Potters and The Next Generation; Furthermore Book 2

Conflicts of Many Hearts

Disclaimer: THIS IS A PIECE OF FAN-FICTION, DERIVED FROM THE ORIGINAL WORKS OF HARRY POTTER SERIES BY J.K. ROWLING.

Albus

I walked, completely hidden in the group of fifth years, settling in their seats. I took one in the corner blending amongst a few kids so I wasn't singled out. When Mum had seen me yesterday, she looked at me as if she knew me. I knew she saw Dad. She always spoke about how I was a younger reflection of Dad and it brought her joy knowing that I was a raven head. I used to laugh at her little joy but that was Mum. She always ravished our existence, stating that she couldn't believe quote-unquote "how beautiful her babies were." While Dad would worry about the bigger deals around the Wizarding World, Mum would deal with ones that included our troubles at Hogwarts. Or any of us having crushes and having difficulty professing it to our choices. I remembered how excited she was when Teddy told her who he liked and she was all bubbly and up and about when he finally told her. I used to hate that joy until things took time to clarify for me. Until I realized that being a git wasn't the only way in life. I'd always loved my mum. I was always drawn to her but I would butt heads with my Dad whenever I had a chance.

That's why, watching him, reading through some parchments in his fingers, unaffected by the class walking in, brought chills to my spine. For a second I thought he would see me and tell me to bring focus to school work but when he looked up, the frown on his face softened but he didn't smile.

"Hello, I'm Professor Potter, substituting for Professor Macy. Don't worry, she didn't burn her brows or break a bone, I'm just substituting her break." A few students snickered and a small grin on his face boggled me. Dad could joke? Wow.

"Anyway, today we're talking about Dementors." He clapped, leaning back against his desk, "Can anybody give me any information?"

I did. I wanted to say it.

Before I could control it, my hand was up.

"Yes, Mr..."

"Porter, sir." I gulped and his smile faded. Uh-oh.

"Well?" He questioned my pause.

"Er, yeah. Sorry. Erm, Dementors are old souls born out of miserably infected bodies and souls once destroyed in the early years and isolated in Azkaban before it was known to be a Prison. They are born out of the hate of happiness because the souls and bodies were once tortured of their joy, which is why a Patronus charm works on them. After all, that is generated from channeling happiness in your soul and protruding a silver blanket of pure energy to fend them off." I spoke the revised words.

Everyone was quiet for a few minutes. Dad had a solemn expression on his face until a surprisingly small grin formed on his lips and I gasped.

"Excellent." He spoke and I was shocked. Was he impressed by me? "I think Mr. Porter made everything easy for me, summarizing my lesson for today." He chuckled and I was turning red but surprised because Dad was joking. I wondered if I stood close, would his face make a cracking sound every time he smiled? That was rude but Merlin, that man barely ever smiled in front of me. We were always frowning but probably because we fought so much.

Seeing this expression on his young face was rather refreshing. I was suddenly not seeing my dad but a young man with bright round eyes and a clean expression on his face. Wrinkles and dimness were gone and I wondered how the years had affected Dad for him to change as he did in my time. Maybe his suffering didn't end with Voldemort and grew with his age alongside him. The only time I ever saw Dad at ease in my life of consciousness was when he was with Mum. Despite his rage, his anger, and his strictness, I never saw him raise so much as his voice at her. At least not in front of us.  His soft spot was his wife and I wondered what this young guy would do if he were to find out that his wife would die soon because of who he is. But somehow, I still felt like he knew. Which is why he tries so hard.