Albus (A Next Generation Harry Potter Fanfiction)

Scrolls, Spells, Sprawls and Scor

Al's feet clinked and clonked up the stone steps, portraits moaning as they woke them rudely with the faint light that protruded from Scor's wand. They probably would have reached the Owlery a lot sooner if they didn't have to keep stopping to re-vamp their feeble attempt at 'Lumos'. It was definitely a second-year spell, and although they'd started it in Charms, the only people who could do it were people like Rose flipping Weasley. Al and Scor found themselves wishing they'd paid more attention in that class, as they frequently stopped in a doorway to repeat the word several times until a tiny glow flickered just brightly enough to ensure they weren't tripping over their own feet.

Every corner they turned had Al fearing for their lives, and he was not being dramatic. If they were caught it would be a life sentence in detention, and the shadows that were hanging over them in the old, humming building weren't helping his nerves. Scor, on the other hand, looked perfectly calm, at least on the outside, a serene expression on his face, eyes set forward intently as he led the way, Al creeping along behind him.

After a few years of scaling the huge, threatening dark castle, they finally reached the steps leading up to the Owlery. Al stumbled behind his friend all the way to the top, when they were met by a wooden door not unlike the one leading to their common room, the other end of the castle in Slytherin. Without turning around or acknowledging Al in any way, Scor put out what was left of the light and turned the cold metal handle, creeping inside.

The Owlery was lit by a dim ray of moonlight through the open window. Feathers and bird poo littered the floor, occasional chirps and shuffles from the birds in their perches. Al watched his step as he walked in to the room that was as quiet and lonely as the rest of the castle.

Except, as he saw as soon as he looked up to see what Scor had stopped to stare at, they were not alone.

A slim but short figure with long red hair was standing by the open window, her hair flowing in the night breeze, a quill in her hand, gaze set expectantly on the looming darkness outside. It was Rose flipping Weasley, Al thought in despair.

Scor had frozen right in front of him, alerting Rose of their presence. She turned around sharply, most likely expecting a prefect or teacher or basically anyone but the two of them. Her face stretched into a smile of relief at the sight of her classmates, but Scor stayed stiff and still, relief being the last thing he'd feel.

"What in the world are you doing here?" She chirped, stepping across the floor towards them. A chill went down Al's spine from the window. Did she have to leave it open?

As much as he didn't want her there, he tried to muster a little, friendly smile, but Scor wasn't having any of it. "We could ask you the same question," his friend snapped, and it was not friendly in the least.

Rose's smile faltered only a little. "I'm waiting for my owl. I think she's sick, so I wanted to catch her when she came in, and take her away, so she doesn't give whatever she's got to all the others. Been here for hours, though," she sighed. Al noticed the piles of books and parchment by the window and realised she'd been waiting for probably the same amount of time as they had, only she'd actually completed her work.

"You better go," Scor said coldly.

Al's eyebrows raised in concern. Hang on a minute. Scor's owl was important, but not so important that he could boss Al's family about right and left. He didn't like Rose much, but he knew she wouldn't just leave because some kid told her to. "Scor, she can wait with us," he said, hopefully quiet enough that only Scor would hear, but he was completely ignored. Scor's pale lips were set in a straight line, his frail figure standing as strong as it could in the wind and the cold. At least they weren't so tired any more.