Chapter Text
Albus Severus Potter had always expected his Hogwarts letter, so it came as no surprise. What did surprise him was the situation he was in. Perhaps he had just hoped he wouldn't be bathing while the letters for both him and his brother arrived.
See, Albus had always been told of how powerful his parents were, a great wizard and witch, Harry and Ginny Potter. His older brother, James Sirius Potter, had already been accepted into Hogwarts the year before, and was desperate to get back and join the quidditch team. All summer he had been flying around on their father's old Nimbus 2000, racing Albus whenever he could convince him to join him.
Albus never liked flying. He never liked quidditch. His father and brother had that in common. Albus had nothing in common with his father. Well, perhaps that was not so true. While James looked most like Harry, Albus had his dark hair, never quite sticking down properly.
James was nearly identical to the pictures of Harry Potter when he was young. Tousled, soot black hair, well tanned skin, and a strange, incomprehensible love for quidditch. Their only immediate difference was the lack of glasses James possessed and the hazel eyes he got from their mother. According to James, girls were crazy about him at school. He was a promising quidditch startup, and he did well in his classes. Albus was not like him.
No, while James was out on his old Nimbus 2000, Albus was hunched over a book. He liked a good read, finding no interest in playing goalkeeper with his brother or wizard chess with his sister, Lily Luna Potter.
Now it was Lily who you could not tell was related to them. You could assume that Albus and James were brothers, no matter how different they were, but all that tied Lily to either of them was her eyes, just like their father’s. The charming green was not present in Albus' at all, instead settling for a murky green, not like Harry’s or the rich colour of his mother's eyes. Lily had the same fiery red hair, cut short by her shoulders.
Albus' hair was also kept short, a clean style just above his ears. James' hair grew out messily. Albus often thought that his brother looked like he had just crawled out of bed, or stepped off his broom in a heavy wind. To be fair, that was often what had happened. Albus dreaded having to wake up to that from his loud brother every morning at school.
It wasn't like he didn't want to go to school, nor that he hated his brother, but Albus thought the last school year had been so pleasant without James barking in his ear about quidditch or his friends. But the letter came, and with it, the annoyance of the brothers.
James pounded on the door to the bathroom, yelling his name. "Al! Get out of the loo! Mum wants pictures and your hogging the toilet!"
"Give me a moment!" Albus scrambled from the tub. It was true that he had been purposely dragging his feet all morning. He even chose to skip breakfast in favour of a warm bath to settle his nerves. Today was the day, he'd known it since the night before. Today was admission day.
He had always been able to sense things before they happened. Either good or bad, it had to have a strong emotion behind it. Joy or grief, anger or pleasure. He knew it would be a good birthday when he felt restless and giddy before, or that something bad would happen if he felt exhausted and aggravated. He felt strange the day before. Like something monumental was going to happen. Hogwarts.
It wasn't the letter itself that was so very monumental, but what came with it. It read, as it did for everyone else in year one:
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Minerva McGonagall
But what followed, passed the list and dates, the chance to prove yourself as a wizard. It was what Albus had been looking forward to for years.
Albus pulled on a pair of loose bottoms, plaid in shades of light blue and grey, and what should have been a plain white t-shirt. But when he looked in the mirror to brush his teeth, his hands had to clench the sink to keep from screaming. "Lily! What did you do!?"
A pattering of feet flew down the hall, and a small, sweet voice called back, "So sorry Al! One of my red socks got in your laundry,"
Albus groaned loudly, pulling at the splotchy red and pink fabric. He would have to ask his mother to fix it, or else change shirts before the inevitable pictures were taken. He didn't think that he would be able to escape the bathroom without at least James making some remark about his newly coloured shirt.
As he exited the bathroom, he made quickly for his bedroom to change. He opened the door, desperate to slip inside before anyone caught him, but the door slammed shut in his face.
"Where do you think you're going?" His mother asked. Albus sighed, coming out of the dark cast hallway towards the staircase. He gestured to his shirt, annoyance filling him.
"Lily ruined my shirt, what else am I supposed to do?" He asked exasperatedly. "I have to change!"
"Oh just get down here, I'll reverse it," Ginny Potter cried, waving her hand at her son.
Just as he thought, James was laughing at him, pointing even. Albus glared at him as their mother fixed his shirt. With the just swish of her wand, the pink shirt went back to white.
"Now come on! Stand together and hold your letters," they were instructed, and soon their father came down to watch. Albus and James stood a good few inches appart, with Albus trying not to frown and James giving his award-winning prideful smile.
"I don't want to be this close to him. Can't we do them separately?" Albus whinged, making James tut at him.
"S'not like I wanna be this close to you either!" James scooted a bit over, far enough that they still weren't touching, but it was excusable in pictures. "Just get this over with."
"Boys, smile," Harry directed, and they both raised their letters, Albus just barely managing a small smile in time. "Good. Now James, go survey what you need. Tomorrow we go to Diagon Alley."
"Harry, maybe we should wait a few days, it will be so busy tomorrow," Ginny reasoned, but Harry shook his head.
"We need to make sure they have everything," Harry turned to his sons and smiled. He took Albus' letter and began to read through it, seemingly reminiscing his first letter, though it wasn't a particularly pleasant event. "And make sure they're packed too. Remember last year James?"
"Don't remind me. I was sharing quills with anyone who let me until Christmas," James hung his head, his dark hair falling into his face and blocking the look of shame.
"How did you ever make friends?" Albus sneered, and his mother pinched his ear.
"Be civil!" Their mother cried. Lily had bound down the stairs, a piece of parchment in her hands.
"Can I go to Flourish and Blotts? I want some new books!" Lily lifted the parchment, clearing her throat, "this is my list: Hogwarts: A history, I want to get ahead, The Lockwood Hunt by Soleman Cart, The—"
"Oh for Merlin's sake! We don't need to hear it all!" Albus exclaimed, snatching back his letter from his father. He pushed past his sister up the stairs, escaping to his room. He settled on his bed after slamming his door, finding his bedroom to be the one place he found comfort and solitude.
He could hear the sniffling of his younger sister, and the muffled words of comfort offered by James. He sighed, not having meant to upset Lily. Albus had always had a difficult time speaking to people, even members of his own family. As a result, he'd grown to eleven years old without any friends.
He had hoped, as that seemed all he could do, that this would be a fresh start for him.
———
Diagon Alley. The wizard street in London, rather important for those about to go to Hogwarts. It held every shop you may need, magical books, wands, robes, and even a goblin-run bank called Gringotts.
Albus had been before, the year prior when James was picking out his necessities for his first year of Hogwarts. He had only gotten books, but James had bounced around from store to store with their father, but Albus and Lily had to stay with their mother and go everywhere Lily wanted to go.
So now, thankfully, while James pulled their father over to the newest brooms, as he wished to try out for the quidditch team this year, and Lily pulled their mother towards Flourish and Blotts to get her list of books, Albus was finally left to his own. What really caught his eye, he could not deny, was a dusty old sign. Flaking gold letters left barely legible, fogged windows and peeling paint. Olivander's, it read.
Albus thought carefully, but he decided, everywhere in Diagon Alley should be safe, no? so why shouldn't he enter? It was like the shop was pulling him, so he followed. He passed wizards and witches alike, paying them no mind as the shop pulled him closer.
He pushed open the rickety, old maroon door, feeling the wood and glass creak under his hand. The shop was quiet, but that came as no surprise. Unlike every other shop in Diagon Alley, there was no one entering and leaving quickly, the regular hustle and bustle lost to this peaceful escape.
His feet sent loud moans from the floorboards, each step sounding in his wake. As Albus glanced around, he seemed to be only able to recognize this as a shoe store. But the hundreds of dull-coloured boxes were far too small to be for humans, and the pens in a vase on the front desk were far too long and impractical.
"Ah! Hello, my good sir," an elderly voice startled Albus, but he could not see where it had come from. He glanced around, yet to speak. The voice laughed, a hearty, echoing sound around the small shop.
Before Albus could react, an old man flew towards him. He feet nearly came off the dark wood latter, but he held on tight. "You must be here for a wand,"
"A—a wand? This is the wand shop?" Albus asked, his surrounding suddenly making sense. "Why aren't there more people here?"
"The question may be, why is it you are where others are not?" What a puzzling question, Albus thought. "Alas, here you are."
The pulling feeling began once more. A buzzing, intoxicating feeling of magic that swarmed his bones. His eyes darted to the left, catching on a shaking box of yellow and brown. The wand keeper clicked his tongue. "Ah, the wand calls to you,"
"Calls to me? What do you mean?" But the wand keeper was already across the shop, shuffling out the thin box. He came to the front desk, beckoning Albus forward.
He pulled off the mustard lid, picking up the wand from within. It was a deep green-brown, a serpentine pattern carved along the handle. It called him more, more, and he took it from the wand keepers hand.
"Willow wood, eight inches, dragon heartstring core," the man explained, watching Albus handle the wand. "Try just a small swish,"
Albus was so engrossed in the wand he nearly missed the instruction, but he did give it a small swish. The lights around him began to flicker, and the mustard and chestnut box from the wand began to levitate. Albus gasped, the wand seemingly moulded to his hand.
"Oh my, how curious that is," the wand keeper tutted. "But alas, so was your fathers wand, Mr. Potter,"
"You know who I am?" Albus was taken aback, his eyes raking over the old wizard. His hair shot out all over like a madman, white and wispy. His eyes glazed over with age, but once they must have been a most startling cerulean. His skin creased like leather, crow's feet coming from the out of his eyes.
"I gave your father his wand, as well as his father before him. I have served generation after generation of potter, and now, another curiosity," the man stroked his chin, wrapping the thin, grey hairs around his shaky fingers.
"What is curious?" Albus pressed, leaning over the desk. He needed to know. It was a hungry knowledge.
"It is not often you see a wand such as this, young man," he started. "This wand is not newly made, in fact, this is one is even older than I," he laughed.
"It doesn't seem that old," Albus shifted it around in his hand, running his thumb over the carved wood.
"Yes well, I will tell you, that wand belonged to a great wizard. A great, powerful wizard."
"Who? He was good, wasn't he? If he was powerful," Albus illuminated with a curious glow.
"Power does not equal goodness. It will do you well to remember that, young Potter." The wand maker shook his head. "The man who owned that want before you was none other than—"
The door opened, freezing the man in his tracks. A short girl with dark brown hair stepped into the shop. She was wearing muggle cloths, Albus could not help but notice. A loose rose zip-up, and dark blue jeans that flared out at the ankle. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she walked around the shop, but as she came further into the light, Albus could see that her hair was not only dark brown, but mixed with a deep magenta, nearly crimson against the mahogany sheet of straight hair. It stood out against her skin, a deep tan not associated with England. Her nearly black eyes darted around the room in awe, before settling on the two in front of her.
"Oh! 'M sorry, I didn't interrupt, did I?" Her accent wasn't like the average Londoner, it sounded more Irish, like she'd grown up in a small town up in Ireland you would see on a post card. "Are you Mr. Olivander?"
"Of course you did not interrupt! No, not at all, my dear!" The old man chirped, crossing the floor of the wand shop to the small girl. "I am who you seek, now tell me, is it a wand you have come for?"
"Yes of course! My brother, Benjamin Donovan, I do hope you remember him, told me to come here first," She beamed, her front teeth longer than the others, and her canines resting higher, sticking out and giving her an endearing smile.
"I remember every wand I have ever sold. Benjamin was a very polite boy, he had such a nice smile, just like you!" Olivander explained, nodding. He scurried over to his wall of wands, sorting through them quickly. "I am sure I have just the thing for you!"
He eventually pulled out a purplish brown and rouge box, opening to reveal a thin, longer wand that Albus'. "Cherry wood, ten inches, unicorn hair core,"
The girl took it, her fingers shaking in anticipation. She swished the thin wooden wand, her eyes widening as lavender petals flew around her in a wave of wind. She gasped, her face lighting up like a firework.
"Well, my, I think that is a lovely wand for you," Olivander smiled, motioning the little witch over to the front desk. She smiled warmly at Albus as she passed him, sliding over two galleons and placing the wand box into a paper bag with robes in it.
"Oh, I apologize, Mr. Potter," Olivander took the wand from Albus, placing it in its box and sliding back over the desk. "Two galleons,"
"Yes sir," Albus pulled out a small pouch of coins, placing two of the shiny golden coins onto the desk. When he back around, wand box in hand, the short little witch with pink and brown hair stood.
"Er, hello," he greeted, perpetually awkward when it came to speaking to women, sometimes even the ones in his family.
"Hi! I assume you're a first year too?" She asked, her wide, dark eyes like pits of coal. "My name's Maisilee Donovan,"
"Erm, I'm Albus, Albus Potter," he felt a bit uncomfortable, but he figured he should get more used to speaking to people. Especially women, seeing as that's where most of his troubled lay.
"Do you want to keep shopping together? To be entirely honest, I have no idea what I'm doing, and I also have no idea where my brother is..." she glanced around outside, but she didn't seem to find anything.
"Alright, it's not my first time here." Albus opened the door for her and followed her out. First, they both had to buy cauldrons, then Albus needed his robes, and although Maisilee had already gotten her own, she seemed happy enough to watch the magical process all over again. Albus could tell she was muggle born, but he wondered if she was perhaps only a half blood, as her brother was mentioned a few times before.
Then, the two decided to stop at Flourish and Blotts to pick up quills and all the books they would need. Students flooded the aisles, and the two struggled to stay together.
"I got the last two quill sets!" Maisilee cried, tossing one to Albus over the fuss.
"I found the herbology textbooks!" Albus answered, struggling one over to her. She took it, gratefully shoving it into a bag of other books. It was like a mad dance to get the mandatory supplies, but once they almost got all of them, a familiar voice called to Albus. Or could he say, a familial voice.
"Al? The hell are you doing?" James was leaned over the railing on the second floor, where is was considerably less busy, with a grin on his face as he watched his brother struggle to look up.
"What's it look like?" Albus struggled towards the stairs, Maisilee following him away from the packed crowd. They nearly stepped up onto the platform with James and his friends, but a dark haired girl bumped into Maisilee, sending her back.
"Move, mudblood!" The girl screeched, flipping her hair.
Maisilee barely caught the railing, but she dropped her bag of books, causing a loud clatter. A blond boy bound over, his face laced with concern. He reached out to help her, but James already was pulling her up, so the blond boy only picked up her book bag.
"Maisie! You have to be more careful!" The blond boy squealed.
"Not my fault!" She scoffed, wiping the dust off her pink zip-up. She turned to James, a small smile forming on her lips. "Thank you."
"No—no...prob.." James stuttered, wide eyed, and wind blown. Albus had never seen James with that look, but all he could do was raise an eyebrow. "S'all...er...s'all good,"
James stayed staring, and the blond boy could only snap him out of it by smacking the back of his head. "Shuck it, James! That's my sister!"
"I did nothing!"
"Ben! Be nice to your friends!" Maisilee smacked Ben's arm, and he tossed her books back to her.
"I'm plenty nice." When James scoffed, Ben smacked him. "Oh bugger off!"
Albus stood quietly, uncomfortable with the increase in people. It was fine when it was just him and Maisilee, even if she was a bit chatty. But three chatty people? Too much for him, anyway.
"Find your books alright, Al?" James asked, his eyes slightly concerned at his brother's spacing out.
"Yeah. Only missing one or two now." Albus answered awkwardly. He was never quite good at speaking to James, opting rather for uncomfortable conversations that he wished to cut short.
"S'good," James scratched the back of his neck, and he was about to say something else, but a slightly taller boy bumped into him, startling him from his words.
The boy had dark, curly hair, a bit too long in Albus' opinion, but with a few thick, white streaks through the front and behind his ears. His skin was pale and his nose hooked, but not in the way a birds was, more like a Roman emperor of some kind. He had moles on his hands and face, and his eyes dropped downwards like he was constantly saddened by something.
"Watch it, Lestrange!" Snapped Ben, but the dark haired boy just sighed, pushing down the stairs. "Bloody Slytherins," he muttered. "Bloody Death Eaters."
"C'mon Ben, s'not all of 'em," James chided, "but our friend Atty here definitely is,"
"Shut your mouth, Potter!" The black haired boy spun on his heel, wand out. "You don't know anything!"
"Well blimey, guess everyone's wrong about you," Ben grinned, and only then did Albus realize the strong Welsh accent he had.
"Piss off. Leave me alone." The boy called Lestrange turned, throwing his book bag over his shoulder and slinking down the rest of the staircase.
"Ben! That was so rude! I've half a mind to slap you!" Maisilee cried, her cheeks flushed.
"It's true though. Runs in his bloody family, it does." A heavy Scottish accent creeped around corner. A red haired girl peeked out, looking about the same age as James and Ben were. Albus thought she was creepy, but most people thought he was too.
"What do you mean?" Maisilee asked, a true curiosity lacing her expression.
"Atticus Lestrange, son of Lemea and Orion Lestrange. His father was the son of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, notorious Death Eaters. Most people didn't even know he existed until last year when his name was called for the sorting," the red haired girl explained, shaking her head. "He doesn't talk much, just reads and keeps to himself. Most think he's shady."
"He just seems like a person to me. People's parents don't define who they'll be." Maisilee said indefinitely, and the conversation stopped from there. Whether or not everyone agreed, no one knew, but no one said another word.
Albus dwelled on that last statement from Maisilee. He wondered if it would be the same for him.