Chapter Nineteen -
Chapter Nineteen.
Albus sensed the presence before he saw or heard him. Instinctively, his body froze, a wave of terror washing over him. He allowed himself a brief moment to tremble, releasing just enough tension before he slipped quietly behind a tapestry that stretched from floor to ceiling, concealing him completely. Rosier hadn’t spotted him yet, but Albus knew too well that this luck would not last. Hopefully, Rosier was merely passing by, unaware, rather than seeking him out. His decision to hide had been swift: he knew what set Rosier off, and running would have been a sure mistake. Like a predator sensing prey, Rosier would have only become more alert, more intent. All he could do was hide and remain silent.
He hated it; hiding like a prey, trembling in fear, terror. Yet there was nothing he could do yet; he would lick his wounds, planning his revenge that surely would be sweet enough.
Rosier wasn’t alone. Yet Albus couldn’t quite make out the other’s magical aura—familiar but indistinct. They moved with a confidence that dripped with entitlement and superiority, their laughter loud, untroubled, careless. Their voices, full of light-hearted jokes about crushes and unfinished assignments, felt sickeningly normal. Albus clenched his fists, feeling revulsion creep through him. To any passerby, they were only students, laughing as they passed, unmarked by the cruelty he knew they were capable of. The sound of their carefree amusement echoed down the corridor, too familiar in its mocking tone. Albus resisted the urge to shudder. He’d heard that laughter too many times, from the other end of it. He waited, counting the seconds, until he was sure they’d moved out of earshot, then carefully stepped out from behind the tapestry.
But before he could move far, he was abruptly shoved hard against the wall. Panic flared inside him—had Rosier somehow concealed his aura? He looked up quickly, but it wasn’t Rosier. It was Jenkins, and this time, he was alone. Albus felt the sharp press of Jenkins’s wand tip against his neck, the threat unmistakable. Jenkins smirked, clearly enjoying himself.
“How interesting. Hiding from your own housemates?” Jenkins taunted, his voice filled with mock curiosity.
Albusa sneered, leaning his head to the side; trying to lessen the tick point of the others wand from sticking him in the neck—Only the others pushed in more harshly as his body moved closer, the point pressing into his neck hard enough to draw blood; he cursed beneath his breath. Jenkins clearly meant business and he had taught in an unfavorable position; he had witnessed him hide from Rosier and his party.
Just how much Albus wanted to think the other as dumb and stupid; he wasn't Jenkin was one of the best in their year group, he could clearly had made it into Ravenclaw, somehow he was placed into Hufflepuff. Yet–the boy was quick to anger, Albus might use that to throw him off his trail.
He masked the discomfort flooding him; through enforcing his defenses. Suppressing the swirl of panic and vulnerability, pushing into the back corners of his mind, he forced a steady, almost defiant smile. Tilting his head just slightly, he looked up at Jenkins with calm, feigned disinterest.
“Were you following me, Jenkins?” Albus replied, his voice steady, betraying no hint of the tension bubbling beneath the surface. He let a small grin tug at his lips, noting with satisfaction the irritation flaring in Jenkins’s expression. The boy clearly hadn’t mastered the art of hiding his emotions, and it wasn’t hard to imagine their previous encounter still lingering bitterly in his mind.
“Stop playing your little games, Potter.” Jenkins spat, and Albus made an effort not to grimace as flecks of spit hit his cheek. “There’s no professor here to save you this time.”
The wand pressed harder against his throat, drawing a stifled cry from him. But Albus forced himself to maintain the mask, meeting Jenkins's eyes with false bravado. “Then—what are you waiting for?”
Jenkins’s smirk only widened, unperturbed by Albus’s attempt at bravado. “Oh, is that an invitation?” he mocked, his tone sickly sweet, brimming with malice.
“Careful, Jenkins, or some might get the wrong idea.” Albus’s grin grew sharper, noting with satisfaction the way Jenkins’s face twisted into an ugly grimace.
“Good thing nobody’s here, then,” Jenkins shot back, the air between them charged, the pretense of banter melting into something far darker.
Albus’s hand began to creep toward his wand—but Jenkins was faster.
“Petrificus Totalus!”
In an instant, Albus’s body locked, limbs snapping together as he collapsed to the floor, paralyzed but fully conscious. His gaze was frozen upward, staring at Jenkins’s triumphant sneer as the boy loomed over him, relishing his control.
“How a squib like you could even manage a spell like this is beyond me,” Jenkins sneered, looking down at Albus’s immobilized form with mocking disgust.
“Accio, wand!” Jenkins’s voice was smug, and Albus’s wand shot from his pocket into Jenkins’s outstretched hand. He twirled it, eyes glinting with cruel satisfaction as Albus’s fury simmered below his frozen exterior.
“That a squib even gets a wand…” Jenkins drawled, his tone dripping with disdain. Albus’s anger clawed its way through him, though he was helpless to react.
Then, with a careless flick, Jenkins tossed the wand aside. The clatter as it skittered across the floor echoed through the empty corridor, punctuating the cold disregard in Jenkins's smirk.
“You know, Potter, I've been quite bored without you as my practice dummy,” Jenkins taunted, leaning down, his sneer close to Albus’s frozen form. “Heard something interesting recently—a spell combo I’m itching to try.” He moved his wand toward Albus’s mouth, a cruel gleam in his eye. “You see, when a simple Scourgify is cast on a person, it makes the mouth fill with soap. But I wonder,” he grinned, “what happens if they’re under a Petrificus Totalus at the same time?” J
enkins’s voice was gleeful as he straightened, pointing his wand directly at Albus’s mouth. “Seems fitting for a filthy mouth like yours, don’t you think? Let’s clean it up.” His voice was sugar-sweet, mocking. “ Scourgify! ”
Albus’s mouth filled instantly with the rancid, stinging taste of soapy liquid, choking him. Immobilized, he could only feel the vile stuff creeping down his throat and pouring out his nose, his panic surging as the mixture burned painfully, even seeping from his eyes. The acrid tang of soap overwhelmed his senses, he was drowning and he could do nothing—
“That looks painful,” Jenkins remarked with a twisted smile, clearly relishing Albus’s agony. With a casual flick of his wand, he released the Petrificus Totalus . Albus gasped, coughing and retching up the foul, dark soapy water that spilled from his mouth and nose as he heaved. His heart raced painfully in his chest, each beat echoing his rising fury.
Jenkins’s laughter echoed in the corridor, fueling the fire within Albus.
Anger boiled within him, a dark spark inside him pushing him to act.
Trembling but resolute, he gathered his strength. “ Accio wand! ” he rasped, summoning his wand. To his shock, it flew to his hand, and he saw a flash of shock etched on Jenkins’s face. Not wasting a second, Albus aimed.
“ Expelliarmus! ” he croaked, his voice raw. Jenkins’s wand shot out of his hand, clattering across the floor. Startled, Jenkins dived after it, but Albus was faster, anger sharpening his focus to a razor’s edge.
Rising, Albus pointed his wand, the spell already on his lips. “Conjunctivitis!” His voice cut through the air like a whip, and the curse struck true. Jenkins let out a guttural scream as his eyes began to swell shut, filthy pus oozing from them like something rotting. His pain was raw, undiluted, reverberating off the empty corridor walls. Albus stood over him, grimly fascinated as Jenkins staggered, clawing helplessly at his inflamed eyes. A sick satisfaction filled him as he took in the scene—horrifying and grotesque, yes, but it felt just.
Jenkins dropped to his knees, his cries growing more pitiful as his hands, now trembling, traveled up to his disfigured face. Albus’s lips curled into a smile, and a laugh escaped him, starting as shock but transforming into genuine, almost delirious glee. He coughed, spitting dark liquid onto the floor as the soapy taste lingered bitterly on his tongue. Jenkins deserved this—no, he’d earned it. More rage surged beneath Albus’s skin, mingling with the thrill of seeing Jenkins suffer, of finally showing him the cost of cruelty. His magic hummed in response, filling his fingers with electric energy, urging him on, intoxicating him with its promise of power.
Dark thoughts swirled as he stepped forward, approaching Jenkins, who was now a twisted, trembling wreck on the floor. A predatory grin crossed Albus’s face. He raised his wand and cast a silencing spell, his voice low and dangerous as he taunted, “What was it you said, Jenkins? ‘Good that nobody’s here?’” His grin widened as he let out a cold laugh, leaning close. “Still think so?”
Jenkins tried to reply, his face a mask of agony, but only a pitiful sob escaped. Albus raised his wand again, his tone dripping with menace. “Consider this a warning.” His voice grew darker. “Furnunculus!”
Jenkins’s cries intensified, his face erupting in boils—large, grotesque pimples that swelled with pus, adding layers to his already distorted appearance. Albus laughed, the sound pure and unrestrained, reveling in Jenkins’s anguish.
“Seems like you finally look like your true self,” he sneered, savoring the sight. Between laughs, he added, “Looks like we’ve switched places, hmm?” He planted a swift kick into Jenkins’s side, forcing a sharp gasp. “Tell me, Jenkins—who’s whose practice dummy now?”
He straightened, his gaze flickering over Jenkins’s crumpled form, each tremble fueling the rush of dominance he felt. His wand twitched in his hand as he glanced around. “Let’s see,” he mused, feigning thoughtfulness as he looked down at the mess of a boy before him, “is there any other spell I’d like to try?” The thrill of it, the power—it surged through him, primal and intoxicating, the thrill of being the hunter, of controlling the pain, of making the rules.
He laughed again, the sound echoing in the empty hallway, as Albus reveled in the suffering he’d unleashed.
He moved closer to the boy writhing on the floor, watching as Jenkins tried to crawl away blindly, hands outstretched and shaking in a pathetic attempt to escape. Albus followed with a cruel, deliberate stride, humming softly under his breath as if this were no more than a game.
“And you call me pathetic,” Albus spat, circling around to stand directly in front of Jenkins’s path. With a twisted smile, he bent down, taunting, “Consider this an early Yule present.” Without hesitation, he raised his foot and brought it down sharply onto Jenkins’s dominant hand, the crunch of bones cracking under his heel sending a surge of dark satisfaction through him. For good measure, he ground his heel down, savoring the scream that tore from Jenkins’s throat, sharp and raw, beforing raising his foot once more and bringing it down, the scream was even more ear-piercing than before–Albus wondered if his silencing charm would keep it contaminated.
Smirking, Albus dropped Jenkins’s wand a few meters ahead, watching as the boy flailed for it, his movements desperate and disoriented. When Jenkins got close, Albus nudged the wand further away with his foot, laughing coldly as he reveled in the other’s helplessness. Finally, he knelt beside Jenkins, gripping a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back to meet his gaze. “If you speak about this to anyone,” he hissed, his voice cold and deadly, “it won’t just be your hand I crush. I’ll make you a squib.”
Satisfied, Albus released him and straightened, leaving Jenkins behind, broken and desperate. As he walked away, the image of Jenkins stumbling blindly, maybe even falling down the stairs, hitting his head just enough—To never wake up. oh one could dream.
The idea brought a twisted smile to his face.
++++
By the next day, rumors had already spiraled out of control. Jenkins hadn’t shown up for classes or meals and was reportedly being treated by Madam Pomfrey. Albus allowed himself a slight smile on his way to breakfast that morning. After all, Jenkins had practically tried to kill him; two well-placed curses landing Jenkins in the hospital wing for a few days was hardly anything to feel guilty about. Under Madam Pomfrey’s care, Jenkins wouldn’t suffer any lasting damage, just a temporary punishment to match his cruelty.
In Albus’s opinion, Jenkins deserved far worse after the torment he’d inflicted on both him and Scorpius. A few days confined to the hospital wing seemed a small price to pay for a year of unprovoked brutality. Yet not everyone saw it that way. Speculation swirled through the student body, most quick to paint Jenkins as the innocent party. After all, what harm could a Hufflepuff really do? Rumors that dark curses had been cast only fanned the flames, sending students and professors alike into a quiet frenzy, intent on uncovering whoever had dared break the rules.
Older students were dragged into the gossip, their histories and grudges tossed into the fray. Though a few noted Jenkins’s frequent clashes with Albus, they dismissed him as a suspect—after all, wasn’t he the Potter boy labeled a squib, incapable of casting anything substantial? Instead, attention shifted to Scorpius, who carried the weight of his name like a curse of its own. He was a pureblood heir, the son of a former Death Eater, and a Slytherin, and the rumor that he was Voldemort’s child surfaced yet again, carried by whispers that traveled faster than spells.
Teachers didn’t help matters either, calling Scorpius in repeatedly under the guise of concern. Yet each new accusation only fed the rumor mill, the crowd eager to see him as guilty. Jenkins, however, kept his mouth shut, offering no details. The injustice of it all made Albus’s blood boil. Scorpius had done nothing wrong—if anything, he was just as much a victim.
Albus’s gaze found Scorpius across their table; the other sitting far away from him–Yet not far enough–Albus focus was solely on the blonde boy—noting the exhaustion in his expression, the way he avoided eye contact tore at him-clawed at him. An uncomfortable pang of guilt twisted in his chest–The attention Scorpius was getting, the whispers of the newfound interest in his birth—The crude gossip about his Scoirpius mother, it was all Albus fault. dread, fear and terror filled him. The knowledge that his action had affected his friend this way was too much to bear–to know—A void grew inside him, one that left Albus drifting away from the light; from sanity. It was like he was being pulled off his course, He was slowly being pulled into an abyss, a horrifying one. Albus’s stomach churned with each day that passed, each time Scorpius looked away.
It felt as though his whole world was collapsing, and he was powerless to stop it. All he could do was push forward, clinging to the hope that he and Scorpius would return to what they once were. In the meantime, he would fix things; erase whatever it was that had driven a wedge between them. Once he had Scorpius back, he would never let his own weakness—or the darkness that now lay so close to the surface—come between them again, like it had before.
As the day wore on, whispers of the confrontation outside the classroom began to bubble to the surface, twisting conspiracies back around to Albus himself. How could it be? A squib using dark magic? Speculation flourished, fueled by disbelief: perhaps he’d turned to forbidden spells or somehow coerced an upper-year to carry out his dirty work, like a cowardly, slithering snake hiding behind others’ strength.
The rumors slashed through his already tarnished reputation; he could practically feel his dignity hemorrhaging away. As the gossip took root, Albus's image morphed in the eyes of his peers—from pathetic squib to pathetic coward. It stung worse than he would ever admit. The sneers from the younger students dwindled, replaced by wide-eyed apprehension, while the older students now looked at him with a disgust that was somehow worse, laced with contempt fit only for a coward.
And then if things weren't bad enough: the universe itself decided to mock him; the press had caught wind of it all and deemed it headline-worthy.
“BULLYING AT HOGWARTS! A REPORTAGE OF THE SUPPOSED DARK MAGIC ATTACK ON A STUDENT!”
“Hogwarts, long regarded as a bastion of safety for young witches and wizards, has found itself at the center of a shocking scandal following a violent altercation involving dark magic—could darkness be brewing once again within its walls?
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, often hailed as the safest place for magical education, is now under scrutiny after multiple vicious dark curses left a student gravely injured. The victim, A second year Hufflepuff known for his friendly demeanor, was reportedly subjected to a series of dark curses that landed him in the care of Madam Pomfrey, where he currently remains in recovery. The student still in shock; his eyes gleaming with fear, too afraid to name his assaulter.
Eyewitnesses and unnamed credible sources suggest that The student was targeted in a premeditated attack. Whispers echo through the hallowed halls of the school, alleging that dark magic was used—specifically, a curse so sinister that questions of legality have already been raised with the Professors.”
Albus tried not to roll his eyes. Jenkins? Friendly demeanor? A smoldering irritation simmered beneath his calm exterior. A vicious dark magic attack? Please—it was two spells most students knew and used. Both the Furnunculus and Conjunctivitis Curses might be considered curses, but dark?Hardly.
He kept reading through his rising irritation.
“But what truly sends chills through the wizarding community is the rumored mastermind behind the attack: Scorpius Malfoy, son of Draco Malfoy—or should we say, the supposed son of the most feared dark wizard in British history, Lord Voldemort? Voldemort, whose brutality and terror earned him the title He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, is believed to have fathered a secret heir. Now, it seems his bloodline may once again be linked to sinister events.
Sources speculate that Malfoy’s heir, harboring dark inclinations inherited from his infamous lineage, orchestrated the attack on Jenkins, using dark magic to sow fear and chaos within the school. The Daily Prophet has republished a special edition article revisiting the long-circulated rumors about the Malfoy family’s dark legacy—read more on page 3.”
Albus’s blood ran cold. Then fury surged within him, just beneath his carefully composed expression a fire was burning, spreading, engulfing him—He clenched his jaw.
How dare they speak like that about Scorpius ? How dare—
His mind raced in tandem with his heartbeat. How could they get away with such slander? And another article about that disgusting rumor about Scorpius’s mother somehow impossibly traveling in time; enough to become pregnant with Voldemort's child? The most beautiful, kind woman he’d ever met—the very reason behind Scorpius’s smile and gentle nature—
His eye twitched as he let out a controlled breath as he continued to read.
“The Prophet has learned of another student’s involvement—allegedly manipulated by the supposed Malfoy heir. The student, unnamed due to legal concerns, has been dubbed ‘The Slytherin Squib.’ This so-called squib is believed to be under Malfoy’s influence, with some theorizing that this student was coerced into participating in the attack. The brewing scandal has ignited calls for an investigation within Hogwarts. Concerned parents are already clamoring for swift action, with many demanding the immediate expulsion of Scorpius Malfoy. How could Hogwarts, the very institution meant to keep young wizards safe, become a breeding ground for dark magic and dangerous alliances in this day and age?
Stay tuned for more updates as this story develops.”
Albus’s fists crushed the newspaper in his grip, his rage searing through him like an unstoppable inferno. His magic spiraled wildly, a Fiendfyre feeding on his emotions—consuming his restraint, devouring every sliver of composure. The paper in his hands burst into flames, its ashes crumbling into his untouched lunch. He didn’t notice the gasps from those around him or the startled stares from nearby tables.
His gaze swept the crowded hall, searching for that familiar head of pale blonde hair. Nothing else mattered; the others in the room were mere obstacles, faceless intrusions. But Scorpius wasn’t there. He had already left.
Albus shot up from his seat, fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palms, drawing blood. The sharp tang of iron filled his mouth as he stalked out of the hall and into the corridors, each step accompanied by whispers and turned heads. The shield he had crafted around his emotions was gone, leaving only raw intensity spilling over the edges for everyone to feel.
He had to find him.
His breath came in ragged bursts, hands shaking as he quickened his pace. He wanted to scream, to curse everyone who dared speak such vile lies about Scorpius—his Scorpius. Gentle, kind, patient—Scorpius, who had listened to his every worry, who had stood by him through cruel pranks and snide remarks from other houses. Scorpius, who had shielded him from jinxes and hexes, who had been beside him when they’d stared down danger together. Scorpius, who had given him the necklace he now gripped, a gift so intimate that Albus could still feel its weight against his chest.
Scorpius was everything. He was Albus’s sun, his anchor. The one who understood him in ways nobody else ever could. Scorpius, who could make him laugh even as darkness loomed, his presence a constant that grounded him, kept him steady in his storms.
And yet they dared to paint him as a monster, someone to be feared, someone to be expelled. Those pathetic, ignorant, unworthy creatures— how dare they?
The thought thundered through Albus's mind, leaving nothing but a burning need to find Scorpius, to hold him, to protect him from the lies swirling around them.
When he finally found him in the abandoned classroom where they’d spent so many moments together, Albus’s heart ached so fiercely it was hard to breathe, to see–To move. His legs trembled beneath him as a wave of emotion crashed over him. Scorpius looked utterly worn, fragile—had he been crying ? Albus's body moved before his mind could catch up. The sight of those puffy red eyes, his pink runny nose and cheeks, broke something inside him. Without thinking, Albus nearly stumbled into him, pulling Scorpius into a desperate embrace, drawing him as close as he could. But even then, it didn’t feel close enough .
His hands trembled as they clung to Scorpius, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, the tears now spilling freely down his face. The anger still burned, but it was buried beneath an overwhelming wave of sadness and guilt. He couldn’t control it anymore—the flood of everything he’d been holding in.
He held onto Scorpius as tightly as he could, gripping as if letting go would shatter everything he had left. But Scorpius didn’t hug him back—his hands hung by his sides, his silence louder than any spoken words. The inaction struck deeper than any unforgivable. Albus felt his heart twist painfully as he pulled away, hesitantly, painfully—retreating from Scorpius, from the warmth, from his sun.
Fear constricted his chest; he could barely breathe. The silence, the lack of return in Scorpius’s embrace, was like a blade twisting inside him, tearing him open, his insides falling away as he stood there, exposed. He began to shake, feeling the weight of his own insecurities pressing down on him—he was weak, pathetic, unworthy, and he knew it in his very bones. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Scorpius’s gaze; he was too afraid of what he would see there, of an expression that would confirm his deepest fears.
The article had torn into Scorpius—and it was Albus' fault . He could almost feel the weight of the blame pressing down on him, a heavy shroud that suffocated him, like a dementor drawing away any light or happiness. He felt shame, disgust at himself. How could he have hugged him after all this? After causing all this? He almost wished he had drowned in that lake, that Roiser had just gone ahead and done it ; Kept his head beneath just a little longer —Then this wouldn't have happened to Scorpius, his Scorpius. Death seemed almost kinder in its embrace than to face the disappointment; the reality of what he had done to the person who mattered the most to him.
The realization hit him, cold and cruel. Darkness stirred within, whispering of his weakness, of how pathetic he was for even hoping. It was already too late—Scorpius would never look at him the same way again. He could see the anger, the disgust, the disappointment. The darkness clawed at him, feeding off his fear, telling him he was beyond redemption. The urge to give in, to just let it consume him, crept up, freezing him in place, yet pulling him further down.
“Albus—” Scorpius began.
“Please—” Albus’s voice came out raw, terrified of whatever Scorpius might say. He wasn’t ready to hear it, couldn’t handle it. Dread twisted inside, battling with his desperate need for comfort. His heart pounded, and his thoughts swirled, reality slipping like sand through his fingers.
“Please,” he repeated, his voice unraveling, barely coherent, “don’t… don’t hate me. I’m sorry—I’m so sorry, Scorpius…” His words turned into a choked cry, his shoulders shaking. “I should never have—I should have just taken it… let him—” The thoughts tumbled out, spinning together, making him feel faint and breathless.
Scorpius’s face was a mixture of hurt, confusion, and frustration. “Albus,” he said softly, his voice edged with concern, “stop, please— you’re not making…” Scorpius paused, shaking his head. “You didn’t cause this. It wasn’t your fault.”
“But it is!” Albus nearly shouted, his voice cracking. He could barely keep himself from breaking down entirely. Shaking his head, he fought to reject Scorpius’s words, rejecting reality itself. “You don’t understand,” he managed through the panic, “I could have stopped it—I should have seen it coming.”
Scorpius took a step closer, and Albus felt himself leaning in, as though caught in a pull he couldn’t resist. Scorpius’s gaze fell to the pendant around Albus’s neck. His hand moved forward, wrapping around the jewelry gently. Albus’s breath caught, and, for the first time, he found himself meeting Scorpius’s eyes fully. The expression he saw almost undid him. Scorpius was looking back with such raw emotion, a depth of pain that mirrored his own.
“You still wear this?” Scorpius’s voice was barely a whisper.
“I never took it off,” Albus replied.
“Never?” There was something fragile, almost pained, in Scorpius’s voice.
Albus nodded, looking up into his face. “Never.”
Scorpius’s hand tightened around the pendant, his expression hardening. “You’re so cruel, Albus.”
Albus didn’t fully understand, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. If Scorpius thought he was cruel, he accepted it without question. “Yes—yes, I am,” he replied urgently, grasping at the air between them. “I’m cruel. I’m sorry—”
Scorpius let out a deep, bitter laugh, tinged with frustration and worry. His hand trembled as it held the pendant, and without thinking, Albus wrapped his fingers around Scorpius’s, as if anchoring them both.
“You really are an idiot,” Scorpius murmured, voice layered with something deeper—hurt, maybe even anger. “Pathetic.” His gaze fell, unreadable, and in a swift motion, he released the pendant from his grip and pulled Albus close, his arms encircling him as he buried his face against Albus’s neck.
Albus nearly broke, feeling the warmth of the embrace he had missed so much. “Yes, yes, I am,” he answered, voice rising with an almost joyful certainty as he held Scorpius tightly, pressing them closer together. “I’m the biggest idiot, the most idiotic—”
But before he could continue, Scorpius pulled away, leaving Albus feeling momentarily hollow, like something essential had slipped from his grasp. Fear prickled at him again, but when he met Scorpius’s gaze, the other’s softened expression melted every ounce of tension, leaving his limbs weak.
“Idiot,” Scorpius murmured, shaking his head with a faint smile before pulling him back into a fierce hug.
In that moment, Albus truly felt like an idiot—not fully understanding what had passed between them, but not caring either. All he knew was that Scorpius was back, and if Scorpius called him a cruel, pathetic idiot, he would gladly accept it as if it were gospel truth.
"I'm sorry," Albus started, dread tightening in his chest. "The article—”
Scorpius cut him off, his face hardening as he stepped back. “I don't care about that, Albus. The press has been dragging my name through the mud long before we were friends. There’s a new story every other month.”
The words stung, but Albus nodded, glancing away. He felt the weight of the previous day’s events and, finally, dared to voice his deepest fear. “They’re talking about expulsion—” His voice shook, a mix of fury and fear. “Maybe I should just tell them.”
“So it was you?” Scorpius asked, studying him intently.
Albus’s head dropped, but he nodded. "Yes—" He didn’t miss the hint of a smile tugging at Scorpius's lips.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Scorpius replied, crossing his arms. “They don’t have proof it was me, and they can’t expel you based on a few angry parents.”
“I wouldn’t let them,” Albus said, his voice darkening with conviction. A smirk spread across his face as he met Scorpius's gaze. “You should have seen it—You would’ve loved it! It was even better than we imagined.” He laughed, his tone filled with glee.
“Oh, I’m sure,” Scorpius replied, his snicker echoing with relief. They fell easily into their usual back-and-forth, the tension from their time apart fading like a distant memory. Albus felt a wave of reassurance wash over him, grounding him in their shared mischief.
Scorpius’s eyes glinted with excitement as he asked, “So, what did you throw at him?”
Albus beamed. “Furnunculus and the Conjunctivitis Curse!”
Scorpius let out a genuine laugh. “And they’re calling those dark curses?” He shook his head, half amused, half exasperated.
Grinning, Scorpius placed his hands on Albus’s shoulders, giving him a playful shake. “Still—those aren’t easy spells, Albus! Not for someone our age!”
“I know,” Albus replied, his grin widening with pride. “I surprised even myself.” The two shared a laugh, their friendship feeling as strong as ever, as if the month of distance had never happened.
++++
Harry wanted to bang his head against his desk; the paperwork felt like a nightmare, worse than facing a damned Dementor. He groaned as he leaned back in his comfortable desk chair and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. If he had known this much paperwork was part of the job, he would never have taken it. Even Hermione was starting to grow frustrated with it. There had been many nights at the pub when the two of them vented angrily about how behind wizards were. Why not create a magical computer with some AI? It would save them all so much time. Yet, no—wizards were too good for Muggle technology, so they had to suffer. Or they were seen as “Muggle-friendly.”
Harry groaned as he took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, laying his eye sockets into his palms as he leaned on the table. He hoped he could come home early tonight; there was so much to do. He had spent too many nights overworking, and they were nowhere close to stopping the mess.
The new traditional movements had roots so deep—and they were making their way into the government. Everyone was so blind to their dog whistles and anti-Muggle sentiments; all but the Muggle-borns, who knew most of the dogma was untrue or had been shifted to appear negative, like climate change.
Then there was pressure from abroad. Right-wing traditionalist sentiment was sweeping the continent, leading many to seek refuge in the British Isles, which meant even more paperwork. Many feared another war was looming close on the continent as groups were becoming more violent, either taking over governments or winning elections democratically. The traditionalists now had the majority of votes in the EWA (Eastern Wixen Alliance). Thankfully, it seemed to be limited to this part of the continent; the Middle Eastern Federation of Magic was not involved and instead had issues with MACUSA, as they had been for decades, clearly too busy to deal with these new traditional ideas. It didn’t seem like the Asian federations or countries were biting either, which made the rising ideology primarily a European political issue.
Yet there was little they could do if they wanted to keep the international treaties and trades, and anyway, that wasn't Harry's department. Still, it bled into his. He was jolted from his exhausted musings by a knock on the door.
“Blimey—mate, you look awful,” a cheerful, familiar voice said, instantly lifting Harry’s spirits and making him grin.
“Ron!” he exclaimed. “What brings you to my humble quarters?”
“To kidnap you away from work, of course! This is your third all-nighter!” Ron grinned, though his tone held concern. “Ginny wouldn’t shut up about it, so I had to come to the rescue of my best mate.”
Harry laughed, raising an eyebrow at his best friend's theatrics. “Really, Ron? If you have your way, we’ll drink until sunrise.”
“Well, yeah!” Ron grinned as he moved into the room with the ease of someone who’d been there a million times before, plopping down in the guest armchair.
Harry rose and stretched. “That isn’t all, is it?” he asked, clearly seeing the signs in his best friend.
“Have you read the papers?” Ron asked hesitantly.
Harry looked exhausted. “No, I haven't had the time. What now?”
Ron removed a crumpled newspaper from beneath his coat and tossed it to Harry, who caught it and grimaced as he sank back into his chair. “Merlin—” he began, staring at the headline.
Ron only grimaced in return. “It gets worse, mate. Read the article.”
Harry’ expression grew darker the more he read.
++++
“Stop that,” Yann muttered, glancing over at Rose, who shot him a glare in return.
“What?” she snapped, her irritation simmering under the surface.
He let out a laugh, spreading butter onto his toast casually. “You’re looking as salty as the Black Lake that your cousin's made up with Malfoy.” His teasing smirk widened as Rose's expression darkened further.
She huffed, crossing her arms and giving Yann an unimpressed look. “The Black Lake is made of fresh water,” she deadpanned, not denying his accusation. Her gaze drifted back to the two Slytherin boys sitting closer than ever, practically shooting daggers at them. Yann was amazed that neither Potter nor Malfoy had turned around.
He rolled his eyes at Rose’s comment, well aware that the lake was fresh water; he wasn’t stupid. He only said it to rile her up, enjoying the way her unimpressed expression made her look.
“You need to eat,” Polly chimed in from beside Rose, flashing Yann a mischievous smile. He couldn't help but laugh—Polly was just as unsettled by the idea of Potter and Malfoy patching things up as Rose was. Rose had spent the entire term trying to coax Yann and Polly into at least meeting her cousin, hoping they could become friends—Something they both dreaded.
Yann thought it was a terrible idea. In fact, he almost wanted to thank Potter for his stubborn refusal. He had no fondness for the boy, and he was sure the sentiment was mutual. Though he kept his tongue in check for Rose’s sake, just like Polly did. He couldn’t hide his disdain when Rose wasn’t around, unlike her.
Truth be told, Albus Potter was insufferable. Not just in his mediocre school performance, but in his personality. He strutted around like he was better than everyone else—just like all the Slytherin heirs and spares he surrounded himself with. No matter how much Rose tried to justify her cousin’s behavior, Yann couldn’t get past his own resentment.
After all, they’d shared a train ride for hours, and Potter hadn’t even bothered to remember his name. He walked around like a king, expecting everyone to entertain him. Yann had no idea what Rose saw in him—or why she was so willing to bend over backward for the loser.
Especially after how Albus had treated her that first year. Yann remembered vividly how Rose had approached him after the Sorting, only for Albus to scream at her in front of everyone. Then he’d ignored her for months, acting as if she didn’t exist while cozying up to the one person Rose despised most—Scorpius Malfoy. Not just any Malfoy, but the son of the Death Eater, who had been there while Bellatrix tortured Rose’s mother during the war. As if that weren’t enough, there were rumors Scorpius was somehow linked to Voldemort himself.
It made Yann’s blood boil. How could Potter— a Potter —side with Malfoy over his own family? Worse still, Albus stood idly by while other Slytherins bullied Muggle-born students, barely blinking. That was unforgivable in Yann’s book.
He treated his own family poorly; clearly, he was a selfish prat—just like the rest of the snakes. Rose was so much better; she had such a bright future, one that Potter seemed intent on tarnishing. Yann had seen how depressed Rose had become during their first year, how she’d almost cried on bad days when they saw Potter and Malfoy laughing together, leaning in close while sneering at others. They’d witnessed how much Potter mattered to Rose, and the way he treated her made them furious, which only fueled Yann’s disdain for him.
If Albus weren’t such an arrogant, self-centered prat, maybe Yann would have tried harder for Rose’s sake. But Albus acted like he was above everyone else, so Yann didn’t see the point. He hoped Rose would give up after the holidays.
“Are you going to the Yule Ball, Polly?” Yann asked, steering the conversation away from his frustration. Not that he was particularly keen on attending himself—his parents always dragged him along, and it was always boring.
“Of course,” Polly rolled her eyes. “My dad wants to turn it into another political circus, so we all have to go and be on our best behavior.”
Yann hummed, “You are so lucky, Rose, that your parents don’t take part in society.”
Rose looked at him, unimpressed. “Well, my mother finds those gatherings a waste of time, mostly just filled with purebloods and their nonsense–Plus we celebrate Christmas, and the Yule ball is on that date.”
“It’s kind of funny our Minister of Magic would say that. I love her even more.” Yann mused
“You need to stop crushing on my mum, Yann. It’s weird.” Rose raised an eyebrow.
Polly laughed. “Let him have his little innocent crush.”
Rose gave her a pointed look. “It’s not your mum that he fancies.”
“Come on, Rose, wouldn’t it be funny if I became your new stepdad?” Yann joked.
The face Rose made nearly sent both Yann and Polly into fits of laughter. Polly struggled to wipe away her tears, controlling her breathing. “More like you’d be her boytoy , Yann,” she said between giggles.
Yann looked like he actually considered it. “A mistress, huh?” That made Polly almost cry, and the whole table seemed to turn toward them, a few snickering as Rose looked horrified.
Hugo glanced over; he and Lily had been within earshot of the conversation. “I think our dad will kill you before that, mate,” Hugo snickered.
Lily jumped in, “Though imagine the drama,” she mused. “I think you should go for it, Yann! You’ve got my support!”
Yann beamed at her. “Really?”
Then everyone erupted into laughter, loud and rowdy, and Rose couldn’t keep her composure, laughing along with them. A teacher eventually had to shush them, taking a few points before they all calmed down.
++++
"Finally,” Lily said as she plopped herself down at the opposite end of the library table. Albus shot her a pointed look, but she simply rolled her eyes, grinning. Her gaze flitted to Scorpius, and her smile widened.
“Hi, Lily!” Scorpius beamed, his face lighting up with his usual enthusiasm. Cute , she thought.
His cheery greeting didn’t go unnoticed by her brother. Lily’s laughter bubbled up as she caught the fleeting trace of jealousy on Albus’s face.
"Hi, Scorpie!" she responded with a gleam in her eye, deliberately using the nickname to poke at Albus.
Albus’s gaze shifted suspiciously between them before landing back on Lily. “When did you two get so chummy? ” he asked.
Lily smirked, feeling a thrill of amusement at his discomfort. “You really need to take your head out of your own arse sometimes, brother–” she mused, clearly enjoying herself.
“Lily, language,” Lorcan interjected with mock seriousness as he sat down beside her, handing over the latest issue of The Quibbler , which she accepted eagerly.
“Any news on those Wharmpy Nutcks?” Scorpius chimed in with an excited lilt to his voice.
Lorcan met his gaze with a conspiratorial grin. “Not in this issue, but my mum’s got some leads,” he said in a low voice, as if revealing classified information, Scorpius leaned in as well; while nodding clearly interested.
Lily let their conversation fade into the background, flipping through the paper absently, her mind already wandering.
“I’m glad, Allie,” she mused, catching the small hints of irritation flickering across her brother’s face. “Seems like our Scorpie has forgiven you?”
“ Our?” Albus repeated, frowning in confusion.
“Allie?” Lysander’s voice suddenly cut in from behind. Lily blinked—when had he gotten here? He was already grinning like a Cheshire cat, clearly entertained by the new nickname.
“Allie doesn’t like to be called Albie anymore,” she said breezily, deliberately ignoring her brother’s glare.
“Anyway,” she continued, growing bored of the teasing, “I have no idea what to get for Jamie. Allie, what have you gotten him?” She leaned back in her chair, her eyes drifting upwards to the ceiling searching for nargles.
“Lily, are you even listening?” Lorcan’s voice broke through beside her, sounding a touch exasperated.
“What?” she said, slightly annoyed. “I almost saw one this time.”
Lorcan sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile, while Albus groaned, pressing his palms into his temples, clearly trying to ward off the chaos his sister always seemed to bring.
“Lily, you need to focus more to see them–” Lysander began, his voice calm but knowing.
“I was trying,” she muttered, her gaze drifting back to Albus. “Allie, you can’t give him that—he got that as a birthday present this summer, remember?”
“I was thinking of something more... like an experience ,” she added, gesturing vaguely with her hands.
“Like a prank , you mean?” Lysander piped up knowingly.
Lily shot him a conspiratorial grin. “Not exactly. But we all know our little Jamie has been rather down this term.”
Lorcan nodded as he leaned back in his chair. “He nearly failed his classes.”
“And almost got kicked off the team,” Lysander added with a sympathetic nod.
“Not to mention the detentions,” Scorpius chimed in. Albus glanced at him in disbelief.
“Exactly! And we all know it’s because of his silly little crush,” Lily continued.
“Kinda rude to call it silly,” Scorpius mumbled.
“Well, it’s not like he has a chance,” Lysander grinned, leaning forward on the table.
“What, Lils? Are you planning on giving him a love potion? Or to slip some into this supposed crush’s drink?” Albus asked skeptically.
Lily just grinned, her gaze falling on Scorpius, who suddenly looked a bit paler than usual. “No, I’m not dosing anyone like Scorpius is— ”
“Lily!” Scorpius cried out, face flushed. “I told you to stop with that joke!”
She burst out laughing, earning them a stern “shh” from the librarian.
“Scorpie, you look so cute every time and I still–” she continued.
“I’m not cute,” Scorpius cut in, clearly uncomfortable.
“I think our little Allie might disagree,” Lysander added with a grin.
Without warning, he jolted as Albus sent a stinging hex under the table, then looked away innocently.
“Those nargles are going to get you, mate,” Lysander grumbled angrily, rubbing his leg. Albus just rolled his eyes, but Lily laughed. Her brother truly didn’t know fear.
“I like your idea though Allie, it could work.” She said as she thought about the practicalities, as she stroked her chin, like she had a beard.
“How? We don't know anyone in that house.” Lorcan said, bursting the bubble.
“Talk about a party popper.” Lysander said to his brother while sticking out his tongue.
“Sam might help.” Scorpius chimed in.
“Who is the crush anyway?” Albus asked, clearly trying to hide his exhaustion.
“I don't kiss and tell.” Lily said shaking her head, which only resulted in another pointed gaze from her brother—
“We are all aware that all you do, Lily, is kiss and tell.” Lysander mused.
Lily just grinned and held up her hand in a shrug—
“Anyway —Allie, I think it might work—by the way can you get me a pet snake? I really want one but you know our mum–”
“No.” Albus said flatly.
“Come on! or I will ask Scorpie.”
Albus gave her a glare “You wouldn't dare.” She looked definitely back, a bit annoyed. She really wanted a snake after all. she shifted her gaze to Scorpius.
“Scorpie, can you please give me a pet snakey?” She asked as she closed her hands like she was praying ”I really want one–”
“Lily.” Albus said sternly.
“So you will get me one?” She beamed at her brother.
She could see how her brother tried to keep his emotions in check. It was easy, he always had a slight twist in his left eye, she wondered if he was aware?
"Okay, Allie, I know you little snakes are always so pragmatic —let’s make a deal, hmm?" Lily said, trying to stifle a laugh at the perplexed look her brother shot her.
Albus raised an eyebrow, clearly not in the mood. "What deal?"
"Let’s say I won’t tell Mum and Dad about your closerelationship with Scorpie... and you get me a snake!"
Albus gave her a skeptical look, while Scorpius’s concerned gaze flicked to him—adorably worried, as usual. "Lils, you’re the worst person to make deals with. You never keep them," Albus replied, irritation lacing his tone.
"That was in the past ! And I really want a snake." she insisted.
"She really does," Lorcan chimed in, looking up briefly from his book.
Lysander, drawing some sort of creature on a piece of parchment, added, "Make it a Magical Rattlesnake."
Lorcan shot a look at his brother “No, please they always make that rattle noise with their tails.”
Lily’s eyes lit up. "Ooh, yes! I want an albino one, like Scorpie!"
"I'm not an albino," Scorpius replied, sounding shockingly offended.
Lysander looked up, genuinely surprised. "Really? I thought all Malfoys were."
"Same," Lily said, nodding as if she’d just been proven right.
Lily laughed at Scorpius’s indignant response, her teasing tone evident. "I mean, you’re practically one," she added with a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying how flustered he was becoming.
Scorpius frowned. "I’m not an albino," he repeated firmly, casting a helpless glance at Albus, who seemed too exhausted to back him up, but did so anyway. “Scorpius is not an Albino.” He stated flatly. arms crossed, looking like he was barely holding on to his patience.
"Could’ve fooled me," Lysander said, smirking as he shaded in the creature he was sketching. "He got the hair for it. Maybe that’s just a Malfoy thing."
Scorpius sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to stave off a headache. "It’s not ," he mumbled, though his protests only seemed to fuel more teasing.
Lily was relentless. "An albino snake named Scorpie ? Oh, it would be perfect!" she declared, clapping her hands together as if she’d just come up with the most brilliant idea in the world.
Lorcan snorted. "A female snake named Scorpie? Isn’t that more fitting for a male?"
Lily pursed her lips, considering. "Okay, fine— Scorpinissa ... hmm, no, too much."
"What about Scorpilina ?" Lysander suggested, not even looking up from his sketch.
"It does sound like a snake name," Lorcan agreed, nodding as he turned a page in his book.
"Perfect!" Lily exclaimed, beaming. "An albino Magical Rattlesnake called Scorpilina !" clapping her hands together.
Albus rubbed his temples in resignation, as though trying to stave off an oncoming headache. "Mother is going to kill me," he muttered.
Lily waved a hand dismissively. "Details, details. Don’t worry your pretty head, big brother. I’ll figure it out."
Albus sighed. "If I get you the snake, will you lot please leave us alone?" His voice was heavy with fatigue, his disdain barely concealed.
"You wound us, Allie!" Lysander said dramatically, shaking his head as he finished his scribble, which had started to move across the paper.
"We’ll leave," Lily announced triumphantly as she stood up. "So you two can snog in peace."
The sudden movement sent her chair crashing to the floor, causing the librarian to come over, face twisted with irritation. Before they knew it, she was tossing Lily, Lysander, and Lorcan out—Lorcan was desperately trying to avoid being kicked out, quickly shifting the blame to Lily, throwing her under the proverbial bus.
In response, an annoyed Lily bit his arm, causing him to yelp and lose any chance of appeasing the librarian. As the trio made their hasty exit, Lily grinned mischievously.
"Let’s head to Hagrid’s," she said, as if nothing had happened. "I want to ask him more about that dragon egg he had during Dad’s first year."
Lysander beamed, trailing behind them. "Great! Do you think he’ll show us the Thestrals?"
"Dummy, we can’t see them," Lily said with a roll of her eyes.
"We can still touch them!" Lysander countered with enthusiasm.
“They are all boney and sticky.” Lorcan said with a resigned grimace.
++++
Albus let his head fall onto the table with a dull thud once his sister and the twins, whom he still couldn't tell apart, finally left. He let out a low, frustrated groan.
Scorpius placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “She means well,” he said warmly.
Albus slowly sat up, facing Scorpius. Now that the whirlwind of Lily and the twins had cleared, he allowed a bit of vulnerability to seep into his voice. “When did you two get so close?” he asked, a hint of curiosity mixing with fatigue.
Scorpius smiled faintly, looking down at his book. “Your sister really is something,” he mused. “She was the one who came up to me first. I was a bit suspicious at first, especially when she kept talking about that love potion.” He gave a sheepish look, caught between embarrassment and annoyance. “I honestly have no idea why she’s so stuck on that—”
He glanced over at Albus, then quickly shifted back to his book, as if realizing how ridiculous it all sounded. “But anyway —after I explained I had in fact not dosed you with any love potion, she just... started hanging around. Like we’d known each other forever. It was weird.”
Albus let out a small chuckle, nodding. “Yeah, she does that a lot.”
Scorpius nodded thoughtfully. “She— well, I think she noticed I was... alone. And after that, she just kept showing up.”
Albus’s expression softened as guilt settled in. “Scorpius, I’m really—”
“I’m not angry, Albus,” Scorpius interrupted gently, cutting off whatever apology Albus had been about to make.
Albus leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath of relief. For a moment, his face remained unreadable, but then a flicker of concern broke through. “Did anyone try anything while I wasn’t around?” he asked, hesitant, clearly afraid of what the answer might be.
“No,” Scorpius reassured him quickly, genuine in his response. “Weirdly enough, they left me alone—except in the common room, of course.”
Albus nodded, feeling some of the tension ease from his shoulders. “Good.”
Scorpius’s face softened even further, concern lacing his voice. “Did they do anything to you?”
The sincerity in Scorpius’s tone made Albus’s heart twist. He forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, they didn’t.”
Scorpius visibly relaxed, as if some weight had been lifted from him as well. “Good, good,” he murmured, though something still lingered in his gaze—something that didn’t go unnoticed by Albus, stirring an even deeper sense of guilt within him.