from Rose!” announced Hermione excitedly.

She and her family, as well as Harry, Ginny, and Lily, were gathered around the Potters’ dinner table, eating a delicious meal prepared by Ginny and Winky.

“Really?” asked Ginny. “What did she say?”

“Well, she was sorted into Ravenclaw!” It was clear that Hermione had been bursting to tell them this. “I always knew she was very clever.”

Harry looked at Ron to see what he thought of it. Noticing Harry’s inquisitive look, Ron shook his head ruefully. “Well, it’s not Gryffindor, but Ravenclaw is still a fine House to be in.”

Ginny smiled. “Oh, that’s so wonderful! I’m sure she’ll be quite happy there.” She hesitated, then asked, “Did Rosie say anything about how Al is getting along?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. Nothing.”

“Eurgh, did I tell you? There’s a cat in Rose’s dormitory.” Ron’s disgust was plain.

Hermione slapped her husband lightly on the hand. “Ron! There is nothing wrong with cats!” Although Crookshanks had died a few years ago, Hermione had always loved being around Athena and other cats.

Ron shifted uncomfortably. “No, of course not, dear… I just never was, well, quite as fond of them as you and Rosie are.”

“And me!” said Lily excitedly from her chair. “I like cats, too!”

“Yes, of course, dear,” said Ginny absently.

Athena chose that moment to jump up on the table right next to Ron. “Oi!” he shouted in surprise. “Get that thing away from me!”

“Nini!” scolded Harry as he scooped up the little cat. “You know you aren’t allowed on the table.”

He gently placed her back on the ground and returned to his seat.

“So,” said Hermione, bringing the subject back to the kids at Hogwarts, “which House do you think Al will be in?”

“Gryffindor,” said Harry and Lily at the same time. They grinned at each other.

“Well, I think he’d do fine in all the Houses.” said Ginny calmly.

“He’s going to be a Slytherin!” shouted Hugo, laughing.

“Hugo, don’t joke about things like that,” said Ron, frowning. “He is not going to be in Slytherin!”

“Don’t say that!” cried Ginny, eyes flashing. “Slytherin is a fine House, Ron, and I’ll be pleased if Al ends up there!”

“Yes, but…” Ron avoided his sister’s eyes. “Erm, the potatoes are delicious, Ginny.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Still can’t keep his mind off his mouth!”

Everyone laughed, and dinner continued peacefully.

Much later, when Hugo began to yawn, the Weasleys left for their own house. Lily went up to bed not long after, and Ginny and Harry kissed her goodnight before heading for their own room.

“Harry,” began Ginny, “I’m worried about the boys. We haven’t heard from either one yet, and-”

She was cut off by a tapping at the window. She rushed over to let in two owls. “It’s Jaemari!” cried Harry when he saw the snowy owl.

He quickly untied the scroll from her leg. It contained an unusually short letter. Ginny watched him anxiously as he began to read. His eyes widened as they read, and the letter fell out of his hands as he froze in shock.

“What is it?” asked Ginny, in a quiet, anxious voice.

“Al’s a Slytherin.”

Back to index


Chapter 5: Chapter 5: The News Comes Home

Author's Notes: I am so nervous about this chapter, the last part. I think you'll love it or you'll hate, and you'll all probably hate me. I'm very worried over whether it's realistic and in character. Well... please tell me what you think. Please
It's a nice long chapter. for those of you who think my chapters are too short. Probably the longest I've ever written...
This marks the last chapter that Erik beta-ed for me, so just want to give him a huge thanks once more!
Well... here's what you've been waiting for... chapter 5....


Al returned to the common room after dinner, exhausted by his first day at Hogwarts. The room was filled with grand antique armchairs upholstered in dark green. One corner of the room had a fire, but it did little to dispel the chilling dampness in the rest of the room.

Al made his way over to the closest available seat to the fire, where he was quickly joined by Tyler. The two threw down their bags and collapsed into the chairs, content to sit in silence.

Scorpius soon came over and picked a chair. “Some day, huh?” he asked casually as he sat down. Draco Malfoy’s son had turned out to be quite nice, really. Though he often preferred to be by himself, Al counted Scorpius as a friend.

“Yeah,” agreed Tyler. “I can’t believe how strict that Professor Clearwater is!” Penelope Clearwater had taken the post of Transfiguration Professor several years ago. Although she had long since broken up with Percy, they remained good friends, and he often brought her along to family affairs. “I was nearly scared to breathe the wrong way,” Tyler continued, “and I don’t think it helps that we’re not in Ravenclaw.”

Al shrugged. “No, she’ll be fair. I thought she was nice enough.”

“Yeah, Potter, we all know you and she are old chums.” Al turned to see that Raymond Dolohov had come up behind him.

Al faced him calmly, refusing to rise to the bait that teachers favoured him because he was a Potter. James had warned him about this - back when he was still my favourite brother, thought Al bitterly. Shoving thoughts of James to the side, he replied, “Not really, actually. I know that Professor Clearwater is good friends with my uncles, and she knows of my father but, then again,” he smiled wryly, “who doesn’t?”

“Proud of your famous father, Potter? Proud of a fool Gryffindor who used sheer dumb luck to vanquish the Dark Lord?” sneered Raymond.

Al realised that Raymond was not trying to become his friend.

Al gritted his teeth and forced himself not lose his temper. “Yes, actually,” he said calmly.

For a moment, Raymond looked taken aback, unsure of how to respond. Finally, he said, “That, Potter, is exactly why my grandfather fought against yours.” He turned and stalked away.

Al sat stunned for a second. ‘My grandfather…’ So Raymond must be the grandson of the feared Antonin Dolohov. Well, that explains more than it doesn’t. Is he really holding our parents’ grudge? Al shook his head.Well, that’s got to be one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard.

Tyler grinned at him. “Well done, Al. You forced him to be openly hostile, while remaining fairly neutral yourself — a good political move. You aiming to work in the Ministry?”

Al laughed and shook his head. “No, not at all. How come you’re analysing a simple conversation?”

Tyler blushed slightly. “My family is pureblood. Not that that means anything,” he hurried to add, seeing the look on Al’s face. “It’s just that I was raised to make negotiations, to get as much as possible while gaining as much as possible, to know when to take sides and when to remain neutral.” He gave a harsh laugh. “All the traits, in short, that make a good Slytherin.”

Al frowned slightly. “That sounds… awfully grown-up for a kid.”

Tyler shrugged. “It’s tradition. Though it’s lessened slightly with the fall of Voldemort and most of his pure-blood supporters, my family didn’t pick a side in the war, and so we live almost exactly as we did before Voldemort rose to power. Just look around you,” he said, gesturing to the other students in the common room. “Many of them are pureblood, and many were raised just as I was.”

“If you say so…” It seemed very strange to Al, but he supposed he had been brought up very differently from children in ancient pureblood houses.

“He’s right.”

Al jumped a little and turned to face Jordan. He hadn’t heard the boy take the seat on the other side of him. Jordan had turned out to be quite a puzzle. He spoke seldom, and did his best to go unnoticed — and succeeded. He was a pale, slim boy with icy blue eyes and limp brown hair. Al thought he had pinned down the reason for this — Jordan liked to observe. Under Jordan’s stare, he often felt that the other boy knew much more about Al than he himself did.

“I take it you were raised that way, too?”

Jordan shrugged slightly — from what Al had seen so far, he didn’t show any emotion strongly. “The Hawkings and Greylings have different priorities and use different policies, but, yes, the general principle is the same.” Al was momentarily confused, before remembering that Jordan’s surname was Greyling, and that Tyler’s was Hawkings.

“Oh.” Al was unsure of what else to say, surrounded by people who had been raised for a world that he barely understood. Clearly being in Slytherin meant much more than he’d thought. He looked over to Scorpius to see if he, too, had been taught to think of everything as an important negotiation, but the Malfoy boy was immersed in a book.

“So,” said Tyler, clearly trying to break the tension, “what did you think of Professor Motefni?”

Al shrugged, thinking about their Potions professor. “She seems good. Nice enough, and she seems to know the material. But she gave us homework on the very first class…”

It was Tyler’s turn to shrug. “So? It’s just a few short-answer questions, and besides, she’s nice, and very pretty, too.” He winked. The young professor was quite tall, with long, straight blond hair and cheerful blue eyes. Her voice had a lovely lilt to it - though she spoke excellent English, she was clearly foreign.

“And she worked a lot with one of my dad’s Potions professors, Slughorn. Dad said he was really good, so I’d bet she is too.”

“Worked with him?” Tyler was politely skeptical. “From what I’ve heard of Horace Slughorn…”

“Alright, Dad said ‘a favorite student.’ Still, that must be pretty good.”

“Yeah, I guess… so, maybe we should start on the questions she gave us? What do you use asphodel for?”

~*~*~


“Phew! I am so ready to sleep!” said Rose, laughing, as she flopped down on her new bed in the Ravenclaw dormitories.

Miri smiled as she sat down rather more gracefully on her own bed, to the left of Rose’s. “Yes, the day was rather tiring, but I found it quite fun.”

“Charms was my favourite, I think. We actually learned our first spell!” Rose pulled out her wand from her pocket and said, “Wingardium Leviosa!” as she pointed it at her pillow. It rose a few feet and wiggled back and forth as she moved her wand.

“And Professor Flitwick is a great teacher, even if he is… vertically challenged.” Miri giggled.

“Yeah, definitely. I never would have dreamed we’d learn so much in such a short time! It’s so amazing!” Her voice held an undeniably pleased note.

Miri smiled. “Your father thought you’d be in Gryffindor?”

Rose shrugged. “He’s rather obsessive. I don’t think he’ll mind that I’m in Ravenclaw, though. As long is it’s not Slytherin…” She sighed. “Poor Al. I don’t know how Dad’ll react to that.”

Miri’s features hardened. “If he’s a Slytherin, then he deserves whatever your father says to him.”

Rose sat up, surprised. “Miri! Why would you say that?”

She sighed. “Never mind. I just don’t like Slytherins much, is all.”

Rose nodded, still dubious. “If you say so. But I think Slytherin is a fine house. Ambition isn’t a bad thing, and plotting or scheming or whatnot is just a bad way of saying making plans.”

Miri sniffed and refused to say anything more. Thankfully, Minerva came in at that moment and began to bat the silver tassel on Rose’s bedspread back and forth.

Rose couldn’t help but laugh. “Minnie! Stop that!” she said, not really being serious.

Miri broke down and smiled too. “She’s really not more than a kitten — just a year old. She still loves to play.” They passed the rest of the evening doing their Charms homework — to practise the Levitation Spell — by levitating various objects around the room for Minerva to chase.

~*~*~


Harry put down the letter from James and turned to face Ginny, shock evident on his face. “Slytherin…” he whispered slowly. “Al is in Slytherin.”

As the realization fully hit him, the shock on his face morphed into sadness. “Poor little Al… stuck among Death Eaters, Dark wizards…”

“Harry, that was generations ago, I hardly think-”

“I tried so hard to get him in Gryffindor! That’s where he wanted to go, I think. That’s where I certainly wanted him to go. I gave him the advice to ensure he was a Gryffindor! But now… Slytherin? What can the Sorting Hat have seen in him, to think he’d make a good Slytherin?” Harry began to pace around the room, almost thinking aloud. “Al’s always wanted to do well, but he’s just as brave, just as smart, just as hard-working as anyone in the other Houses. There must be a mistake of some sort — Al just can’t be a Slytherin!”

He began to pace faster. “I mean, honestly, Slytherin is all about doing anything, anything to get what you want, isn’t it? Nothing’s wrong with a little ambition, of course, but Slytherins take it to the next level! They have no scruples whatsoever! A Slytherin wouldn’t mind killing twenty people just to get to the last piece of treacle tart for himself.”

“Harry!” shouted Ginny, shocked. “Don’t you think that’s exaggerating just a tiny bit?”

But Harry paid her no heed and continued to speak, almost to himself. “Really, when has a Slytherin ever turned out decent? Most of ‘em were Death Eaters, and those that weren’t sympathised with them. Even Snape wasn’t too good — sure, he was brave and all, but if you look at his motives…” He came to a halt in front of where Ginny sat on the bed. “All these years, I’ve thought he was so good, so devoted to our side… but if you think about it, everything he did was really for himself, right?” Not noticing his wife shaking her head empathetically, he continued, “I mean, it was out of his love for my mum or whatever, but isn’t the same as his own feelings? So, really, he was just doing it for himself! A selfish git — a Slytherin.”

He began to pace around the room again, footsteps growing more forceful, voice growing louder.

“And what about Voldemort?” he demanded angrily. “Wasn’t he supposed to be the model student of Slytherin? Little Voldemort, so hardworking and ambitious…” He spat out the trait which led most Slytherins - no, all Slytherins, Harry told himself — to become plotting fiends. “But that’s exactly what Slytherins are supposed to be like! Voldemort was the heir to that illustrious founder, Salazar Slytherin! He embodied Slytherin’s traits perfectly. And my youngest son is in the House that’s named after a bloodthirsty pureblood maniac who praised ambition. He’s in the House of the Darkest wizard of modern - even not-so-modern - times, the House of all Voldemort’s cronies too. Death Eaters, Slytherins, are just those who crave any source of power, be it their own or someone else’s. As Dumbledore said, Voldemort’s first associates were Slytherin students who just wanted to share some of his glory. And they were associates, mind you, not friends. Because Slytherins have no friends!”

Ginny watched her husband with a sort of horror. Is this really Harry? she had to ask herself. Is this really my husband, so full of anger and spite?

He paused and took a deep breath “And now Al is one of them! One of those scheming, conniving brutes, who cares for no one, who tosses others out of the way to achieve their ends. One of the group who bullied and teased me during the entire time while I was at Hogwarts, the ones who made life hell, at times. And the Sorting Hat put Al there!”

He turned to smile bitterly at his wife, not noticing her appalled expression. “You’d think it was a joke, wouldn’t you? A mistake! Albus Severus Potter, put in Slytherin? No way!”

“Harry,” said Ginny quietly. “I don’t think it’s a mistake at all. It’s you who are mistaken.”

He barely seemed to have registered her words. “No, it’s not a mistake, is it? Al’s a Slytherin!” He was very nearly shouting now. “A bloody Slytherin, my son! And the Sorting Hat never makes mistakes, does it? No, it can see into his head… a place where even we do not go…” His voice was quiet again. “Perhaps I do not know my son as well as I thought.”

“Don’t say that,” said Ginny gently, starting towards him. “Of course you know Al, very well indeed! After all, you’ve raised him, you’ve-”

“But everyone thought they knew Voldemort, didn’t they?” he said as he stalked away from her, voice rising again. “Perfect little Tom Riddle, so polite, what a model student, so hard-working, so ambitious… just like Al. He’s polite, he’s hard-working… everything the young Voldemort seemed to be. So what if it’s all a masquerade? What if he, too, is cruel and heartless on the inside? Couldn’t he have been tricking us all these years, even maybe unintentionally? That must be it…”

Ginny could tell that Harry no longer remembered that they were in the same room — he was so far gone into his rant. She wanted desperately to stop him, to shake him, to bring him to his senses, to say something, anything, to turn back the flow of heart-stabbing words coming from his mouth, but she was frozen in shock and horror. Surely, surely this could not be the same Harry she had know all these years, the same Harry that had comforted his son just two days ago at the train station?

But she knew it was, for somewhere deep down, his words made sense, in a very warped way. Ginny knew she could not agree with what Harry was saying, but she could almost understand why he would think the Al was like… Ginny shuddered. No, how could Harry even think that Albus was at all similar to Voldemort?

“That’s what’s happened, I know it,” Harry was saying, no, Harry was shouting. He had stopped stomping around the room, and was now standing stock still in the centre. “We just never realised how twisted his views had become, never realised how far gone he was. Far gone enough to become a Slytherin!”

Ginny finally found her voice. “Harry!” she cried at the top of her lungs. “Just think about what you’re saying!”

He looked her in the eye for the first time. “I know what I’m saying!” he bellowed back. “I know exactly what I’m saying! And I know that my son has somehow become a bloody Slytherin!”

And there’s nothing wrong with that!” Dimly, a small part of Ginny realised that she was out of control, but she didn’t care. She didn’t notice the glass rattling wildy in the windows, or the slight trembling of the floor. “There is nothing, I repeat, nothing wrong with being in Slytherin! Just because they have a bad history–”

“Oh, a bad history, is it? And how do you think they got that bad history? Through their own actions, their own words!”

“But not all of them! Just a few, really, the flashiest, like Voldemort! That’s who gave them the bad name, not people like Al!”

“No, they got Sorted just the same as those ‘flashy’ people. They all share that same, cursed ambition, that same hatred of Muggles.”

“Al doesn’t hate Muggles, and you know it! Why, he loves his Aunt Hermione, a Muggleborn herself!” Ginny didn’t know where she found the concentration to make logic, not when she was so worked up. All she knew was the she had to make Harry listen, had to make him see reason.

“Can’t you see that he must have been hiding it from us? Knowing what we’d say to a filthy Muggle-hater like himself? Gin, being a Slytherin is simply who he is, who he’s always been — a devious conspirator, just like all Slytherins!” She could hear the rage in his voice — directed, she was sure, at not only her, but also at Albus.

“No! That’s a stereotype, a prejudice you picked up based on a few Slytherins while you were in school. Can you honestly say that you knew the Slytherins well enough to make that generalisation?”

“I don’t need to have known them! It’s even in the Sorting Hat’s songs — ‘those cunning folks use any means to achieve their ends’! That was from my very first year at Hogwarts. ‘Use any means’… And most often, those means are attacks, or murders, or even bullying at school!”

Ginny took a deep breath, trying to calm down. When she felt she could maybe speak with out shouting, she said quietly, “But, Harry, Al doesn’t have to be like that. No Slytherin has to be like that. Most probably aren’t, and you just haven’t realised it. Ambition is not a bad thing — why, ambition got you to the head of the Auror Office. Ambition is what gets people positions like Prefect, or Head Girl — certainly you can’t think that’s bad.” She waited anxiously to hear his response.

She didn’t have long to wait. Harry had not even tried to cool his temper, and yelled angrily, “Then there must be more than one type of ambition! The type Slytherins have is what gets them positions like ‘Dark Lord’ or ‘Spy’!”

Ginny gave up all attempts to control herself. “Harry!” she yelled. “This is ridiculous! You’ve had a few bad experiences with Slytherins, so you think the whole bloody House is out to bring down the wizarding world! It’s not! There are exceptions to every rule, but Slytherins are just as good as Gryffindors!”

Next door neighbors — Muggles — were trying their best to understand why the Potter house looked as though a mild earthquake was passing through.

“Bad experiences?” said Harry, incredulity dripping from his voice. “Bad experiences? Slytherins ruined my entire childhood! They killed my parents, and made me spend years in fear, just trying to protect those I love! Just face it, Gin! All Slytherins are evil, through and through! And now our son is, too!”

His words shocked Ginny into tears. “Evil?” she asked, nearly whispering. “You think our son is evil?” The last word came out as a shout again, and rage at what Harry was saying consumed her. “I don’t know what’s happened to you, Harry!” She could feel hot tears coursing down her cheeks, but she didn’t care. “I don’t know how you could say this about your own bloody son!”

“He’s a Slytherin now! That could very well be enough to make him no son of mine!”

Ginny gasped and staggered away from Harry, as if his words had hit her like a physical blow. “No son of yours… Harry? If that’s what you think, then you’re no husband of mine.” And with that, she stalked out of the room, tears streaming silently down her face, slamming the door behind her.

Harry watched his wife leave the room, her final words finally penetrating the rage he had worked himself into. “Ginny…” he whispered, slowly walking over to the door in a state of shock. Suddenly, he ran at the door and yanked it open. “Ginny!” he called down the hall. “Ginny, please! Come back here!”

He sprinted out into the hall, calling her name. Checking Al’s bedroom first, he glanced in every room on the upper floor of the house except Lily’s, not wanting to disturb his daughter.

He clattered down the stairs as fast as he could, and looked wildly around the family room at the base of the stairs. Seeing that Ginny wasn’t there, he ran through the kitchen, still calling her name.

En route to the dining room, he crossed through the little room that served as the Potters’ entry hall. He was in such a hurry that he almost didn’t notice that the front door was closing - almost. “Ginny, please!” he shouted again. He reached the door just as the lock clicked shut.

Harry quickly pulled back the curtain that covered the window set in the middle of the door — barely in time to see the hood of Ginny’s favourite cloak pulled up over her long red hair. Frantically, he unlocked the door. Just as it swung open, Ginny looked back to give him one last sad gaze, then turned on the spot and - Crack! - vanished.

~*~*~


A few doors down the hall from her parents’ room, Lily Potter was sitting up in bed. She had been on the verge of falling asleep when she heard voices coming from her parents’ room.

At first, she had strained to hear what they were saying, but soon the words became all too audible. Lily had desperately wanted to shut her ears, but something stopped her, some horrified interest made her keep listening as her parents yelled at each other.

Why is Dad saying such awful things? she though as she listened to Harry ranting. But then Mum started yelling too, and…

‘No husband of mine.’ Does that really mean what I think it does? Divorces were rare in the wizarding world, but not unheard of. And the floor trembling… that was definitely a sign that both her parents were extremely angry. Surely she’s not that mad?

But then she heard the front door open, and then slam shut. She heard her father’s anguished cries echoing through the house.

Lily didn’t realise she was crying as she tried her very hardest to fall asleep, to slip into a dream world where her parents did not argue.

Back to index


Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Something Wrong

Author's Notes: I'd like to thank all of you who left reviews telling me what you thought of it. I think I responded to all of them, but I've compiled all my arguments as to why Harry is not entirely out of character, so here they are:
Throughout the books, we have seen countless times when Harry gets angry and says things that he really doesn't mean. Most of OotP, for ex, or when Ron leaves in DH. That is exactly what happened here. Harry lost his temper and said things he really didn't mean. He allowed an old, half-forgotton grudge cloud out his sense of reason -- he got out of controll. Many of you also mentioned that he seems sincere when he tells Al that Slytherin is a good House at the train station, in DH. I've chosen to interpret this as Harry being so sure that Al will get in Gryffindor (after telling him to ask the Sorting Hat), that he doesn't mind endorsing Slytherin. It's easy to speak well of what you hate when don't think it will harm you. And also, think about it -- would this be an interesting H/G story if everything was just perfect between them?
Well, that said, I'd like to welcome aboard my wonderful new beta, Staci (Anamarie) from Perfect Imagination, and my awesome new Brit-picker/beta Helen (Bryher).
And, finally, my usual plea for reviews. School just started, and you all remember how exhausting/scary your first day of high school was, don't you? I don't have as much time to write now that school's started, but I always find more time after reading a review. So... please?


It was a very bleary-eyed Harry who stumbled into his daughter’s room the next morning to wake her up. He was unshaven, and his hair was, if possible, more wild than normal. The shadows under his eyes clearly said that he’d had a sleepless night.

He paused at the door for a second, just watching his daughter sleeping peacefully. She looks so much like her mother… With her eyes closed, it was easy to pretend that they were chocolaty brown instead of green like his own, and Lily’s red hair was exactly the same as her mother’s.

Harry sighed, thinking over again what had happened last night. What on earth had possessed him to become that angry? He’d been so surprised and, quite frankly, devastated by Ginny’s departure that he hadn’t had time to apologise to her. Looking back, Harry had no clue why he’d gotten so out of control. He knew that Al wasn’t like Voldemort, knew that a Slytherin could turn out okay, even wonderfully. Just look at Andromeda Tonks, to name one example. Or Snape, and Malfoy wasn’t so bad now, and even Slughorn could be pleasant at times.

But somehow, all his shock had clouded out his sense of reason last night. Harry knew from experience that once you started yelling, it was very hard to stop.

I deserve this, he thought morosely. I deserve to have my wife leave me, and Al should probably disown me, not the other way around. I was the world’s biggest prat last night — I deserve every misfortune that ever existed.

Sighing again, he went over to his daughter and gently shook her awake. He smiled as she sleepily opened her eyes. “Good morning, sweetie. It’s already nine o’clock — are you becoming a teenager on me?” He laughed a bit, but even to his ears it sounded rather fake and hollow.

Lily sat up slowly, and a shadow seemed to pass over her eyes. She was looking at him very intently. “Dad,” she said slowly, her voice serious, “Where did Mum go?”

Harry froze.

“Er…” He couldn’t speak, didn’t know what to say. How does she know? he asked himself. Very late last night (earlier that morning, really), he had decided not to tell Lily that Ginny had left for Merlin-knows-where. He had planned to say that she was on a business trip in Australia.

“Your mum…” he hesitated. Finally, he decided to go with his plan. “She had to leave for a business trip to Australia. She, erm, well, it was very urgent, so she didn’t have time to say goodbye.”

Lily nodded slowly. “And that’s why you were yelling last night, right? You didn’t want her to go?”

Harry gaped again. She heard that? Well, I guess we weren’t exactly quiet… He sighed to himself At least she’s provided her own excuse — I don’t have to think one up. Ginny had told him many times what a terrible liar he was. “Yes, that’s right. I didn’t want her to leave.”

Without warning, Lily burst into tears and jumped off the bed. “Why are you doing this?” she shouted accusingly, her voice broken up by sobs. “How can you lie to me, just like that? I’m not stupid — you and Mummy fought about Albus, and she divorced you and left!” She stared at him, fury and sorrow clear in her eyes.

Shocked, Harry impulsively pulled her into a hug. Lily remained stiff in his arms, turning her face away and refusing to meet his eyes. “Shhh, Lily, it’s all right,” he said softly, stroking her hair. Gradually, she relaxed into his arms, still crying.

He continued to try and comfort her until her sobs had faded out to the occasional whimper.

He re-positioned her so that she was looking him in the eye again. “Now, Lily, please listen to me.” He knew that he had her full attention. “Your mother and I are not divorced, and, I hope, unlikely to do so.” He sighed. “She has quite a temper, and I said some enormously stupid and unfair things about Al last night. In other words, I was a git and she got mad at me for it.” He hesitated before continuing. “I’m not sure where she went last night --- she Apparated.” He took a deep breath and looked his daughter in the eye, willing her to believe him. “I’m going to spend as much time as possible looking for your mother, but I’m warning you — if she doesn’t want to come home, she won’t.” He could tell that Lily was very close to tears again, so he tried to put in a smile. “But I’m sure she will, sooner or later.”

He hoped with all his heart that he was telling the truth.

Lily bit her lip and nodded again. “All right. But… I miss Mum.” Tears started leaking down her cheeks again.

Remorse filled Harry. Oh, no, he thought. This is all my fault! Ginny’s gone and Lily’s crying… what have I done?

~*~*~


Al walked next to Tyler as they headed for their first Herbology class after breakfast. He was quite relieved to be heading out to the greenhouses, simply because it was impossible to get lost. Hogwarts was a veritable maze of corridors, secret passageways, hidden doors, and other tricks and traps that made it impossible for an ignorant first-year to get to class on time. Herbology, on the other hand, was straight out the front doors of the caste and in plain view right in the middle of an otherwise-empty lawn.

But Al was looking forward to Herbology for another reason, too. Neville — Professor Longbottom — would be teaching it, and Al had seen an opportunity to prove himself. Al had heard his mother ask James to send her love to Neville at the train station, and had heard James refuse to do so. Al knew his brother well — he was rather cocky and considered himself ‘cool’. Sending a teacher love… that was way too un-cool for James.

So Al had decided that he would do it instead. It was a small, insignificant thing, really; he wasn’t sure why it was so important to him — he just knew that he had to show that he could do better than James.

And so he did. As the students trickled into Herbology, most began to look around in wonder at the strange, colorful, and magical plants that covered every available surface in the greenhouse. Al, however, went straight up to Neville -- No, Professor Longbottom, Al reminded himself — and, smiling slightly, said, “Professor? Just wanted to say, my mum sends her love.”

Neville grinned back. “Thank you, Mister Potter.” The twinkle in his cheery brown eyes told Al that he was trying very hard to treat him like an ordinary student who he had never met before.

As Al re-joined the Slytherin boys, Raymond gave him a dirty look, presumably for using his connections to the teacher. Just a minute later, the lesson began as most of the others had. Neville gave a short speech welcoming them to Hogwarts and explaining the importance of Herbology. It was clear that he loved his subject.

The day continued in a normal fashion, or at least, Al supposed so — it was only his second day at Hogwarts, so he wasn’t quite sure what normal was. But getting lost three times, being stopped by Peeves twice, and causing a large boil to appear on his palm by absently tapping it with his wand seemed like normal, for Hogwarts.

After lunch, the Slytherins had History of Magic with the Ravenclaws. Al was quite looking forward to the class. Although his father had warned him that it was dull (earning a disapproving look from Aunt Hermione), Al had always enjoyed reading about Goblin Rebellions, and, as Uncle Ron had assured him, there was plenty of that in Binns’ class.

So he was hurrying along after lunch, trying to get to class on time, and quite intent on watching the walls for the portrait of Humphrey the Hairy Hungarian that the Bloody Baron had told him was very near the History of Magic classroom. He was so intent that he didn’t notice Miri coming out of corridor right in front of him, and he bumped into her and knocked the book she was reading out of her hands.

His first thought was Wow, Ravenclaws read while they walk. His second was to pick up her book, and his third was to greet her. “Miri!” he said happily. “I was wondering when I’d get to see you. Do you like Ravenclaw? How’s Minnie doing?”

But she refused to meet his eye. She snatched her book back out of his hand, rather roughly, Al thought, and tucked it into the bag hanging over her shoulder. Still not saying a word, she hurried off in the direction Al had been heading — towards History of Magic.

“Miri, wait!” he called after her. She paused only to throw a cold glare over her shoulder.

Al was hit by an overwhelming sense of dj vu. Even as he ran after her, he knew what had happened, why she had been so nice on the train, and was now so cold. First James, now Miri… why can’t people accept Slytherins? he demanded angrily in his head, not sure if he would ever understand the answer.

But you hated yourself, just after the Sorting, a little part of him said cruelly. You hated Slytherins, too. Can you blame Miri, James, or anyone else? Can you really say that it’s unfair without being a hypocrite?

Al shook his head to clear it as he reached the History of Magic Classroom, noting vaguely on his way in that Humphrey really was quite hairy. He was careful to sit far away from Miri, who was sitting next to Rose, apparently arguing over something. Merlin, I hope it’s not me, he thought. It was bad enough that his Sorting was ruining his own friendships — he didn’t need to ruin anything for Rose, as well.

At the end of the lesson, Al found himself quite disappointed. Professor Binns was just as dull as everyone said. He had managed to stay vaguely attentive, which was more than the rest of the Slytherins could say, but only because he liked the subject. The Ravenclaws were so intent on getting the nuggets of information out of Binns’ monotonous stream of words that they paid attention very well.

When he finally got into bed — after doing some homework, heeding Aunt Hermione’s warnings about how procrastination would lead to doom — Al was quite pleased with how his day had gone. Most of the classes had been interesting and fun, and he and Tyler were quickly becoming best friends. As for Miri… I’ll just forget about her, he told himself firmly. After all, she can’t be a very good person if she doesn’t like Slytherins, he added, not really believing it.

And so he tried to fall asleep, to forget about Houses and prejudices and angry brothers and discriminatory friends.

~*~*~


Ron chewed his lunch in the cafeteria at the Ministry, watching as Harry picked at his food across the table. Ron frowned. His friend had seemed distracted all day, getting lost in his own thoughts during the middle of a conversation, and frowning at random moments. And Harry looked a mess, too. Large bags darkened his eyes, and it was easy to see from his rumpled appearance that he hadn’t really cared about getting ready for work this morning.

And they usually used their lunch hour to go over business for the rest of the day. Today, Harry wasn’t speaking at all, and he was hardly eating anything. This, more than anything, disturbed Ron — not eating was always a sign that something was seriously wrong, in his opinion.

So, swallowing his food before speaking (a trick he had learned from years with Hermione), Ron asked hesitantly, “Harry? Is something wrong, mate? Because you’ve seemed a bit strange all day…”

Harry looked up sharply when Ron spoke — apparently, he had been absorbed in his thoughts again. He stared at Ron for several seconds before replying. “Nothing,” he said rather harshly. “Everything’s fine.”

Ron knew this to be a lie, but he also knew Harry well enough to know that he wouldn’t talk about his feelings if he didn’t want to. “All right, if you say so.” Deciding to change the subject, he asked, “So, have you got word from Albus yet?”

This time, Harry nearly jumped out of his seat, completely confusing Ron.

Harry looked at Ron intently. It seemed almost as if he was warring inside himself. “No,” he said at last, and Ron was positive that this was not the truth. “Nor James, either,” Harry added quickly.”

Ron sighed inwardly, but decided to just accept the fact that Harry didn’t want to talk about whatever it was. This sort of thing had been happening much less frequently than it had back when they were at school — not only had Harry calmed down after his defeat of Voldemort, but he was also able to confide in Ginny very easily, and she was usually able to help him sort out the problem. Ron wondered if Harry hadn’t done that, and if so, why not. And while his mind was on his little sister… “Is Ginny mad that they haven’t written? How is she, by the way? And Lily? Coping all right with the boys gone?”

This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say, for Harry suddenly pushed his chair back from the table, and gathered up the remains of his nearly-uneaten lunch. “They’re fine,” he said gruffly, and walked away.

Ron stared after his best friend in confusion. Something must really be wrong.

Back to index


Chapter 7: Chapter 7: At the Burrow

Author's Notes: Well, here's Ch. 7... it's the new 'longest chapter I've ever written.' More than half of it is about Ginny, for all of you who asked about her. I tried not to make this too angsty or serious, but it didn't really work...
I'd just like to say that I really appreciate all of you who hate what I did with Harry and Ginny, and yet have continued to read the story. I'm not going to defend myself anymore, but thanks all the same. Thanks also to my amazing new beta, Staci, and my equally amazing new Britpicker, Helen. It's quite humbling to see just how many typos I make, and there are so many things that Brits do that I'd never think to check. Thanks also to everyone who's reviewed so far, and whichever two wonderful people nominated this story for a DSTA.
Well, please leave a review and tell me what you think!!


“I was such a bloody idiot!” growled Ginny for what must have been the hundredth time as she stomped around her mother’s kitchen at the Burrow. “What could I have been thinking?”

Molly Weasley sighed again as she watched her daughter. The sounds of the wards around the house going off had woken her up just after falling asleep the night before — even nineteen years after Voldemort’s defeat, she and Arthur still considered it wise to use a basic charm to alert them when someone entered their property. Listening more closely to the sound, she realised that someone had Apparated right into the kitchen. She immediately woke Arthur, and together, wands out, they went down to confront the intruder.

She had been quite shocked to see her daughter standing in the middle of the kitchen at nearly midnight with red, blotchy eyes that even the darkness couldn’t hide and tear streaks running down her face.

Of course Molly had run over to give her a hug and asked what was wrong, but Ginny had refused to answer, merely muttering a quick “nothing” and turning her face away.

She said she just wanted to spend the night in her old room and see her parents again, but Molly didn’t believe that for a second. Still, she supposed, she could worm the story out of her daughter tomorrow. Shooting her husband a look that plainly said “don’t ask,” she led Ginny to her old room and loaned her a pair of pyjamas — Ginny was still fully clothed, and even wearing her cloak.

With a quick “thank you,” Ginny wished her mother goodnight and got into the old-fashioned nightgown that was far too big on her. Seeing her old room was a shock, too. She had forgotten just how little-girly it looked, painted in lavender with white ruffles on the bedspread. She could clearly remember the day when she had insisted that her mother charm the walls from pink to blue, but paint is tricky to charm, and the best she could manage was purple. Her old collection of stuffed animals was still neatly arranged on a shelf, and though it was clear that her mother was keeping the room free of dust, there was still a comfortable mess around the room from last time she had stayed here.

Ginny sat down on her bed and leaned back against the frilly pillows, but she knew she couldn’t go to sleep. What was I thinking? she thought to herself. Yes, Harry was being a git, and I’m still furious with him. As she thought this, she could feel the anger rising up inside her, the incredulity that Harry was really so prejudiced against his own son, the disbelief that he would really disown Albus just because he was in Slytherin. With an effort of will, she forced the emotions down. He was just in a temper — he didn’t really mean what he said. He couldn’t have. She sighed. And now, in all likelihood, he’ll hate me, when I still love him. I always will.

And Lily! How could I have just left her? What if Harry goes out for, say, a walk to cool off his anger, and forgets to make her breakfast? she thought. Or what if he’s surly when she does some normal eight-year-old stunt and he yells at her, too? She sighed. This is a mess.

She stayed up all that night thinking, berating herself, going over everything she had done wrong last night. An hour or so after the sun rose, she charmed last night’s clothes clean, put them on, and headed down to face breakfast… and her mother.

Ginny entered the kitchen to find her father leaving for work. With Kingsley Shacklebolt as the Minster, Arthur had finally accepted the position as Head of the Muggle Liaisons Department. He gave her a cheery ‘good morning,’ but he was clearly confused as he headed out the door and Apparated to work. Ginny shook her head — obviously her mother had warned him about questioning her.

Her mum set down a steaming mug of tea on the table, which Ginny drank gratefully, trying to clear her head. Molly poured her own tea and sat down across from Ginny, then said firmly, “Now, Ginny, of course we’re very pleased to see you, but would you mind telling me exactly why you appeared in the middle of my kitchen in the dead of night without your husband or daughter, not to mention without an explanation?”

Ginny sighed, resigned to explaining everything. “I was a bloody idiot, that’s why.”

“How exactly were you an idiot?”

Ginny noted that her mother did not dispute the fact, merely accepted it. She steeled herself — this hurt to say aloud — then said, very fast, “I yelled at Harry and walked out on him.”

Her mother sighed. “And what exactly prompted this?”

“Well, we were sort of arguing because Al got Sorted into Slytherin,” she ignored Molly’s small gasp of surprise, “and Harry was saying how it was a mistake or something, and then he started to get really angry, and then he even started comparing Al to Voldemort, and he began to shout, and then,” Ginny pushed away from the table, fury rising up again, “he said that if Al was a Slytherin, then he wasn’t his son, and then…” Ginny gave a small sigh. “And then I said that if Al wasn’t his son, then I wasn’t his wife.” She turned anxiously to her mother. “And then I came here.”

Molly enfolded her in a big hug, sympathy on her face. For the first time in years, Ginny was content to simply go limp in her mothers’ arms as tears began to roll down her face again. Her mother smoothed her hair and comforted her, just as she had done when Ginny was three.

When her tears subsided, Ginny sat down again at the table and sipped her tea. Molly did the same. Setting the cup down on the table, she stared at her daughter intently. “Well, I think you did the right thing.”

Ginny looked at her incredulously. “I fought with the man I love, ran away from him, and deserted my daughter. How can that possibly be the right thing?”

Molly raised her eyebrows. “But you were standing up for your youngest son at the same time. Face it, Ginny,” she said gently, “even Harry can be a git sometimes.”

Ginny looked at her mother in surprise. She knew it was true, but coming from her mother…

“He let his temper take over him,” Molly continued, “and you can’t let him get away from that. You had to show him that what he was saying was wrong, and that you won’t stand for him saying such things about his own son.” She shook her head. “Honestly. Comparing Al, my grandson, to Voldemort? You were right to shout at him.”

“But then I had to go and leave! Will he even let me come back? I was such a bloody idiot!” she growled. “What was I thinking?”

Molly sighed. “Oh, Ginny, of course he’ll take you back! He’s completely, unconditionally, in love with you, and if you haven’t realised that after all these years…” Ginny gave a sigh at her mother’s words, hoping they were true. “But,” her mother continued, “if you want my advice…”

Ginny looked at her mother expectantly. Over the years, she had come to accept that, especially when dealing with husbands and children, her mother was usually right. “What should I do?”

“Stay away for a few more days.”

Ginny gasped. “What? You must be crazy! He’ll think I’m gone for good!”

“No, he’ll keep hoping, trust me. You’ll just show him that you’re the one in power, just show him you’re in the right and he’s in the wrong. Ginevra, it’s the right thing to do — you have to trust me on this.”

Ginny stared at her mother, ignoring the use of her hated first name. It was decidedly odd to hear her supporting a rebellion of sorts against her husband. What her mother suggested sounded too, well, audacious. Could she really stay away from Harry? Should she? And what if he didn’t even want her back? But then Ginny remembered all the times she had paid for not listening to her mother… “All right, I’ll stay here for a few days, if you really think I should. Thanks for the tea and advice, Mum. I’m going upstairs to write to Al.”

“But, Ginny!” called Molly as Ginny swept up the stairs. “Don’t you want some breakfast?”

~*~*~


Lily sighed and looked expectantly at the clock. Being the only child left at home was a lot less fun than she’d expected. With both her parents gone, she was all alone in the house except for Winky, who her parents trusted to take care of her. She had hoped that Hugo would come over, but Aunt Hermione had sent him to stay with Uncle George and Uncle Percy for the day. Thankfully, Harry had said that she could go over to her grandparents' house in the afternoon. Lily looked at the clock again to see that she only had a few more minutes to wait before she could Floo over.

It was just so boring, being alone with only little Nini for company. Being a cat, Athena did nothing but sleep, and now she seemed a tad morose. She’s missing Al, too, thought Lily. I never thought I’d want to lose another chess game against him, but today that sounds like fun. Al had learned the game well from Uncle Ron, but Lily just couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. Even so, a game of chess that she had no hope of winning sounded good, she was so bored. All yesterday she had zoomed around on her broom, relishing in the freedom that came from the lack of older brother to make her Bludger target, but the fun of that had quickly worn off. Besides, her father wasn’t comfortable with her flying alone, though her mother said it was fine.

Mum. Lily sighed, wondering where she had gone. It’s just not fair, she thought bitterly. Dad did something stupid, now mum is gone. But then again, that wasn’t being fair to Dad, either. She sighed again. I just wish Mum would come home, tell Dad that Slytherin is fine, and then we could forget about this whole mess.

Lily looked at the clock again. It was one minute before noon. Close enough. If I stay here any longer, I’ll die of boredom.

She hurried over to the kitchen, where a small fire was burning despite the heat — her parents always told her to use the Floo to get away in an emergency. Lily reached into the elegant little bowl that held the Floo powder, took out a pinch, and tossed it into the fire. Immediately, the small flame flared higher, turning a bright emerald green as it did so. Lily called out “The Burrow!” and stepped unhesitatingly into the flame.

She smiled as she spun through the flames. Lily always loved travelling by Floo, and got quite a lot of practice going between her house and those of all her uncles, as well as to her grandparents’, as she was doing now.

The flames gently shoved her out when she reached the correct grate, and she stepped onto the well-scrubbed bricks in front of the fireplace in the Burrow’s kitchen, not stumbling at all.

“Grandma? It’s me! Lily!” she called out as she made her way through the kitchen. “You there?” She heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and ran over eagerly to greet her grandmother.

But to her surprise, it was not Molly Weasley who came down with a smile on her face, ready to enfold the little girl in hug.

It was Ginny.

“Lily!” she cried as she ran down the stairs. “Oh, Lily, I’m so sorry!”

“Mum?” said Lily slowly, not quite sure if she was really seeing her mother.

And then she was surrounded by her mothers arms, hearing her mother’s soft pleas of remorse, even seeing a tear or two trickle down her mother’s face, and Lily knew she couldn’t blame her mother for leaving, knew that nothing was her fault, knew that everything would work out in the end.

Lily found herself in the bizarre position of comforting her mother. She unreservedly returned the hug, but from there on was unsure what to do. She’s my mum! Lily thought in confusion. She… well, mums just don’t cry!

So it was with considerable relief that Lily stepped away when she felt her mother draw back.

“Oh, Lily, I’m so sorry!” Ginny said, straightening up and looking her daughter in the eye. “You must think I’m an awful mum now, just leaving you like that, I just don’t know what--”

“Mum!” cried Lily, shocked, “I could never, ever think that of you!” It felt very strange to be bolstering her mother’s confidence — usually, it was the other way around.

“How is Ha– your father?” Ginny seemed desperate. “Is he all right? Are you all right? Oh, I should never have left you, he was in such a temper, I don’t know what I could have been thinking…” It seemed as though she had said this many times before.

She was crying again. This definitely makes my list of Most Awkward Situations, thought Lily hopelessly. What was she supposed to do? “Dad’s fine, Mum,” she said in what she hoped was a reassuring voice. “Me, too. He came in my room in the morning, and explained everything…” Well, sort of, added Lily to herself rather grimly.

Ginny’s tears had started to die down, but she was hugging her daughter very tightly again, muttering incoherent apologies and regrets.

Suddenly, Lily had a thought. I know it would be mean for me to take advantage of her in this state, but… “And, Mum? You should know that he’s really sorry about everything he said, he didn’t mean it. He even told me that he was a git.”

Her mother backed away again, wiping her tears. “Merlin knows that’s right,” she said with a smile and some of her usual humour.

Lily decided she could push a little harder. “And he said he really wished you’d come back.” Well, not in so many words, no, but I could tell that he really meant it…

Ginny bit her lip, refusing to meet her daughter’s eye. “Really?”

Mentally crossing her fingers, Lily nodded. “Yeah.” She could see her mother going through an internal struggle of sorts, though it was clear she was trying to hide it.

Finally, Ginny looked up. “Well, I think I’m going to stay here for a few days, Lily.” She winced when Lily let out a gasp of shock.

“But, Mum, Dad’s really worried about you! Can’t you just come home, forgive Dad and forget about all this, and tell Al you both still love him, and…” Lily knew tears were starting to leak out of her own eyes, but she didn’t care. “And we could just be a family again?” she finished softly, nearly whispering.

The look of desolate pain on Ginny’s face made Lily cry even more. “Oh, Lily, I wish…” But she didn’t finish her sentence. Instead, she sighed and gave her daughter another hug, gently this time, more like a mother and less like a woman desperate for comfort and reassurance. “I’ll be back in just a few days, and we’ll all have to… to keep hanging on until then.”

“But… why?” Lily hadn’t meant to ask, hadn’t meant to upset her mother even more, but the words just slipped out.

Because my mother told me to, thought Ginny, hating it. “Because… we all need a few days to recover.” Lily nodded hesitantly and wiped away her tears. “And I promise,” continued Ginny, “after that, we will forget all this, and we will just be a family again.” Merlin, let that be true. If Harry really missed her, really wanted her back... well, then, they could forget about all this, just as Lily suggested.

Ginny looked to her daughter again. “But could I ask you to do me a really big favour?” she asked.

“Of course,” said Lily, tears all gone.

“Please, don’t tell your father that I’m here. And could you try not to let him come to the Burrow?”

Lily bit her lip. “But… don’t you want to see him again? Don’t you want to get back together?”

The look of innocence with which she stated the questions tore at Ginny’s heart. How could Lily know exactly what her worst doubts were? “Lily, of course I do! Just… not for a few days, okay?” Merlin, let me stick to that, Ginny thought.

“Okay,” promised Lily, though her voice still held traces of doubt.

Ginny gave her daughter a quick kiss on the forehead. “Thank you. Now, what have you been up to with all the boys gone?”

~*~*~


Al nibbled on the edge of his quill distractedly as he tried to focus on the Charms essay he was working on. It was due tomorrow, and Al was beginning to wish he had actually opened the study planner he had received from Aunt Hermione. It’s just so pointless, he thought, trying to gather his thoughts. Yes, I suppose it helps us to learn, but who really cares about Wizard Baruffio and his silly buffalo?

Al tried to concentrate, and managed to scribble a few more sentences about the importance of enunciation, but very soon his gaze began to wander around the room, not that there was much to see.

He sighed and decided that he needed a study break. If I can’t manage a few essays, how will I cope with exams? And OWLs? he thought worriedly as he stood up and made his way to the portrait hole.

He wandered towards the Great Hall for a few minutes before stopping to look out one of Hogwart’s slit-like windows at the twilight sky outside. That’s what the Slytherin common room needs, he thought. Windows. For fresh air and to stare out when you get bored. It was a few hours after dinner, and the sky was a dark, bluish-purple, but not quite black — one of Al’s favourite colours. Ravenclaw blue… he thought rather wistfully.

Suddenly, he noticed a tiny pinprick of white in the darkening sky. A star! The first one… might as well make a wish. His grandfather had told him of the Muggle tradition of wishing on a star. It was probably just superstitious nonsense — after all, they thought all witches had to be warty with green skin — but anything was worth a shot. Al took a deep breath, then muttered, “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.” Please, oh, please, he wished fervently, please let James forgive me, please let us be brothers again, having fun playing Quidditch, chasing Lily, even bickering about who has to feed Nini… Al sighed, watching window as he remembered times when he wasn’t arguing with his brother.

But then he noticed another star, this one moving, growing larger, drawing nearer… a distinctly odd-shaped star…An owl?

Al’s excitement grew as he recognised the owl, which continued straight towards him and, at the last possible second, folded its wings and swooped in though the glassless window. It was Clyde, the owl that Ron had gotten his parents after Errol died more than a decade ago. Al was fairly sure he knew why Ron had chosen Clyde — the owl was as dull as possible and never flustered, the exact opposite of Pigwidgeon.

Nevertheless, Al was happy to see the unexcitable owl calmly perching on the edge of the windowsill in front of him and hold out his leg, which had two fairly lengthy scroll attached. As he’d expected, one of the scrolls had his name scribbled on it in his mother’s handwriting.

As he untied the scroll, a seed of dread grew within him. What would it say? Would his parents be disappointed that he’d been sorted into Slytherin? Would they be angry?

He unrolled the parchment and began to read.

Dear Al, the letter read.

I sent this just after breakfast, so I hope you don’t mind that it won’t come with the rest of the owls. I We were so happy to get your letter last night! I’m very proud that you were Sorted into Slytherin. It’s a fine House to be in, and you couldn’t ask for better.

Al let out a sigh of relief, and then continued to read.

So, how is school going? You didn’t tell us very much in your last letter. Do you like your classes, and your professors? And who’s in your year? Anyone that I’d know of? Write and tell me us in your next letter!

Al paused in confusion. He was sure he’d mentioned the names of all the boys in his dormitory in his letter. He thought he’d actually said quite a lot — it had filled almost a foot of parchment. Had his mother actually even read it?

With a sickening feeling, Al remembered the little scroll he had seen James mail. What if she only read his, not mine? That would explain it… After all, James probably would have said that I’m a Slytherin. He couldn’t help but feel that it was very unfair that his mother would only read James’ letter. Why wouldn’t Mum read my letter? Maybe she doesn’t like me as well as she likes James… He shook his head to clear away that thought — he knew it wasn’t true.

But something else was odd about his mother’s letter. Scanning down the page, he only saw her handwriting. Al distinctly remembered passing the quill around the table between him, Lily, and Mum and Dad when they were writing to James last year, even dipping Athena’s paw in the ink so she could sign. Why hadn’t his father and Lily written anything? And, come to think of it, why had Clyde delivered the letter? Clyde was his grandparent’s owl.

Al frowned, thinking. Something very strange was going on at home.

~*~*~


The Ravenclaw common room was filled with students, but only a few groups of students were conversing. Instead, the sounds of scribbling quills and rustling parchments filled the room, accompanied by occasional mutterings.

In one corner of the common room, three seats were clustered around a little table, but only two of them were occupied. Well, that’s not exactly true: one of the three had been claimed by a small, black and white cat that lay engulfed by blue, velvety pillows. She was purring contentedly, watching the wiggling quill of the girl sitting across from her with fascination. She twitched her tail irritably when the quill paused.

The owner of the quill, Rose Weasley, frowned as she stopped writing, looking intently at the letter she was scribbling. It was her second she’d written home; the first had merely said that the train ride had gone well and she was Sorted into Ravenclaw. In this letter, she had already written quite a bit about her classes, her friends, and her overall enjoyment of Hogwarts.

There was just one thing left that she could add, and she was trying to decide whether she write it or not.

Could I do that to him? she asked herself, thinking of her cousin Albus. Could I really be the bearer of what Dad’ll view as ‘bad news’? It’s important enough to put in the letter — if I was being a good daughter and telling my parents everything, then I’d tell them that Al was Sorted into Slytherin. She sighed. But Dad will be so mad…

Rose couldn’t help but feel sorry for Al. She knew it would be hard for him to do well in a house that his uncle, her father, despised. And when she had talked to her other cousin James, he had seemed very reluctant to talk about his brother. Rose was pretty sure that there was tension between them, at the very least.

Rose sighed again and looked back at her letter. A drop of ink had fallen from the tip of her quill, which had been poised over the parchment for a long time. Well, she thought, making up her mind, Al or even James probably told Aunt Ginny or Uncle Harry, and they’ll tell Mum and Dad, so I guess it doesn’t really matter if I do tell.

She lowered the quill to the parchment and wrote ‘You may have already heard that Al was Sorted into Slytherin.’ But I can’t just leave it at that, she told herself. I’ll, I don’t know, defend him or something. ‘I think it’s a good House for him to be in, and he’ll do well there,’ she added. ‘There are lots of nice Slytherins.’

Rose added a short closing, then signed the letter and headed up to the Owlery.

Back to index


Chapter 8: Chapter 8: Rejected... Again

Author's Notes: Ch 8! Sorry for the delay, y'know, school and all. This one's for all of you who've been wondering about Miri since ch. 1.
Okay. Molly. For all of you who think she was either being OOC or breaking up Harry and Ginny's marrige, I don't agree. Al is her granson too, and she's just as hurt by what Harry said as Ginny is, if not more so. She, unlike Ginny, knows that Harry will take Giny back no matter how long she's gone, and she wants Harry to hurt -- wants the lesson to stick better. Molly also knows that loosing Ginny, or thinking he's lost Ginny, will hurt more than anything else, so she advised Ginny to stay away for a few more days. Neither Ginny nor Molly wants Ginny to have more power than Harry in their marrige.
Now, here's Ch. 8. I promise, this will be the last chapter of major angst. I hope. People will start making up next chapter, but I'm not saying who. :D. I honestly never intended this to be so angsty.... XD.
Thanks to my amazing betas Helen and Stacy! Oh, and thanks to whichever two people nominated this for a DSTA!
And finally, I'm going to send out another plea for reviews. Like what I've done? Tell me! Think the whole thing is totally OOC? Tell me! C'mon, just 11 more and this will be my most reviewed story... thanks in advance! :D


Several people in the Gryffindor common room looked up as an irate boy with messy black hair and green eyes, now flashing with anger, stormed through the common room and up the staircase to the boys’ dormitories.

James ripped open the red and gold hangings surrounding the bed, using the motion as an excuse to vent rage. He nearly tore the hangings from the rod.

He flung himself down on the bed, sprawling across the entire mattress, and proceeded to systematically rip the parchment in his hands into minute pieces.

“It’s not fair,” he muttered angrily, repeating the age-old cry of the teenager. “It’s just not fair!”

“Something you want to share?” came a voice from the door.

James looked up to see one of the other Gryffindors in his year, Henry Mullins, enter the room. The normally open and easy-going boy looked concerned. “What are you doing here?” James growled.

Henry shrugged slightly. “I saw you, erm, come up here, and you looked pretty bad. I just wanted to know if you want to talk or something.”

“No!” shouted James. He sat up on the bed. “Just go away!”

“All right, all right,” said Henry uneasily, backing away. He turned to go.

James sighed, calming down a bit. “It’s Al,” he said to Henry’s back. “My brother.”

The other boy turned around. “What about him?” That was the nice thing about Henry — he never teased anyone for a decision, just took whatever came in his stride.

James sighed. “Y’know, he got sorted into Slytherin.”

Henry sat down on his own bed, which was next to James’. “Yeah, you’ve, erm, mentioned it.” He frowned for a second. “You’re not still upset, are you?”

“Yeah, I bloody well am!” shouted James, losing control again. He stared at Henry angrily, waiting for a response, but the other boy just stared back calmly.

When James realised that Henry wasn’t going to respond, he gave a deep sigh. “It’s just that… Slytherins are traitors, traitors to all of wizarding society.” He ignored Henry’s gasp and continued. “Almost all of the willing Death Eaters were Slytherins, in both of the wars. Slytherins killed my grandparents, my uncle, and a lot of my parents’ friends…”

Seeing the skeptical look on Henry’s face, James’s voice grew more forceful. “It’s true! Slytherins are just plain evil…”

It was Henry’s turn to sigh. “You’re saying nothing that hasn’t been said before, James,” he said gently. “A lot of people don’t like Slytherins, and they’re all wrong.” He held up a hand to stop James’ protests. “Hear me out. Slytherins are no different from you or me. Some of the traits associated with them are also associated with the Dark Arts or Darker wizards. That doesn’t mean they all are. Your own father could talk to snakes, right?” He didn’t need to see James nod. “Well, that’s definitely a Slytherin trait, being a Parslemouth. Is your dad evil?”

“No!” said James vehemently. “Dad is not evil! But he wasn’t a Slytherin.”

“Ambition isn’t a bad thing, nor is cunning, or the ability to make plans. You use those every day; it’s just that Slytherins are better at them. All that matters is how you choose to use them. Some Slytherins made the wrong choices, and it’s they who are remembered, not the good ones.” He reached over and grabbed a well-worn book from the side of his bed. “Here. Look at this.”

He flipped it open to a page with a turned-down corner and passed it over to James. “This is a book of quotes by Albus Dumbledore. Just try thinking that one over?”

James brought the book close to his face, squinting to see it in the dim light. “It is our choices that show who we truly are,” he muttered aloud as he read, “far more than our abilities.” He looked up at Henry and sighed again. “Yeah, I guess.” A grimace crossed his face briefly, to be replaced by a sad, thoughtful expression. “But I’m so scared for him,” he whispered. “Al…”

It was almost as if James was speaking to himself — he had forgotten that Henry was watching. “It’s just that, he was always my innocent little brother,” James continued. A touch of bitterness entered his voice. “Perfect little Al, good at everything he tried, always so diligent, so patient, so kind…”

James looked up at Henry, his eyes showing just a hint of anguish. “I was always a little jealous that he’s so perfect. But now that he’s in Slytherin… what if he’s corrupted or something? I guess I realised that I really do love him, and to seem him turn cold, uncaring…” he shuddered. “That would be awful.” He bit his lip hesitantly before admitting his more serious fear. “Or what if he fooled us all, and really does intend to, I dunno, murder us in our sleep? Or, more likely, he turns into an arrogant git? I thought I knew my brother, but I guess I was wrong… and that hurts.”

“James…” Henry started, then stopped, unsure of what to say. Though he was usually compassionate and understanding, this story was a bit too personal and conflicting.

“And this letter,” added James softly, plucking listlessly at one of the scraps of parchment littering his bed. “It’s from my mother, saying how I need to be supportive of Al, he’s all alone, the odd one out.” His voice had taken on a bitter, sarcastic tone. “How I’m the older brother and therefore responsible for him, I’ve got to make sure he settles in well, and just keep being sympathetic and compassionate.” A scowl twisted his face. “And I can’t stand it!”

Out of nowhere, he began to shout again. “It’s all about Albus, bloody Al! She never even mentions one word about how I’m doing, how I’ve settled in! She just keeps blathering on about how important Al is! It’s not like he’s going to cause World War III!”

Henry watched, filled with sympathy, as his friend continued rant. I know he’s not being fair to Albus, he thought, but people haven’t been entirely fair to him, neither. Henry sighed. Looks like James not just confused, he’s jealous.

~*~*~


Hermione frowned slightly as she finished reading the letter that had just arrived by owl from Rose. It was good to hear that her daughter was enjoying Hogwarts, but it seemed as though things weren’t as easy for her nephew. Ron had just left for work a few minutes ago, and… well, he probably wouldn’t like what the letter said about Al.

She would give the letter to him, of course. How could she not? But his reaction… that worried her.

Hermione sighed. Slytherin. Why did Al have to be a Slytherin? she thought. She didn’t mind the House herself, but it did cause… complications. Ginny will be fine with it, and Harry will too, or at least I hope so… but Ron? He’ll need some convincing.

The thought of her two friends made her pause for a second. Harry and Ginny may not know about this yet… and I’ll have to tell them. She shook her head in confusion. Why did it have to be me who got the news first? I mean, Harry and Ginny are his parents, I’m only an aunt... A new thoughts struck her. Unless they already know, and they haven’t told us?

Her mind whirled as various pieces fell into place. Ron said Harry had been acting strangely yesterday… and he didn’t say anything about Ginny… and Merlin knows I’ve seen Harry get worked up over the littlest things… So it would make sense…

Deciding that she could break her streak of being on time to work for over a year, she turned on the spot and Apparated into the Potters’ house.

~*~*~


Lily sighed and picked up her well-worn copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. She flipped open to a page rather listlessly and began to read, though she was really just trying to kill time. Her father had left for work, leaving instructions that she could go to her grandparents’ house that afternoon again, but to amuse herself in the morning. Amuse myself… she thought. That’s a lot harder than it sounds. And I want to see Mum!

She tried to focus again on her book, but it was difficult. Some of the more arcane Quidditch terms were hard for the nine-year-old to recognise on paper, even though she’d read the book many times.

Lily had just figured out ‘quafflepocking’ when she heard a loud Crack! come from downstairs. She froze in the act of turning the page.

Her mind raced. Obviously, that’s someone Apparating, she thought. But Dad’s already gone for work and Mum said she’d be gone for a few more days… A chill ran through her as she remembered stories she’d overheard of the war. Dad would have told me if anyone was coming, and he didn’t, so I’d be willing to bet that this person won’t be friendly…

She was just contemplating whether it would be safe to run to the fireplace to Floo when she heard a voice from downstairs. “Ginny?” it called.

Lily let out sigh of relief. She recognised the voice immediately as her Aunt Hermione. So everything’s safe after all… But what is Aunt Hermione doing here?

“Ginny, if you’re here, please come down! Now!” called her aunt again.

Lily hurried over to the stairs, skipping slightly. “Mum’s not here, but I am!”

Hermione froze at the sight of her, and a look of dread mixed with remorse spread over her face. “Hello, Lily, dear. You say your mother isn’t here? Did she leave for work already?” Lily had enough experience with lying to tell that her aunt was hiding something. Although her tone was a fair imitation of the kind voice she always used with the children, it was clear she was very strained and worried.

Lily thought quickly about what to say. Mum did ask me not to tell anyone that she was at the Burrow… but then again, it is just Aunt Hermione… no, I gave my word. I can just use Dad’s excuse. Her decision made, she said in a chipper voice, “Sort of! She’s in Australia for business.” Lily knew it was a ridiculous, unbelievable lie, but Hermione’s features showed no disbelief, only more worry.

“And it was Harry who told you that, right?” asked Hermione.

Oh, dear, thought Lily as she realised why her aunt had been acting so strangely. She knows about their fight, or at least suspects something. Inwardly, she sighed. Uncle Ron always did say she was too clever for her own good. Another thought struck her. But maybe she could help Mum? And it would be so nice to tell someone… Lily loved secrets, but she found telling them much more fun than keeping them.

She decided to help her aunt along, but still not break her promise. Keeping the falsely chipper voice, she replied, “Yeah, Dad said so.” She added in a carefully calculated pause, trying to convey confusion over adult behavior that she didn’t understand. “But… he said he was really mad that she was leaving. Or at least, that’s what he said when I asked about all the shouting I heard.” There, thought Lily with satisfaction as she saw Hermione’s eyes widen. That ought to do it. Seeing that Hermione was deep in thought, she allowed a small smile to slip over her face.

But as soon as she did so, Hermione’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. A tiny grin twitched at the corner of her mouth. “Well, thank you for telling me, Lily.” Uncle Ron is right! thought Lily in admiration. She is too smart! She knows I was trying to give her a hint…

“When you see your father, tell him I’ll be stopping by to talk about how our children are doing at Hogwarts,” continued Hermione. Her tone was significant, and Lily quickly realised that Hermione once again meant more than she said. Al… she thought with a sinking feeling. It’s all about Al again. She’s going to try and convince him that he’s wrong, and try to get him and Mum back together.

Lily sighed wistfully as Hermione said good-bye and left. “I love my brother,” she muttered to herself, “but everything would be simpler if he was in Gryffindor.”

~*~*~


“Don’t tell me, don’t tell me…” said Tyler, closing his eyes. Al grinned at him as he dug in his back for his schedule.

Tyler’s eyes snapped open. “Charms! That’s our next class.”

Al glanced at their schedule for the day, and nodded. “Good job, you’re right. You really do have the schedule memorised!”

Tyler took a mock bow. “Thank you, thank you.” He grinned. Al had come to realise that, despite his claims of being raised as a politician of sorts, Tyler loved to joke around.

Charms was one of Al’s favourite classes. Even if he wasn’t always the first to pick up a new spell, Professor Flitwick was always cheery. The class had an air of controlled mayhem that appealed to Al, even thought they’d only had three classes.

Today, however, Professor Flitwick was lecturing about the theory behind the next charm they were going to learn. Al had read that section of the textbook the previous evening in hopes of getting ahead. He quickly realised that all he had done was ensure that Charms was an hour of pure boredom.

Al’s gaze began to wander around the room, stopping on his cousin Rose. He hadn’t had much time to speak with her — in fact, he rarely saw her outside of class because they were in different houses. But when he had spoken to Rose, she hadn’t even mentioned his Sorting, instead choosing to commiserate about the dull essay from Professor Binns.

Al had been so grateful that he could have kissed her, had Tyler not been standing right next to him.

But there was one thing missing from his conversations with Rose: Miri. The two Ravenclaw girls were rarely apart, but Miri always seemed to ‘magically’ disappear when Rose came over to Al.

He shifted to look at Miri, who was, as usual, in the desk next to Rose. She was idly twirling a quill between her fingers as she listened to Professor Flitwick. Suddenly, she seemed to sense his gaze, and turned sharply to deliver a piercing glare in his direction.

Al quickly looked away, feeling hurt that Miri was still so obviously angry at him for his Sorting.

Still, he reflected, I guess I really don’t mind being Slytherin. The other boys in my year are all great, except Raymond, of course. And I guess I’m glad to be, well, different. I could encourage inter-house unity, like Aunt Hermione is always going on about. Gryffindor is all very well, but I couldn’t do anything for myself if I was there. If I made the Quidditch team, it wouldn’t matter as much, because James has already done that. But if I make the Slytherin team next year, and we beat Gryffindor, then it would be an accomplishment. And Slytherin is much more interesting than Gryffindor. Al had come to realise that the Slytherins were diverse group, at least in terms of opinion. There was an argument over politics, morals, or even family bloodlines almost every night, and it wasn’t uncommon to see two people or groups staring daggers at each other across the common room.

All in all, it made Hogwarts even more fascinating than he’d expected.

Al let his thoughts drift back to Miri until Professor Flitwick announced that class was over. As he gathered his things, Al decided the he had to talk to Miri. She hasn’t actually said anything yet, so there is a chance that I can straighten all this out… He sighed. I hope.

So Al hung back as Tyler walked out of the Charms classroom to head towards lunch, watching as Miri put away her notes. Rose was waiting for her, but Al decided he didn’t really want a witness to the conversation, just in case it went… badly.

He walked over to Miri’s desk just as she slung her bag over her shoulder and started to leave. “Miri,” he said, trying not to sound hesitant, “Could I speak with you for a second?”

His heart sunk as she continued walking, apparently ignoring him. Rose, however, gave him a pitying glance and grabbed Miri’s arm sharply, whispering something in her friend’s ear.

Miri gave Rose a glance that was, in Al’s opinion, positively murderous, then turned to face him. “What is it, Albus?” she demanded, voice icy cold and far too formal.

Rose discreetly left the room as Al, shocked by Miri’s tone, tried to think of what to say. “I… Well, Miri,” he began, deliberately using her nickname even though she’d refused to use his, “I was wondering why you’ve been avoiding me.” There, I’ve said it, he thought with considerable satisfaction. No beating around the bush. Now she’ll have to answer.

He watched as Miri’s eyes narrowed. She stayed silent.

As the silence stretched out, Al felt a distinct need to fill it, and began to speak again. “I mean, after all, we were quite friendly on the train, what with our cats, and everything. I was thinking we could be friends at school, weren’t you?” He knew he was babbling, knew that the smart thing to do would have been to silently await her answer, but he couldn’t help himself. “But then we were sorted into different Houses, and now you’ve been ignoring me, and you’ve seemed so mean, and--”

Mean?” It seemed as though Miri, too, couldn’t help but talk. “I’ve been mean? Well, Potter, it was you who pretended to be a decent person!”

“What?” Al was shocked. “Pretend to be a decent person? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just look at you,” she said, voice filled with disgust. “Green badge, green tie — Slytherin, through and through.”

So what?” Al tried to suppress his rage. He’d honestly thought that Miri might be above such prejudices. “Just because I’m a Slytherin means I can’t be a decent person?”

She sarcastically appeared to consider it. “Well… yes,” she said firmly.

Al let out an indignant noise, but couldn’t think what to say. “But--”

Miri smirked.

It drove Al over the edge. “No it doesn’t!” he shouted — bellowed, really. “No one gets it! Slytherins are not bad people!”

Her eyes narrowed again. “I never told you about my mother, did I?” she said softly, voice filled with venom.

Al bit his lip, anxious. He now regretted shouting — he’d pushed her too far.

But Miri had no intent of stopping. “She was a Muggleborn, and happily married a Muggle just a few years after she left school. Just two years before Voldemort came back.”

Al winced. He thought he could see where this was going.

She laughed cruelly at his reaction. “Yes, he went after her, of course he did. Him and his gang of Slytherins. The Cruciatus Curse in the middle of the night, the very darkest hour.”

Al was filled with a rush of sympathy for Miri.

“They didn’t manage to kill her, not quite. I suppose she was lucky, I suppose I should be grateful — she lived, with the better part of her sanity intact.” A shadow crossed over her face. “But not all of it.” She took a deep breath. “By day, she lives an ordinary life. With the light, she’s just as normal as any other parent.” Al could see the haunted look in Miri’s eyes. “But as soon as darkness falls… she goes mad. Not mad exactly — just mad with fear. Fear of the darkness and what it hides…”

She looked up to meet Al’s eye. “I’ve seen what happens when the light goes out, when the fear overcomes her.” The haunted look in her eyes grew.

Al felt terrible. This isn’t fair, not to either one of us, not to her mum, either, he thought. I can’t expect her to get all chummy with a Slytherin, not when the Death Eaters hurt her mum so horribly. But then again, that was a long time ago, and that was just a few Slytherins, not all of us. Not me.

He bit his lip, unsure of what to say. “Miri… I’m so sorry, I didn’t know…”

“No, of course you didn’t. But does that change anything?” She laughed again, bitterly. “You’re a Slytherin, Potter. Slytherin.” Her voice was filled with loathing. “Kill Muggles at all cost, do anything for power, no morals, no kindness, no love… sound familiar? Yeah, that could be the dictionary definition of Slytherin.”

Al shook his head desperately. “No, that’s all wrong. That’s just Voldemort, not most Slytherins! Not me!”

“Voldemort… he’s your little poster boy, isn’t he? Slytherin’s heir… darkest lord of modern magical history exemplifies the traits of Slytherins.” She snorted sarcastically. “Sure, Slytherins are nice and kind.”

“But…” There was no response he could give, nothing that could convince her. If Miri was that determined to hate him, then there was nothing Al could do to stop her. Best end this, he thought resignedly, before I say something that makes her really hate me. Oh wait, she already does.

He sighed. “Well, Miri, I’m sorry that you think that. I wish we could be friends… but it looks like that’s not going to happen.”

With that, Al walked out of the room, not looking to see Miri’s reaction.

Al closed the door behind him, resisting the urge to slam it. That didn’t go as well as I hoped. In fact, I’d call it a downright failure. He sighed again. Well, at least I got the last word.







A/N: Before the angry reviews start pouring in, Miri is not a mean person. She's just been predjudiced and given a baised point of view because of her mother. It wouldn't be fair to dislike her because of that. Please, just remember that before you think she's a cruel person.

Back to index


Chapter 9: Chapter 9: Trouble at Home

Author's Notes: I'm sorry! I don't know why this chapter took so long, but it did. Next chapter will come faster, I promise.
And while we're on promises, I did say that this chapter would contain the first step in the healing process for all our characters. Well, it does! Except not exactly who you're all hoping for, not yet.
A ginormous thank you goes to Helen, my Britpicker who has quite suddenly taken on the role of beta as well. I think this story must be cursed -- that's two beta's who have had to leave. Staci was amazing, and I'm really grateful to her, but alas, the pressures of RL proved too great. Thanks, Staci! And Helen... okay, I admit, she practically wrote a large section of this chapter for me, and I'm eternally grateful. As always, she found and corrected my multitude of typos. Thanks!
As usual, I'm going to send out a desparate plea for reviews. Please! They'll make me want to write the next chapter a lot faster... And don't worry, I already have an argument planned out for those of you who are going to say that Ron is OOC. Thanks in advance!
And so, without further ado... Ch. 9:


“Something smells good!”

Hermione smiled as she heard Ron come home from work, commenting as always on what was cooking for dinner.

“Nice to see you too, dear,” said Hermione, as she always did. She heard the familiar sounds of him dropping the cloak on the floor and kicking off his shoes.

Ron came into the kitchen, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek accompanied by a short “Hello, Hermione,” and eagerly checked the dish oven. “Mmm, beef casserole, looks delicious!” he exclaimed.

Hermione smiled to herself. She had hoped that a good dinner would put Ron in a more receptive mood for her news. Of course I’ll tell him about Al, she thought, but the question is whether to tell him that Harry and Ginny are fighting. For there was no doubt in her mind that they were fighting. Lily was a precocious girl, she knew, and at nine years old, she was plenty bright enough to understand if her parents argued. More importantly, Lily was a skilled enough liar to tell when Harry was hiding something. Hermione was positive that she had been meant to pick up on Lily’s thinly veiled hints.

She sighed and stirred the contents of the pan as Hugo came bounding down the stairs to say hello to his father. I guess I’m already too worried about Ron’s reaction… I think I’ll skip the fact that his sister has run away from her husband. she decided. As for how to convince him that Slytherin is good… well, if he starts ranting, I’ll let him rant away for as long as he wants, then use logic to convince him otherwise.

Dinner was more peaceful than she was used to — with Rose gone, the number of arguments and noisy conversations at the dinner table were down by a lot. Throughout the entire meal, Hermione tried not to fidget or steal nervous glances at her husband. She knew just how prejudiced he was against Slytherin…

Hermione forced herself to eat normally; making light conversation about how everyone’s day had been; listening to Ron rave about how ridiculous it was for Jeffery Clarkson to pretend that he hadn’t given a Muggle socks that made his toes turn purple; smiling encouragingly when Hugo chattered excitedly about how he’d made six shots through his practice goal hoop for Quidditch.

Finally, dinner was over. Hugo anxiously excused himself to his room, saying something about his model Quidditch set. Ron stood up to clear the dishes, but Hermione motioned for him to sit back down.

He did so, puzzled. Ron gave his wife an inquisitive look, and noted with some concern the seriousness of her expression.

“So,” he said, reaching out for his nearly empty glass of pumpkin juice, “what is it?” He took a large gulp, draining the last of the juice.

Hermione took a deep breath. “Al got Sorted into Slytherin.”

Ron spluttered in shock, spraying juice over the table. Roughly wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he shouted “What? Slytherin?”

Hermione winced. “Yes. Slytherin.”

He gave a snort of incredulous laughter. “Hermione, that really isn’t funny.”

“No, it’s not,” she said calmly. Inside, she was quaking. So far, this wasn’t going very well. “It’s true.”

Fear dawned in his eyes. “Al? A Slytherin.” It was not a question. Ron’s eyes narrowed.

“How can be one of them?” His voice was more shocked than angry. “I’ve known that boy all my life, Hermione. He’s not lying, or traitorous, or deceitful, cruel, treacherous… he’s just not Slytherin!”

Hermione slumped. Ron hadn’t exploded yet, but he wasn’t taking this as well as could be hoped. “But Ron, not all Slytherins are like that. Think of Snape. Think of Slughorn!”

Ron gave a snort of disapproval. “I don’t care how noble Snape was, he was still an insufferable git. And Slughorn…” Ron scowled. “You know I never liked him.

He rounded on Hermione, anger mounting, as if the news had finally sunk in. “Where were they in the final battle, huh? Where were they? Hiding, saving their sorry skins, or behind those masks! While we were out there, fighting, dying!” Hermione knew that Ron still hurt from Fred’s death, but even so… Ron was taking the news of his nephew even worse then she’d expected. Just listen, don’t talk, she told herself firmly, trying to stick to her plan. It was a lot harder than she’d expected.

Ron took a deep breath. “Where were they after the war? Apologizing, protesting, pretending everything from the Imperious Curse to ignorance! Never taking responsibility for their own actions, always lying, sneaking, hiding… always Slytherin.” His voice was filled with a deep loathing.

“Ron!” shouted Hermione sharply, unable to listen anymore. “Al is your nephew! You’ve known him all his life! Is he really like that?”

“If he was Sorted into Slytherin, then yes,” snarled Ron. “He’s just like all those other nasty, selfish…” He continued with another string of angry adjectives.

Hermione fingered her wand in her pocket. This isn’t going well, she thought, but I’ve seen him in this mood before, many other times. This isn’t really worse then that time in our fourth year, or when we were hunting the Horcruxes… He just needs to be taught a lesson.

Recalling old memories brought an idea to mind, and she smiled slightly

“Ron,” she said firmly, cutting off whatever he was saying, “You’re wrong.” She steamrolled on, ignoring the fact that he was trying to speak. “And you know that you’re wrong, somewhere deep down. You just need a little help figuring it out.”

She brought her wand out of her pocket in one swift motion and pointed it at him

Oppugno!

~*~*~


“Hermione, I thank Merlin every day that I’m married to you,” said Ron in amazement as he felt his smooth face carefully. Only seconds before it had been covered in deep, bloody peck-marks from Hermione’s birds — her skill with healing spells had greatly improved over the years.

“I don’t know why I did,” Hermione teased, then shook her head seriously. “Honestly, Ron, your own nephew?”

He bit his lip nervously. “I said sorry, didn’t I? And I am.”

Hermione snorted. “Of course, but you’ll do it again. This will not be the last time you lose your temper and say irrational things.”

Ron took on a remorseful look. “Can I say sorry in advance?”

Hermione smiled. “You can… but it won’t get you out of making up afterwards.”

Ron smiled back. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t want it to.” A different sort of smile spread across his face. “Speaking of which… I don’t think that you healing my cuts really counts as making up properly.” He stepped closer to her.

“I agree. Completely.”

~*~*~


“I’ve known him my entire life. Al is not like that.” Rose paced around her dormitory, exasperated with Miri.

“Not yet,” said Miri stubbornly. “He could be. He is, almost certainly. He’s a Slytherin, and of course we all know what that means.”

“What?” snapped Rose, knowing she wouldn’t like the answer. “What does that mean?”

“Well, he’s power-hungry, for one thing,” said Miri nonchalantly, as if insulting a fellow student was the most natural thing in the world. “And selfish, and he has no loyalty. Slytherins are cruel, and bloodthirsty. Ambitious, of course, but way past the point where that’s a good thing. Way past. And they’re prejudiced against Muggles, obviously. Basically, your cousin’s a traitor to the entire wizarding race,” she finished. Miri crossed her arms over her chest, silently daring Rose to respond.

She did. “Miri,” growled Rose, trying not to sound angry, “Al is my favorite cousin! You won’t find a sweeter, more innocent boy anywhere.”

Miri raised an eyebrow skeptically. “I’m sure that’s right.” It was quite clear that she didn’t mean it.

“It is, honestly,” said Rose, but she knew it was useless.

“Just face it, Rosie. Your cousin isn’t really the person you think he is.”

“No, he isn’t really the person that you think he is.”

“I think I know rather more about how Slytherins behave than you do, seeing as my mother has had, erm, hands-on experience with them.” She smiled bitterly.

“I’m sorry about your mother,” said Rose gently, “but that was just a few Slytherins, not all of them.” It was not the first time she had said that. “You know that, Miri. They’re not all like that. Al isn’t.”

“They do all act the way those few did. Even Al, despite what you may think.”

Rose let out an exasperated sigh. She closed her eyes for second to regain control of her temper. “Miri,” she repeated, calmly but firmly. “Please promise me something?”

“What?”

“Give Al a chance. He’s not as bad as you think he is. Apologise for yelling, forget your ideas about Slytherins, and start over with him?”

Miri looked at her friend incredulously. “Are you crazy? He’s a Slytherin! But more than that, I have my pride!”

Rose sighed again. “He won’t think any less of you — he’s a nice person.”

“Just forget it, Rose.”

Rose bit her lip, thinking. “Okay. How about this? If you make a genuine effort to make friends with Al, and still end up hating him, I’ll give you a chocolate frog.”

Miri snorted. “So not gonna happen.”

“Fine then,” said Rose as a better idea came to mind. Miri doesn’t know that Neville is an old friend of my family, she thought, so… “I’ll confess my undying love to Professor Longbottom if you hate Al after trying to be his friend.”

Miri’s eyes widened, and she giggled at the mental picture. “Really?”

Rose nodded.

“Alright, you’re on! Now, can I get that bet in writing?”

~*~*~


Hermione stood in front of the Potters’ door and knocked, nervous about visiting for the first time that she could remember. She was planning to ask Harry exactly what had happened between him and Ginny. Though she thought that the loss of his wife would have brought Harry to his senses, one could never be sure.

Within a few seconds, Harry answered the door. Hermione saw that Ron was right — Harry looked unusually haggard and unkempt, a sure sign that something was wrong. Still, Hermione took it as a good sign. Harry’s appearance probably meant that he wasn’t still angry with Ginny or with Al.

Harry forced a smile on his face when he saw her. “Hermione, come in.”

She stepped inside and followed him to the living room, choosing a large armchair. “So,” she said, trying to sound casual. “How was work? Ron said it was a difficult day — something about purple toes?”

“Yes, purple toes,” said Harry rather absently.

She shook her head. “We’ll be getting the case soon enough… purple toes. If it was really done by the sock he enchanted, then we might get him on Misuse of Magic on Muggle Objects, but if it was just a charm… What do you think, Harry?”

“Mmm.” Harry clearly hadn’t been listening. He straightened in his chair. “Say, Hermione, did Ginny go to your house to dinner?” Suddenly he seemed much more interested in the conversation.

This was her opportunity, and she knew it. “I thought Lily said she went to Australia?”

Harry winced. “Erm, yes, I… I just wasn’t sure if she was leaving before or after dinner.” He looked at her hopefully, praying that she wouldn’t spot the lie.

She did, of course. Hermione shook her head, a small smile on her face. “Harry, you never could tell a believable lie, and you know it. Australia? Had you done your research, you’d know that there’s a convention this week in Romania that Ginny might have actually gone to, and I might have actually believed you.” She grinned. “But probably not.”

“So,” she continued. “I have a few questions for you.”

Harry slumped back, resigned. “Fire away. I take it these aren’t related to the purple toes?”

“No.”

He sighed. “I should have guessed that I can’t keep a secret from you.”

She nodded approvingly. “That’s right. Now, what exactly did you say that made Ginny leave?”

“Who says she left?”

“Harry…” warned Hermione. “Don’t even try.”

“Okay! Truth be told, I don’t exactly remember what I said. We were arguing about Al — I take it you know he’s in Slytherin?” Seeing her nod, he continued. “I got angry, and said some stupid things.” He sighed again. “Not the first time that’s happened. I think I said something about Al being like Voldemort… you know, deceiving us, pretending to be nice when he was really nasty.”

He looked at Hermione, and winced at her look of horror. “I know, I know!” he said. “I messed up! But it gets worse — I said something about not wanting Al as my son.” He refused to meet her eye again. “And then… then Ginny said she didn’t want to be my wife, if Al wasn’t my son.” He drooped, leaning his head on his hands. “Then she Disapparated somewhere, I don’t know where. I was hoping she went to you, but clearly she didn’t. And it’s been two whole days… basically, I’m waiting for the owl with the divorce papers.” Hermione had never heard anyone sound so dead or hopeless.

Hermione knew that Harry probably deserved to think that Ginny would really leave him — after all, he had said some perfectly horrid things -- but he looked so pitiful that she couldn’t help but reassure him. “Don’t worry,” she said in what she hoped was a comforting voice. “Ginny loves you. Surely you know that by now?” Harry’s sense of relationships was greatly improved, but he sometimes still reminded her of the awkward fourteen-year-old who had tried to ask Cho Chang to the Yule Ball.

“But doesn’t she love her son more?”

“She can love both of you at the same time! Ginny will forgive you… eventually.” She had to make Harry suffer at least a little, didn’t she? “Now,” she continued, trying to regain a business-like manner, “you honestly don’t know where she went?”

Harry shook his head miserably, and Hermione sighed in exasperation. “Honestly, Harry, where would Ginny feel safe and comforted, that isn’t my house?”

“I don’t know! I’ve wracked my brains…”

“Have you really?”

“Hermione, can we pretend that this is another one of Snape’s essays?”

“Meaning… meaning that I do it for you?” She smiled ruefully. “You really should do your own homework…” The look in his eyes pleaded so eloquently that she had to give in. “All right. She must be at the Burrow, don’t you think?”

“The Burrow! Why didn’t I think of that?” Harry stood up and strode over to the table where his wand rested.

“Harry, wait!” called Hermione. “Don’t you think she went there for a reason?”

Harry paused mid-stride. “Your right,” he said, gloomy again. “She went there to escape me — she probably doesn’t even ever want to see me again.”

Hermione sighed. “Harry, that’s not true, and you know it. Do you want my suggestion?”

“Of course.”

“Wait another week. She’ll have come back by then, and it’ll be because she wants to, not because you want her to.”

“And if she doesn’t come back…”

“If she doesn’t come back, then you really haven’t improved since fourth year!” Hermione grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

It didn’t work. “If she doesn’t come back, then I’ll let her go,” said Harry bravely. “Whatever she wants is best.”

Hermione sighed again. “Just give it a few days, okay?” With that, she walked out of the front door and Apparated home to give Hugo his good-night kiss.

~*~*~


The next morning, Al scanned the rush of owls for his father’s pitch-black one, as always. His parents had promised to write, but, thus far, he had only received that very strange letter from his mother.

But today, finally, he saw Kasha’s black feathers amongst the sea of tawny, grey, and tan owls. Inwardly he cheered as she swooped down to him and landed on the edge of his plate, sticking out her leg so that he could untie the attached scroll.

He did so as quickly as possible and eagerly unrolled it. The first thing he checked was the signature, and when he saw it, he wasn’t sure whether to be happy or sad. His father had signed in his bold, messy stroke, and Lily’s unsure cursive was next to it. There was even a smudged paw print from Athena. But his mother hadn’t written anything…

Al gave a mental shrug and read the letter. It, like the other, began with a simple statement of how glad they were that he was in Slytherin. We were so glad to get the news of your Sorting, and Slytherin is a really great House to be in, lots of interesting history, and Slytherins have a tradition of being high-achieving, which is always wonderful. it read. Somehow, Al thought the tone was different from his mother’s letter. The sentence sounded more forced, almost as if it was covering something, though Al was not sure why he got this impression. Perhaps it was the too-enthusiastic tone, uncharacteristic of his father, or maybe the abundance of positive adjectives. Al shrugged and, deciding that he was over-analysing a simple sentence, continued to read the letter. It contained general news of home: the tomato seedlings were doing well in the garden, Nini had caught a gnome, and Winky was experimenting with French foods. His father even wrote about how glad he was that Al was making friends with the people in his dormitory that Al had described in his letter home — these were the very people that his mother hadn’t gotten news of, to judge by her last letter.

Then there was a section in Lily’s handwriting. Al grinned a bit as he read it — he could just picture her speaking the words, grinning happily as she described her day. A wave of homesickness washed over Al for the very first time — he longed to be sitting around the Potter’s round open table, with Lily one side of him, and James on the other — a smiling James, one who was glad to be near his brother. And his father and mother would be sitting across the table, looking at the three of them lovingly as always.

But it wasn’t until the very last paragraph that his mother was even mentioned. A single line, scribbled in his father’s hand: Your mother had to take a business trip to Australia this week, and since it’s so far away, she may not write to you. And that was it.

It was very odd. His mother had already written, and she’d used her parent’s owl — what would Clyde be doing in Australia? For that matter, what would Ginny be doing in Australia? A business meeting? But she had mentioned no such thing before…

His mother and father were clearly not writing their letters at the same time: so much of the information in one contradicted the other. Al’s letter had arrived at home, that much was clear from his father’s letter. But his mother hadn’t read it. And wouldn’t she have told him what she was doing in Australia when she wrote to him?

A sense of dread grew in the pit of Al’s stomach. Dad is lying about where Mum is, he thought, and Mum isn’t in the same place as Dad… and Dad’s with Lily and Nini, so he’s probably at home, which means that Mum isn’t... and she didn’t tell me why she left, or where she is now…

An idea struck him, and awful idea. Could they possibly have quarreled? Al shook his head, trying to dislodge the notion. That only happens to other people’s parents, he thought, trying to convince himself. Not to mine. Mum and Dad aren’t fighting, of course not.

But as he read the letter again, it became much harder to convince himself otherwise.

Back to index


Chapter 10: Chapter 10: A Bunch of Idiots

Author's Notes: Sorry sorry sorry!! It's be a month and a day since my last chapter. I'd promised to be faster, but that didn't quite work out. And I have a long series of excuses which I'm positive you're not interested in hearing.
So. Chapter. 10. This is for those of you who think everything I've written is out of character. Hopefully it'll give you some insight into what I was thinking when I wrote it.
Thanks on this one goes to Helen, my amazing britpicker!


What a bloody idiot!

Rose scowled at her porridge angrily, as if trying to release her frustration on the soggy lump of oats sitting in the bowl. Infuriatingly, it did nothing but, well, nothing.

Normally, Rose was very good at controlling her feelings. Last night, for example. She’d been quite proud of herself for not giving in to temptation and screaming at Miri. She thought she’d handled the situation very well, considering that her new best friend was mad at her favorite cousin for no reason.

But I just don’t get it! she thought angrily. All the feeling she’d suppressed last night had come back in full force when she woke up this morning. Could Miri really think that of Al?

Rose sighed. Being a consistently kind and loving girl, it was impossible for her to understand how anything could inspire such hate in someone like Miri.

At least she said she’ll give Al a chance, thought Rose, trying to reason with herself. I made sure of that, didn’t I?

Says who? The nastier, pessimistic side of her came up to the surface. It was also the more realistic side. Miri’s been so mean, you can just tell that she won’t really try to forgive Al.

But he’s done nothing wrong!

Miri doesn’t think that.

Rose’s hand tightened around her spoon. Miri will, she told herself firmly, pushing the nasty voice into the dark corner of her head where it usually stayed, hidden. She’ll see that Al’s a good person. Rose sighed again. I hope.

~*~*~


What a bloody idiot!

Harry knew that he should stop calling himself names. He knew that he should stop re-playing his fight with Ginny in his mind. He knew that he should be focusing on his work, and keeping it separate from his personal life.

But he couldn’t do it.

“Potter!”

Harry opened his eyes with a snap, hearing the voice call his name from the next cubicle over.

“You got those papers on the Mendelssohn case?” his colleague continued.

“Yeah, I’ll be over in a second!” Harry called back. The Mendelssohn case… He wracked his brains, trying to remember what the Mendelssohn case was about.

It was no use. Potter, you have got to pull yourself together! he told himself, his inner voice unconsciously taking on the tone of Oliver Wood. You’ve been slacking at your job, you’ve only written to your sons once, and your daughter…

Harry sighed. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of Lily. She just wasn’t as unhappy as he’d expect of a girl who had overheard her parents screaming at each other. He’d attributed it to the fact that she was only eight, but she was mature for her age in so many ways…

But Lily was fairly happy, and that was the important thing. If only he could say as much for himself.

Harry just wasn’t complete without Ginny. It was if a section of his heart, his very soul, had been ripped out when she left. And with out her waking up beside him each morning, falling asleep with him each night, greeting him every day after work with that smile that still made his heart beat faster… life just wasn’t complete.

But she doesn’t want you anymore! You were an idiot, and she left you. Get used to it.

He knew he was being selfish, but it was very hard to picture himself letting go of Ginny, giving up hope that she would someday return. I just couldn’t survive… but if that’s what she wants…

Harry sighed. If Ginny truly wanted to say away from him, permanently, then he would do it. If it made her happy, he would do it. It was just so hard to accept that his wife would never again press against his side and whisper “I love you” for his ears alone.

“Potter, where are you?” came the voice again.

Harry closed his eyes in despair. For the past few years, his life had seemed so perfect. He should have know that it would be too good to last.

~*~*~


What a bloody idiot!

Ron chuckled to himself as stood in the little kitchen in the Auror department, adding a copious amount of sugar to his tea. I’m just so lucky. Any other woman… Anyone other than Hermione wouldn’t have forgiven him for condemning his own nephew. Then again, any other woman wouldn’t argue with him just for fun.

But that time wasn’t for fun, Ron reminded himself firmly, the grin slipping from his face. That time, it was serious. You’re lucky she stopped you before you went to far and said something that you’d really regret.

The whole Slytherin versus Gryffindor thing wasn’t worth the loss of his wife, that was obvious. Sure, Al would’ve made a great Gryffindor, but Slytherin was just as good, wasn’t it?

Yes, he told himself. Slytherin is just as good. Never forget that.

He picked out a spoon from the container on the counter, and stirred his tea a couple times before taking a healthy gulp. Hermione was right, he reasoned as he took another sip. As usual. But really, when it comes down to it, ambition can be good. Plotting — no, not plotting, making plans can be good. Wanting to succeed can definitely be good. So Al is good.

And that just about summed it up. Al is good, Slytherin is good, Ron repeated inside his head. Just remember that, and everything will be fine.

~*~*~


What a bloody idiot!

James stared moodily into his pumpkin juice, trying not to look at his housemates sitting around him at the breakfast table. For the past few days, they had all been dropping hints that he should reunite with his brother.

James snorted. How thick did they think he was? “I once stopped talking to my sister for a week, just because she took one of my last chocolate frogs. But now, I really regret it!” James had to wonder if Ben even knew the meaning of ‘subtlety.’ And Alex’s comment? “Y’know, my father always said he wished I was in Slytherin. Did I tell you that my father was a Gryffindor? And he thinks Slytherin is a great house.” James found it very hard to believe.

But it was Henry who really got on James’ nerves, the idiot who’d started it all. James looked up across the table to glare at him. It was obvious that Henry was orchestrating the events, telling his classmates to talk to James, perhaps even giving them specific phrases to say. Henry, the obsessive do-gooder, probably thought he was helping James. I don’t need help, James thought angrily. It’s Al who does.

Much as he hated to admit it, James had come to realise that he was actually, well, scared. For as long as he could remember, Al had been his innocent little brother. He was good at everything, yes, but James still liked to think that Al needed his protection, that Al looked up to him. But now… now Al had gone into a world that James couldn’t understand: the world of Slytherins. What could it be like, to live underground in a dungeon? To be surrounded by purebloods, raised in the art of being aloof? What was it like to wear the green and silver?

James knew that he would never know. And because of this, he and his brother were drifting apart. No, not drifting — they had been wrenched away from each other the moment the Sorting Hat had yelled “Slytherin!”

But even deeper inside lay James’ fear for himself. What if his brother changed so much that he left James entirely? What if the gap between Houses was so wide that they couldn’t even be brothers? What if Al turned into one of them, those nasty heartless Slytherins that Uncle Ron always talked about, who hated Muggles, did anything for personal gain and, above all, deserted others to save themselves? Could Al do that to him? If there came a time when Al had to chose between his own gain and his brother’s livelihood, would Al act like a Slytherin and chose himself?

James loved his brother dearly. Despite occasional — well, daily — spats, he’d thought that they were as close as a pair of brothers could be. He just wasn’t sure how to handle the loss of his little brother.

And so he’d become angry, almost unconsciously. At first, he’d truly believed Uncle Ron’s ravings about Slytherins, but his feelings had changed. James realised that those thoughts belonged to his parent’s generation, not his. He wasn’t mad at all Slytherins anymore, he was mad at Albus.

Al had deserted him.

~*~*~


What a ****** idiot!

Molly seethed inside as she looked across the breakfast table in the Burrow’s kitchen to where her only daughter sat, trying very hard to avoid using the very word she forbid her children to say. Ginny looked just as morose this morning as she had for the past three days, which is to say, very morose indeed. Were it not for the fact that Molly had loved Harry dearly for many years, she was sure she would have hexed him into oblivion by now for hurting her daughter so terribly.

And not just her daughter! Poor Al! If he ever found out what his father had said about him… Molly’s heart bled with pity for the poor boy. How awful it must feel, to be all alone in Slytherin. She could see how, in a strange sort of way, Al would belong in that House. It made sense, if you thought hard enough. And it wasn’t like Slytherin was bad house to be in, not anymore…

Her anger flared again. Then why, why had Harry spoken so cruelly?

Molly sighed. She knew that Harry probably hadn’t meant to try to disown Al, and he had probably come to his senses as soon as Ginny left.

As soon as Ginny left. Molly allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. Yes, Ginny was the key to Harry’s heart and happiness. She’d known it for years, longer then either of them had.

Harry needed to learn a lesson. He needed to control his temper, no matter what. And, Molly hoped, this episode had taught him that.

But she wanted it to stick thoroughly. Molly loved the boy — yes, he was grown now, but she would always remember him as the little eleven-year-old who hadn’t know how to get on the platform — but what he’d said was inexcusable. She loved her daughter and grandson just as much as she loved Harry. And she wanted his rash words to be ingrained into his memory forever, like little stings that couldn’t be pulled out. She wanted for him to never forget that he should love his son unconditionally.

And so Harry needed to suffer. Much as Molly hated it, it was for the best. Harry needed a few days of misery to teach him right from wrong.

And the best way to make Harry miserable? Take away Ginny. Just a few days of thinking that his wife would leave him would serve to remind Harry for the rest of his life that he had to love his family, no matter what. Harry just couldn’t be happy without Ginny.

But it’s for Ginny’s good too, Molly told herself firmly as she looked at her daughter’s miserable face, feeling rather guilty. Even if you didn’t intend for her to be this sad, it’s good for her to have some time to think about what Harry said, isn’t it?

And besides, she thought with finality, it’s really Harry that did this to her in the first place.

He deserves to be punished. And so, trying desperately to push away every last bit of doubt, Molly decided it was time to do the dishes.

~*~*~


What a bloody idiot!

Miri crossed her arms as she looked at her best friend. Currently, Miri wasn’t feeling particularly friendly. In fact, she was downright mad at Rose.

As soon as she’d found out that Professor Longbottom was an old family friend of the Weasleys, Miri had realised that she’d been tricked, and tricked badly.

“I can’t believe you’d do that,” she said coldly as she glared at Rose.

Rose sighed. “We’ve been through this so many times. You are being unreasonable. I wanted you to get to know Al. Therefore, I told a little lie to help you do that.” It was clear that she was trying to contain her annoyance, but she was doing a much better job of it than Miri.

“But you did lie.”

“Not really. I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

“It amounts to the same thing.”

“Quite true.” Rose’s refusal to get riled up was infuriating.

Miri stood up abruptly from her chair in the Ravenclaw common room. “You’re crazed!”

Rose just gave a smile. “Thank you.”

Miri let out a frustrated breath and turned, as if to storm a way, then turned back to face Rose. “By the way,” she said, “the bet is so off.”

But that was clearly the wrong thing to say. For the first time, Rose seemed to get truly angry. “Miri!” she cried, a resentful expression on her face. “For the last time, give Al a chance!

“I don’t see why I should.”

“Because it’s the right thing to do!” Inwardly, Miri gave a small smile at Rose’s words. For once, it was Miri who was controlling the argument — Rose was on the defensive, not arguing her point.

“You’re not in a very good position to argue, are you?” replied Miri calmly. “Even you have started acting like a Slytherin — manipulating me. And you know how I feel about Slytherins.” Her words seemed seem to cover a threat, but Rose wasn’t quite sure what it was.

“Yes, I know all too well,” Rose muttered under her breath, regaining control of herself. She was silent for a moment, apparently contemplating something. Miri stood watching her, arms folded over her chest, a glare on her face.

“Alright,” said Rose at last. “I’m thoroughly sick of trying to get you and Al to be friends. He’s a nice boy, you’re a nice girl, you have similar interests — all that’s between you is a few words from an old shabby hat. If you can’t see that, then I guess you’re just not the person I thought you were. And I can’t change that. So hate Al if you want, it’s your decision. But you’re missing out.” With that, she too stood up from her chair and, without looking back, headed up the stairs to the dormitories.

Rose’s words, delivered so calmly, dug into Miri more than anything else her friend had said. ‘I guess you’re just not the person I thought you were,’ repeated Miri inside her head. What does she mean by that? That I’m not allowed to hate people who hurt my mother? That I should forget feelings that I’ve harboured my entire life, just to be friends with her cousin?

Miri knew what Rose would say, had she heard the thought. Yes, she answered herself. Rose thinks I’m wrong, and Rose is one of the best people I know. She’s been trying since the start of term to get me to be friends with Al. Am I really going to drive a wedge between us, barring our friendship, when I’ve just got to know her? ‘I guess you’re just not the person I thought you were’… Rose’s words echoed in her brain.

That’s not who I am, Miri told herself, walking back to her chair in the common room. Do I want Rose to think of me always as a person who is quicker to think negatively than positively, more likely to hold an unfair grudge than to forgive? Of course not. She slowly sat down, thinking.

Then Miri realised that she had just admitted that her hatred of Al was unfair. Is it, really? she wondered. I suppose so. I judged him before I knew him, I trusted the words of — what did Rose call it? — a shabby old hat, rather than making my own decision. I guess that is sort of unfair.

Rose was right, she concluded with a small shake of her head. Al does deserve a chance, and I completely failed to give him one. Well, that’s just going to have to change.

~*~*~


What a bloody idiot!

Ginny was lying lethargically on her old bed at the Burrow, lamenting her situation as she had for the past three days. Nothing else could interest her, except the afternoon visits from Lily. I should have gone back to him immediately, she told herself for what must have been the millionth time.

But Mum said things would work out better if I stayed, didn’t she? Ginny reminded herself. Harry needed to cool off, and so did I. And if I’d gone back, he would have thought that calling our son Voldemort, and trying to disown him, was perfectly acceptable. The thought of Harry’s words now filled her with remorse instead of anger. She was no longer mad at Harry — the ache of separation was too great.

Every day Ginny reminded herself why she had done the right thing. Leaving her husband temporarily had been the right course of action. When she went back, Harry would have had time to think things over, and he’d come to the conclusion that Al’s Sorting was a good thing.

Ginny knew all this. She knew that Harry was good inside, and that he said things that he didn’t mean when he lost his temper. She knew that if she had never left, she might not have been able to convince Harry to calm down. The shock of her departure had probably done some good. And when she didn’t return, the misery had also probably done Harry good.

Ginny knew this in her head, but not in her heart. Leaving Harry to suffer just didn’t feel right. And she was calling herself ten kinds of idiot for staying away so long.

Yes, she had been following her mother’s advice. That was usually good. But, Ginny reminded herself, she was a grown woman. Her mother didn’t always know what was right. And her mother didn’t know Harry as well as Ginny did. Ginny knew that he’d withdraw into himself from either sorrow, moodiness, or anger, and neglect his work and snap at his friends. Lily said he was taking good care of her, but Ginny had to wonder how much Winky was helping him out.

The time had come to return home. No, that’s not quite true, Ginny thought. The time was three days ago. Still, better late than never. She shivered. In her rage, had she really considered leaving Harry permanently? The thought scared her.

She had to go back now. Finally, she admitted the emotion she’d been hiding from for three days: fear. She was afraid of what Harry had become in his rage. Far from the loving husband and caring father that she was used to, he had turned into a sort of monster. Yes, she knew he didn’t mean the awful things he’d said, but the memory still scared her.

What would she find when she returned home? Would it be Harry, her Harry, who, having missed her terribly, would be ready to apologise and welcome her back? Or would be a sore, angry Harry who shunned her the moment he saw her for the things she’d said?

Ginny had to tell herself that Harry wasn’t like that. She knew, intellectually, that he would never turn her away. Harry loved her just as much as she loved him. He loved all their children, even Al -- especially Al. Although Ginny knew this as well as she knew her name, some miniscule part of her could not forget her old doubts. Somewhere, so deep inside her that it hadn’t emerged for nearly twenty years, was her childish fear that he would reject her just as he’d rejected the sixteen-year-old girl who’d tried to kiss him on his birthday. She knew that such insecurities were foolish, even crazy, but she couldn’t help it.

Tonight, Ginny decided. Tonight, just after dinner, I’ll go home — if I still have a home to return to.

Back to index


Chapter 11: Chapter 11: The Return

Author's Notes: Okay! The chapter you've been waiting for -- Ginny's Return! I hope it's satisfactory, though I get the feeling it's just one big cliche. And I know it's shorter than most of my other chapters, but that's 'cause the whole thing is one section -- nothing with Al, etc. Don't forget to leave me a review telling me what you think!
Enormous thanks on this one goes to Helen, my amazingly awesome Britpicker, and Fresca, my new awesomely amazing beta! Thanks to both! And thanks to Erik, my old beta, who has finallly regained internet acess and agreed to pre-beta this chapter. Thanks!
And again, please please please please leave a review!


Ginny had never been so nervous in her entire life.

This beat taking her NEWTs by a long shot. This was worse than trying to tell her brothers that she was possessed by a book, back in her first year. She’d thought she was nervous when she pulled Harry into his room to give him a birthday kiss, but that was nothing compared to this. It seemed to be even worse than waiting in the Room of Requirement while her family and friends risked their lives.

Ginny gripped the arms of her favourite armchair with damp palms as she looked around the familiar sitting room. The room where she and Harry, and James and Albus and Lily, had spent so many evenings clustered together around the warm hearth filled with cheery, dancing flames.

She looked over to the fireplace, trying to lose herself in the dancing flames. Maybe, she thought, maybe if I stare hard enough, I’ll be able to forget this mess. But forgetting the mess meant forgetting her family, and she could never do that.

My family. Ginny sighed as she stared into the fire. What had become of her family? It was torn apart so completely that she had to wonder if it would ever be whole again. She hadn’t so much as seen her husband in days, her daughter was being forced to divide her loyalties between her mother and her father, and her sons were miles away with a barrier between them. Ginny could only hope that the barrier between her sons, at least, was small enough to be broken down. She didn’t know if the other barriers could ever be broken.

Ginny shifted her gaze to the two grandfather clocks standing in the corner of the room. The one on the right, a gift from her parents, told the state of each family member. James and Al’s were, of course, pointed to ‘school,’ and Lily’s pointed to ‘visiting,’ most likely with Hugo. Harry’s remained firmly at ‘work.’

She glanced at the clock on the left, which actually told the time. Five forty-nine, just one minute after the last time she’d looked at the clock. She shouldn’t expect Harry for another eleven minutes, and that was if he wasn’t working on a difficult case.

Ginny stared at the two clock hands, wishing they would move, hoping they would not. She was ready to face Harry, she wanted to work things out with him, but at the same time, she was scared to death to see him again.

She knew it was ridiculous. Harry was her husband, he had been for nearly two decades.

But was he still her husband? Would he even want to be after this?

Ginny tried unsuccessfully to push her doubts out of her mind. You have a plan, she told herself. Granted, you’ll probably end up forgetting it entirely, but it’ll give you somewhere to start. Focus on the plan.

First you say his name, calmly, and see how he reacts. And it’ll get his attention if he doesn’t notice you when he comes home. Now, practice.

“Harry,” she said aloud. Her voice quivered and cracked slightly. She shook her head. That’ll never do. Say it again. And maybe stand up, like you’ll do when you see him. “Harry,” she repeated, getting up from her chair. Better. Now, apologise. Don’t grovel, but make it clear that you regret yelling.

Ginny had spent hours thinking of how to apologise to Harry, trying out different sentiments and phrases, writing letters she never sent, even thinking of sending Winky with a message. In all those hours, she hadn’t come up with one idea that worked, and she couldn’t now, either.

“You know what? I give up!” she said aloud, perhaps louder than she intended. The noise startled her, ringing through the too-empty house. She quickly sat back down in her chair, thinking, I’ll just figure out to say when I see him. And, being me, I’ll botch it up and Harry’ll hate me. But I’m just so sick of wondering and worrying! I want to get this over with!

She looked again at Harry’s hand on the family clock, willing with all her might that it would move from ‘work’ to ‘travelling.’

And then, to her surprise, it did.

Before she had time to register that she was actually going to see Harry, the hand on the clock moved from ‘travelling’ to ‘home,’ and she heard a key turn in the front door lock.

“Winky,” she heard a voice call. Oh Merlin, thought Ginny, and her stomach did a flip-flop. It’s Harry. It’s really Harry. Excitement and nervousness coursed through her entire body, making her shake. For a second, she considered fleeing back to the fireplace and Flooing back to the Burrow, but she quickly dismissed the notion.

“Yes, Mister Potter?” came Winky’s voice from the hall.

“Lily hasn’t come home yet, right?” Ginny listened to the rustling sounds, which meant that Harry was probably removing his robes, in order to be more comfortable in the shirt and pants he had on underneath.

“No, sir, the young mistress has not yet returned. An owl came for you sir, and I is leaving the message on the kitchen table. Is you wanting to see it, sir?”

Winky’s words sent a rush of heat flooding through Ginny. The kitchen table… Oh sweet Merlin, he’s got to come through here to get to the kitchen, he’s going to see me, I’m going to see Harry… oh no oh no oh no… She lost track of coherent thought, merely trying to keep her emotions at bay. I had no clue this would be so damn hard!

I can’t do this. Ginny pushed up from her chair and started towards the fireplace, nearly breaking into a run, hoping to leave before Harry saw her… and then the sound of footsteps brought her back to her senses. She turned around, scolding herself firmly. Ginevra Molly Potter! If you don’t do this now, you never will. She shivered at the thought of never seeing Harry again.

She turned around and closed her eyes, trying to calm herself…

And snapped them back open when she heard the door open.

It was Harry. Ginny nearly cried at the sight of him, his dark hair unrulier than it had been in years, his green eyes weary, his face, so familiar and handsome to her, so much paler than it should be.

But it was Harry, her Harry. Her beloved husband Harry.

“Oh sweet Merlin…” he breathed, clearly shocked by the sight of her. “Gin…”

Ginny bit her lip, not knowing what to say, not knowing how he felt, but wanting desperately to fling herself in her arms.

For what felt like hours but was probably less than a minute, they remained like that, shocked still, staring at each other. Then, suddenly, Harry straightened his shoulders and stood stiffly upright. He licked his lips, then said carefully, “Ginny.”

Ginny? What is that supposed to mean? Is that all he’s going to say would say? wondered Ginny, slightly annoyed. “Yes?” she replied, rather hesitantly.

“I just want you to know, I’ll always love you, no matter what I might say, no matter what you might think. And if you never forgive me, I understand.” Harry broke his stiff pose and began to fiddle his hands nervously.

It was such a clich romance novel speech, but Ginny loved Harry for it all the same. It was the message that it held, so clearly heartfelt, that made Ginny want to fall into his arms and break down sobbing. She restrained herself from moving with difficulty, but couldn’t suppress a single tear from running down her cheek. “Oh, Harry, I--”

“No,” he cut her off, firmly. His tone was so serious that Ginny had to wonder if he was preparing to leave her after all. “Please, Ginny, just hear me out. Just as one last favour.”

One last favor? Ginny bit her lip nervously.

He took a deep breath. “What I said about Al was terrible, inexcusable, and I hope you know that I didn’t mean it. But because it is inexcusable, I don’t expect to be excused.”

Ginny drew in a breath to argue, then let it out slowly, remembering his request.

Harry reached into his pocket. “I’ve been carrying these with me everywhere for days,” he said as he pulled out an envelope. “I didn’t know when I’d see you again, and I wanted to be ready.” He closed his eyes for a second, and a look of anguish crossed his face every so briefly. This was hard for him, and Ginny could tell. And that meant it couldn’t be good news.

As he handed it to her, their hands brushed for the briefest second. A rush of heat ran through Ginny, and she hoped that he had felt it too. But Harry refused to meet her eyes.

Hands shaking, Ginny opened the envelope and drew out the thick packet of parchment. She looked cautiously at the first page, dread growing within her.

COMPLAINT FOR ABSOLUTE DIVORCE read the heading on the very top of the first page.

The world seemed to blur around Ginny, and a rushing sound filled her ears. Time seemed to come to a stop. She forgot everything, even Harry’s presence — the world had shrunk, her field of vision had narrowed to include only the piece of paper. She tried to focus on keeping her sanity, but the only thing her mind would hold were those four words, big and bold.

Those four words that were her very worst nightmare.

She couldn’t breath, couldn’t speak, could barely even think. Absolute divorce… the words rang through her head, over and over.

He wants to divorce me! she thought with horror. He hates me, he’s still mad, and he wants do divorce me. I’d never thought this would happen, not really. I’d always thought, somewhere in the back of my mind, that Harry still loved me completely.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.


Absolute divorce… to never see Harry again, not ever. And oh sweet Merlin, the children! Will he keep them? Could he be that cruel, to take away all of the people most dear to me? Could I leave them with this, this monster that Harry has become?

But try as she might to convince herself that Harry had turned into a different person, an awful one, she simply couldn’t bring herself to hate Harry.

Despite everything, she still loved him.

So when Ginny finally looked up from the paper, that heart-breaking paper, there were tears overflowing from her eyes, running down her cheeks.

And when her eyes met Harry’s, really met them for the very first time that evening, she saw that there were tears in his eyes as well, clouding out their brilliant emerald green.

Tears… tears meant sorrow, tears meant regret. From Harry, tears never meant anger.

Tears could only mean that he loved her too.

And he had said so, it all came rushing back. He had said that he would love her forever, and Ginny knew that he had meant it. He always meant it when he said he loved her.

And so he must be doing this for her. Harry, the noble prat. He thought she’d be happier divorced from him, he thought she’d want to be apart. He didn’t know he’d just very nearly shattered her heart.

Mum, Ginny thought grimly, I hope you’re happy. I hope you’re glad that your advice was this close to ruining my life. She knew the accusation wasn’t fair, but it felt good to have someone else to blame.

Still not looking away from Harry’s eyes, still not saying a word, Ginny stood up slowly, gripping the divorce papers very tight with both hands.

And then, with all her might, she ripped them in two and tossed them on the fire.

The fire flared with the unexpected fuel, and Harry’s face lit with a smile so grateful, so touching that Ginny thought she would burst. She felt the warmth come back into her life.

But then, because she was Ginny, because her old spirit had never left her, because she was newly filled with fire, she took three quick strides towards Harry and slapped him in the face with all her might.

And then, before he had time to react, she kissed him.

She had had many ‘best kisses’ from Harry in her life. Their first, just after the Quidditch match, was definitely on the list. The kiss she gave him on his seventeenth birthday was up there, too. And the kiss at their wedding had been amazing, despite Ron’s nudge to break them apart before too long.

But this topped them all. Three days of agony, frustration, and anger had fled from Ginny in a rush. And into the newly empty space flooded joy, pure and complete.

The joy of love.

~*~*~


At the door to the sitting room stood two small shapes, one with the floppy ears and pointed nose of a house elf, one with the figure of a very young girl.

As the happy and newly reunited couple kissed, both small creatures turned away, one in courtesy, the other in disgust.

But then they turned to each other and smiled.

All was well again in the Potter house.

~*~*~


And then, after several moments - or it might have been half an hour - or possibly several sunlit days - they broke apart.

And for the first time in what seemed like years, Ginny was smiling, and looking back into Harry’s smiling face.

“Just one question,” she murmured. “Why couldn’t we have done this three days ago?”

Harry laughed, and Ginny tingled as she felt his chest vibrate, pressed close against hers. “Was it really only three days?” he said, groaning slightly.

“Felt like an eternity.” They kissed again.

“So why’d you have to slap me?” asked Harry, though his voice held no trace of resentment. “It did hurt, you know.”

Ginny rubbed her cheek against his, the one she had slapped, before answering. “Just because you were being a noble idiot.”

Harry gave another rueful laugh. “You and Hermione both… I guess Sir Nobility the Idiot is just part of me.”

“And I love all of you, so of course I love Sir Nobility too. But Merlin, Harry, I was so scared when I saw those papers!”

He shifted uncomfortably. “That was just about the hardest thing I’ve ever done, giving them to you.”

“And that’s as it should be. It tore me apart, thinking I’d lost you.”

“Mmm. I know the feeling exactly. But can this wait to tomorrow? I’ve missed you so much.” He kissed her again.

Ginny was lost in the feeling of his arms surrounding her, his lips on hers, and she didn’t bother to reply.

Back to index


Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Friends Again?

Author's Notes: I'm terribly, terribly sorry that this to a ridiculous amount of time. The teachers started piling on work, and there was no time to write, and then came the holidays and no beta can be reasonably asked to beta when they should be spending time with their families, and... well, excuses aside, I'm sorry and will try to get out the next chapter sooner.
Thanks so much to my amazing beta team, Fresca and Helen. They ensure that this is actually legible and dosen't seem like something written by Rob Anybody (I've been rereading A Hat Full of Sky by Terry Prattchet, it's an amazing series.) As always, please leave a review!! Thanks in advance!


“Just do it.”

“I can’t!”

“He’ll forgive you.”

“But I have my pride!”

“Just forget your stupid pride!”

“Are you crazy?”

“Yes! But so are you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re refusing to do this and you have no reason!”

Rose and Miri stood glaring at each other for nearly a minute before Miri gave in, sighing and crossing her arms over her chest. “Sometimes I have to ask myself if a friendship with Al is really worth all this fighting.”

Rose shrugged. “It’s really your choice.”

Now you say that?” Miri asked, grinning.

“You know you’re going to try, whether I make you or not. It’s just a matter of how many sleepless nights you spend thinking about it. I’d rather not have a friend who’s insufferably grumpy until third period when she wakes up properly, but… it is your choice.”

Miri, recognising the sense in her friend’s words, could find nothing to say and settled for a dignified “hmph.”

Rose wandered over to a bench in the courtyard where they stood and sat down. “So,” she said, looking up at Miri, “you can go over to Al now and get it over with, or you can make us late for Potions.”

“When you put it that way…” Miri sighed. “You coming?”

“No. You’re on your own.”

Miri gave a mock glare. “Some friend.” She sighed again. “Okay, I’m going. Now.” With a purposeful stride, she walked over to where Al sat with some other Slytherins. No, stop calling them Slytherins, Miri told herself, it’s Al and some students. Or rather, Al and some friends.

Shoving all her doubts from her mind and telling herself that it was far too late to turn back, Miri walked straight over to the benches where they sat, talking quietly amongst themselves. She said quite clearly, “Al, could I talk to you for a minute?”

One of the boys sniggered, and another wolf-whistled. Boys, thought Miri with derision, are so immature. However, Al merely looked surprised and, Miri hoped, somewhat pleased.

“Sure,” he said, mild confusion evident in his voice. Glancing at her for confirmation, he got off the bench and picked up his bag, moving to stand next to her.

“Erm, over here,” Miri said, gesturing towards a deserted corner of the courtyard. She was beginning to wish that she’d thought the whole conversation through a bit more.

Al followed without hesitation, ignoring the muttered comments and sniggers from his friends. Miri had to admit that Rose was right — Al really was a nice boy.

Miri took a deep breath and tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. Pathetic, she told herself scornfully. You’ve made it this far, but you can’t work up the nerve to talk to him? Just say something! The voice in her head had taken on some of Rose’s tone.

“Okay,” she said finally. Okay? That does say anything. Apologise already!

Al sighed. “Miri,” he said in a voice that was slightly impatient but mostly anxious, “are you going to yell at me again?”

“No!” she nearly yelped. “Of course not,” she said in what she hoped was a calmer voice.

Miri took another deep breath and tried to look at his eyes. But, perhaps from shame, she couldn’t make herself maintain eye contact and settled for looking at a spot slightly above his left ear. This is it, she told herself. Your best chance. Swallow your pride and admit that you were wrong. “I don’t want to ever yell at you again -- quite the opposite. I just wanted to apologise for how I’ve been acting for the past — well, ever since you were Sorted. I guess I’ve been kind of--” Swallow your pride, she reminded herself. This was harder than she’d expected. “I’ve been a complete prat. And I’m sorry.”

There, she thought, trying not to slump with relief. I’ve said it. Now, I just hope he forgives me…

She shifted her gaze back to his eyes, and was relieved to find that it was easier now to keep eye contact.

“Miri, I…” Al began to say. “Well, thank you.”

This is awkward, thought Miri. Really awkward. And, because she’d never been one to think before she spoke, she said so. “This is really awkward, isn’t it?”

Al reciprocated her frankness. “Yes, rather.”

Great, thought Miri. Another dead end. She realised that she was avoiding Al’s eyes again, and fidgeting rather uncomfortably.

“Miri,” Al started hesitantly, “why’d you do it?”

“What?” But Miri knew what he was asking, and though it was an uncomfortable topic, at least the conversation was going somewhere.

“Turn against me. Ignore me.” Suddenly realising that he might be asking a rude question, Al quickly added, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. I was just, you know, curious.”

“No, I suppose you really have a right to know.” Miri sighed. “My mother was tortured under the Cruciatus curse, during the war.” She continued, ignoring the gasp from Al. “The torturers were, of course, all Slytherins. My mum’s mostly all right, except for, well, except for sometimes, but…”

Al bit his lip. “Miri, I’m so sorry, I never knew, I never should have thought…”

“What are you apologizing for?” When he started to speak, she cut him off. “Look, you’ve done nothing wrong, I just acted badly. I came over to say that I’m sorry for letting the actions of a few poison my opinion of the group.”

Al grinned. “Who’d you get that quote from?”

“Who says I didn’t think it up myself?” she demanded. When Al just grinned more broadly, she sighed. “Rose, if you must know. She’s been begging me to do this all term.”

“I should have guessed.”

But after the brief respite from tension, Miri could feel the discomfort rushing back. And now we’re back to awkward silence, she thought with exasperation. Great.

“Oi! Al!” Miri turned to see one of Al’s Slytherin friends calling him. She welcomed the interruption.

“Yeah?” Al shouted back.

“We’re going to be late to Herbology if we don’t go now. You coming?”

“Yeah, one second.” He turned back to Miri. “Thank you, Miri.” Then, rather impulsively, he gave her a hug.

Miri’s first thought was Ew, it’s a boy and he’s hugging me. But she did not pull away, and instead hugged him back. “No,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

~*~*~


As soon as they returned to the common room after their next class, Rose confronted her friend. “Miri, I love you dearly, but I don’t want you as a cousin until we’re older! Much older.”

“What?” asked Miri, confused.

Rose sighed. “Al is my cousin, so when you marry him, we’ll be cousins.”

“What?” Miri repeated, yelping this time. “Al and I are not getting married!”

“That hug seemed awfully close… I think Al is interested.” Rose smirked.

A look of shock and mild disgust grew on Miri’s face. “He is not-- I mean, we’re–just, no!

Rose tried to continue the charade, but gave up and burst out laughing. “The look on your face…”

Miri scowled, then relented and smiled at her friend. “Rose, I’m very proud of you!”

Rose looked confused. “What did I do?”

“You just teased me! That was almost, well, mean!”

“Oh, Miri, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean--”

“No,” said Miri, shaking her head. “That’s a good thing. You are entirely too nice for your own good.”

“I suppose that’s a compliment…”

Miri grinned. “Sort of.” Her expression turned serious again. “But Rose, I really have to thank you for making me apologise to Al.”

“I didn’t make you,” Rose protested. “You decided to do it on your own.”

“Well, then, thank you for strongly suggesting that I do it.”

“I’m just glad it went well,” Rose said earnestly.

“Yeah.” Miri shrugged. “I guess he really is a nice boy, like you’ve been saying.”

Rose smirked again. “You’ll be thanking me even more when you walk down the aisle…”

“Rose!”

~*~*~


“Not bad, mate!” laughed Scorpius as he, Al, and Henry walked down to Herbology. “Less than a week at school and you already got yourself a girl!”

Al shook his head. “It’s not like that. She’s just a friend.”

Scorpius smirked. “She looked a bit more than friendly to me.”

“Scorpius! I’m eleven! She’s eleven!”

“Hey, nothing wrong with getting a head start.”

“Just leave him alone,” said Henry, to Al’s relief. But that relief vanished as Henry continued, smirking. “If Al wants to keep his girlfriend secret, that’s his prerogative.”

“Stop it, all of you! She’s a friend!”

Henry, always considerate, was immediately abashed. “I’m sorry, Al, that was mean of me.”

Al scowled. “Apology accepted, but don’t do it again.”

Scorpius was less quick to back down. “She might be a friend now, but come fifth or sixth year, you’ll be ‘with’ her. And I claim I-told-you-so rights!”

Al snorted. “Think what you want, just don’t think it when I’m around.”

Scorpius was still smirking.

~*~*~


“Mum, come on! We’re gonna be late!” Hugo tugged at Hermione’s hand as she struggled to buckle her shoes one-handedly.

“Hugo, you just saw Lily earlier today, and it’s not like we don’t go to the Potters at least once a week.”

“But still!”

Hermione shook her head at the logic of an eight-year-old, looked at her watch to reassure herself that they were on time, and called Ron to come downstairs.

“Just go over without me!” he shouted from the bedroom. “I can’t find my other sock!”

“In the laundry room, sweetie,” Hermione called back in a sarcastic voice. “If you’d taken your laundry upstairs like you’re supposed to, you’d have no trouble finding your socks.”

Ron came down the stairs, sock and shoe on only one foot, the other shoe dangling from his hand. “You can take Hugo over now, excited as he is. I’ll follow once I’ve got my socks sorted out.”

“Okay, but come quickly.” She tossed a handful of powder into the fireplace, called out “The Potters’,” and ushered Hugo through. She followed quickly, not quite trusting her young son to make it through the gate all right.

When Hermione looked up, the first thing she saw was Harry in an armchair with Ginny on his lap. “Ginny!” she cried happily. “You’re back!”

She smiled. “Yes.”

“Everything’s all right, then?” Hermione asked, still anxious.

Harry answered this time, also smiling. “Everything’s back to normal.”

“How was Austrailia?” asked Hugo innocently.

Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance. “Australia wasn’t much fun,” Ginny replied. “And I’m very glad do be back home.”

Just then, Ron came stumbling out of the fireplace. “Couldn’t find my sock,” he explained when Harry gave him a questioning look. Harry chuckled slightly.

“Wait,” said Ron. “Harry, did you just laugh?”

Harry nodded, looking confused. “Why is that so odd?”

“Because you’ve been acting completely depressed for the past three days,” Ron replied casually.

Ginny shifted guiltily and Ron, in a rare show of perceptiveness, noticed. “So,” he said carefully, “it was Ginny…”

It was Harry’s turn to shift guiltily.

“And when you heard about Al…” Ron continued, “I take it you weren’t too happy?”

“And Ginny wasn’t too happy with me not being too happy,” Harry confirmed.

“Don’t worry, I did the same thing. I’m just lucky that Hermione’s used to me being a prat and caught me before I dug myself into a hole I couldn’t climb out of.” Ron gave his wife a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Would someone please explain what you’re talking about?” demanded Hugo.

The adults just smiled indulgently, and when Hugo turned his pleading eyes to Lily, she copied their expression. “When you’re older, Hugo,” she said primly.

“Hey! You’re just three months older!”

“That’s a lot!” shouted Lily back.

“Is not!”

“Is so!”

“Lily!” said Ginny firmly. “Stop that now. You should know better.” Lily folded her arms over her chest, trying to preserve some dignity. “Dinner ready, by the way,” she added to the room at large.

Chatting happily, the Potters and Weasleys headed into the dining room. Despite the fact that three children were far away at Hogwarts, Hermione felt that their family was back to normal.

Back to index


Chapter 13: Chapter 13: Winter Vacation

Author's Notes: Okay, we're finally at the second to last chapter, and things are drawing to a close. Chapters are unfortunately getting shorter, mainly because the number of plot threads to keep up with is narrowing down.
I admit, I've gotten a bit sick of this story, so I took some time to write a one-shot for the new challenge. I know it's cheap to advertise, but I'd love it if you could read/review! It's called "Just a Hopeless Romantic," and it's much more fluffy than this story.
Stacy, my old beta, has decided that she has too much work to keep up with beta-ing this story. I think my story is cursed... anyways, I really aprpeciate just how much worse this story would be without her. Thank you! Erik, my original beta, has agree to start beta-ing again, so he did this one. Another big thanks!!
So, without further delay... (except for a brief plea for reviews!) chapter 13:


The months at Hogwarts passed in an endless stream for Albus, filled with happiness marred only by the continued hostility of his brother. Al’s friendships in Slytherin strengthened until he could barely remember a time when he had felt himself to be alone in an unfriendly environment where he didn’t belong. The green and silver now seemed familiar and even homey, and he was able to cheer for his House with barely a pang in the first Quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin.

School work became more difficult as the year progressed, but also more interesting. The first years began to learn more complex spells and potions, and though Al was not always the first to catch on, he felt that he was doing decently in his classes. Charms was by far his favorite — Al found the work entertaining as well as useful, and he’d taken a liking to Professor Flitwick.

Al found Miri quite refreshing to talk to, with her frank statements and outspoken ideas, though she always seemed to tread cautiously over the idea of inter-house relationships, a result of her lingering embarrassment. Her personality was usually in sharp contrast to Rose’s, and Al sometimes wondered they ever got along. But the debates were more cheerful than irritated, and Al often found himself wandering over to the Ravenclaw table to talk to them when he had spare time. He felt it was worth the smirks and sarcastic comments his friends gave him afterward.

However, he avoided the Gryffindor table at all costs, trying to make as little contact as possible with the brother he was now completely estranged from. James had remained indifferent to Al, acknowledging him only with the disdain he felt for all Slytherin first-years when they passed in the hall. Al, in turn, did his best to ignore his brother, preferring the indifference to anger. It was easier to pretend that he wasn’t related to James than to admit how much his brother’s betrayal hurt.

All too soon, fall froze into winter and snow covered the ground at Hogwarts. Hagrid and Grawp dragged the usual twelve Christmas trees into the Great Hall, and the first term drew to a close. Holiday excitement filled the air, but Al too was excited to be seeing his family and celebrating Christmas, he was also filled with dread for spending two weeks at home with James.

So it was with a mixture of enthusiasm and trepidation that Al packed up everything he would need for the holidays and said goodbye to those friends who were staying at Hogwarts. As he and his friends got settled on the Hogwarts Express and watched the school vanish into the distance, he wondered nervously what the time with his family would bring.

~*~*~


“Drat! I almost won that one!” Al glowered at the still-smoking pile of Imploding Snap cards, the popular remake of his parents’ favorite game.

“Al,” said Tyler, “I hate to break it to you, but you will never be good at Imploding Snap.”

“At least he’s better than Raymond,” sniggered Scorpius. “Now there’s a hopeless player.” Throughout the year, Raymond Dolohov had not warmed up to Al despite the boy’s efforts to be friendly. Instead, Raymond and Jordon Greyling had formed a sort of “Glare Group,” as Scorpius was fond of calling it. The Glare Group was often found staring moodily at Al and his friends, at their homework, or even just at a wall. Though Al was disappointed that Jordan had failed to become a friend, he was very grateful that Henry, Tyler, and Scorpius had accepted him even though his family was traditionally Gryffindor.

Just then, the compartment door slid open. Al tensed momentarily, remembering his father’s stories of confrontations on the train, until he realised that it was just Miri. “Hey Al,” she said cheerfully, pointedly ignoring stares from the other boys. “Just wanted to let you know, the conductor says we’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Really?” asked Al in surprise. The train ride had seemed so fast. “Well, thanks for letting us know.”

Miri just smiled and left, closing the door behind her.

Al turned to his friends, glaring warningly. “Don’t even start. Now, we should probably get our things together.”

Ten minutes later, the train started slowing down, and Al looked out the window to see the familiar landscape surrounding King’s Cross Station. All the boys deserted their pride and crowded around the window as the train drew into the platform, hoping for a view of their families.

Almost immediately, Al spotted his uncle Ron, who stood out with his height and flaming red hair. Not far off stood his parents and sister, Lily bouncing a bit with the excitement of seeing her brothers.

As the train came to a stop, Al rushed to get out of the train. Fighting his instinct to shove and push through the crowd, he instead ducked and dodged around happily reunited families. Finally, his mother spotted him, and, giving a small cry, hurried through the crowd to enfold her son in a hug.

For nearly a minute, Al was content to simply wrap his arms around his mother in return, feeling her soft warmth that he had missed so much over the past semester. Finally he drew back, and began to chatter excitedly about Hogwarts as she led the way back to Harry and Lily.

But Al’s chatter abruptly stopped when he saw James standing next to Harry. If Al had been the type to say curse words, he would have said one when he saw the look on James’ face. Not malice per se, but an under-the-surface annoyance and detachment from the brother he had once been so close to. It would be impossible for these feelings to remain hidden forever.

However, their parents appeared to notice nothing wrong, and if they gave the brothers an odd glance or two, neither Al nor James noticed. And so they made their way to the car, Ginny giving the obligatory “look how much you’ve grown!” speech. Though Harry tried to calm her down, he was clearly just as excited that his family was reunited.

Through the months, Al had forgotten his early anxiety of the situation at home upon seeing his parents’ first letters. After the first few, the letters had returned to the normalcy that he’d expected — full of cheerful news of home with frequent battles over the quill. His doubts had become a nearly-forgotten shadow. And now, finally seeing his parents, he was able to dismiss his earlier thoughts. His family was clearly happy.

Throughout the car ride, Al was content to sit squished between Lily and the car door, listening to his sister babbling about things at home and answering his mother’s frequent questions about Hogwarts with as much detail as he could summon.

As soon as they arrived at the Potters’ house in Godric’s Hollow, Al went in search of his cat. Athena was not far from the door, and she began to purr contentedly at the sight of Al. Had it not been undignified, she probably would have leapt into Al’s arms.

~*~*~


After a dinner full of the children’s favourites and a delicious treacle tart, the recipe for which Ginny had swiped from Mrs. Weasley, the warm and contented family retired to sit around the fire. Al continued to eagerly share his experiences and opinions of Hogwarts, while James remained more reticent, moodily sitting in an armchair slightly removed from the rest of the family and saying little.

Eventually, James grew sick of his family’s company and retired to his room. Lily was at that point barely able to contain her yawns and, at her mother’s urging, also went up to bed. Al soon followed, and though his cat was annoyed about losing her seat on his lap, she was soon mollified with a warm spot underneath his covers.

Harry and Ginny, however, remained by the fire. Though Harry tried to chat casually about their children’s return, it was not long before Ginny brought up the concerns on both of their minds.

“Harry,” she started hesitantly, “do you think something is, I don’t know, off with the boys?”

He bit his lip. “I’d like to say that, whatever it is, is just because they’ve been with each other for so long that they’ve exhausted all the subjects we were talking about.”

Ginny frowned. “That’s not it, and you know it. I’m just afraid that…” She sighed. “Maybe I’m taking this too far, but what if they weren’t spending any time together throughout the year? I mean, they’re in different years, and different houses. So maybe they’re not at all used to, you know, just talking or whatever.”

“Different houses…” considered Harry. “You don’t think…”

It took Ginny less than a second to catch on. “James wouldn’t!” she denied fervently. “It’s his brother, for goodness sake! And you know that inter-house unity has improved so much since we were there!”

It was Harry’s turn to sigh. “Gin, you remember how I felt at first? Granted, things have changed there, but I should hope that not all traces of a Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry are gone. Not because I approve,” he hastened to add, seeing the look on Ginny’s face, “but because it’s, you know, Hogwarts culture.”

Ginny shrugged. “Alright, maybe he isn’t quite comfortable with Al’s sorting. But do you really think that it could cause such tension between the two of them?”

“Anything’s possible,” said Harry grimly. “I’ll have a talk with James tomorrow.”

~*~*~


James slumped back sulkily on his bed the next morning when he heard his father’s knock. “Come in,” he said, trying to sound cheerful. Maybe if he pretended not to be angry, his parents would leave him alone.

And James certainly was angry. Al hadn’t said a word to him since they’d gotten off the train. James had hoped that, away from the awful influence of those Slytherins, Al would turn back into his sweet younger brother. And he had, to a point — just as always, he was the center of their parents’ attentions. But Al just wasn’t close to James anymore. And while James admitted that it could, possibly, be because he had been avoiding Al all semester, it still hurt that Al hadn’t come back to him.

Harry cautiously opened the door and sat down on the bed next to James. Even more cautiously, he began to speak. “Was everything okay at school this year? You don’t seem as happy as you were last year.”

James rolled his eyes. “Everything’s fine, Dad.”

“You still liking all the people?”

“Yes.”

“Made friends in other houses?”

James stiffened slightly, but calmly replied, “I know some people, but we just don’t see as much of them as we do of people in our own house.”

Clearly this wasn’t going to be easy. “Do you think Al settled in okay?” asked Harry, trying to get closer to his point.

The corner of James’ lip twitched. “I didn’t see him to much, either.” He was unable to keep a slight hint of derision out of his voice.

“James, you shouldn’t let a little thing like his Sorting get in the way of seeing your brother. You didn’t go over and say hi to him during meals, or anything?” asked Harry, trying to be gently disapproving.

James shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t have time.”

Harry sighed, and decided that it was time to be more direct. He wished desperately that he had more experience of how a father talks to a teenage son. “James. We both know what we don’t want to say. You avoided Al because he was a Slytherin.” Even as he said it, Harry wanted James to deny it fervently, to say that he would always love his brother no matter what.

But James said no such thing.

Instead, he refused to meet his father’s eyes and said simply, “What if I did?”

“What if I did?” Harry repeated incredulously. “You admit to practically having a vendetta against your brother, and that’s all you have to say?” He sighed. “No matter what, James, Al is your brother. I should hope that that would mean more to you than anything a silly hat says.”

James turned his head to the side. “It’s just that… he’s so different now. He’s not Al anymore! He’s not my brother.”

His words hit Harry with a pain that was almost physical. How could his eldest son deny his younger brother so thoroughly? “James,” said Harry, half incredulous, half firm and demanding, “I never, ever want to hear you say that again. Ever. No matter what, Al will always be your brother. Nothing can change that. Have I ever told you what happened to Uncle Percy when we were younger?”

Sulkily, James shook his head. “No.”

“He decided that his career was more important than his family, and refused to contact any of the Weasleys for months. They were heartbroken. At the very mention of his name, your grandma would burst into tears. Grandpa barely smiled, and some of your uncles developed a tendency to break things when someone brought up Percy.”

Seeing the grim look on his father’s face, James knew better than to interrupt that he had hardly deserted his entire family.

“Now, he apologised eventually,” continued Harry, “but for those few years, it was almost as if he had died. I know you’ve hardly deserted your entire family” — James winced at the repetition of his own thought — “but to even desert one member is a terrible act, especially your closest brother.”

“My only brother.”

“My point exactly.”

James sighed. “Dad, you just don’t get it. He’s in Slytherin. It’s like he’s the one deserting me!”

“I get it better than you’ll ever know,” replied Harry with such a sorrowful look in his face that James had to wonder about the story behind that statement. “But I’ve learned that houses don’t hold a candle to those you love.”

Father and son sat in silence for a minute, contemplating, before James finally said, “I suppose you want me to apologise?”

“I don’t just want it — I’m requiring it. And if it isn’t heartfelt and sincere, and if I don’t see a resulting change in your behavior, there will be consequences.”


James winced. “Fine.”

Back to index


Chapter 14: Chapter 14: Family

Author's Notes: IT'S FINISHED! You don't know just how good it feels to finally check that "complete" box.
I apologise for how horridly my update rate slowed throughout the course of the story. I found an e-mail between myself and Erik where I promised him it would be finished by the beginning of the school year... yeah right.
Now's the bit where I get to thank everyone who I can possibly think of, and you can be nice and read it or skip to the story. First and foremost, an enormous thank you to the plethora of betas who went through this story. Without Erik, Helen, Stacy, and Fresca, this would be nothing but an incomprehensible string of misspelled words. Thank you all for being amazing! Another big thanks goes to all my friends who read fanfic: Claire and Caroline, for being the inspiration for more Rose/Miri conversations than they know, Stephanie for constantly asking me to update, Jonathan for being a wall upon which to bounce off ideas, and everyone else who read it and left comments. And of course, thank you, my readers. The 98 people who have put this among their favorites, all those who have left reviews or ratings, the people who nominated this story for a DSTA, and those of you who just read it. Thank you!
And now, without further ado, the last chapter...


It was strange, to Al, to be waking up in his own room. True, he had slept there most of his life. He was surrounded by the familiar Quidditch posters hanging on walls covered in old sky-blue paint, the tall bookshelves full of all his old favourites, and his various possessions scattered around the bed. His cat was back in her usual spot, curled up next to him and purring.

But it still seemed unfamiliar. Hogwarts had become usual, familiar, homey to Al. Not just that, but the Slytherin dormitory now seemed more natural than his very own room. It felt odd, not waking up to the sound of other boys laughing and talking, scribbling last minute essays for their first class, getting ready for a day filled with magic.

His musings were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, and Al smiled. Though it felt strange to be home, it was very nice to have his mother come in with a smile and a warm hug to wake him up. It was nice to know that his breakfast would be prepared especially for him, instead of mass produced for hundreds of students. “Come in, Mum,” he called out.

The door swung open to reveal James. “I’m not Mum,” he said, scowling.

Despite the look on his brother’s face, Al’s insides grew happily warm at the sight of his brother. Although his tone was annoyed, James had spoken to him! And of his own free will, too. There were no expectant friends or parents pushing him to say something.

Al just hoped that James wasn’t coming to yell at him again.

But his fears proved ungrounded as James walked over and sat next to Al on his bed. His movements were stiff and awkward, as if he was unsure of what he was doing, but there was otherwise very little sign of any lingering anger at his brother.

James stayed silent for a minute, but just as Al was beginning to wonder why he had come into the room if he was just intending to sit there, James began to speak.

“This is going to sound kind of stupid,” he began, “but I guess that’s as it should be. ‘Cause I’ve been kind of stupid.” His brow twitched slightly, as if the words were excruciatingly hard to say.

Even so, Al could hardly believe what he was hearing. Was his brother, always so proud, going to admit that he was wrong? Did he have regrets about ignoring his brother for months?

“How so?” Al asked cautiously.

“Slytherin is, well, different from Gryffindor,” James said carefully, only barely acknowledging the question. A touch of apprehension rose in Al, but he forced himself to repress it, trying to believe that his brother was ready to make amends.

He need not have worried. “That doesn’t mean that it’s bad,” James continued. “I’ve realised that. Not all Slytherins want a Dark Lord to rise, or all Muggleborns to die, or all people to have snakes as pets. In fact, most don’t want any of that.” He took a deep breath. “You certainly don’t.”

A smile broke out on Al’s face, but James did not seem to be finished speaking.

“Y’know, being brotherless is harder than you’d expect. It seemed so natural to ask how your day had been, or to share my letters from home with you… just things that brothers do. It was hard to look the other way when you passed in the hall. I’d have to force myself to think of Voldemort, Death Eaters, and all that.”

“I don’t know if that’s good or bad,” Al said, unsure of how to respond. Seeing his brother so open was unusual. Al wasn’t sure if he liked what he was hearing. But either way, his brother seemed to be trying to apologise, and that was certainly something that Al liked.

James gave a grim sort of laugh. “It’s bad, I’d say. ‘Cause after thinking that, it was all too easy to think of you as just one of them: a nameless, faceless, monster who cared only for himself.” He sighed. “But, honestly, I was mad at you for more than that.”

Al was sure that he was about to hear the real reason that James had distanced himself. He had never really thought that his brother could truly think him a Death Eater — there had to be something more.

“It was like my little baby brother who’d always looked up to me had left me, for good. It was like you’d deserted me. I’d always imagined being the one to show you around Hogwarts, the one to help you when you got lost on your first day, the one to explain the secret passages and the moving stair cases, the one to introduce you to the ghosts… But that stupid hat stole that from me.”

A lump rose in Al’s throat. It was touching to see this coming from his brother. He’d never known that he meant so much to James. Al had always thought that James pictured him as that annoying little sibling. This was probably the nicest thing James had ever said, and it made Al want to cry. He considered commenting on James’ sudden change in behavior, but then decided against it — he didn’t want to risk making James regret being open and sentimental.

“But the point is, Al, I want my brother back,” James said, clearly suppressing emotion. “I’ve missed you, and I’m sick of ignoring you. I’m sick of hearing stories about noble Slytherins, or about people who became estranged from their family. And the thing is, I believe those stories. You’re certainly a noble Slytherin. And, no matter what, you are my family.”

This was what Al had been waiting to hear, ever since the crushing moment when the Sorting Hat had deemed him Slytherin. His brother loved him. His brother always would love him. True, they would fight. But that was natural — brothers were created to fight. What mattered was that they were still brothers.

Al reached over to hug his brother. It was an odd feeling — ever since James started Hogwarts, he’d cut back on hugging. But James enthusiastically returned the embrace.

“James?” Al said softly. “I just hope you know, I never thought you’d actually leave me. I always knew you’d come back to be my brother again.”

James pulled back. “Damn it, Al, you’re too nice,” he said, laughing. “You’re supposed to yell at me, to be mean, to make me feel as though I really did something wrong. You’re definitely not supposed to make me feel good.”

Al grinned back. “Oh, you were wrong. There’s no doubt about that. But we’ve both been sorta miserable for the whole semester — can’t we do without that for a few days?”

“I could live with that,” James said, smiling.

“Are you done being sentimental? Because, brother dearest, it’s sort of starting to scare me.”

James swatted at him playfully. “Don’t even start!”

“And besides,” said Al, “I do know lots of ways to make you feel bad.” He gave a wicked sort of grin.

James snorted. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“Oh really? Has it escaped your notice that Slytherin is beating Gryffindor in Quidditch?”

James moaned. “Don’t remind me. And it won’t last long!”

“Sure. It’s not like Slytherin has the most promising team in years, or anything.” Al stood up and headed towards the door. It was time to get back to being ordinary brothers. That mushy, huggy stuff was all very well, but it just wasn’t normal. Talking about Quidditch was.

“Oh, c’mon, it was Lila Anderson who said that. And she’s biased, ‘cause her brother’s on the team!” James followed him out.

“We’ll see who’s saying what when Slytherin wins the Cup,” Al replied coolly as he went down the stairs.

“Confident, aren’t you?” said James, following him out. “You shouldn’t be.”

Lily came running up the stairs, and nearly crashed into Al. “There you are!” she said with exasperation. “I wanted to wake you up hours ago, but Mum said to let you sleep.”

Al looked at James in confusion. “Why so impatient?” he asked.

Lily rolled her eyes. “It’s Christmas!”

Al gasped. “Merlin! It’s Christmas!”

“Stop being a parrot and come downstairs! I want to open presents!”

James shook his head in amazement. “I forgot about Christmas. I think it’s a sign of the Apocalypse.”

“A pocket-what?” asked Lily.

“Never mind,” asked Al. “It’s time for presents!”

The three siblings ran down the stairs, laughing and chattering excitedly. They and their parents gathered around the Christmas tree, and began to exchange gifts.

Harry and Ginny looked at their happy children, and without speaking, they knew that this was more important than the five hand-knitted jumpers from Mrs. Weasley. There was something much more valuable than the picture frame that Lily had painted for her mother, helped along by her father. And James’ and Al’s new Cannons shirts from their uncle just didn’t mean as much as the sight of the three children laughing together.

Because, when it came down to it, family mattered more than anything. The past few months had been rough on the Potter family, but they were still a family, and so they had made it through.

Back to index



Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at http://www.siye.co.uk/siye/viewstory.php?sid=127024