Albus Potter and the Pureblood's Secret

31. Difficult, Dangerous, and Disappointing

Albus and Matt broke the news about Professor Burke to Kaden, Rose, John, and Amanda on the train ride back to Hogwarts the following Monday. As expected, Kaden took it poorly. After inquiring about the details of Burke’s leave, Kaden did not speak for the remainder of the trip and spent it staring out the window. Albus still had no idea whether Kendrick had managed to find a Potions professor in such a short amount of time, but he hoped Kendrick would find someone at least half as good as Burke had been before he went downhill.

“What does this mean for your potion?” Rose asked Matt.

“My parents gave Burke the final payment when he gave Amy the recipe,” Matt explained. “And Amy doesn’t trust any changes he’s made since then.”

“Is Amy subbing for Potions?” Albus asked.

Matt shook his head. “Kendrick hasn’t asked her, so I assume he found someone.”

The compartment lapsed into silence. With Burke’s impending death weighing on everyone’s minds, no one was very cheery. They were still quiet when the train reached Hogsmeade, and the weather outside reflected everyone’s feelings. It was cold, windy, and sleeting. Albus ran ahead of the group to secure a carriage.

Albus hoped to catch a glimpse of the new Potions professor at dinner that night, but there were no unfamiliar faces at the head table. He half-expected Kendrick to make an announcement about Potions being canceled for the time-being, but no such announcement came.

At breakfast the next morning, however, there was one new teacher sitting at the staff table. She was in between Professors Kendrick and Longbottom and she appeared to be around the same age as Albus’s parents. She sat perfectly straight and must’ve been extremely tall, because the top of her head was an inch or two above Professor Longbottom’s. She had red enough hair to be mistaken for a Weasley and a splay of freckles across her face.

“Looks like she could be one of your aunts,” John said as he plopped five sausages onto his plate.

“None of my aunts have red hair,” Albus pointed out. “My mum was the only girl.”

“Point is, she could be a Weasley,” John said.

“Shh,” Rose said. “Look. I think we’re about to find out who she is.”

Kendrick stood up and the room immediately quieted, as if they’d all been waiting for him to speak. “To those of you who went home for the holiday, welcome back. It is with great sadness that I must inform you Professor Burke will no longer be teaching. He took ill over the holiday-“

“He was ill when he got here,” John muttered.

“-and will not able to continue teaching.”

A flurry of whispers erupted and Kendrick let them run their course rather than asking for quiet. A few moments later, he began speaking once more. “I would now like to introduce you all to our new Potions professor, Ms. Enna Callahan. Ms. Callahan is currently a professor at St. Mungo’s for their brewing program and will now be splitting her time between there and Hogwarts. Welcome, Professor Callahan.”

Professor Callahan lifted her hand in a small wave as approximately half the students clapped half-heartedly.

“I think Amy’s mentioned her before,” Matt said in between bites of egg. “I’ll send her an owl.”

“Well, Al, Amanda, and I have her this afternoon,” Rose said. “We’ll let you know how she is.”

“I went down to the dungeons last night,” Kaden mumbled. He’d been absent-mindedly stirring his food around his plate for the past ten minutes. “After you lot went to bed. All of Burke’s stuff is gone. His Potions…everything.”

“They had to clean everything up, Kaden,” Rose said quietly. “Do you know anything about Professor Callahan?”

Kaden nodded. “She’s good…but she’s not as good as Burke.”

“No one is,” Matt said. “We all know that. I’m sure Callahan knows it. But Burke’s too ill to brew and too ill to teach. Who knows, maybe Burke even taught Callahan?”

Kaden sighed. “She was his apprentice. Years ago. He probably recommended her to Kendrick.”

“Then this is the next best thing to having Burke here,” Matt pointed out.

“I suppose,” Kaden said.

Albus wasn’t sure what to expect when he walked into Potions later that day. He’d spent all of charms and ancient runes going over the possibilities in his head. Potions had the second highest turnover rate of professors (the first place award going to defense) in the school, and because of that, Albus was expecting anything. Would she be laid-back like Slughorn? Or since she was Burke’s former apprentice, would she have his intense adoration of Potions like him? Or would she be a complete surprise?

Since it was the beginning of the year, Albus, Rose, and Amanda couldn’t claim a table in the middle of the room, which they usually liked to do when attending a class with a new professor. They’d been sitting at the front table all year and thus had to continue sitting there. Albus and Amanda got there before Rose, who had disappeared partway through lunch to research something in the library. She ran into the room a minute before the bell rang, out of breath.

“I knew it!” she said as she sat down in between Albus and Amanda. “I had a feeling this morning, but I had to verify it just now.”

“Knew what?” Albus asked. He hated when Rose didn’t explain things right away.

“Professor Callahan is the first female Potions professor at Hogwarts. In the whole history of the school. I mean, since the school started teaching all the houses together and had professors for every subject. Obviously Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw taught their students Potions. How brilliant is that?”

“Very,” Amanda said, grinning.

“Well, besides Amy,” Albus pointed out.

“Permanent Potions professor,” Rose said. “Amy was just a sub for Burke.”

Professor Callahan walked in just as the bell rang. She walked purposefully to the board and tapped it with her wand. Her name appeared on it. Albus hadn’t noticed earlier, but her robes were dark purple rather than the usual black the other professors wore. She’d also added a few large necklaces that reminded Albus a lot of the shawls Trelawney wore.

“Good afternoon!” she said as she walked in front of her desk. “I am Professor Callahan and I am very excited to be here. I worked with Professor Burke for many years before branching out on my own and eventually finding my way to St. Mungo’s. I am originally from Ireland, but I traveled the world with Professor Burke and found my home here in Scotland once I went off on my own.

“For today,” she said with a flourish of her arms, “I want to give you free reign with the ingredients I have provided on the side table.” She gestured to a long table next to the wall near the supply closet. “None of the ingredients will have bad reactions with each other and their properties are written next to each of them. See what you can come up with. Let your creative juices flow!”

Albus looked at Rose, whose eyebrows were so far up on her forehead they were practically hidden by her hair. Amanda just looked confused. This was a far cry from Burke, who believed every potion could kill someone.

No one wanted to be the first to get up. The whole class stared at each other for a good two minutes before the Ravenclaws finally got up and collected their ingredients. The rest of the class followed.

Albus hadn’t a clue what he wanted to try and make, so he collected a little of everything and returned to his table, where he busied himself lighting a fire beneath his cauldron. He poured in a few cups of water and let it boil while he stared at the assortment of ingredients.

Rose seemed to be even more at a loss. She hadn’t even gotten up to collect ingredients, but instead was leafing through her Potions textbook for inspiration. Amanda was methodically chopping a ginger root and slowly adding the bits to her cauldron.

Professor Callahan wandered around the room watching everyone. She inquired about what everyone was doing, but never offered any criticism or praise. Instead she simply nodded and asked more questions. She stopped at Albus, Rose, and Amanda’s table last. At this point, Rose had begun chopping anise while essence of murtlap stewed in her cauldron.

“Albus Potter,” Callahan said as she stared into his cauldron. “What are you trying to make?”

Albus still didn’t know. The ingredients he’d used so far were congealing in his cauldron and it had begun emitting a vapor that smelled sort of like the changing rooms at the Quidditch pitch. It wasn’t pleasant.

“Er,” Albus began. “Some sort of…tonic?”

Callahan nodded and moved onto Rose and then Amanda.

By the time Callahan told everyone to clean up twenty minutes before class ended, Albus’s potion had turned quite solid. He had to use magic to pry it out of the cauldron and even then, it left a sticky residue. The rest of his classmates, even Rose, seemed equally frustrated by the day’s task.

“Well,” Callahan said, clapping her hands together. “the purpose of today’s activity was to show you just how difficult it is to create new Potions. It isn’t enough simply to want or need to create something new. It isn’t enough to simply know the names of your ingredients. You have to understand them. You have to understand how they react.

“You are N.E.W.T. Potions students. I expect any of you to be able to follow the directions in a book and create a halfway decent potion. My hope for the remainder of this year, and next year, is that you will learn how ingredients interact so that you can create your own recipe. We will experiment. We will learn. We will not simply follow directions in a book. Class dismissed.”

The bell rang and Albus, Rose, and Amanda hurried out of the room.

“Why do I feel like Potions is going to be ten times harder now?” Albus mused as they walked upstairs.

“Probably because it is,” Rose said. “Kaden’s going to love her.”

***

Saturday brought the first Apparition lesson of the year. The air in the Great Hall that morning was thick with excitement and nerves as the sixth years gathered, waiting for the lesson to begin. Albus, Matt, Rose, John, and Amanda had taken over one of the back corners, none of them wanting their attempts at Apparition to be visible by more of their classmates than was completely necessary. Each stood in front of their own wooden hoop, many of which were scattered on the floor of the room.

“You know,” John said, “technically I could waltz into the Ministry and take my Apparition test anytime, being as-“

“You’re of age,” Rose interrupted. “Yeah, you’ve only been mentioning that at least twice a day since term started.”

“I have not,” John said indignantly.

“You have,” Albus said. John did, in fact, turn 17 over the Christmas holiday and it was something he wasn’t letting the rest of the group forget. He managed to work it into conversation several times a day.

“Being of age has no benefit while you’re at Hogwarts,” Amanda pointed out. “You still aren’t allowed to do magic in the corridors.”

“Yes, but next Hogsmeade visit I can order firewhisky,” John said, grinning. “And I could get my Apparition license.”

“But you won’t,” Matt said, smirking, “because you’ve never Apparated in your life and you’d probably splinch yourself if you tried the test now.”

“I bet you I manage to do it on the first try,” John said. “Two Galleons.”

Matt laughed. “You’re on. And how many if I get it on my first try.”

“You already had your first try,” John said. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

Matt grinned. This was the calmest Albus had seen Matt in months, despite the fact that they were in the crowded Great Hall with the rest of the sixth years. As much as Albus didn’t want anyone to see his own first attempt at Apparition, he hoped a decent amount of people would see Matt successful at it.

“Attention!” Professor Longbottom shouted over the crowd as he stood on the dais. “I’d like to introduce Professor Celestia Bronwell.”

A tall woman with dark hair done up in a ballet bun took Longbottom’s spot. She had that look about her that made it difficult to discern her age. She could’ve been thirty, but also could’ve passed for fifty.

“Apparition,” she began, “the art of disappearing and then reappearing in a different place. It is difficult and it is dangerous. You will splinch yourself. But if you try hard enough and practice enough, you can learn. How, you might ask? The three Ds-“

“What’s the third?” John asked. “She already said difficult and dangerous.”

“Shhh!” Rose hissed.

“-Destination, determination, and deliberation,” Bronwell continued. “Destination- picture your destination in your mind. For today, that will be the inside of the hoop in front of you. Determination- you have to want to Apparate! Deliberation- think before you Apparate! The only way to learn to Apparate is to practice, so let’s get started.

“I want everyone to stand two feet behind their hoop. Stare at it. Memorize it. Know it.”

Albus stared at the inside of his hoop, feeling incredibly stupid. There was a small piece of bread crust in the middle. He hoped that wouldn’t hurt his chances of Apparating.

“Close your eyes. Think. Visualize the inside of your hoop. Think of nothing else. Just the hoop. You are determined. You have deliberated. You have your destination. Think hard, and Apparate!”

Albus squeezed his eyes shut and thought of the inside of his hoop. He wanted nothing more than to reappear inside of it. He was determined. He thought, and he thought, and he thought. Nothing happened.

“Don’t be surprised if your first try is unsuccessful,” Bronwell announced.

Albus wasn’t surprised, but he was disappointed. Another D! Perhaps that was the third D John had been looking for. Difficult, dangerous, and disappointing. The real three Ds.

There was a loud crack and Albus glanced to his left. Matt was standing in the center of his hoop, a satisfied smirk on his face. The rest of the sixth years had paused to stare in the direction of their corner. John, muttering to himself, pulled two Galleons out of his pocket and gave them to Matt.

“Eckerton’s done it!” Justin Brink shouted. “I just saw!”

Matt’s face turned bright red. The rest of the sixth years began whispering amongst themselves, glancing back at Matt every so often. Celestia Bronwell strode down from the dais and made her way through the crowd toward the back corner. Matt saw her coming and glanced at the door, as if unsure whether he wanted to remain in the Hall now that all the attention was focused on him.

“Do it again,” Bronwell said briskly, staring at Matt. “Apparate into this boy’s hoop.” She pointed at Albus’s hoop.

Matt glanced at Albus, then closed his eyes. Three seconds later there was another loud crack and Matt disappeared, then reappeared inside Albus’s hoop. The slight apprehension he’d shown moments before was gone.

Bronwell raised her eyebrows, looking very impressed. “Was this your first time Apparating?” she asked.

“Er, no,” Matt muttered. “My dad…he’s been teaching me.”

Bronwell nodded. “Most parents are not brave enough to take that on. Still, it’s very impressive. What’s the farthest you’ve gone?”

“A quarter mile or so,” Matt said.

“Then we will work on your definitude,” Bronwell said. “There is no point in working on distance in here, for you.”

Bronwell swept off in the direction of Malfoy and his Slytherin sidekicks, who were standing, open-mouthed, staring at Matt.

“What the hell is definitude?” John asked.

“Accuracy,” Rose said.

“What are we up to now, eight or so Ds?” John asked.

“Well, try it again,” Matt said, clearly deciding he was now their Apparition tutor. “Destination, determination, deliberation.”

Albus, Rose, John, and Amanda tried for the next hour, but even with Matt’s coaching, not one of them successfully Apparated into their hoops. Matt, on the other hand, successfully Apparated into five more specific hoops, each chosen by Bronwell, and each located clear across the room.

***

January flew by at a remarkable speed. The day after the first Apparition lesson, Ravenclaw played Hufflepuff and lost spectacularly due to Lisa Galivant’s superb seeking skills. This only added fuel to James’s fire. He pushed the team harder at practice after Hufflepuff’s win. They were scheduled to play Slytherin in the beginning of February and James had already been informed that scouts from multiple teams would be there, eager to see James pull off another win.

Apparition lessons gave the sixth years something to do every Saturday, which took free time out of Albus’s already busy schedule. But he liked the lessons, despite the fact that he was truly horrible at Apparition. Matt had to miss the second lesson, due to the impending full moon and his father’s rule about no Apparating in the three days before and two days after a full moon. During that second lesson, Rose successfully made it into her hoop twice and Amanda made it once. John swore he had one successful go of it, but Albus saw him do a little dance and hop into the hoop without ever disappearing and reappearing. Albus still hadn’t done it.

Albus had been right about Potions becoming harder than ever before and Rose had been right about Kaden loving it. While Callahan didn’t need an assistant, Kaden still ventured down to her office at least every other day to help her out with various prep work. He hadn’t heard back from Amy about possibly visiting Burke, but with Callahan there, Kaden seemed to be okay with that. Albus, on the other hand, wasn’t sure what he thought of Callahan. She was nice, if a little eccentric, but her class was hard.

Sixth year was technically a N.E.W.T. year, but everyone knew it was supposed to be a bit of a break year between O.W.L. exams and N.E.W.T. exams. It was supposed to be hard, but the work load was supposed to be a bit smaller than fifth year. Callahan had apparently missed the memo. In their second class with her, Callahan assigned the sixth years a second textbook, all about the theory behind popular potion ingredients and their chemical properties. Albus could see the benefit in learning about this stuff, but that didn’t help when it was two in the morning and he was still working on an essay due the next day. He’d begun to feel a little jealous of Matt, who seemed to have endless amounts of free time now that he’d dropped Transfiguration.

Albus wasn’t sure if it was the lack of Occlumency lessons, the smaller workload, the successful Apparition lessons, or the fact that Boone and his incarceration was no longer a hot topic of discussion in the castle, but Matt seemed to be doing much better. During the last week of January he only left class twice and only had one full-blown panic attack (after getting swept up in a crowd of excited first and second years, who’d been told there was a ten-foot cake in the Great Hall as a prank by a fourth year). He’d even stopped holding onto Rose’s arm in the corridors between classes, although that might’ve been because of the Hufflepuff rumors about the two of them possibly dating.

Elsie never returned to Albus’s tutoring sessions, something that still puzzled him, but something he never brought up in front of Rose. He didn’t want to be accused of obsessing again. Albus didn’t get a chance to speak with Dawlish during any of his internship hours in January, something that left Albus feeling unsettled. Just like in December, Johnson had been there every time Albus was and had taken to teaching him the inner workings of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement rather than leaving him to do paperwork with junior Aurors. Whenever Dawlish was in the Auror Headquarters, Johnson hurried Albus into his own office, as if he didn’t want Albus to speak with the older Auror. It was all very strange. But clearly nothing big had happened with the information Albus had given Dawlish, otherwise he would’ve heard something.

32. The Accident

Albus awoke the morning of the Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match to the sound of wind howling past Gryffindor Tower. He climbed out of bed, shivered when his feet hit the cold floor, and crept over to the window. He pulled the curtain aside and stared outside, but couldn’t see a thing. There was so much snow and rain blowing past that it made it impossible to see anything.

The weather had been threatening to storm this badly all week. James had held practice every single night and on Monday it had only been flurrying. The storm then built up until yesterday, when it had decided to snow and rain at the same time. Today, it seemed, wind was added to the mix. All in all, it looked like worse weather than Albus had ever played in before.

The match was scheduled for ten, due to the afternoon’s Apparition lesson. Albus glanced at his watch and saw it was just past eight. The rest of his roommates were still asleep. Sighing, he threw on clothes and walked down to the common room, where he saw James climbing through the portrait hole, his clothes drenched.

“Conditions are bloody awful,” James muttered. “It’s going to be a tough match. But, the good news is that the Slytherins will also have to play in it. So it’s not like they’ll have an advantage.”

“Do you think Kendrick would cancel?” Albus asked.

James laughed. “Quidditch has never been canceled due to weather in all of Hogwarts’s history.”

“You think the scouts will still show up?”

James nodded. “They’ll be eager to see how I play in these conditions.”

Albus wandered over to the window, but couldn’t see any better than he had in his dormitory. “James, you’ll never see the Snitch in this.”

“You just worry about the Quaffle,” James said. “Leave the Snitch to me. Honestly, it’s the wind we’ll have to worry about more than the visibility. It’s practically hurricane force out there. Flying’s going to be tricky.”

Within half an hour the rest of the team had woken up and were congregated in front of the fire in the common room with James and Albus. No one was pleased about the weather, but all wore the same look of grim determination. Despite the wind, rain, and snow, they would beat Slytherin. Although Albus didn’t mention it, he was a bit worried about Grace Hinman. She was so tiny she’d probably be blown off course the entire match.

The team ate breakfast together and the rest of the Gryffindor table remained sparse. In fact, the entire Great Hall was emptier than normal for the day of a Quidditch match. Albus assumed it was because of the weather and the time of day. Morning matches never boasted as high of turnouts as afternoon matches.

Rose, Amanda, and Kaden turned up despite the weather. All three were bundled in what looked like a dozen layers each of clothing, hats, and scarves. Rose informed Albus that Madam Pomfrey had once again banned Matt from the match, lest he get ill so soon before the February full moon.

Half an hour before the match Albus and the rest of the team headed down to the pitch. When they stepped outside, Albus had to steady himself against the wind. Within seconds he knew these were the worst conditions he’d ever played in. By the time they reached the changing room, all seven of them were soaked to the skin and shivering.

“All right,” James said once he’d shut the changing room door against the wind. “Drying and heating charms. Then water repelling charms. “If you can’t do them, I’ll do them for you.”

James and Janie wound up doing everyone’s charms since they were the only two who knew the appropriate water repelling charms. Albus and John were supposed to know them, but neither had mastered them yet.

“Is everyone riding something in the Firebolt series?” James asked, once everyone was dry. “Anything below that and you’re going to have a really hard time maneuvering in this wind.”

Everyone except Grace nodded. “Mine is a Nimbus,” Grace said quietly.

James sighed. “The school brooms are all Comets. They’ll do even worse. Switch with me. You fly my Firebolt and I’ll fly your Nimbus.”

Albus stared at his brother. “But James, there’s at least one scout out there. I’ll fly her Nimbus and she can fly my Firebolt.”

“No,” James said. “I’m the captain. I’ll take the Nimbus.”

“But James-“ Grace began.

“If you fly your Nimbus in this you’ll wind up in the Forbidden Forest,” James interrupted. “I cannot let you fly it in this weather. I’m twice your size. I’ll be okay. And Slytherin’s Seeker isn’t great in good conditions. I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure,” Grace said.

“I am.” James got up and returned with his state-of-the-art broomstick and handed it to Grace, who gave him her beat-up, hand-me-down Nimbus. It reminded Albus of the old brooms in his grandparents’ broom shed.

James checked his watch. “All right. Keep a sharp eye out for the Bludgers. They’ll come out of nowhere in this weather. Don’t hesitate to ask for time-outs. Time to go.”

James led the team out onto the pitch and Albus was immediately hit in the face with sharp droplets of freezing rain. He was grateful for the water repelling and heating charms. Despite the cold, he still felt warm.

The roar of the crowd was dulled by the howling wind. Albus couldn’t even see the stands and had no idea where the scouts were, but could tell James was trying to locate them. Albus wished James had let him take Grace’s Nimbus instead. James was nervous enough, and now he had to fly an inferior broom.

The Slytherins looked even more apprehensive than the Gryffindors, which made Albus feel better. Desdemona Cletus, their Keeper and captain, looked like she was about to throw up as she shook James’s hand.

Professor Oteski blew the whistle and Albus took off. Immediately, he felt the effects of the wind on his broom. It shuddered as he forced it to fly toward the Quaffle, but it wasn’t fast enough. Marshall Belby caught it and flew toward the Gryffindor goal posts. A Bludger hit him and he dropped it. Niamh fumbled it, but managed to hold on, and sped toward the Slytherin goal posts.

The wind was even worse up in the air than it was on the ground. Albus almost felt as if he were playing Quidditch in slow motion. His broom was only going half the speed it normally did, but fortunately everyone else was having the same problem. He could only see as far as a three foot radius around him, and had no idea where the rest of his teammates were.

The commentary was barely audible, but Albus was able to hear that Niamh made it to the Slytherin goal posts and scored the first goal of the match.

Albus dodged a Bludger, then the second Bludger, and attempted to find the Quaffle. It was becoming increasingly apparent that working as a team with the other Chasers was impossible in this weather. Without being able to see anyone else, Albus couldn’t possibly accept passes or pass the Quaffle to someone else.

Albus managed to take hold of the Quaffle when Elsie Willinson got caught in a cross wind and dropped it. He urged his broom forward, the Quaffle held tightly against his side. The wind picked up and Albus was thrown off course. It took a few minutes to get back on track, but soon the Slytherin goal posts were in sight. Desdemona Cletus was hovering around the left goal post, her broom flying a few feet to the right every few seconds. James was nearby, near the right goal post, trying to stay out of the way so he could look for the Snitch.

The wind picked up again, this time pushing Albus toward the goal posts. He took advantage and threw the Quaffle into the middle goal post, while Cletus attempted to keep her broom within the boundaries of the pitch.

“Albus Potter scores! Twenty-zero Gryffindor!”

The wind howled in Albus’s ears as he tried to turn his broom around, but it wouldn’t budge. The wind was too strong. He flew lower, in an attempt to get out of the cross wind. A sudden gasp from the crowd made him swing his broom back around to face the Slytherin goal posts.

He turned just in time to see James, whose broom must’ve gotten caught in the same gust, slam into the right goal post, with a crack loud enough Albus could hear it above the wind. James then fell to the ground, while Grace’s Nimbus disappeared into the fog.

“James!” Albus shouted, his heart sinking into his stomach. He willed his broom forward, and soon landed a few feet from James.

Professor Oteski’s whistle blew in the distance while various professors, including Albus’s father, ran onto the pitch and surrounded James. By the time Albus arrived, the crowd was so thick he couldn’t even see James.

“Let me through!” he shouted, his heart pounding. “Let me through!”

Professor Callahan turned around. Her expression was grim, which made Albus feel slightly dizzy. “Albus,” she said quietly. “You need to stay back.”

“He’s my brother!” Albus shouted. “Is he okay? What’s happening?”

“Come with me, Albus,” Callahan said, putting her arm around Albus’s shoulder.

Albus shrugged out of Callahan’s embrace. “No! I need to see James!”

“No, you need to stay back,” Callahan said, her voice sharper. “Madam Pomfrey is assessing James as we speak.”

The rest of the team came running toward them, John in the lead. Grace looked like she was about to cry.

“What happened?” John asked. “I saw him fall-“

“They won’t let me see him!” Albus shouted. “I- I don’t know.” He whirled around and stared at Callahan, whose now serene expression only served to make Albus more angry. “He…is…my…brother! I need to see him!”

Rose, Amanda, and Kaden came running up behind Callahan. “Al!” Rose shouted. “What happened?”

“I don’t bloody know!” Albus said. He felt dizzy again, like he needed to sit down right there in the middle of the muddy pitch. “No one will tell me anything or let me see him and he fell from hundreds of feet and there was a crack and-“

“Al,” a quiet voice said from behind Albus.

Albus turned around and saw his father, mud covering his robes, looking more terrified than Albus had ever seen him in his life. But rather than upset Albus more, it calmed him. That was the appropriate facial expression, not the fake calmness Callahan wore.

Albus let his father embrace him and the dizzy feeling subsided. His breathing returned to normal. His father would know what to do.

“Madam Pomfrey is escorting him to St. Mungo’s as we speak,” Dad said quietly. “Mum will meet them there.”

“B-but why?” Albus asked. “Why can’t she just fix whatever happened?”

“He…he hit his head pretty hard. Twice. Once on the goal post and then again on the ground. Madam Pomfrey…she’s worried about permanent damage.”

“Permanent damage?” Albus repeated.

“Head injuries are tricky,” Dad said. “It’s best for a healer to take over from here. Let’s go back to the castle. We could both do with showers before we head to Mungo’s. Come to my office when you’re cleaned up and we’ll Floo from there.”

Albus nodded. He felt better knowing there was a plan, and knowing he’d get to see James, too. He stepped away from his father and was surprised to see that everyone had cleared off. He didn’t know where the rest of the team or Rose, Kaden, and Amanda had gone, but didn’t particularly care. He supposed Callahan had cleared them off.

Albus was bombarded with questions as soon as he reached the common room. News of James’s accident had spread to those who didn’t attend the match and everyone wanted to know if James was okay. Albus ignored them all and went to his dormitory. When he emerged after his shower, the same thing happened, but still, he said nothing. Lily was there this time, and she joined him without a word. None of his friends were there, but he supposed they were in the Marauders’ Den. He’d see them later, after he saw James and figured out what was going on.

***

Mum was waiting for them at St. Mungo’s when Albus, Lily, and Dad Flooed. She looked like she’d been crying, but had hastily wiped away the tears moments before they arrived. Albus hoped that wasn’t a bad sign. She gave Dad a hug, then Lily, and then Albus.

“Thank God you’re okay,” she said to Albus.

“What’s happening?” Dad asked.

“The healers haven’t told me much. They’re assessing him now. We’re all supposed to go to his room and they should have some news.”

Mum led the way to James’s room, which was located on the ground floor. She walked alongside Lily, who had her arm around her.

“Did you see it happen?” Dad asked quietly. “I can’t figure it out…James is an excellent flyer. A Firebolt wouldn’t have given him trouble like that.”

Albus swallowed. “He wasn’t flying his own broom. He lent his to Grace Hinman, one of the Beaters. She’s tiny, and he was afraid she’d get blown away on her own broom. She flies a beat-up Nimbus. That’s what James was on.”

Dad sighed and shook his head. “That was very chivalrous.”

Mum stopped in front of a closed door. A sign on it said ‘Artefact Accidents - Intensive Care Unit.’ She knocked softly. A minute later a bald man dressed in lime green healer robes stepped outside, shutting the door behind him.

“Mr. and Mrs. Potter,” he said. “I am Healer Murdock, head of neurology.”

“How is he?” Mum asked anxiously.

“Stable,” Healer Murdock said. “Serious condition, but stable. Poppy Pomfrey was right to bring him here.”

“Can’t you just heal his head and he’ll be better?” Lily asked.

“Even as wizards, there is very little we actually know about the human brain. Unlike a broken arm or a cut leg, cranial injuries are not straightforward. Each one presents differently and healing them without understanding what is going on underneath can do more harm than good. Unfortunately, James sustained two cranial injuries in a matter of seconds, which has resulted in an increased chance of permanent injury.”

“Permanent injury?” Mum repeated, her voice quiet.

“Traumatic Brain Injury,” Healer Murdock said. “I cannot diagnose it until James wakes up and I do a number of assessments, but based on his current scans, it is a possibility.”

“But what would that mean?” Mum asked.

“It presents differently in every patient. Patients can have trouble walking, talking, swallowing, difficulties with coordination, memory loss, seizures, dizziness, nausea, and a variety of other issues.”

“Oh my God,” Mum said.

Dad put his arms around her and rubbed her back. “We don’t know anything yet, Ginny. Healer Murdock, what happens next?”

“I have put James in a medically induced coma. This will allow the brain to heal on its own. After taking scans, I was able to heal the cranial injuries with magic, but the scans showed a possible traumatic brain injury. We will know more after he wakes up. I’ll leave him in the coma for at least two more days, taking scans each day to see how well he is healing.

“He’s also sustained some serious damage to his right hand. His wrist and hand were shattered. I repaired the bones within seconds, but the nerves worry me. Nerves are tricky. Unlike bones, they react to magic differently, depending on the person. Some respond well, others don’t respond at all. 98% of cases require physical therapy after spells. We won’t know until he wakes up.”

“And it’s possible he’ll wake up and be fine? With no traumatic brain injury? And his hand fine?” Mum asked.

“It’s possible,” Healer Murdock said. “But not likely. I need you to prepare yourselves. However, with physical and occupational therapy, James will improve.”

“What about Quidditch?” Albus asked, suddenly remembering the scouts at the match. “How soon will he be able to play Quidditch again?”

Healer Murdock was silent for a few moments. “If he has a traumatic brain injury, it would be foolish for him to continue playing Quidditch. If a person with a TBI hits their head again, it can result in irreparable damage, even with magic.”

Albus nodded, his stomach feeling very uneasy. Quidditch was everything to James. What would he do if he woke up and found out he couldn’t play again?

“Albus,” Dad said quietly. “Don’t mention this to James when he wakes up. He needs to be told under the right conditions.”

“Can we see him?” Albus asked.

“Briefly,” Healer Murdock said as he opened the door.

The room contained eight beds, but only James’s was occupied. It was on the far right corner, surrounded by various beeping machines. Albus walked closer and looked at his brother. Other than a white bandage wrapped around his head and one around his right hand and wrist, he looked fine. And in his medically induced coma, he was unaware that his life had been irrevocably changed.

***

After Albus returned to the castle that evening he went to the Marauders’ Den, where he found all his friends sitting around pretending like they were doing homework.

“How is he?” Rose asked as soon as Albus shut the door.

“Stable,” Albus said as he sat down on the couch. He felt exhausted, as if he’d just run a marathon and then played five Quidditch matches.

“And…” Rose prompted.

Albus sighed and launched into the long explanation of James’s condition and what most likely would happen after he woke up from his medically induced coma. After he finished, Rose looked like she was about to cry. Matt rubbed her back

“The coma isn’t a bad thing,” Matt told her. “It’ll let him heal on his own. I was in one after I had to transform with all those werewolves.”

Rose nodded. “And…you were okay?”

“In a sense,” Matt said. “That’s when the anxiety issues started…but physically I was okay. The healers thought I might have a traumatic brain injury because some of the psychological symptoms are the same as PTSD. Traumatic brain injuries are essentially a death sentence to werewolves who don’t use wolfsbane. Once you get one, if you hit your head again, you can do even more damage or die. And since werewolves can’t exactly control themselves during full moons…well you get the idea.”

Rose looked even more alarmed than she had before Matt explained this. “Have you ever gotten one?”

“No. They’re mostly a concern for werewolves who transform in small spaces. The Shrieking Shack is plenty big and I transform in a padded room at home.”

Rose nodded. “And if James does have one? What will happen?”

“Depends on his symptoms,” Matt said. “A lot of them can improve with therapy. But the most important thing is that he not hit his head again, which means-“

“No more Quidditch,” Albus finished. “And if his right hand doesn’t heal right…well, he wouldn’t be able to catch a Snitch anyway.”

Rose gasped. “No. That’s all he’s working toward. And he’s got a pretty good shot at it. Tutshill will take either him or Lisa Galivant.”

“Now they’ll take Lisa Galivant,” Albus said quietly. “The healer said it’s pretty likely he’s got a TBI.”

“Who’s his healer?” Matt asked.

“Murdock,” Albus said.

“He’s the best,” Matt said. “He’s the one who assessed me and said I didn’t have a TBI.”

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Albus said. “There should be some spell that can fix it.”

“The brain is a mystery,” Matt said, sounding very much like Healer Murdock. “Magic can only go so far with the brain. I think it’s because everyone’s brains are different. The neurons have different pathways. It’s not like a leg, which pretty much works the same way for everyone. Nerves are connected directly to the brain, so they’re tricky, too. Magic can’t fix the brain because there’s no one way for it to work.”

Albus nodded. It made sense, but it also didn’t make sense. And either way, it wasn’t fair. James had been working toward a career in Quidditch since he first joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team in second year. Now it was gone, in a matter of seconds, all because of a freak storm and an act of chivalry and kindness.

33. Aftermath

By the next day the entire school seemed to know James was in a coma at St. Mungo’s with a head injury. There was much speculation about the severity of the injury and no one seemed able to agree on whether or not he’d be able to play Quidditch again. Albus wasn’t sure how this information leaked out, but he was glad no one seemed to know the whole truth. Hardly anyone came up to Albus to ask, which he was grateful for, but he wished they wouldn’t stare at him and whisper as he walked through the corridors.

Albus did tell the rest of the team what was going on Sunday morning. They had the right to know the truth, although Albus did leave out the part about the significant possibility of James not being able to play Quidditch again. Unlike his friends, the team didn’t guess about that when Albus mentioned the TBI. The team was very subdued, and all were looking to Albus for answers. It made him realize that now, with James gone, Albus had the most seniority and would very likely step in as captain in his brother’s absence.

Grace in particular was very upset about James’s injury. The rest of the team assured her it was not her fault, that none of them could’ve convinced James not to trade brooms, but she still looked ready to cry whenever anyone brought up James in her vicinity. It reminded Albus of when Devon Wright knocked James off his broom a few years earlier.

John informed Albus that Professor Kendrick called off the match after James’s accident and Gryffindor would play Slytherin again later on in the season, presumably when James was better. Albus wondered what would happen if James was unable to play. Gryffindor didn’t have a reserve seeker and Albus didn’t relish the idea of holding trials in the middle of term.

Albus’s parents remained at St. Mungo’s, while Albus and Lily were to stay at Hogwarts until James woke up. This was fine with Albus because he didn’t like seeing his brother lying in a coma in a hospital bed. Lily hadn’t said much since the previous day, which was unusual for her, so Albus wasn’t sure what her feelings were.

Albus spent most of Sunday hiding out in the Marauders’ Den, which was the only place in the castle he wasn’t subject to the rumors that were flying around about James’s condition. But there wasn’t anything to do in the Den. He couldn’t concentrate on homework and his friends were tiptoeing around him as if he were the one who was told he might never play Quidditch again. He now understood how Matt felt after he’d had his breakdown in November.

When classes resumed on Monday, Albus was very relieved. Defense was canceled until further notice, since Dad wanted to remain at St. Mungo’s with James, but Care of Magical Creatures and Transfiguration gave Albus something to do other than think about his brother. His internship that afternoon was almost relaxing, since no one at Auror Headquarters knew about James, except Uncle Ron and Teddy, neither of whom were there. But despite the distractions, thoughts of James remained at the back of his head, until he returned to the castle when they rushed to the front.

The next morning, Albus assumed he’d get some sort of owl from one of his parents, telling them James had been brought out of the medically induced coma. It had been three days and Healer Murdock had told them two or three days. But there was nothing. Albus pushed his half-eaten oatmeal to the side and hoisted his bag onto his shoulder.

“Have you heard anything, Al?” Cedric asked Albus as he stood up.

Albus shook his head. “Mum and Dad are still at St. Mungo’s. I figured they would’ve sent an owl by now, but they haven’t.”

“Albus!”

Albus turned and saw Lily hurrying toward him. She was out of breath. “Albus. I just saw Dad. He’s back. Saw him on my way to Transfiguration. He was looking for us. James is awake.”

Albus’s stomach flipped. James was awake. Everything was going to be okay.

“Go,” Rose told him. “I’ll tell Professor Cedonia.”

Albus and Lily ran upstairs to their dad’s office, where he’d told Lily to meet him. When they arrived, they found Dad pacing the floor, looking as if he hadn’t slept in days, which he probably hadn’t. Albus certainly hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since James’s accident.

“Can we go see him?” Lily asked immediately.

“Yes,” Dad said. He stopped pacing and leaned against his desk. “I need to talk to you first.”

Albus’s heart pounded fast. Part of him didn’t want to see James until he was back to normal, but the other part wanted to rush right to St. Mungo’s.

“James woke up late last night, around 11:30,” Dad began. “Since it was so late, I decided to come find you this morning rather than sending an owl.”

“How is he?” Albus asked. “Does he have the brain injury?”

“His scans are better. The swelling has gone down, but there is evidence of damage. Healer Murdock won’t give an official diagnosis until he runs cognitive tests, runs more scans, and observes.”

“And what about his hand?” Albus asked.

“Not good, Al. There’s definitely nerve damage. He’s got very little range of motion.”

“And how is he? Now that he’s awake.”

Dad sighed. “It could be a lot worse, Al. I know it’s scary, but it could be a whole lot worse. His vitals have been steady since he woke up and he’s had no seizures.”

Albus’s heart beat faster. He was waiting for the but. Whenever anyone prefaced something with “it could be worse,” that something was always bad. Next to him, Lily sniffled.

“But there are some things you should know before you visit,” Dad continued. “He’s had some memory loss. He doesn’t remember the accident or any of the match or lending Grace his broom. His memories of that morning are hazy at best. We’ve told him what happened, but he hasn’t comprehended it. He’s also having trouble remembering things since.”

“Will he ever remember it?” Lily asked.

“Healer Murdock doesn’t know. He might, but he might not. The mind is a mystery.”

“What else?” Albus asked, knowing there must be something more.

Dad sighed and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it already was. “He has some coordination and balance issues. James isn’t clumsy, but he’s been tripping over his own feet and has had some dizzy spells. It’s possible this will resolve itself in a day or two, but if it sticks around longer than that, it’ll point to a traumatic brain injury. And his hand…well, he can hardly hold a wand.”

“Which means he won’t play Quidditch again,” Albus said quietly. If James couldn’t hold a wand, he couldn’t catch a Snitch.

“Do not mention that when you visit today,” Dad said. “Keep it light. Don’t mention Quidditch.”

“What will happen next?” Albus asked. If he was to keep things light, he needed to know there was a chance James could overcome this and things could go back to the way they were.

“Healer Murdock will redo the tests and scans later today, then again tomorrow morning and evening. If James continues to improve, he’ll be released tomorrow evening. Before he leaves, Healer Murdock will diagnose a TBI or not, depending on test results and scans. James will come home to London for at least a week to recover, then hopefully return to Hogwarts. He’ll start physical and occupational therapy if needed. Whether he can play Quidditch again or not, he will recover from this.”

Albus nodded. If James couldn’t play Quidditch, Albus wasn’t sure what James would do. To James, it might not matter if he made a full recovery if he couldn’t play Quidditch.

“I’ll take you to St. Mungo’s,” Dad said as he stood up straight. “You won’t be able to visit long because he needs rest, but I want you to see that he’s awake.”

Lily sniffled again and hastily wiped her hands across her eyes. Albus swallowed hard. Dad held out a pot of Floo powder and Albus grabbed a handful, threw it into the fire, and stepped inside.

***

Albus’s trips to St. Mungo’s were very infrequent. He did have a distinct memory of sitting in the waiting room with Lily and his parents when he was about five or six, after Lily mysteriously sprouted a pair of antlers on Christmas Eve. After it happened, Albus hung a Christmas bauble from one of them and it remained there even after they Flooed. Albus wasn’t sure where James was that night, but he hadn’t been in the waiting room with them.

One thing he had noticed about St. Mungo’s, despite only having gone there a few times, was that it was always busy. Always. No matter the time of day or night. This occasion was no different, with the waiting room filled with various witches and wizards with extra appendages or skin a color that was not normally found on human skin. One irritated looking wizard held onto the hand of a small boy who was barking like a dog. Albus watched the boy as he followed Dad through the room and saw him lick the irritated looking wizard’s hand.

James was still in the ICU. The ICU was far enough away from the waiting room for it to be quiet and subdued. Albus followed his father and Lily inside, very apprehensive of what he would see. The curtain was drawn around James’s bed, even though he was still the only patient in the room, and Albus hesitated before crossing its threshold.

Mum peeked her head out from the behind the curtain. “You found them.”

Dad nodded. “Is he awake?”

“Yes, I’m awake,” James answered. He certainly sounded like James.

Mum opened the curtain, making Albus’s indecision about going inside of it irrelevant. He realized how odd it was that he was apprehensive about seeing James after his accident, yet he never hesitated to visit Matt after full moons. Perhaps it was because Matt suffering injury during full moons was normal, but James seemed invincible.

Albus was surprised to see James still didn’t look like he was injured. The only sign of it was the white bandage still wrapped around his head, and one machine hooked up to his forehead. The rest of the machines that had been there the other day were gone. His right hand and wrist were in a brace. Now that he was awake, his pallor even looked close to normal.

A tray of half-finished breakfast sat in front of him and Albus wondered how he was eating it if he had trouble holding things like forks.

“Come on, Gin, let’s go get some tea,” Dad said, putting his arm around his wife.

“But-“ Mum protested.

“He’ll be fine. Al or Lily can get us if we’re needed.” Dad turned to Albus. “We’ll be in the tea room.”

“Finally,” James muttered after the door shut behind Mum and Dad. “They haven’t left me alone. Lily, could you hand me that pudding cup?” He jerked his right arm in the direction of his bedside table.

Lily hesitated, but then picked up the cup and handed it to James. He held it loosely in his right hand and tried to open it with his left, but his right hand twitched and the pudding fell onto the floor. “Dammit!” he shouted.

“Here,” Albus said as he picked up the pudding. He peeled the lid off and set it on James’s tray.

“Thanks,” James muttered. He awkwardly picked up his spoon with his left hand and stuck it in the pudding, then shakily brought it to his mouth. “The food here is bloody awful. Nothing like Hogwarts.”

“Er, how are you?” Albus asked, eyeing James’s right hand. James was right handed, but now seemed to be using his left for everything.

“How do you bloody think I am?” James snapped. “The healers think I’ve got some sort of brain injury. And none of them will tell me exactly what that means. And my hand is messed up. I can hardly move my fingers.”

Albus exchanged a glance with Lily. Clearly the healers had also been skirting the topic of Quidditch.

“See? Even you two know more than I do. I can’t even remember anything. Last thing I remember is telling the team to go to bed and then going to bed myself. Dad tells me I wasn’t even flying my own broom? What the hell happened?”

“You were flying Grace’s broom,” Albus explained.

“Her piece of crap Nimbus?” James said.

“Because of the weather. You were afraid of, well…this, happening to Grace because she’s so small. You wouldn’t let me fly her broom, either.”

James groaned. “I think I remember Dad mentioning that. Bloody hell. I hope the Quidditch scouts know I was flying an awful broom. Were they even there, Al?”

“They were there,” Lily said. “I was sitting right behind them. They were talking the whole match, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying, with the wind and all.”

“So the weather was crap,” James said. “Did you see it happen, Al?”

Albus nodded. “The wind caught you and slammed you into one of the Slytherin goal posts. Then you fell and-“

“Broke my right leg, shattered my right wrist and hand, and injured my brain,” James finished. He scraped the bottom of the pudding cup with the spoon and knocked it over. He ate the last spoonful of pudding, then dropped the spoon onto the tray. “But no one’s told me what happened to the match. Did you keep playing? Did Slytherin win?”

“Kendrick called it off,” Albus said. “He’s rescheduling it.”

“Good,” James said. “By then I’ll be better and maybe those scouts can come back.”

Albus and Lily exchanged another look.

“Why do you two keep doing that?” James asked.

“Er, no reason,” Albus muttered.

“How’s the team?”

“They’re okay,” Albus said. “Grace thinks it’s her fault, but I told her it isn’t.”

James nodded. “What about Meg? Have you seen her?”

Lily groaned. “She was crying in the common room last night. Seemed to think you were dying. She’s too dramatic.”

Albus decided not to remind Lily that she’d done her own fair share of crying since James’s accident.

“Well, did anyone tell her I’m not dying?” James asked.

Lily sighed. “Yes, James. I told her. That only made her cry more. Don’t ask me why.”

“I think we had a fight the night before the match. It’s kind of hazy.”

“What about?” Albus asked.

“Probably the same thing they always fight about,” Lily muttered. “Quidditch?”

“Yeah, I think so,” James said. “She thinks it’s too dangerous and not a suitable career choice.”

Albus smirked. “I suppose she’s got a point now, doesn’t she?”

James laughed, then stopped abruptly, wincing. He rubbed his head and Albus noticed one of the lines on the machine jumped up an inch higher than it had been before.

“Are you okay?” Albus asked.

James nodded. “Just a headache. Anyway, could one of you find Meg for me? And tell her I’m fine and not dying and that if Kendrick will let her come, she can visit?”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Can’t you just write her a letter? I’ll even give it to her, so you don’t have to find an owl.”

James glared at her, his face suddenly stony. “I can’t bloody hold a quill in my right hand. And it’d look like a baby wrote it if I did it with my left. Will you do it for me, Al? Can you just find her and tell her?”

“Sorry,” Lily said quietly, her cheeks reddening.

The last thing Albus wanted to do was give James’s romantic message to Meg, but given James’s current state, he had to. “Yeah. We’re patrolling together tomorrow night anyway.”

“Thanks,” James said, wincing again.

Mum and Dad returned a short while later. By then James’s headache had worsened and Mum set off in search of a nurse. Albus and Lily said goodbye to James and went with Dad to Floo back to Hogwarts. Albus felt very relieved. Despite his injuries, James was still James.

***

Albus always felt slightly awkward when he had to patrol with Meg, for a variety of reasons. First, that she was James’s girlfriend. The two of them had been dating for a while, yet Albus didn’t know Meg very well. He felt like he ought to be better at finding things to talk about with her, but they still stuck to the basics of Quidditch, school, and the weather. Second, that she was Johnson’s daughter. Everyone in the wizarding world over the age of 10 knew that Albus’s father didn’t get along with Johnson and chances were, Meg knew more details about it than the average witch or wizard. Rationally, Albus knew Meg wasn’t her father, but he couldn’t help but feel weird about her. Clearly James didn’t have the same issue.

Now there was the addition of James’s injury, which at least gave them something else to talk about other than Quidditch, school, and the weather. Although Albus had a feeling Quidditch would feature prominently in tonight’s conversations.

Albus met Meg in the Entrance Hall and they set off for the dungeons, where Meg always liked to start. Whenever Albus patrolled with a seventh year, he let them take the lead. He supposed next year he’d always take the lead, unless he was patrolling with Rose.

“How is he?” Meg asked immediately. It looked like she hadn’t slept well in days.

“Better,” Albus said. “Specifically, he wanted me to tell you he’s not dying.”

Meg paused partway down the stairs. “You saw him?”

Albus nodded. “Yesterday. Not for long, but enough to know he’s going to be okay. My mum sent an owl about an hour ago saying that he’s getting out of St. Mungo’s tomorrow morning. It was supposed to be tonight, but his healer got pulled into an emergency and won’t be able to do the final scans until tomorrow.”

Meg let out a huge breath and continued walking down the stairs. “Okay. Okay. And…is there any permanent damage? I heard he hit his head pretty bad.”

“There’s something wrong with his right hand,” Albus said quietly. “He can’t move it normally. The nerves are messed up.”

Meg gasped. “So he’s paralyzed?”

“No,” Albus said quickly. “He shattered his wrist and hand. The healer fixed the bones, but I guess nerves don’t always respond to magic. His haven’t. And he might have a traumatic brain injury.”

“Traumatic brain injury,” Meg repeated as they walked down the dungeon corridor. “That means he couldn’t play Quidditch again, even if his hand recovered.”

“Well, they haven’t-“

“I won’t tell him, Albus,” Meg interrupted. “And I know a TBI would mean no more Quidditch. I want to be a healer. I start training in the fall.”

“Oh,” Albus said.

Meg sighed. “I wish he’d come up with a back-up plan. Even if the healers decide he doesn’t have a TBI, he’ll need months of therapy. No one’s going to recruit him.”

Albus didn’t say anything. He’d been thinking the same thing ever since the accident. He wished more than ever that it had been him flying the old Nimbus. Albus had no desire to play professional Quidditch. His life wouldn’t have been turned upside down if he’d had a bad Quidditch accident.

“It’s just so frustrating!” Meg exclaimed. “That match should’ve been cancelled.”

“Hogwarts never cancels Quidditch.”

“Well, Kendrick should’ve made an exception. I don’t understand it.”

“Half the fun is dealing with the weather conditions,” Albus explained. “It makes it exciting. We all complain about it, but we love to complain about it. And most Quidditch injuries are not permanent.”

“Well, James is that one percent now, isn’t he,” Meg muttered. “Do you know when he’s coming back?”

“Not for at least a week,” Albus said.

“Do you think he’d let me visit? I’m sure I could convince Kendrick to let me go. Maybe this weekend? I could send him an owl.”

They’d reached Callahan’s study. Albus spent the previous potions class studiously avoiding Callahan’s gaze, since he’d shouted at her after the accident. He had no desire to speak to her until enough time had passed for her to forget about it. Albus took a glance inside, saw Callahan facing away from the door, and hurried past.

“You can send him an owl, but he won’t be able to write back,” Albus explained. “He’s right handed and, well….”

“Right,” Meg said quietly.

“Talk to my dad,” Albus said. “He should be back Friday.”

Meg nodded. “Thanks, Albus.”

They fell into silence as they walked back up the stairs to the Entrance Hall. The rest of the patrol was spent in silence, only talking when the patrol necessitated it. But every time Albus looked over at Meg, it looked like she was holding back tears.

34.

The following morning at breakfast Albus received two owls. The first owl was a school owl and was from Professor Longbottom, requesting a meeting that afternoon after classes finished. Albus hadn’t the slightest idea what his godfather wanted, but wasn’t worried. He probably just wanted an update on James since Dad hadn’t been at the castle in a while. The second owl was from his parents, informing him and Lily about the plan for James to return to Grimmauld Place later that day. The letter didn’t say whether James had been diagnosed with a TBI, but perhaps Healer Murdock hadn’t decided yet.

“What does Longbottom want?” Matt asked as he looked at the Herbology professor’s short letter.

Albus shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe he wants an update on James.” He scanned the table for his sister and saw her a few seats down, talking to Ashtyn Brickston. “Oi, Lily!” Albus folded the letter into a paper airplane and shot it onto Lily’s mostly empty plate.

“Bloody hell,” John said, flipping through a magazine he’d just received. “All Longbottom would have to do is read this if he wants to know about James.”

Albus snatched the magazine out of John’s hands. It was Quidditch Quarterly. Albus wasn’t a fan of the publication for the sole reason that it didn’t come out quarterly. It came out once a month, but Quidditch Monthly didn’t have the alliteration. The Tutshill Tornadoes were featured on the cover, but in smaller print than the name of the main article about the Tornadoes’ chances at the League Cup, was an article entitled ‘James Potter Sidelined With Scouts Present.’

“Since when does Quidditch Quarterly report on Hogwarts Quidditch?” Rose asked as she leaned over Albus’s shoulder.

“Must’ve been a slow news month,” Matt said. “You think James has seen it?”

“I hope not,” Albus said as he flipped through the magazine to find the article. “And they do report on players from Hogwarts who are being heavily recruited by teams. Their September issue featured a run down of both James and Lisa Galivant. Plus, James is the son of a former Holyhead Harpies player. Not to mention he’s Harry Potter’s son.”

Albus located the article. It wasn’t long; just a half page, along with a picture of James flying. The photograph was clearly from a different day, as the sky was bright blue. The James in the photograph kept catching and releasing a Snitch. With both Rose and Matt looking over his shoulder, Albus read the article.

JAMES POTTER SIDELINED WITH SCOUTS PRESENT

With only one predicted available Seeker position
in the United Kingdom League, every match and
every point matters for Seeker hopefuls James
Potter (Gryffindor) and Lisa Galivant (Hufflepuff).
Tutshill Tornadoes scouts watch their every move,
at every match. Both Seekers are skilled and both
are team captains.

February 5th’s match featured Gryffindor and
Slytherin. The conditions were terrible. Wind, snow,
rain, and ice. Scouts from Tutshill still attended.
Approximately twenty minutes into the match,
Potter lost control of his broom and was slammed
into a Slytherin goal post by the wind. He was
taken to St. Mungo’s shortly after. The match
was called off and will be rescheduled for later
in the season.

St. Mungo’s declined comment on Potter’s
condition, but it has been confirmed that Healer
Bernard Murdock is handling the case. Murdock
is St. Mungo’s head neurologist, so it can be
assumed Potter suffered from head trauma.

Initial rumors that Potter was not flying his usual
Firebolt have been confirmed. Instead, Potter
flew a beat-up Nimbus 2000 belonging to one of
his teammates.

Headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Fabius Kendrick,
is facing criticism for allowing the match to take
place. When asked to comment, he said, “I am
deeply sorry for James’s injury and I am hopeful
for a speedy recovery. I will certainly be
looking into the school’s current policy for the
cancellation of Quidditch matches due to weather
conditions.”

Whether Potter’s injuries will prevent him from
finishing the season, or even hurt his chances at
playing professionally, is not yet clear. In the
meantime, Tutshill scouts will now turn to
Lisa Galivant, who now finds herself without
competition.

Albus handed the magazine back to John, who immediately read the article himself. Albus couldn’t remember if James subscribed to Quidditch Quarterly, but hoped he didn’t.

“Only a few people knew about that broom switch,” Albus said quietly. “Just the team, and then my parents and Lily. Probably Healer Murdock and Professor Kendrick. That’s it. Who the hell spoke to the reporter?”

“I don’t know, Albus,” Rose said.

Albus stood up. He needed to speak to the team now. There was no reason, none at all, for any of them to be speaking to reporters about James. Articles like this would do nothing to help his chances of getting recruited, assuming he got better.

“I need to speak to the team,” Albus said.

“Al, class starts in five minutes,” Rose said. “You need to go to Charms and calm down.”

Albus hadn’t realized that his hands had started shaking until Rose cupped her own over them. But he couldn’t calm down. They were a team. None of them should be speaking to reporters without James’s permission. There was nothing to stop Quidditch Quarterly from publishing whatever rumors they’d heard, but they should not have the broom information.

“Does it even matter?” Amanda asked. “And isn’t it better for people to think he crashed because of the broom instead of his own flying skill?”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Albus said. “What if James has a TBI and told the team and one of them told a reporter? It’d be all over the Prophet, too. And then he’d have no chance of getting recruited, even if he did make a full recovery. Not to mention the whole world would know his private business.”

“Albus is right,” Matt said. “No one should’ve said anything.”

“Well, regardless of who’s right, we’ve got to get to Charms,” Rose said as she stood up.

Albus thought about the article and who on the team spoke with a reporter all day. He paid very little attention in his classes, but by the end of Ancient Runes, he’d narrowed it down. It wasn’t him, obviously, and it obviously wasn’t James. It wasn’t John, and Albus was 99% sure it wasn’t Janie, either. Janie was smarter than that. She wouldn’t speak with a reporter about James. That left Harrison, Niamh, and Grace. Albus really hated to think any of them would do it, but who else could it have been? Lily crossed his mind, but she’d been taught a healthy wariness of reporters just as James and Albus had.

Unfortunately, Albus didn’t have the chance to speak with any of them during lunch. He’d planned on it, deciding to pull each one of them aside on their own just to ask. He’d leave it up to James to decide whether they’d be kicked off the team for doing it, but he had to know.

Then, the owl arrived. His parents’ owl. It was addressed to both himself and Lily, but unlike the earlier owl, Albus didn’t open it until he found his sister. Without even discussing it first, they left the Great Hall and went to the nearest broom closet to open the letter.

Lily did the honors. She unfolded it and Albus could see through the back of the parchment that it was short. Lily’s eyes scanned the letter for a second before she looked up at Albus.

“Read it,” he said.

“Dear Al and Lily. We got home with James about an hour ago. Healer Murdock came with us and we discussed the next steps. After looking at James’s scans from this morning, Healer Murdock diagnosed him with a traumatic brain injury. It’s affected his movement and coordination, but with physical therapy he should recover. Healer Murdock is worried about his hand, but is hopeful James will regain 80-90% functionality. He’ll begin physical therapy tomorrow and should be able to return to Hogwarts in a week and a half. Love, Mum.”

“That’s it,” Albus said, feeling strangely hollow and devoid of emotion. “His Quidditch career is over.”

Lily said nothing. She folded the letter up, put it back in its envelope, and stuck it in her bag.

Now it didn’t matter which of the team spoke with the reporter. It didn’t matter if the Tornadoes knew about his injuries. None of it mattered because now, James would never have the chance to play professional Quidditch.

“What do you have next?” Lily asked.

“Double Potions,” Albus muttered. He had no desire to deal with Professor Callahan right now.

“Want to skip?”

“Yes.”

Without bothering to get lunch, Albus and Lily left the castle for the grounds. The weather could not have been anymore different than it had been during the Quidditch match. It was sunny, surprisingly warm for February, and there was no wind. As he walked with Lily, it struck Albus how weird it was that something as simple as wind could change someone’s life forever.

***

By the time classes ended, Albus was not in the mood to meet with Professor Longbottom. Spending the afternoon walking the grounds with Lily hadn’t calmed him down. If anything it made him want to break something. But he supposed sitting through Potions would’ve been worse. Just like he hated it when he couldn’t do anything to ease Matt’s anxiety, he hated that he couldn’t do anything to help James.

Professor Longbottom’s door was shut when Albus arrived. He took a few steadying breaths, then knocked. The door opened a few seconds later, revealing Professor Longbottom, looking sympathetic. He stepped aside to let Albus in, then shut the door.

Albus had always liked Professor Longbottom’s study. It was warm and homey and filled with pictures of Hannah and their daughter, Alice. There was always a tin of biscuits open on his desk, but today Albus didn’t feel like eating any. Instead, he sat down in an armchair and stared at a picture of Alice, where she walked back and forth across the floor at the Leaky Cauldron.

“How are you, Al?” Professor Longbottom asked.

Albus shrugged. “Fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You don’t have to pretend here. I know you well enough to know this is eating you up inside.”

“It’s just…if I had ridden Grace’s broom, James would still be able to play professional Quidditch. I have no desire to play professional Quidditch. It wouldn’t matter if I got injured.”

“Wouldn’t it, though?” Longbottom asked. “Do you think the Auror Department would take someone with a TBI?”

Albus hadn’t thought about that.

“They like their people whole,” Longbottom continued. “It’s different if an Auror is injured on the job. Then they’ll keep them on to do paperwork. But they won’t take someone new with a permanent injury. James made his choice. He knows that. You need to know that, too.”

“You heard about the TBI, then?”

Longbottom nodded. “Your dad sent an owl.” He sighed. “Look, Albus, I know what I am going to ask you is going to be difficult. But it has to be resolved now.”

Albus wracked his brain, but he couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong lately, except skipping Potions earlier. And he’d done that after receiving Longbottom’s owl.

“With James…out of commission, the Gryffindor team is without a captain.”

Albus’s heart started pounding. Now he knew where this was going.

“After James, you have the most seniority. The post is yours, if you want it.”

“Temporary captain?” Albus asked. “Just until James comes back?”

Longbottom sighed. “No, Albus. James can’t play Quidditch anymore. You’d be the new captain.”

“But just because he can’t play doesn’t mean he can’t run the team, does it?”

“Unfortunately, it does. The rules state that the captain must play on the team.”

“Then change the rules!” Albus exclaimed. This was going to kill James. Absolutely kill him. Not only would he be unable to play, but he’d have no connections to Quidditch whatsoever.

“I can’t,” Longbottom said. “If we allowed James to stay on as captain, it’d be seen as favoritism.”

“What if I say no?” Albus asked. He couldn’t take the captaincy away from James.

“I’d ask Janie. But she doesn’t have the experience you have. I’d like you to say yes, Albus.”

The thought of becoming Quidditch captain had always been in the back of Albus’s mind, but never thought the opportunity would arrive until after James left Hogwarts. He knew he’d be offered the position then, but that was different.

“Can I think about it?” He needed to talk to James first.

“I can give you through the weekend,” Longbottom said. “But I need an answer by Sunday night.”

“Okay,” Albus said. “By Sunday.”

Ten minutes later, once Longbottom was satisfied Albus was a little bit closer to being “fine,” Albus was released. He headed straight to the Great Hall, hoping to find every member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team to inform them of the mandatory meeting he planned on holding that night.

Even if Albus didn’t wind up taking the captaincy, as of right now, he was the closest the team had to a captain and they hadn’t all been together since the accident. They needed someone to step up and as James’s brother, that duty fell to Albus.

Albus held the meeting in the Transfiguration classroom, not wanting anyone to overhear them. He hadn’t decided whether he was going to tell the team James wouldn’t be coming back, figuring he’d see where the meeting took him.

Albus and John arrived five minutes before the meeting was scheduled and sat on desks waiting for everyone else to arrive. Janie, Harrison, and Niamh arrived next. Grace arrived last, looking very timid.

Every single member of the team looked upset. Albus gazed around the room at them before he began and he suddenly knew that none of them spoke with the reporter from Quidditch Quarterly. He didn’t know who did it, but it wasn’t anyone on the team. None of them would betray James like that.

“What’s going on, Albus?” Janie asked. “Was everything in that article true? Where is James?”

Albus sighed, realizing he was going to tell the team everything. They were James’s team, all of them. From himself, who had been playing on James’s team for almost five years, to John and Grace, who only joined this year. They were James’s team and James would need a team once he returned to Hogwarts.

“James is home,” Albus began, looking at John, who nodded. “He got home today. He should be back in a week and a half. His right wrist and hand have nerve damage. And, he…he’s been diagnosed with a traumatic brain injury.”

Niamh let out a gasp and John shook his head slightly. The rest of the team looked puzzled.

“What’s that?” Grace asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Albus felt exhausted. He was tired of explaining, tired of being the one everyone came to for answers. He opened his mouth to explain yet again, but John got there first. Albus zoned out while John explained, grateful for the few minutes of not having to speak.

“What does this mean?” Harrison asked once John finished.

“It means he can’t play Quidditch anymore,” Albus said numbly. “Not at Hogwarts. Not professionally. Not ever.”

“But-“ Grace began.

“No buts,” Albus interrupted. “If he hits his head again he could wind up a vegetable or dead. And he’s got months of physical therapy ahead. He doesn’t have full control of his right hand because of the nerve damage. He can’t play.”

Grace let out a sniffle and Albus noticed her eyes were rimmed with tears. Niamh put an arm around her.

“It’s not your fault,” Albus said quickly. “It was James’s decision as captain.”

“And now you’re captain,” Niamh said, looking at Albus.

“Maybe,” Albus said. “I have to talk to James first.”

“And then…” Janie began, her voice trailing off.

Everyone looked at each other, but no one wanted to say it. Once they had a new captain, whether it was Albus or Janie, they’d have to hold trials for a new Seeker.

***

Albus wound up visiting James with Meg on Saturday, while the his friends went to Hogsmeade. He hadn’t wanted Meg to be there, but Professor Kendrick didn’t want people constantly going back and forth. They went after Apparition practice. Albus did horribly, still unable to Apparate even a few feet. The rest of his friends had all managed it at least once. Matt told him it was probably because he was so distracted, since Apparition required a lot of concentration. But Albus didn’t care the reason why; he just wanted to be able to do it.

Lily didn’t join Albus and Meg for their trip to Grimmauld Place. While Lily hadn’t said it outright, Albus got the sense that she didn’t like seeing James so broken. She hadn’t said much during their visit to St. Mungo’s the other day, which was very unlike Lily. When Albus asked her if she wanted to go with him and Meg, she gave an excuse of too much homework, even though she was in the midst of reading a mystery novel.

Half an hour after Apparition lessons ended, Albus met his father in his study, where Meg was already waiting. She stood next to the fireplace, looking nervous. Albus didn’t think he’d ever seen Meg Johnson nervous. She was always so together. Dad stood at his desk, piling books into a stack.

“What are those for?” Albus asked.

“James’s homework,” Dad explained. “He’ll never catch up if he misses a week’s worth of N.E.W.T. work.” Judging from the look on his face, this was clearly a concern. “Al, you can go first. Kitchen Floo, if you would.”

Albus took a handful of Floo powder from the cup on the mantel, threw it into the fire, stepped in, and shouted “Grimmauld Place Kitchen.”

A few seconds later Albus stepped out of the fireplace and into the kitchen. He brushed the ash off himself and onto the floor, hoping Mum wouldn’t be too upset with him for tracking it into the kitchen. But to be fair, Dad had told him to Floo to the kitchen. Usually they only used the fireplace in the drawing room.

Meg stepped out next. She drew her wand and vanished the ash she tracked onto the floor, along with Albus’s. Dad brought up the rear. He didn’t vanish any of his ash.

“He’s in the drawing room,” Dad said. “Al, let Meg see him first. Then she can go back to Hogwarts.”

Albus waited in the kitchen while Dad brought Meg upstairs. He found half of a loaf of bread on the counter and cut himself a generous slice, suddenly feeling more ravenous than he had in days.

“Albus?”

Albus turned around, his mouth full of bread, and saw Mum coming down the stairs. She looked exhausted, even more so than she had while James was at St. Mungo’s.

“Hi, Al,” she said as she sat down. “Lily didn’t come?”

“No. Is he any better?”

Mum sighed. “He’s very discouraged. I don’t think he was expecting to do poorly with the physical therapy, even though we warned him it would be difficult.”

“Mum…have you slept?” Albus asked tentatively.

“I had a nap earlier,” she said. “But James needs so much help. He isn’t walking very well and he can’t hold his wand in his right hand at all. So he’s having to learn how to do spells left-handed.”

Albus suddenly wished he hadn’t eaten the bread. His stomach turned over. Maybe Lily had the right idea with staying at Hogwarts. Albus didn’t want to see James like this. James was the oldest, the strong one, the funny one. He wasn’t supposed to be the one to break.

35. The Interrogation

When Meg left Grimmauld Place half an hour later, she no longer looked nervous. Instead, she looked vaguely annoyed and like she’d been crying all at the same time. Albus didn’t ask, not wanting to be on the receiving end of whatever emotions were running through her. He didn’t understand how girls could feel so many emotions all at the same time.

“Try not to get him too upset,” Mum said as Albus got up from the table after Meg left. “It triggers the headaches.”

Albus nodded, knowing what he wanted to talk to James about would upset him. How could it not?

Albus was grateful his parents left him alone to talk to James. He didn’t want to have this conversation with either of them hovering over James’s shoulder. Albus needed James’s honest opinion, and he doubted James would feel able to be truthful with Mum or Dad around.

The drawing room door was partially closed when Albus got there. He pushed it open all the way, then shut it after he walked inside. James lay on the couch, covered in a few blankets. His head was propped up on numerous pillows, but no longer had a bandage wrapped around it. The brace was still wrapped around his right wrist. The coffee table was littered with half-empty mugs of tea, a plate containing half a sandwich, a full bowl of soup, and a tin of biscuits. The stack of textbooks Dad had brought sat next to the biscuits. A wooden cane was propped up against the arm of the couch. There was also a Snitch flying around the room.

Albus wondered if Dad had given Meg the same warning about not upsetting James, because he looked upset. His gaze followed the Snitch and he didn’t acknowledge Albus.

“How are you?” Albus asked, sitting down in one of the armchairs.

“How do you bloody think?” James asked.

“Stupid question. Sorry,” Albus muttered.

“Did Meg go back to Hogwarts?”

The Snitch flew a foot in front of James’s face. He reached out to catch it with his right hand, but clumsily knocked it out of reach instead.

“Yes,” Albus answered.

“She thinks I ought to see if I can find a last minute internship at the Ministry,” James said. “She doesn’t get it. It takes me fifteen minutes to walk to the kitchen. I can’t do a bloody internship.”

Albus figured the best course of action was just to agree with James, no matter Albus’s actual opinion. “No, she doesn’t get it.”

“I don’t want to talk about her. Let’s talk about the team. Have you lot been practicing still?”

“Er, no-“

James groaned. “Get them all out there tonight. You can’t afford to get rusty.”

Albus ran his hands up and down the arms of the chair. “Actually, I need to talk to you about the team. Neville…he talked to me the other day about, well…becoming captain.” Albus averted his gaze and braced himself for James’s reaction.

“Well, of course you’ll be captain,” James said flatly. “You’ve been on the team longest. That’s not even a question.”

Albus looked up at his brother. The look on his face didn’t match what he was saying. It looked like it hurt him even more than the actual injury to tell Albus he would now be captain.

“I…I thought you could still be captain, but Neville said no,” Albus mumbled.

“Captain has to be on the team,” James said quietly. “And I’d be a useless Seeker now. Can’t even catch a bloody Snitch when it’s trapped in this room.”

“I’m sorry, James.”

James sighed. “It’s not your fault. It was a freak accident. Look, schedule Seeker trials for next Sunday. Healer Murdock said I can go back to Hogwarts next Saturday. I’ll help you pick someone.”

Albus nodded. He’d feel better about picking a new Seeker if James at least helped pick them.

“Have you talked to Lisa?” James asked quietly as the Snitch hovered above his head. This time, he didn’t even try to catch it.

“No,” Albus said, thinking of the article in Quidditch Quarterly. As harsh as it was, it was right. Unless Lisa was permanently injured or suddenly lost all her skill, she was almost guaranteed to be recruited by Tutshill. “This is not how she would’ve wanted to get that spot, James.”

“I know,” James muttered. “I just wish I could know whether it would’ve been me. But I don’t know if it would be better for them to say they were going to pick me or for them to say they weren’t going to pick me. Either way sucks.”

“You could still work for a team,” Albus said, unsure whether this would make James feel better or not. “That’s what John wants to do.”

“It’s not worth it unless I can play,” James muttered. “Hey, what happened to my broom?”

“It blew away in the storm,” Albus said. “No one ever found it.”

James paled. “M-my Firebolt?”

“Oh, no. Grace’s broom. The Nimbus. Grace gave me your Firebolt and I put it back in your dormitory,” Albus explained.

James breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. Thanks.”

Albus didn’t bother mentioning that it didn’t really matter where James’s Firebolt was since he wouldn’t be able to fly it again anytime soon.That would probably fall under the category of “upsetting James.”

“So,” Albus began. “How much do you want to bet Hugo shows up to Seeker trials?”

James smirked. “Aunt Hermione probably won’t ever let him play Quidditch again now that she’s seen what happened to me.”

“Have all the aunts and uncles come to visit you?”

“Just Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron. And Nana Molly and Gramps stopped by. Nana Molly is coming by again tonight. She said Mum needs a break.”

Albus agreed. “I see Dad gave you your homework.”

James groaned and tilted his head back so that he was staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t know what he expects me to do. I can’t hold a quill, let alone write any essays.”

“You could use a Quik-Quotes Quill,” Albus suggested. “I bet all the professors would let you considering the circumstances.”

“I overheard Mum and Dad talking to my physical therapist yesterday. They said they’re going to have to petition the Ministry to get me extra time for my N.E.W.T.s or have someone write all the essays while I dictate them. So clearly they don’t think I’ll be better by June.”

“Do you know how long it’s going to take?” Albus asked. Five months seemed like a long time.

“I can’t remember. They told me. Probably a few times, but I keep forgetting,” James said. “But it’s gonna take a while.”

“Damn,” Albus said, shaking his head. “And they gave you a cane?”

James nodded. “Yeah, just until I get my balance back and stop having dizzy spells. I went from best Seeker in the school to clumsy kid with a cane. And I get the special privilege of leaving all my classes five minutes early so I don’t get knocked over by first years who don’t look where they’re going.”

“I bet you could fix that up so you can hide your wand in it,” Albus suggested. “Chop off the top, hollow it out, then charm your wand to stick to the top. Wand-cane. I heard Lucius Malfoy had one of those.”

“Yeah, because I really want to channel Lucius Malfoy,” James said. “And I can’t do half the spells right anymore. Have you ever tried casting spells with your wand in your left hand?”

“No,” Albus said.

“Go on. Try it,” James said.

Albus hesitated. If his parents walked in while he was doing underage magic he’d be grounded for the first two weeks of the summer holiday. But James looked desperate for him to try, so he took out his wand.

“Do wingardium leviosa,” James said. “It has to be something that requires a specific wand movement.”

Albus nodded. He pointed his wand at James’s stack of textbooks and said, “wingardium leviosa.” The top book quivered, but didn’t levitate.

“You know how when you go to Ollivander’s and he asks you what your wand arm is?” James began. “Turns out, there’s a reason for that. It has something to do with how the core is placed in the wand.”

“So you have to get a new wand?”

James nodded. “Mum’s taking me to Ollivander’s on Monday. It’s only temporary, until I get more function in my right hand. For now I’m not allowed to try magic with my right hand. Healer Murdock said I could break something if I even try. Or injure someone.”

“You are going to get better, though?” Albus asked, noticing James had closed his eyes.

“Yeah,” James said, wincing as he rubbed his forehead. “The physical therapist thinks I can get 80% function. Not good enough to play Quidditch, but good enough to cast spells.”

“Are you okay?” Albus asked.

“I’m getting another migraine,” James mumbled. “Can you go get Mum?”

Albus nodded. “She’ll probably make me go back to Hogwarts, then. I guess I’ll see you when you get back. Next week, right?”

James winced again. “Just go get Mum, please!”

“Okay,” Albus said. He jumped up and ran back down to the kitchen.

Both of his parents were huddled at the table. Both looked up when Albus ran into the room. Albus didn’t even have to say anything before Mum got up and hurried upstairs.

“You ought to get back now, Al,” Dad said quietly. “Just shut my office door after you leave.”

Albus nodded. He said goodbye to his father, took a handful of Floo powder, stepped into the fire, and journeyed back to Hogwarts. Once there, he immediately went to Professor Longbottom’s study, ready to accept the position of Quidditch captain.

***

The following morning Albus woke up feeling exhausted. He looked at his clock and saw it was only seven in the morning. Confused, he rolled over and tried to figure out what had awoken him. He heard someone moving around in the dormitory and opened his curtains a crack. Normally all of his dormmates slept even later than he did.

Matt was sitting on his bed, fully dressed in Muggle clothing, pulling on socks. Albus sat up, opened his curtains all the way, and stared at him. “You realize it’s seven in the morning, right?”

Matt nodded. “Yeah. I’ve got my Apparition test this morning. Dad’s meeting me in Hogsmeade so I can practice a bit before. I told you about it last week.”

“Right,” Albus said. Matt’s birthday had been a week ago and he was now of age. “Sorry, I guess I forgot.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Matt said. “You’ve been busy with James.”

“Are you nervous?” Albus asked, happy to have something else to think about other than James.

Matt smirked. “Al, you know I’m always nervous. But I’m not at all nervous about my Apparition test. It’s weird.”

“Is it weird being of age?” Albus asked.

“Honestly? It’s not that different. Come down to the common room with me.”

Albus pulled on a pair of pants and followed Matt downstairs to the deserted common room. He sat down on one of the squashy armchairs and Albus took the one opposite.

“When I was first bitten,” Matt began, “my parents were terrified of what would happen after I turned 17. In Australia, the names of werewolves who are of age is public. I mean, it isn’t posted anywhere, but anyone can request a list from the Werewolf Control Unit. Werewolves there have to disclose their condition to landlords and landlords don’t have to rent to werewolves. Werewolves there are required to disclose their condition with all potential employers.”

“I thought it was like that here, too,” Albus said. “The employer thing.”

“It is,” Matt said. “But that’s it. Point is, I’m still a whole lot better off here. Even if Ralph Lubar hadn’t ever revealed my lycanthropy, as of a week ago, anyone in wizarding Australia could’ve known about it.” He twiddled with the dial on the brand new gold watch his parents had gotten him for his birthday. “And today I’ll get my Apparition test and then I can escape whenever I need to. Except here, of course.”

Albus hadn’t ever thought of Apparition as anything more than a means of transportation, but now he saw it in a whole other light. It was a means of escape. For Matt, that ability to escape whenever he needed to, it would provide security nothing else in the world could.

“I’ve got to go. Dad and I are having breakfast first,” Matt said as he got up. “I should be back around 9:30.”

“Good luck,” Albus said. “I’ll probably be in the Den when you get back.” Now that he was up, Albus knew it would be useless to try and get back to sleep.

Albus spent the next two hours attempting to do homework in the Marauders’ Den. “Attempt” meaning the homework sat open in front of him while he worried about James, captaining the Quidditch team, finding a new Seeker, and James again.

Quidditch had never been a way of life for Albus the way it had been for James and so many of their cousins. He certainly enjoyed it, loved being on the team, and he was good at it. But his world never revolved around it. Even as a small child, watching his mother play professionally, Albus never had the desire to be a Quidditch player for a living. James, on the other hand, did. Albus still remembered the look in James’s eyes as they watched Mum flying for the Harpies. There was such admiration and desire there, two emotions Albus labeled as “excited” when he was little.

As soon as Teddy made the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a third year, when James was only seven, James did the math and figured out Gryffindor would need another Seeker when he’d be a second year. From then on, James lived and breathed Quidditch. He practiced daily, unless Mum told him the weather was too bad. He was determined to replace Teddy. And then he did.

Albus never wanted to be a Seeker. When he was little, before he developed any real skill at any position, he decided he would be a Chaser. He didn’t want to follow in Teddy’s, and then James’s footsteps. He always hated being compared to James, not because he disliked James, but because he wanted to be his own person. As a kid, that meant choosing a different position. It meant never being put in the position of having to replace James on the Quidditch pitch.

But now, Albus was in that exact position he never wanted to be in. Just like his father, mother, and brother, he was now captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He replaced James, and not under normal circumstances. It left him feeling very unsettled.

When Matt returned, the sound of the door opening and closing jolted Albus out of his thoughts. He stared down at his Potions essay, with only its topic sentence completed, then looked up at Matt.

Matt had a huge grin on his face. “Passed. They didn’t take a single point off.”

Albus smiled. “Congratulations, mate. You’re the first of us.”

“John waiting until the big Hogsmeade test?” Matt asked.

“Yeah. That’s what most people do,” Albus said.

“Well, I never do things the normal way. Plus, the Hogsmeade test is on the same day as the April full moon. Dad said I still shouldn’t ever Apparate the three days leading up to a full moon or the two days after.”

“It’ll just be John and Amanda for that,” Albus said. “Rose and I won’t be 17 yet.” He sort of doubted he’d be able to Apparate decently by then anyway. “Are you still going to the lessons.”

“Yeah. Someone’s got to help you. You might be the best dueler in the school, but your Apparition is abysmal,” Matt said, shaking his head.

***

Albus was very happy to go to his internship on Monday. Classes were not providing a good enough distraction from James, but the Auror Department most likely would. Even just organizing paperwork while listening to the steady banter of the junior Aurors would be better than listening to the professors drone on and on.

For once, Auror Johnson wasn’t at the department when Albus arrived. Instead, Dawlish was there. So was the same junior Auror Albus had sorted mail with on his first day. The rest of the department seemed deserted.

“Hi, Albus,” Walters, the junior Auror, said. “Johnson’s on a mission, so you’re to open mail with me again.”

“Nonsense,” Dawlish said gruffly. “You’re coming with me, Potter.”

“Er, where?” Albus asked, his heart beating fast at the possibility of going on a mission with Dawlish.

“You’ll see,” Dawlish said.

“But what about Johnson?” Walters asked.

“You leave Johnson to me,” Dawlish said. “Potter needs a good distraction. You saw what happened to his brother. Opening mail is not a good distraction.”

Without another word, Dawlish swept out of the room and down the hall. Albus hurried to follow.

“How is James?” Dawlish asked. “Rumor has it he won’t play Quidditch again.”

“Yeah, that’s true. At least not for a few years.”

“So he won’t play professionally. That’s too bad. He’s quite good.”

“Er, sir, where are we going?”

“Do you remember that apothecary you and your friends visited summer before last?”

Albus’s jaw fell open. He quickly shut it and stared at Boone. “How do you know about that?”

Dawlish smirked. “You continue to be surprised at my intel. I have my sources, Albus Potter.”

“Yeah, I remember the apothecary,” Albus muttered.

“We’ve been trying to get the owner for years for selling illegal potions. We have reason to believe he is the one who sold Boone polyjuice. We’ve been doing an undercover operation there for a few months now, and the guy finally sold our undercover Auror some polyjuice. Johnson just brought him in. We’re going to watch the questioning.”

Albus swallowed hard. That was the same apothecary owner Johnson interviewed a few months ago, with Albus in tow. He knew that that apothecary owner sold illegal polyjuice. He also knew the apothecary owner most likely got his polyjuice from Professor Burke.

Dawlish turned a corner and led Albus down a much quieter corridor. He paused in front of the third door on the right, then opened the door with his wand. Albus followed him inside.

It was a questioning room. Inside sat Uncle Ron and a few other Aurors Albus vaguely recognized. They all watched a glass window. On the other side were Edward Fawley (the apothecary owner) and Auror Johnson. Fawley sat at a table while Johnson paced the room.

“Dawlish,” Uncle Ron said, nodding. “Al, what are you doing here?”

“I brought him,” Dawlish said. “Fawley hasn’t lawyered up yet?”

“Not yet,” Uncle Ron said.

“We have you, on record,” Johnson said, “selling illegal polyjuice to an undercover Auror. Do you know what the standard time is for that?”

“Two years and a fine,” Fawley said, not looking at all worried. “I’ve done my research, Auror Johnson.”

“It could be more,” Johnson continued, “depending on what we find in your shop. Aurors are raiding it as we speak.”

“He knows he won’t see that time,” the tall Auror standing in the back, behind Dawlish, said. “Bloke is smart.”

“Loyal, too,” Uncle Ron said. “Won’t give up his supplier.”

Albus swallowed hard.

“Loyal my ass,” Dawlish said. “He’s waiting for the right time. Doesn’t want to give it up too easy. He knows if he waits he’ll get a better plea deal. He’s toying with Johnson. They’ll go back and for for another half hour, Fawley will lawyer up, and then they’ll reach a plea. Fawley will pay a fine and he’ll be back in his shop, selling illegal potions, by Thursday. He knows Johnson doesn’t give a shit about him. Wants his supplier, that’s what.”

Uncle Ron raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, and turned back to the window. Fawley remained cool and collected, but Johnson looked frazzled. Albus wished Dawlish were the one doing the questioning.

“I can help you out if you give me the name of your supplier,” Johnson said.

“Afraid I can’t help you there,” Fawley said. “Just like I couldn’t five minutes ago and ten minutes before that.”

The door opened and another Auror walked in. He nodded to the room, then continued through to the questioning room behind the window. He walked in and handed Johnson a note, then walked back out, with another nod to the Aurors watching.

Johnson scanned the note, then grinned wickedly. “Well, Mr. Fawley. Did you know about the stash of Trip potion hidden under the loose floorboard in your storeroom?”

Fawley visibly paled. “I think I’d like to call my attorney.”

“Oh!” the tall Auror in the back called. “Did you see that coming, Dawlish?”

Dawlish smiled. “I didn’t, Timmons. Even us ancient Aurors can still be surprised. I’m betting on the same outcome, though. Johnson doesn’t want Fawley. He’s going after something larger.”

Albus wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers, hoping no one noticed how nervous he was. Johnson was getting closer and closer to Burke. But what would he even do to Burke if he caught him? The man was dying. They couldn’t throw him in Azkaban. But if they threw Boone, an innocent man, into Azkaban, what would stop them from putting Burke there, too?