Albus (A Next Generation Harry Potter Fanfiction)

Realising Things

After they had both packed and Al's bag was sitting on his bed ready to go, he looked over at Scor, who was sat on his bed leaning against the wall and staring ahead, like he always did.

"We should go to lessons. Stanford said we had to after we'd packed," Al mentioned. They'd been silent for a little while now, and it was getting dull. Suspension was pretty bad, sure, but Al hadn't yet been obliterated by his mother, so he was planning to stay optimistic for Scorpius for as long as possible.

"What lesson?" Scor answered shortly.

"I think History of Magic."

His friend grimaced. "Ugh. Can't we pretend we're still packing?"

Al smiled. Thank God Scor hadn't had all of his happiness shouted out of him. "We should probably- you know, stay in line for a while," he said quietly. Scor had to agree. There was no way in hell he'd want another chat with his father. Al could tell it had been bad, just from the way Scor had walked into their room, and he was going to do all that he could do to make sure Scor didn't have to go through that again.

Eventually, Scor agreed that going to all their timetabled lessons (for once) was most likely the safest option, and they headed out to the common room. It was quiet, again, with only the portraits muttering rubbish and that odd whistling Al had noticed when he walked in before.

Something had changed, though. The air seemed thicker, and more oppressive, as if something had gathered there while Al and Scor had been in their dormitory. It almost made Al assume someone had cast a spell of sorts, whether or not it was meant to harm, and the magic had lingered around them like a malevolent gas in the solid atmosphere.

"Hey, Matilda," Scor exclaimed. Al turned his head towards their friend, whom he hadn't noticed coming out of the girl's dormitory just to the right of their own door. Matilda gave them a weak smile, and instantly Al felt a familiar dread rising up in his stomach.

"Are you alright?" He asked her immediately. She looked very tired and worn down, and slightly paler than usual.

She shook her head. "No. I think it's come back, you know, whatever I had before. I had to leave Charms, to lie down, but I only felt worse when I got back to Slytherin, so I'm going to Madam Pomfrey," she managed, each word looking like it took ten times as much effort to get past her lips. Her small hands were limp at her sides, and her eyes drooping. Al didn't think this day could get a whole lot worse. He was about to open his mouth to say something (although he wasn't quite sure what), when it did.

First, the whistling got louder. From being just a little intrusion that could be put down to the magical nature of the building, it grew in volume until it strained Al's ears, making him wince and dart his head around, scanning the room for answers but seeing nothing but the normal sets of tables and chairs. He watched Scor and Matilda screw their faces up too, so it couldn't be him imagining the noise. It turned into a screech, a high-pitched Banshee wail that seemed to make the windows shake.

Then he turned around to look at his friends, and Matilda flew.

It was not graceful. One second she was standing there, watching them with an expression just as confused as Albus and Scor's, and then she was whipped off her feet. Helplessly knocked over and strung up by an invisible rope, her robe flailing and a shocked scream coming out of her mouth as the air was knocked out of her. It was as if a huge invisible giant had whisked her up into the air, or as if she was being carried away, uncontrollably, by a powerful gust of wind. Her eyes read sheer terror as she reached the ceiling, and then she promptly dropped back down again, her head rushing forward with the speed of her fall. Matilda collided back at their feet with a harsh clunk, and lay still, leaving Al staring at her in surprise and uncontrollable fright.

"What the-" Scor stammered, kneeling down quickly and lifting up a strand of her dark hair that had fallen into her mouth. She was out cold, lifeless and shaken, and all Al could do was stand like a moron, his mouth half open and eyes as wide as they'd go.

"Is she dead?" He mumbled desperately, the picture in front of him filling his insides with dread and terror.

"No, you idiot," Scor snapped. "She's breathing. What the flipping hell was that?"

Al shook his head helplessly.

"Wait, look!" his friend suddenely exclaimed, his long finger racing upwards to point behind Al, from where he sat huddled over Matilda.

It took Al a brief second to register what he was doing, and then he whirled around to look at the mantelpiece. His breath caught in his throat as it sped up.

Salazar Slytherin's little silver snake emblem sat where it had done all year above the fire, with something that looked like a ghostly hand emerging out of it. The hand was barely solid, its fingers much longer than Scor's and with much less substance than the Hogwarts ghosts. It retreated back when Al turned to look at it, shrinking and evaporating until it disappeared into where it came from. The emblem rattled slightly, before remaining still and unnoticed as usual, save the eerie laughter and whistling coming from where it stood.

A/N: plot twist! Can anyone guess what's coming?

Again i'm sorry i've been away. I promise I'll be better now! Thanks to everyone who's been around for the latest 3 chapters, im surprised you remembered the story!

Lots of love <3