Albus (A Next Generation Harry Potter Fanfiction)

The Inconvenienced

In the end, Al went down to Hagrid's alone. After all that business with Scor, he'd wanted to bring Matilda, but he'd spotted her with all her female friends, giggling over something in their little tight group. There was absolutely not a chance of Al infiltrating that organisation with no backup.

Still, Hagrid's company never got old. Al loved his stories of his father, even though he sometimes felt swamped by everything his father achieved in the first year he spent at Hogwarts, especially when he compared it to what he'd done, which was to get in trouble and avoid essays. Al could never find anything that needed defeating, so being like his father was impossible. When he had been at school he'd always had someone or something to save. How on Earth could Al be such a hero if it was all safe?

When Al wished Hagrid goodnight, he walked alone back to the common room. It was supper time, and he was really hungry. As he walked, the growing grass touched his ankles, the breeze filtering through the vegetation as he passed the greenhouses. Professor Longbottom waved at him through the grimy window, but Al knew it was a formality. If it hadn't been for his parents, Longbottom would admit he disliked Al. He could see it in his face when Al sauntered into Herbology with Scorpius, laughing at one of the Hufflepuffs (which, by the way, were all absolute airheads) and neglecting to hand in any homework. He betted Longbottom wished he was friends with Rose, who was forever concentrating and getting her head down in class, rather than with Scor, who brought out the noisy, disrespectful 11 year-old Al was around him. Still, Scor was a lot more fun, and Al didn't plan on changing any time soon.

He saw a Ravenclaw girl in the corridor he knew from Defence Against the Dark Arts. She messed around with him and Scor sometimes, so he waved and she beamed back at him, making a warm fuzz start up in his stomach. Not because he liked her or anything, he just enjoyed the attention he got because of Scorpius. They were so mismatched and rebellious that the rest of the year were a little intimidated by them. Al loved it.

As he walked back towards the common room, he also bumped into Stanford, who unfortunately took it upon himself to inform Al he'd sent an owl to his father. Typical. Stanford had a lot of bad mood swings, and he always took it out on Al and Scor. He smiled to himself though; he knew his Dad was busy at the moment, and a little letter from school would only get swept under the radar.

He loved Hogwarts.

•

Draco hesitated before knocking on the smooth, black door in front of him. Options ran through his head. He was overreacting. He'd made a mistake. The Ministry were aware of something bad aloof and were dealing with it that very second.

Still the assumption in the back of his head told him that something was very wrong.

"Malfoy?" A voice behind him provoked tiresome memories of his school days. Weasley. He very much hated the guy even now. His attire, and attitude just let him down altogether. He had an air about him that Draco loathed.

He turned and faced his ex-classmate. Weasley's forever-red hair glinted in the metallic grey light of the Ministry. "Weasley," he drawled in reply. The encounter reminded him of previous torments, that however awful they had been, still had a place in Draco's fonder memories.

"Are you in the right place?" Weasley asked, slumping to the side. He had a small shadow under his chin that had been there since year five. Draco remembered being completely confounded when Granger had married him. The boy was still a boy.

"Yes, I think I am. What's it to you?" Draco replied stiffly. He hoped his reply would get rid of Weasley and his nonchalant, 'that'll do' attitude.

"Nothing," Weasley spoke, sniffing messily. "Just wondering why you're paying Harry a visit."

Draco ignored him. He stood taller, pulling his sleeves to straighten them and running a hand through his pushed-back hair, he knocked on Potter's door.