The Many Musings of Albus Potter

xi. hippogriffs

xi. hippogriffs

It has been approximately twenty seven days since the death of Nora Longbottom. 

It has been approximately twenty two days since the Ministry of Magic released their Manifesto -- a series of proposed reforms that, according to Luna Scamander on a recent article she's written for her father's newspaper, will destroy whatever bid for progress they've claimed. 

In approximately fifteen hours, the National Wizarding Consensus will be over and the results of the Consensus will be out, changing the course of the future in more ways than Albus could possibly fathom. 

It seems unnatural for the Burrow to be so quiet - and still - but, given the circumstances, it isn't all too surprising. Without too much protest, he and Lily arrived to their mother's childhood home last night, carrying a small suitcase each. Ever the meticulous creature, a hereditary gift Albus supposes has been passed down to Lily alone by their grandmother, his sister had insisted on packing his suitcase for him and he was right in guessing that she'd have done a too-splendid job of it, having managed to cram in at least a month's worth of clothes in there along with a few of his favourite novels and, for some reason, an extra toothbrush. 

It kept her busy, though. For a while, at least. It kept her away from thoughts of Nora who was, after all, one of her best friends. Albus doesn't know how she does it, how she manages to bear the weight of the entire world on her shoulders with a light, unwavering smile on her face. His parents have been as clueless as he has, hovering over Lily constantly, the tenseness permanently embedded on the lines of their foreheads and in their nervous little laughs, in the way they speak. 

He's promised to take care of her, while they're all away sorting out whatever mess the Ministry's made. 

"One of the perks being Harry Potter, I suppose," he heard his father chuckle humourlessly to Ginny when they both thought Albus was upstairs packing. "Everybody wants to listen to you." 

Albus isn't sure if the Ministry are going to lend a listening ear this time, even if it is Harry Potter who wants to talk. They've kept a tight leash on everything since Nora's death. Hogwarts was closed early for the summer, exam results are to be postponed until early September, and everybody in Lily's year gets a sympathy pass on their exams -- a piss-poor and even tactless compensation for what they must be going through. From what he can remember based on his casual, fleeting observations, Nora had been a popular girl in her year group. It won't only be Lily mourning her deeply this entire summer. 

Albus is sorry that what little memories he's had of her have already began to fade into the obscure corners of his mind. Flaxen hair, blue eyes, a round face and an easy smile - she was Neville Longbottom's daughter through and through. His stomach clenches uncomfortably now, wondering if his Herbology Professor is faring better than when he last saw him. A horrible memory flashes right before his eyes of Professor Longbottom ambling into the Great Hall, his hair flopping helplessly and wetly over his eyes, his drenched pyjamas sticking to his stout frame, gardening boots squelching unpleasantly as he took several steps forward towards Professor McGonagall, who took a horrified step back. And his cloak...Albus gulps breathlessly, remembering the blood...so much blood - 

He hasn't quite been able to drown out the screams from his nightmares. 

Albus presses his palms to his ears, breathing shallowly into his pillow. Hugo is asleep beside him, and he can't wake him up, and if he does wake up, it'll show during breakfast when his eyes are half-closed and he isn't shoveling down his breakfast. And then Aunt Hermione'll get cross because she's only just managed to get both Hugo and Rose to settle into a semi-normal sleeping pattern again with one of those calming potions that Uncle Ron swears he bought from a professional healer (when, really, they're just placebos - Uncle Ron doesn't believe that calming potions actually work).