Chapter Seven - The Old Ways
Chapter Seven - The Old Ways
After returning from the Burrow, the Potter family had tried to maintain a sense of normalcy. Albus, determined not to have any more outbursts, mostly kept to his room as the days passed and buried himself in homework and revisions of the term. He went down to eat, but the tension lingered. His brother and sister seemed to have returned somewhat to normal, and his parents too, holding the usual dinner conversations. Albus had never felt more alone. He could feel the scrutiny in his father’s gaze, the concern in his mother’s. Albus could also sense that his parents were going to talk to him—it was evident from their glances to each other. And tonight was the last night before he and James returned to Hogwarts.
His father asked him to help with the dishes after dinner, which he obliged. Albus knew what was coming. As he stood washing dishes, the water burned his hands. He didn’t see why they had to do this—they had a house elf, after all. Both his parents were determined not to use him. Albus rolled his eyes, grateful that his father had his back turned.
Just as he placed the last dish on the drying rack, his father asked him to come into the study for a chat. He followed without much of a word. His mother was already in the study, and she had placed three chairs in the room, all facing each other, like some sort of therapy setup. Albus wanted to grimace. He braced himself as he sat down, knowing he had to play this right. His parents took the other two chairs, sitting down in front of him. Albus held his demeanor carefully controlled, though for appearance’s sake, he let some unease slip out. His parents needed to believe him, even if he was dead set on lying through his teeth. He waited for their probing questions.
Harry took a deep breath, his voice tinged with frustration. “Albus, we need to talk about what happened before Christmas. Your outburst was completely out of character, and it’s not something we can ignore.”
Ginny nodded in agreement. “We’re concerned about you. The way you reacted, the anger—It was extreme. We need to understand what’s really going on.”
Albus kept his gaze steady, his expression a mask of calm, though a bit weary. “I’m fine. I was just frustrated. It’s been a tough time at school.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly. “It’s not just about being frustrated, Albus. Your reaction was more than that. We know you’ve been having issues at Hogwarts, but this seems deeper. It’s almost like you’re hiding something.”
Ginny’s tone was softer but no less intense. “We’ve heard rumors, and then there was the gift he gave you on Christmas. We’re worried about your close relationship with the Malfoy boy. Is there something you’re not telling us? Is there any influence there that might be affecting you?”
Albus swallowed. He couldn’t get too defensive—it would only worsen the situation. “I understand your worry, but Scorpius—he’s really kind, and a geek, he’s really not—”
Harry cut him off, his voice firm. “We’ve made our decision. For your safety, we can’t allow you to continue seeing Scorpius. This isn’t up for debate.”
Albus’s eyes widened slightly, but he quickly masked his shock. He knew arguing would be pointless, but something inside him couldn’t let them treat Scorpius like that. Scorpius was the reason he hadn’t fallen too deeply—he was Albus’s lumos, his patronus in the face of all the dementors, the teasing, bullying, and hexes. “You can’t be serious. Scorpius has been nothing but a friend to me.” His voice broke, real emotion seeping in. “He’s the reason I even made it past this term—it’s been really awful, but Scorpius, he–he was always there, like a light—”
Harry cut in again, his voice brooking no argument. “This isn’t about your feelings or our judgment of Scorpius. It’s about ensuring you’re not getting mixed up in things that could endanger you. We need to take a stand now to prevent any further issues.”
Albus’s heart sank. “You’re making a mistake. Scorpius isn’t like that.”
Ginny’s eyes were full of concern, but her tone remained firm. “We understand you might not see it this way, but we’re making this decision based on what we believe is best for you. We’re not trying to push you away, but we can’t ignore our concerns.”
Albus struggled to keep his voice steady. “So, what am I supposed to do? Just cut him off without an explanation?”
Harry’s expression softened slightly, but his resolve was unyielding. “We’re asking you to do what’s necessary to stay safe. If you need help managing this, we’re here for you. But you need to respect our decision.”
Albus felt the weight of their decision press heavily on him. He took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “I understand. I’ll handle it.”
As he left the room, Albus felt a mix of anger and resignation. He knew his parents were acting out of concern, but their decision felt like another barrier between him and the life he was trying to navigate. And he was absolutely not stopping his friendship with Scorpius.
++++
Albus followed behind his family, his posture slouched and his face arranged into the mask of weariness they expected from him. They thought he was still upset—still grappling with the complexities of how to distance himself from his Slytherin friendships, from the Malfoy heir. If they only knew the truth.
The more time passed, the more he felt like an outsider in his own family. Distrust bubbled under his skin, especially towards his parents, and his fallout with Rose only made things worse. It was all a mess. The only thing keeping him grounded was the thought of seeing Scorpius again. Scorpius, who never judged, who never made him feel wrong for who he was or what he felt.
After murmuring goodbyes and hugging his parents, sister, aunt’s, and uncle’s, Albus turned towards the train. And boarded the train together with James and their cousins. Who wasted no time to find their own friends and compartments and too wrapped up in their excitement to notice the quiet Slytherin not following. Not that Albus minded. He wasn't going to anyway. As the train rumbled to life beneath him, he made his way down the corridor, his focus sharpening on one thing—finding Scorpius. The thought of his friend steadied him, calming the storm of frustration and loneliness that had been swirling inside him since Christmas. Scorpius wouldn’t ask questions he didn’t want to answer. He wouldn’t demand explanations.
When Albus reached the compartment, he saw Scorpius through the glass window, sitting quietly but with an air of subdued happiness from the holiday break. There was a shadow of concern in his eyes, though, likely because he hadn’t seen Albus on the platform.
Albus had deliberately stayed out of sight. He couldn’t risk Scorpius running up to him in front of everyone. But now, as he stood outside the compartment, he allowed himself to exhale. His shoulders relaxed, and a genuine smile broke through his usual guarded expression.
He slid the door open. “Miss me?” Albus asked with a grin, the tension that had been gnawing at him loosening as soon as he stepped inside. Finally, he was where he belonged.
++++
The Welcoming Feast went better this term. For once, Albus actually ate his food and kept up a decent conversation—not just with Scorpius, but with some of his other yearmates as well. It felt strangely normal, almost as if the weight of everything at home hadn't followed him back to Hogwarts. They’d gotten their schedules that evening instead of the next morning, which only reminded him of how much more important this term would be.
Revisions and studying for exams loomed ahead, and Albus couldn’t shake his dread about it. He was still utterly horrid when it came to practical magic, and the last thing he wanted was a report card full of Trolls.
++++
It was two days later, while he and Scorpius were doing revision in the common room, that Fawley approached Albus and asked for a moment. With all the recent chaos, Albus had almost forgotten about Fawley’s offer of help from before the holidays. His stomach twisted with a mix of excitement and concern—he feared that whatever Fawley was about to show him might be something dangerous, just like his parents had always warned him about. Why else wasn't the book part of the Hogwarts library?
“I trust you had a pleasant Yule and Winter Solstice, Potter,” Fawley greeted him brightly, her tone light and genuine. It was Albus who forced a polite smile in return.
“Yes, I did. Thank you, Fawley. I hope yours was even better,” he replied, trying to sound pleasant.
Fawley’s smile widened slightly, her eyes twinkling, but she quickly handed him the book.
"I'm sure you remember our conversation before the holidays. This book is only an introduction to self-learning, but I still recommend you consider consulting a mind healer. We wizards need to protect our minds, after all. Physical wounds can be healed, but the mind is much more delicate. Mind healers act more as guides than fixers."
She emphasized her point as she handed him the book, Calm the Inner Storm: A Wizard’s Guide to Shaping Mental Barriers.
Albus took it carefully. The book looked old but not too daunting. The title was far less ominous than he had expected, and that intrigued him. Maybe this was exactly what he needed—some way to calm the storm that constantly raged inside him.
“Thank you, Fawley. I appreciate this. I’ll take care of the book as if it were my own.” Albus was conflicted. Since the holidays, his mind had been in turmoil, overrun with emotions that surged out of his control. What he needed most was order, control.
“I might take you up on the offer of a mind healer later on, but for now, I’ll try on my own. If I don’t manage—”
“You know where to find me,” Fawley interrupted with a knowing smile, before she gave a polite goodbye and walked back to her dorm.
++++
The term moved forward, his mentoring sessions with Burke resuming their usual routine, and Albus laid more focus on self-learning from the book Fawley had lent him. In some ways, life at school hadn’t changed much. The other students still teased him and Scorpius, and they still had to sneak around to avoid pranks or worse—hexes. Yet, oddly, Albus found a strange calm in the consistency of it. Even though his home life had spiraled into chaos, at least school was predictable. The only thing that was different this time was his relationship with James. They actually had one now. It was a tentative truce, but they studied together at the library, walked around the grounds when the weather started to warm, and James seemed to be making an effort.
Time moved too quickly for Albus’s liking. Winter melted into spring, and his birthday was fast approaching. He’d sent regular letters home to keep his parents from worrying, but each one was full of carefully constructed lies. He and James had come to an agreement at the start of the term: James would keep quiet about Albus’s ongoing friendship with Scorpius, even though their parents had expressly forbidden it. Albus hoped that only their immediate family knew about the restriction; if Rose found out, she would’ve ratted him out by now for sure.
But as usual, things couldn’t stay peaceful for long. James, in his new role as the overprotective older brother, had been sticking his nose into Albus’s business more than Albus liked. It all came to a head one afternoon when James invited Albus to visit Hagrid with him. Albus, not sensing anything out of the ordinary, agreed. But instead of going to Hagrid’s, James led him to a secluded spot on the school grounds.
Once they were alone, James turned to him, his face tense. “Albus,” he started, his voice low but sharp, “you told me you were going to slowly distance yourself from Scorpius!” His voice rose, breaking from a whisper to something closer to a frustrated shout. “I let you off and didn’t tell Mum and Dad because you said you had it under control!”
Albus had anticipated this moment for a while now. He had rehearsed different ways to handle it and ultimately settled on what he thought was the best approach: don’t lie—at least, not entirely.
“I’m sorry, James. I should’ve been honest with you," Albus began, adopting a softer tone. "But I was scared. You know how much time I spend with Scorpius, and you know the bullying hasn’t stopped. He’s my only real friend.” He paused to gauge his brother’s reaction, noticing James’s expression waver.
“Mum and Dad... they’re wrong about him,” Albus pressed on, trying to keep the frustration in check. “They think he’s a bad influence, but Scorpius wouldn’t hurt a fly. You’ve seen it yourself—he’s light, he’s bubbly. He's the complete opposite of everything they’re worried about.” He looked James in the eyes, searching for any sign of understanding.
“They don’t get it,” Albus continued, his voice tinged with frustration. “They don’t understand how things really are for me.”
James grimaced, clearly feeling for Albus but still holding firm. “I get it, Al, I really do. But it doesn't sit right with me, keepin’ all this from Mum and Dad.” His voice lowered, like he didn’t even want to say it. “And I’m telling you, we should trust Dad on this. If anyone knows danger, it’s him—”
“No, James!” Albus cut him off, his voice rising with pent-up emotion. “Not you too!” He could feel his anger boiling over, and though he hated himself for it, he knew how to use it to his advantage. “I don’t care if our parents or our relatives think I’m destined to become some dark wizard just because I’m in Slytherin—but I didn’t think you’d be the same. I thought you were different.” His last words were laced with venom, a calculated sting to make James feel guilty.
And it worked. James’s expression crumbled into a mix of hurt and conflict. Albus could see his brother wrestling with his feelings, torn between loyalty to him and their parents. Albus didn’t like playing on his emotions like this, but it was necessary.
“Look, I’m not saying you’re gonna go dark or whatever,” James said, his words rushed now, trying to explain himself. “God, you know what I mean, Al!” He huffed, exasperated. Albus knew James liked throwing in Muggle references to sound clever, but half of them didn’t make sense in a world where real magic existed. Still, Albus got the gist.
“If you really believe me,” Albus said, locking eyes with his brother, “Then don’t rat me out to Mum and Dad. I’ll fix everything this summer, I promise. Please, James, trust me... Even if no one else does.” He held his gaze, letting his sincerity linger in the air between them.
That was it. He saw the shift in James’s face, the internal struggle finally tipping in Albus’s favor. Once again, Albus had managed to pull his older brother back onto his side. He felt a twinge of guilt for the manipulation, but the stakes were too high to worry about that now.
+++
Albus sat alone in his dormitory, the soft sound of pages turning occasionally breaking the quiet. Scorpius had gone to the Owlery to send his parents yet another letter—Scorpius was one of those kids who made it a point to keep his parents updated on everything, sending multiple letters a week. Albus, on the other hand, was content to enjoy the quiet.
His Defense Against the Dark Arts notes lay untouched on the desk in front of him, the detailed diagrams of werewolf bites and the characteristics of dark creatures like Gytrashes and Imps barely catching his attention. Instead, his focus was entirely on the book he had pulled from his bag— Calm the Inner Storm: A Wizard’s Guide to Shaping Mental Barriers.
Albus was still in the early stages of reading the book, but even from the introduction, he could tell this was something that could help him in more ways than one. The mind arts were a mystery to most wizards, but here, laid out in clear terms, was a guide to how the mind could be shaped just like any other magical tool. Albus's shortcomings with practical spells had been weighing on him for some time, and the thought of honing his mental strength intrigued him.
He scanned the passage that had caught his attention earlier:
“Wizards and witches often think of their magic as something born purely from their wand, their incantations, or their bloodline. Yet, perhaps the most powerful and least understood tool lies within us all: the mind."
Albus paused, taking in the weight of the words. Magic wasn’t just about technique or heritage; it was about mental control, about shaping your thoughts and emotions just as precisely as you would a spell. He read on:
"For wixen, meditation is not just about calming the mind; it is a tool for enhancing magical ability. The more control you have over your own thoughts and emotions, the better you can control the flow of magic through your wand. A clear mind means a clear focus, and clear focus means stronger, more precise spellwork.”
This is what he needed, he realized. His struggles with traditional spellcasting weren’t just about technique—they were about focus. Albus knew his mind was often a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts, always drifting somewhere between doubt and frustration. If he could clear that mental clutter, maybe everything else would fall into place.
The book went on to describe mental barriers, and Albus found himself absorbed by the description:
“Mental barriers, much like a well-placed ward around a home or a protective charm over a loved one, are invisible walls that exist to protect the sanctity of our thoughts and emotions... By shaping and strengthening our mental barriers, we ensure that our minds remain calm amidst the storm, clear amidst confusion, and resilient amidst adversity.”
He imagined his mind as a grand library, each memory and emotion a book. But instead of being orderly and neat, his shelves were a mess. Some books were torn from their places, scattered across the floor, with no system to keep them safe. The idea of mental barriers as shelves that could organize and protect his thoughts resonated with him deeply. As he continued reading, the practical exercises in the next chapter caught his attention:
“The beauty of meditation is in its simplicity... One effective technique for beginners is to visualize clearing the mind, much like tidying a room. Picture your mind as a space cluttered with scattered thoughts, worries, and emotions. As you sit in meditation, imagine yourself gently picking up these distractions and placing them in a box or cabinet, to be dealt with later.”
Albus could already see how this exercise would help him. His thoughts often felt too overwhelming, a jumble of worries and expectations—about school, about his family, and about himself. He hadn’t really thought about sorting through them, but the idea of setting some of them aside, even temporarily, was appealing
.
He closed the book, his fingers resting on its worn cover for a moment as he stared off at the shadows flickering on the walls of the dormitory. Scorpius would be back soon, but for now, it was just him and the quiet. Albus straightened in his chair, closed his eyes, and let his breath slow.
For the first time in a long while, Albus focused on nothing but the rise and fall of his chest, breathing in, breathing out, clearing the storm within his mind.
++++
Albus made meditation a core part of his daily routine, carving out time each morning for a quick session and a longer, more focused one at night. During those evening meditations, he worked on building his mindscape—a mental space where he could compartmentalize and store his emotions. It was a slow, painstaking process, often feeling like he was getting nowhere. But with persistence, Albus started noticing subtle changes.
His emotions, particularly the anger and resentment that had once flared up so uncontrollably, now simmered just beneath the surface. Instead of boiling over, he found he could acknowledge them, set them aside, and continue on with his day. He wasn’t rid of those feelings—he doubted he ever would be—but he had them more under control, like books locked away on a shelf in his mind.
After months of practicing, there were even tangible improvements in his magic. His spellwork was still far from impressive, but at least now, his wand would sometimes respond to him on the first or second try. He could actually manage a few simple spells, though they weren’t always perfect. His classmates didn’t pay him much attention, but Albus couldn’t help but notice the subtle reactions from his professors.
Professor Flitwick in Charms and Professor Spindlewheel in Transfiguration seemed especially pleased with his progress, even though it was minimal compared to his peers. A successful levitation charm or a partial transformation might not seem like much, but to them, it was a victory. Flitwick had awarded him house points on multiple occasions, his beaming smile almost embarrassing, while Spindlewheel, normally strict, had shown a rare glimpse of approval when Albus managed to transfigure a matchstick halfway into a needle.
Albus wasn’t sure whether to feel proud or humiliated. On one hand, his hard work was paying off, and the praise meant something. On the other hand, it was hard not to feel a little pathetic when the bar was set so low. Most students his age didn’t struggle with practical magic like this—why was he so different?
But then again, he reminded himself, it was progress. Slow, frustrating, and nowhere near what he wanted, but progress nonetheless. Maybe, if he kept at it, one day his magic would listen to him like it did for everyone else.
++++
As the months turned into spring, Albus's twelfth birthday was fast approaching. When he had mentioned his birthdate to Scorpius during the previous term, Scorpius had first looked surprised, a hint of intrigue flickering in his eyes. He had brushed it off at the time, but as the days crept closer, Albus noticed that Scorpius occasionally gave him perplexed glances, as though he wanted to ask something but couldn’t find the right words. The tension was unnerving, but Albus didn’t push. If Scorpius wanted to share something, he would. Albus had learned to be patient with his friend.
A week before his birthday, the two were lounging on Albus’s bed, doing some light reading. Scorpius had been unusually quiet, and Albus could tell something was on his mind. He turned the page of his book, waiting for Scorpius to speak.
“Albus?” Scorpius's voice was gentle, but there was a note of concern in it. “Your birthday... falls on the first of May, right?”
Albus, wondering where this was going, glanced up at his friend, who had now set aside his book. “Yeah, why?” he answered, his curiosity piqued.
Scorpius hesitated, his brow furrowed as though weighing whether he should say what was on his mind. “And your parents... they haven’t mentioned anything about the date?”
Albus shrugged. “Not really. Why?” He turned another page in his book, feigning disinterest, but the air between them had become heavier.
Scorpius opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, clearly struggling. Finally, after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he asked, “Albus, what do you know about the Wizarding Sabbats? The Wheel of the Year?”
Albus frowned, now intrigued. He put his book down, watching his friend’s serious expression with growing curiosity. “No one’s really told me much about it,” he admitted. “Why?”
Scorpius looked conflicted, as if he was unsure whether he should continue. “It’s not really my place to tell you if they haven’t...”
“Scorp,” Albus interrupted, his voice a bit sharper than intended. “Just tell me.”
Scorpius gulped, avoiding Albus’s gaze for a moment before finally caving in. “Well, it’s just... your birthday falls on Beltane. The date First of May is significant. It’s an important day for those who follow the old ways—The practitioners of the Sabbats.”
Albus raised an eyebrow. “My family has never talked about it, what does that have to do with my birthday?”
Scorpius hesitated again, fidgeting slightly. “It’s just... it’s rare for magical children to be born on days like Beltane. Magic is... stronger during these times. The belief is that children born on these days are affected by that magic.”
Albus’s curiosity deepened. “Affected how?”
Scorpius took a deep breath, like he was mentally preparing himself to explain. “In some Pureblood families, there are ancient traditions and beliefs about festival births—Children born on days like Beltane are thought to have a powerful connection to magic. Beltane, in particular, is a day when the magical and natural worlds are more intertwined—A time when the flow of primal magic is stronger. Those born on dates like these are believed to carry a stronger magical aura.”
Albus leaned forward, his interest fully captured now. Scorpius continued, his voice softer, as if reciting a lesson he’d memorized long ago.
“These children aren’t just seen as powerful. They’re thought to be marked by fate. In Pureblood tradition, children born on Beltane are believed to be harbingers of change or transition—catalysts, if you will. It’s said they can shift the course of magical history, whether through renewal or... destruction. ”
Albus swallowed, the weight of Scorpius’s words sinking in. “So... what? You think I’m destined to bring about some kind of change? That I’m... special?”
Scorpius quickly shook his head. “I’m not saying that. It’s just... Some Pureblood families take this kind of thing seriously. They believe that those born on festival days like Beltane carry the potential for... something bigger. Whether that’s true or not, I don’t know.”
Albus processed this in silence, his mind reeling. He had never given much thought to his birthday beyond the fact that it happened to fall on the first of May. Now, it seemed like there was something much deeper behind that date, something tied to ancient traditions and beliefs he had never been told about.
“Albus,” Scorpius said gently, breaking the silence. “How many people here in Slytherin know about your birth date?”
Albus frowned, still trying to wrap his head around everything. “Only you, I think. I’m not really close to anyone else, and my parents have kept all of our birthdays private from the public, so I’m pretty sure only my family knows.”
Scorpius looked relieved at that, but there was still a flicker of worry in his eyes. “It’s probably for the best. Some people in Slytherin... they might have their own ideas about what it means.”
Albus nodded slowly, still processing the idea that his birthday—something he had always considered mundane—might carry more weight in the magical world than he had ever imagined.
Scorpius continued, his voice more tentative now. "And... you're turning twelve, right?" He hesitated for a moment, glancing at Albus as if trying to gauge his reaction. "Albus, do you have any knowledge of Numerology?"
Albus raised an eyebrow, feeling a bit out of his depth. "No, not really," he admitted truthfully. "Why?"
Scorpius leaned forward, his voice dropping a little lower as he spoke. “You know... in some Pureblood traditions, turning twelve is considered a huge deal. It’s not just a birthday—It’s a kind of rite of passage.”
Albus furrowed his brow, intrigued. “What do you mean?”
“Well-” Scorpius continued, “In families like mine—old Pureblood families, twelve is often when a young witch or wizard is introduced to their family’s deeper magical traditions. It’s the age when they start learning about their Ancestral Magic, which is kept secret from outsiders. It’s when they might be initiated into certain magical practices or rituals that are connected to their bloodline.”
Albus felt a strange flutter in his chest. “Initiations?”
Scorpius nodded. “Some wixen perform special rituals where they formally declare themselves to magic—like a pledge. They might ask for blessings to delve into a certain type of magic or align themselves with a particular path. It’s seen as the beginning of a wixen’s personal journey into their own power and connection to magic herself.”
Albus blinked. “So... it’s kind of like starting down your own path as a wizard?”
“Exactly,” Scorpius said, his tone thoughtful. “It’s a big day in our culture. It marks the start of your own spiritual or magical path—when you start to explore and define what kind of magic you want to practice or develop.”
Albus sat back, letting the weight of Scorpius’s words sink in. “And... this happens at twelve?”
Scorpius nodded again. “When you turn twelve it's the end of the first life circle , it symbolizes the end of one stage and the beginning of another. It’s the first age that magic recognizes your resolve–You’re ready to begin exploring deeper, more personal connections with magic.”
Albus’s mind raced. “So... if I were following those traditions, I’d be preparing for some sort of ritual or initiation soon?”
Scorpius gave a small, cautious smile. “Yes, exactly. And considering you’re born on Beltane , with all the significance that date carries... it could mean your initiation or spiritual path is even more powerful than usual. Beltane is already a time of heightened magical energy, and being born on that day makes your connection to magic even stronger.”
Albus swallowed hard, feeling a strange mix of excitement and apprehension. “So... my twelfth birthday might not just be another day.”
“No,” Scorpius agreed, his voice serious. “It could be the beginning of something much bigger for you. A deeper connection to magic, maybe even to something... ancient. Especially if you start exploring your family’s magic or your own rituals. Purebloods see this as a time to make a formal step into their family magic, and declare themselves to that legacy.”
Albus felt his mood plummet as the realization hit him. “There is no way my family practice that, though,” he muttered, a wave of disappointment washing over him. “There’s no way they know about any of this... about any family magicks either.”
He slumped back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. Scorpius’s words weighed heavily on him. This was supposed to be something important, something ancient and connected to his ancestral magic, and yet... he knew nothing about it.
Scorpius gave him a sympathetic look, sensing his friend's frustration. “I’m sorry, Albus. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s just... these traditions are pretty old. Maybe your family’s been distanced from them for a long time.”
Albus nodded, but the ache in his chest didn’t go away. “It’s just... I don’t want to be disconnected from it. I want to know more. If there’s some family magic or anything like that, I should know about it, right?”
Scorpius shifted uncomfortably. “Well, even if your family doesn’t believe in it or hasn’t passed it down, that doesn’t mean it’s lost to you forever. You could still learn about it—explore the old ways, maybe even try to find if there’s anything in your family history that’s been forgotten.”
“Forgotten,” Albus echoed bitterly. “Or abandoned.”
The weight of it all settled over him like a dark cloud. His twelfth birthday, the supposed start of his magical journey, would be nothing special in the eyes of his family. No initiations, no rituals, no deeper connection to magic. Just another day, another year older.
Scorpius spoke again, and this time his frustration mirrored Albus’s. “There are rites,” he began, his voice tinged with hesitation. “Rituals that can show your affinity. But they’re complex, and I’m pretty sure the Hogwarts library doesn’t have any information on those types of rites... they’re seen as—well, not light.” He grimaced, sensing how his words might come across, and quickly added, “There are some light ones too, but...”
Albus cut in, a bitter edge in his voice. “None that you know of, and it’s probably too ‘traditional’ for Hogwarts to even have.”
Scorpius nodded, looking down. “Exactly.”
Albus’s mind raced. If there were rituals that could reveal his affinity, the kind that could help him understand more about his connection to magic, then he needed to find them. But if Hogwarts didn’t keep information on them... that meant he’d need to look elsewhere.
A knot of determination tightened in his chest. There had to be someone here who knew—someone at Hogwarts. He began to think, his eyes narrowing in focus. The professors? Some of them had to be more in touch with the old ways of magic, didn’t they? No it was to risky of getting back to his parents—
“Scorp,” Albus said quietly, “I need to find someone who does know these affinity rites.”
Scorpius looked at him with wide eyes, unsure. “Who? Who would even know about them here?” His voice sounded strained.
Albus’s mind drifted, If there was anyone who would know... it had to be someone within their house. Maybe one of the older students—Albus's eyes suddenly brightened as he recalled something Fawley had mentioned. “Scorpius, remember what Fawley said about Slytherin’s approach to exploring magic beyond the standard curriculum? She talked about how all forms of magic are respected here.” A devilish smile spread across his face, this was it.
Scorpius looked up, a flicker of apprehension crossing his face. “Yeah, I remember. But you’re thinking of going to her for this? I mean, are you sure that’s wise?”
Albus’s expression grew determined and more frantic. “I don’t see another option. If I want to understand what my birth date means, I need to dig deeper. It’s more than just curiosity—it’s my birthright—it’s about connecting with my heritage and what I might be capable of.”
Scorpius scrunched his face “Albus, i don't think Fawley is a good idea—It’s kinda a open secret that she pledged herself to The Mind Arts—I dont think it wise to trust her with something like this,”
Albus frowned, sensing the underlying worry in Scorpius’s tone. “But if I don’t seek out Fawley, where else am I going to turn? My family would never support this. They don’t believe in these old traditions or any of that ancient magic. They wouldn’t even consider helping me.”
Scorpius sighed, his frustration etched across his face. "I get that your family isn’t open to it, but asking Fawley for help is risky too. Nothing comes without a price in Slytherin, and you could end up owing her a big favor."
Albus felt a familiar surge of panic crawl up his throat. His breathing grew shallow as the words tumbled out, “I don’t have time to wait for another option! I don’t have time for this!” He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his mind racing. Two weeks. That was all the time he had. “My birthday is in two weeks, and I need to complete the ritual before then! So I can pledge myself to magic. I can’t afford to wait or hesitate—”
Scorpius’s face tightened with worry, his voice cracking slightly. “And you think rushing into this without fully understanding the consequences is a good idea?” There was a tremor of fear in his tone. “Albus! You knew nothing about this before I told you! This kind of magic is ancient and dangerous! It’s not something you commit to unless you’re fully aware of what it means—and its complications!”
Scorpius surged forward, the tension crackling like magic in the air.
Albus’s skin prickled with frustration, but beneath it, there was fear—fear of being stopped, fear of losing control. He had to do this. He needed this. The deadline loomed like a shadow over him, suffocating. His chest felt tight, his stomach twisting. But Scorpius didn’t understand the desperation eating away at him.
His hands balled into fists, knuckles white, trying to hold onto the sliver of composure that was rapidly slipping away. His voice grew higher, raw with desperation as he shot back, “I need to take this chance. If I don’t act now, I’ll miss my chance to understand my affinity and complete the ritual.”
Scorpius’s frustration only seemed to mirror his own, but underneath it was something deeper—concern. It twisted in the air, making Albus want to scream and push it all away. “And rushing into this without understanding the full consequences is reckless!" Scorpius retorted. "I understand that you’re desperate, but this is not the way—Diving into this kind of magic without fully understanding it can be extremely dangerous. These practices are dark, Albus! They work on intent—You could pledge yourself to something you don’t even understand!”
Albus’s pulse quickened as Scorpius’s words hit like a curse. The weight of them pressed down on him, pushing the panic deeper. He felt the familiar, sharp edge of fear creeping up, twisting in his chest.
He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be this lost, this desperate for answers.
The looming deadline of his birthday felt like a noose tightening around him. Albus’s heart pounded, but he couldn’t show any sign of doubt, not now. He wouldn’t back down—
“I don’t have time!” Albus’s voice cracked, rising above the heavy tension between them. His hands shook as he wiped the sweat from his palms onto his robes. His body was thrumming with nervous energy, his skin crawling with the unbearable pressure of being misunderstood.
Scorpius’s gaze was hard, but the crack in his voice, the concern just barely masked by frustration, made Albus grit his teeth. “This is reckless! Albus! You're playing with forces that have ruined people before. Magic like this—ancient, dark magic—doesn’t care about your desperation. It demands control, focus, understanding—If you don’t know what you're committing to, you could end up enslaved to something far more powerful than you bargained for!”
Albus's throat tightened, and his frustration reached a boiling point. He couldn’t afford to think about what-ifs, about the dangers. He couldn't afford to be stopped. "But I have to! I have to do something. If I wait—if I hesitate—I’ll lose my chance to pledge myself and figure out who I really am!"
The words came out harsher than intended, but they were the truth. And that truth cut deep.
But Scorpius wasn’t finished, his anger and concern boiling over. “You’re not just performing a spell; you’re making a lifelong commitment. Magic doesn’t treat these pledges lightly—They become you. You become them! They change something in you, Albus, something permanent. You can’t take it back. It's one thing with family magics, but for affinity magic... it’s different, and you need to be absolutely sure!”
Scorpius’s words struck deeper than Albus wanted to admit, but that only made his frustration sharper. He cut Scorpius off with a mix of rage and determination, his face hardening like stone. “I need to do this. I don’t care about the risks. I need to know my affinity and make my pledge before my birthday. I don’t have time to waste. I won’t lose my chance.”
He saw the way Scorpius’s expression twisted, the worry etched into every line of his face, but Albus couldn’t stay in that room, couldn’t stand to see the doubt in his best friend’s eyes.
He turned on his heel, storming out of the dorm, his mind set on finding Fawley. The sharp click of the door echoed like a final cut, a wedge driven between them.
As soon as the door slammed behind him, Albus’s heart pounded in his chest, a mix of adrenaline and fear gnawing at his insides. But he forced himself forward. He had to keep going. He couldn’t let Scorpius’s worry, his own doubts, pull him back from this. Not now.
Whatever it took, he would not let anyone—friend or foe—stand in his way.
Meanwhile, inside the dorm, Scorpius let out a frustrated scream into a pillow, fists clenching the fabric.