Albus Potter and the Journey Through Time

Training in the Room of Requirement

Heyo! This is officially the longest chapter so far (probably because of the intense details). Anyways, I hope you enjoy this one!

"James? JAMES!" Albus yelled. He whipped his head around the poop deck of the great ship frantically, squinting, trying but failing to locate his older brother in the seastorm they were currently in the middle of. His perpetually messy hair stuck to his face, the water toning down its usual volume a bit. The raindrops were more like pellets at the rate they were going: Albus could barely keep his eyes open without the risk of getting one of them shot, which would render him akin to a Cyclops.

"JAMES!" Albus screamed again, his voice becoming hoarse. Cuts started to appear on his arms courtesy of the seastorm's ammunition. Though his arms were trickling blood, he was running around, desperately trying not to slip on the wet planks. He thought he saw a human-like figure right at the edge of the deck and ran towards it. He accidentally hit the rail with great force and slipped over, falling, closer and closer towards the main deck's floor—except there was no impact. No blood. No broken nose. No smashed face. For sure, though, he thought it would hurt. He thought he would've at least suffered a concussion. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe.

He was underwater, running out of air, flailing his arms, trying to stay above the water. What? But I can swim, the green-eyed boy thought. I can swim!

"AL!" he heard. It was muffled. Albus tried to speak, but all that came were bubbles; his lungs were rapidly filling with the saltwater, and Albus started to see black spots in his vision.

"AL!" he heard again, much clearer this time. "AL!"

Everything was fading slowly, becoming blacker by the second....

"Albus! Wake up! Snape's knocking on the door!"

Door? What door? When did Professor Snape board the ship?

Suddenly, Albus was pulled up from the saltwater and into something soft...warm...comfortable. But the warmth didn't last long; his blanket was practically ripped off him, and he was back in Hogwarts, safe and sound.

Albus propped himself on his elbows and gazed at his older brother, who was practically hovering over him.

"Why're you so bloody loud first thing in the morning?" he croaked out, his voice cracking a little bit. He gulped and cleared his throat. James crossed his arms and walked over to the door and stood next to it.

"Morning to you too, Al. Listen, Snape knocked on the door ten minutes ago and told us to get ready to go, under the Disillusionment Charm, of course, up to the seventh-floor corridor. Something 'bout a rehearsal."

"Rehearsal?" Albus asked, his voice up to his normal volume. He sat up fully on his bed and rubbed his eyes. For some reason, they were gummy; well, he didn't exactly remember washing his face before bed. "What rehearsal?"

"Dunno. He'll tell us at breakfast, probably. And hurry up! It's already 8:30."

"Right. Right. I'm getting up." Albus swung his legs over the bed, and his bare feet landed on the stone-cold (pun intended) dungeon floor. It was sort of like a natural alarm, really. For the young Slytherin, coldness was always something so sudden and so opposite that he was surprised awake most of the time. It was always a curious thing of nature, how opposites help so much, when we don't even consider it a want. It was the same for Albus.

He took his neatly folded robes from his accent chair and set them on his bed. Then, he sauntered over to the door.

"James. It's open, right?"

"Yeah. Snape didn't cast the wards last night. He just told me to keep an eye on you after you went to sleep."

"Did he really?" Albus asked, slightly incredulous.