Chapter 13
The second day in the past had ended, and the students of the third generation felt they had learned something—not much, but something. After being placed in more advanced years, the classes were no longer as simple.
For Rose, Scorpius, Victoire, and Teddy, the classes were still easy and boring, but for the others, it felt like attending normal classes—a little easier than in their time, but still challenging.
James and Harry had become friends, or something like that; they got along well.
James and Harry had always had a good relationship, although in recent months, it seemed to be deteriorating. One day, James started behaving differently and became a bit distant from his father. Harry, from the future, didn’t understand this change in their relationship but attributed it to James being a teenager, so he didn’t give it much importance.
Now that James was with his father, both of them nearly the same age, it seemed that he was starting to behave the same as before the accident.
Sixteen-year-old Harry didn’t notice this change in his son’s attitude because he didn’t know his son when he acted distant; he only knew this James who was now in front of him.
The third-generation students hadn’t been paying attention to James, as they were all wrapped up in their own lives. The people who would normally notice this change would be his girlfriend Kate, Fred II, and Dominique, but now only Fred II was there with him.
Fred II noticed this change but wanted his friend to talk to him, to open up and tell him what was going on. He didn’t know what caused James's attitude change toward his father in the first place; he only knew that one day, James suddenly became more distant than usual, treating everyone, especially his father, poorly. Fred was waiting for James to tell him, but he was getting tired and needed answers. He would talk to his friend.
Now James and Harry were chatting animatedly in the Gryffindor tower about Quidditch.
“Have you ever seen us play?” Harry asked.
“Yes, and you never win,” James replied, recalling the Quidditch matches with his family.
“Well, but we’re older in the future, so you wouldn’t be able to beat us now,” Harry laughed.
“That sounds like a challenge,” James responded.
“Your generation against our generation, both of us are young right now, and from what you told me, we both have good players. This will settle which generation is the best.” Harry extended his hand, and James took it.
“Deal, today in an hour, anyone, of any age, from any house,” they shook hands and both ran off to assemble their teams; this was going to be epic.
James knew exactly who he would ask to play, and so did Harry.
The third-generation team was crafting a very elaborate plan; anyone watching them without hearing wouldn’t understand anything. Albus was the Seeker, Rose the Keeper, James, Lily, and Hugo were Chasers, and Fred II and Teddy were Beaters.
“Does everyone understand the plan?” James said seriously, and everyone nodded. “Good, nothing can go wrong; not a single second can be wasted.” They all nodded and headed to the pitch.
Harry had asked Ginny, Katie, and Demelza to be the Chasers, Fred and George to be the Beaters, and Ron to be the Keeper, with himself as the Seeker.
Everyone entered the pitch; some game enthusiasts were present, watching the game. Most of them supported the second-generation team, except for the Slytherins—they supported the third generation since their team had members from their house.
The referee, who in this case was Scorpius (he wasn’t good at playing but knew everything and more about how the game was played), asked for a clean game and released the balls.
Albus and Harry quickly soared up in search of the Snitch. Immediately, the second generation scored three points, making it 30-0; the third-generation players seemed lost.
The second generation was confident; it seemed their opponents didn’t know how to play as well as they claimed. They had spoken too soon.
Albus suddenly dove for the Snitch, or so it seemed. He was plummeting at full speed without looking back. Harry couldn’t spot the Snitch and decided to follow his son’s lead, diving at full speed. It looked like they were going to collide; Albus wasn’t pulling up, and Harry wasn’t backing down. All the second-generation players turned their attention to the two Seekers, who seemed to be about to crash into the ground.
At the last second, Albus pulled up and soared, and everyone refocused on the game. The score was now 30-10; when had that happened?
Albus suddenly began climbing at full speed again, with Harry trailing behind. This time, the second-generation players didn’t get distracted, but even so, their defenses were down—they thought the opposing team didn’t know how to play.
The third generation shed their masks of inexperience, and suddenly they scored again, making it 30-20, with Albus and Harry still climbing.
The second generation started playing more defensively, as did the third generation. But there was one difference: the second generation was much more tired than the third. The third-generation players had barely moved during the first ten minutes of the game, while the second-generation players had tried countless strategies to score and were exhausted. The third-generation players had worn down the second generation by making them believe that none of them could play well and that they only had a Keeper who never missed.
The score was 30-20; everyone’s senses were on high alert. Albus and Harry were way up high when Albus lost control of his broom and began plummeting. The attention of all the second-generation players focused on the falling figure, while the third-generation players paid no attention and took advantage of the distraction to score, making it 30-30. It became clear it was Albus who was falling, yet the third generation didn’t seem to care. The second generation continued playing, but with part of their attention on the falling boy.
Moments later, Albus was seconds away from crashing into the ground when the third generation scored again, making it 30-40. Everyone wondered if they had hearts—how could they keep playing while their friend was plummeting to the ground? Just before he hit the ground, Albus pulled up and, after scanning the stadium for a few seconds, leaned into his broom and caught the Snitch right next to Ron’s ear.
Everyone dismounted their brooms. The third generation was celebrating while the second generation slowly descended, confusion written all over their faces. Harry appeared just then, got off his broom, and ran to his son.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked, clearly worried. The third generation laughed.
Here is the translation:
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“Yes, I’m fine,” Ron and all the Weasleys had furrowed brows.
“Are you out of your minds?” Ron was red-faced. “What’s wrong with you? Your friend and teammate was falling to his death; he could have died, and you didn’t care at all. You just kept playing.” The third generation was laughing.
“What’s so funny about this?” Ginny was also very angry. They played well but lacked camaraderie. “Would you rather win than save your friend and teammate’s life?” Albus approached his mother and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Mom, I was never anywhere near dying during the match,” everyone looked at him confused. “They knew,” he pointed to the rest of the team. “They knew what I was going to do and…” He was cut off by someone wrapping him in a hug.
“What happened? Are you okay?” Alice pulled away from her boyfriend, clearly worried.
“Alice is fine, we used the ADA tactic.” Alice’s face relaxed but now looked angry.
“FOR THE NEXT TIME, WARN US; I ALMOST HAD A HEART ATTACK.” She gave her boyfriend a small hit on the shoulder, while the second generation looked on, confused.
“Does anyone want to explain?” Ron jumped in.
“I came up with the ADA tactic in my fourth year,” Albus explained. “It’s a tactic to distract the opposing team. It only works when there’s a new seeker, a completely new team, or a new captain.” Everyone maintained their confused expressions. “It involves making the other team believe that with the new player on the team, they don’t play well and we play badly. This achieves two things: tiring the other team out and lowering their defenses. Secondly, the seeker will perform a series of drastic and dangerous moves, which are practiced and analyzed by each team member, causing the opposing team to lose concentration for a few seconds and giving your team a better chance to gain points. Finally, there’s the dive tactic, which makes it seem like the seeker is falling uncontrollably until they are seconds away from hitting the ground, distracting the opposing team and giving about ten seconds of advantage to find and catch the snitch.” Albus finished explaining, and everyone stared at him, stunned.
“It’s a somewhat cruel tactic that works only a few times, but it does work,” Alice added, not letting go of her boyfriend’s hand, clearly still shaken.
“You’re really crazy,” Harry said before congratulating them on their victory.
Seconds later, another person came running up, hysterical.
“What happened? Are you okay?” Hermione was examining Albus from head to toe. Ron laughed.
“What are you laughing at, Ron?” Everyone looked at him with a “you’re a dead man” expression. Ron looked around for help.
“We left it to you to explain, Ron,” Ginny said, and everyone followed her.
“I think it’s clear who the best are,” James boasted to his father.
“Well, maybe you’re better at Quidditch, but we’re definitely better at escaping from Death Eaters,” Harry felt odd immediately; why did he make that joke? He felt even stranger seeing his son’s face.
James looked as if he were no longer present, his eyes appeared unfocused, he stopped walking, started trembling heavily, and began to sweat. Without giving any explanation or apparent reason, James ran away from where he was. Fred II ran after him, wondering what he had done.
James entered an empty classroom, struggling to breathe, his mind overwhelmed with memories he couldn’t erase. It was a nightmare with no end. Tears began streaming down his face, nonstop.
Fred II entered the classroom and was shocked to see his friend in such a state. What had happened? What should he do? He approached his friend but didn’t touch him, knowing that contact might worsen things. He made it clear he was there for him.
James calmed down after several minutes, but the tears continued. Fred was surprised; his friend never cried. James was everything but a crybaby.
Fred was hesitant to ask but felt it was time to know the reason for his friend's sudden mood change.
“James…” Fred hesitated. “I respected your space these
past few months. I really did. I knew if it was something serious, you’d tell me. I see I was wrong. What happened? And don’t tell me it’s nothing because I know you’re not someone who cries over nothing.” James wiped his tears.
“Nothing happened, I’m just crying. Can’t I cry? And why do you think something happened to me?” James responded coldly, which Fred ignored.
“Friend, you suddenly started treating everyone poorly and lost your usual smile. Your relationship with your father turned cold. You stopped being yourself. I knew something was wrong but couldn’t prove it. Today, I proved it. What happened?” James trembled and hesitated to speak. “James, I’m not going to judge you. You can trust me. Friends are there for the good and the bad.” Fred was trying to build trust with his friend, but it wasn’t working.
Fred and James sat in silence, and after a few minutes, Fred did something he wasn’t used to doing and hated doing—he hugged his friend. James returned the hug, and immediately the tears started flowing again. They pulled away from the hug, and Fred felt relieved; he didn’t like hugs or being touched much.
James sat on the floor, and Fred sat beside him. James nervously played with his fingers.
“If something happens to me…” James said suddenly, his voice trembling.
“Are you going to tell me?” James nodded.
“A few months ago, during the visit to Hogsmeade, I… I…” The mere recollection of that day caused him great anguish. “I was kidnapped, for eight hours.” Fred’s eyes widened in surprise.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to,” Fred said. James shook his head.
“I need to talk about it, to tell it, if I want to get over it,” James nervously played with his hands. “We were in Hogsmeade, and I said I was going with Kate for a second and… and… and then everything went black. I couldn’t… I couldn’t see anything… I passed out… I woke up in a dark room, I don’t know where. Three men were in front of me,” James spoke haltingly, visibly trembling. “They… they were masked, but I could see the Dark Mark on their arms. They were… Death Eaters. They looked at me with hatred, and I… and I didn’t know what I had done… what I had done to make them hate me, to… to have kidnapped me. They… they explained it to me… it seemed like they had practiced what they were going to say many times. They told me my father was the one to blame, but since they couldn’t kill him, they would take away what he loved most. I… they said my father… and my… my uncles were responsible for… for the death of their master. They said they would… they would take revenge. They told me everything about our parents… for me, that was enough torture. They… they were telling me that my parents… had lied to me all my life, but they… they wanted a greater revenge… they… they proceeded to torture me… they… they tortured me in Muggle ways,” he lifted his shirt to reveal knife marks. “And… and with magic.” James shivered. “They took turns doing it, and then… two more people came in. The second person asked to be left alone with me… and when they did, I was expecting the worst, but it wasn’t like that. He… he picked me up and Disapparated with me to Hogsmeade. I don’t know who… who he was. I only saw that he had the Dark Mark covered with a Muggle tattoo on his arm. He left me with Rose… she’s the only one who knows. I asked her not to say anything. At first, she refused, but we reached an agreement—she wouldn’t say anything, and I’d visit her psychologist once a week.” James finished his story, trembling from head to toe. It had been easier than last time, but it was still hard.
“James… I… I didn’t know,” Fred had teary eyes. “Did the therapy help?” Fred didn’t know what to say. James nodded.
“Yes, she diagnosed me with PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder. She gave me medication and a treatment. It helps quite a bit, but since I can’t tell her everything because she’s Muggle, she can’t help me one hundred percent, and… and I can’t explain the betrayal I feel, how betrayed I feel by my father. There’s no way to explain it without telling her about the magical war.” James cried again.
“Now you have me. You can tell me,” James needed to vent to someone and didn’t hesitate to share everything he felt.
“I feel like an idiot. I feel betrayed. I feel like my whole life was a lie, like everything I lived with my dad was a lie. He lied to me all my life. Why couldn’t he trust me? Why didn’t he ever tell me anything? Why did I have to find out everything he did in the magical war from a group of Death Eaters who hated him? And I feel even more stupid remembering every time we went out in public and people approached my father for autographs or to thank him, and he’d tell me it was because they mistook him for someone else, and I believed it over and over again.” James shouted indignantly as tears streamed from his eyes.
“James, I understand what it feels like. I learned all this from my roommates, and I also felt deceived. But then I talked to my father and understood his reasons. Talk to your father, not the one from this time, but the one from our time. Talk to him, hear his reasons. The magical war was a difficult time. I’m just telling you to talk to him.” Fred spoke seriously; when he learned his father’s reasons, he understood everything and needed his friend to do the same.
“How come I didn’t find out everything like you did?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you never connected what you were told with your father.” Neither of them said another word. James stood up, and Fred did too. They both left the classroom, taking different paths. Fred turned around.
“Thanks for telling me,” James also turned and smiled with a half-smile.
“Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime.” They both turned and went their separate ways—Fred to the Great Hall and James to the lake in search of solitude. It had been hard to recount the events from months ago, or from many years in the future. It had been difficult, and he needed some time alone with his thoughts.