Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait! I had a VERY busy two weeks studying for finals. Thanks to those of you who were patient! While we're on the subject of patience, please don't bombard the review box with "PLEASE UPDATE" over and over again. I'm very happy to know you're impatient for the next chapter, but it does get annoying after a while. If too many Guest reviewers review for the sole purpose of telling me to update again, I will start deleting those reviews. Also, please don't review more than one time for a chapter if you're a Guest/anonymous reviewer and pretending to be multiple people. I can tell when you're doing it, and I get annoyed.

One review per chapter, please! :) Thank you very much. That being said, please enjoy the chapter.

-CHAPTER SIX-

THE ACADEMIC PANDEMIC

Albus felt as though his skin was moving, like it had grown feet and was just walking off his body. The slimy and unpleasant sensation made a sudden, irrational panic run through him. Now the slimy, scaly skin was slithering across his neck, wrapping around it...

Snakes, he realized with a jolt. His body was covered in snakes. No—he was made of snakes. The horrible feeling of being trapped in a body he could not escape from overcame him, and he let out a choked breath. He didn't want these snakes. He hated snakes and everything they stood for. Why were they all over him? Why wouldn't they leave him alone?

Albus jerked awake, still feeling the scales of the snakes of his dreams on his skin. It was Monday, the first day of classes. He was sweating profusely, and his blankets were tangled uncomfortably around his legs. He also really needed to use the bathroom.

A malicious voice in his head (which sounded a lot like James) sniggered, "Afraid of snakes, Albie-pie?"

He officially hated Slytherin.

When Albus arrived in the Great Hall, he was unsurprised to see it in complete chaos. Students were hopping from table to table, exchanging schedules and rating the quality of their summer flings. Someone's hat had even lit on fire over at the Hufflepuff table. Adding to the turmoil, the mail owls flew in through the windows, dropping letters and packages in front of the recipients. Albus was pleasantly surprised to get a letter himself—one from his parents. But immediately his heart sunk, knowing that they must have heard of his disastrous Sorting from all his cousins. With shaking hands, he unfolded the note from his parents.

Dear Albus,

Hello, Al! How are you doing so far? We were told that you were in Slytherin, and we implore you to not listen to whatever your brother and cousins say. We certainly are not disappointed in you, not in the slightest. Both of us believe that you will prosper in Slytherin, and encourage you to work your hardest and improve the name of your house. Be sure to tell us all about your classes as soon as possible. Have fun and good luck! We love you no matter what, remember that.

Mum and Dad.

P.S. Lily's so jealous of you being at Hogwarts! She won't keep quiet about it!

Albus choked on his pumpkin juice and crumpled up the letter. He hated it. Hated it. It was written flatly, emotionlessly, blandly, as if his parents had been too shocked to put any feeling into it. The letter could've been addressed to anyone else; it was routine and prewritten, not from the heart. Albus was almost sure that they'd carefully discussed what to put in the letter before they'd written it down. They'd probably even written several versions until they'd finally sent a letter that sounded as though it were being read from How to Raise Your Preteen's Self-esteem: written for and by (clueless and stupid) parents.

Before Albus could rip up the letter and sprinkle it in his pumpkin juice, there was a soft thump next to him. He looked up angrily, his mood so bad now that he couldn't get rid of his murderous scowl.

Valentina Willows had sat down next to him on the Slytherin table. Albus was so shocked by this new development that he couldn't say a word.

"Potter. You're in first place, the smartest in the year," stated Valentina flatly. She was looking down at her empty bowl.

"Uh, yes," said Albus. She wasn't being polite, but she wasn't being rude either. This was the nicest she had been to him since he'd met her.

Valentina looked up, her eyes narrowed into little blue slits. "I hate you. And you're not going to be first place much longer." She turned away from him, scooted down the length of the bench, and began to pile some cinnamon-flavored oatmeal into her bowl.

Albus took about five seconds to explode. Quite comically, he scooted down the bench after her, which caused her to scoot down some more, and in turn, he followed her by scooting even further. When he had finally chased her to the end of the bench by slide down it so much she had no room to go any further, he fixed her with his most threatening and hateful look.

"You," he said quietly, gritting his teeth, "are stupid, not to mention arrogant. No one likes you. You're ugly, too, and you're ridiculously short. First place! HA, don't make me laugh, dwarf! A goat would be more likely to steal it from me." He stood up and looked down on her diminutive figure for greater effect, crossing his arms.

Valentina stood up, too, her aura blazing bright red as it usually did whenever she was around him. She crossed her arms as well, apparently trying to mirror him, but she was so short that this attempt failed miserably. In an effort to appear more dignified, she stuck her nose up in the air. "You don't have any right to call me ugly. You're as skinny as a beanpole, your nose is too long, and your hair has pieces of comb stuck in it. And secondly, just because I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth, like you, Harry Potter's son, doesn't mean I'm worth less than you are, you disgusting, ill-mannered spoiled brat."

Albus prepared to strike, not sure what he was going to do (tackling her to the ground seemed extremely favorable to him at the moment), but before he could take a single step toward her, he was blocked by an extremely pale arm, then given a firm, short push backwards. He stumbled and fell ungracefully back to a sitting position on the bench.

Casper Williams was standing in front of Valentina and glaring at Albus; evidently he was the one who had defended her when Albus had tried to attack. "Touch her and I swear—"

"I knew you were the kind of girl who needed a bodyguard," sneered Albus, speaking around Casper to reach Valentina. "With your height, it's hardly surprising, is it?"

"Casper, stop it," hissed Valentina, not looking away from Albus.

Casper stepped away like a kicked puppy, hurt that she hadn't been grateful for his protection.

Valentina either didn't notice his response or didn't care. She said, "Potter, today we'll see who's better at magic. You just got lucky. I should've gotten a hundred percent on the PIT. We'll see who's smarter soon enough. Best of luck, you'll need it." She grabbed her bowl of oatmeal and moved to the other side of the Slytherin table. Casper followed her without protest in the aforementioned puppy-like fashion, sending Albus baleful looks over his shoulder.

Albus snorted silently to himself, trying to convince himself he wasn't worried. But it didn't work. He knew he couldn't do magic—not on purpose, anyway. If Valentina was good at magic, which she surely was, he was going to lose his first place rank to her, no matter how smart he was. It was a fact he just didn't want to admit to himself.

A few minutes later, jerking Albus from his gloomy thoughts, a man from the High Table started to make his way toward the Slytherin table. Everyone looked up interestedly as he took out scrolls, presumably on which their schedules were written. He had a heavy frown on his face and a set jaw. With a start, Albus realized that this was the scholarly-looking man that had been sitting next to Headmaster Reinhold during the Welcoming Feast on Friday.

"First years!" the man barked, making them all jump. "I am the Head of Slytherin House, Faulkes Chronos. You will address me as Professor Chronos or 'sir,' no exceptions. I do not allow any stupid buffoons in my house, so clear out if you come in this category."

There was silence. The thirty Slytherin first years looked scared out if their skins.

Albus realized that this was the same professor that Ben had said had made a student who was talking out of turn stand on his head and repeat humiliating lines. He was the DADA professor of Class One.

"I am going to hand out your schedules by Class Level. Class One will go first, obviously. When I call your name, come up to me to receive your schedule. No dillydallying! Terrence Chabot, Scorpius Malfoy, Antonio Zabini, Alexis Weldor, Valentina Willows, Casper Williams, and Albus Potter. Class Two..."

With some trepidation, Albus unfolded his schedule. He had Herbology, Charms, and Transfiguration today. Tomorrow, he had Charms, Flying, and History of Magic. On Wednesday he had Transfiguration, Potions, and Herbology; Thursday: Potions, DADA, and Transfiguration, Charms; Friday: DADA, Charms, and Astronomy.

He turned the schedule over to see a listing of the professors of his subjects.

Transfiguration: Petra Douglasse
Charms: Wyatt Northumb
Herbology: Neville Longbottom
Potions: Horace Slughorn
History of Magic: Quartus Kommen
DADA: Faulkes Chronos
Astronomy: Firenze
Flying: Van Flarus

There was small square piece of paper attached to the first; it had a vague, unhelpful-looking map and a list of room numbers. His first class, Herbology, was in Greenhouse One.

Once Professor Chronos had finished calling out the names for the final class, Class Seven, "We enforce a buddy system for the first week of first year, since everything will no doubt be confusing. Choose a buddy from your Class Level and house and stick them with them for a week or two. It'll be easier to keep track of everything then. If there's an odd number of people in your class, make a group of three. Is that clear?"

There was a murmur of assent. Giving a short nod, Chronos left the table. Everyone started to choose partners. Chabot and Zabini were together, then Scorpius and Alexis, and, of course, Valentina and Casper had paired up as well. They all stood up and headed toward the exit of the Great Hall, having already finished their breakfast. Albus, as expected, was left out. Feeling a lump form in his throat, Albus stood up and follow them. The six of them plus a lone Albus made their way to the greenhouses on the grounds. The sun beat down on Albus's head, making him feel sweaty and uncomfortable.

In front of the greenhouses, people from the other houses were waiting; evidently they were the other members of Class One. Albus saw Rose standing in the midst of several pretty girls whom Albus recognized from the Sorting as Sophie Boot, Judy Judd, Lisa Yancy, and Alisha Patil, bragging about something to them. Another group, headed by blond-haired Pierce Cruise, was made up almost entirely of confident-looking boys who were joking around and acting stupid on the grass. The members of Class One who did not fit into either clique were standing further away from these two groups, keeping to themselves.

Everyone fell quiet as the seven Slytherins approached.

"Hey," said Chabot to the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws of Class One, trying to break the ice.

Pierce Cruise smiled, but it wasn't exactly in a friendly way. "Hey, snakes. Nice of you to join us." He fiddled with his red-and-gold tie, making it quite obvious that he was from the noble house of Gryffindor.

Terrence Chabot's eyes hardened slightly. "Yeah." He fidgeted with his own tie, smirking. "Snakes make everything better."

"Ohmigosh, who is that girl, the blond one?" said Rose in her usual nasally voice to Lisa Yancy, who was looking with narrowed eyes in the Slytherins' direction. Albus realized with a start that she was talking about Valentina. "Is she even old enough to come here? She looks five years old! I can't believe she got ninety-eight percent!"

Albus looked at Valentina, trying to see how she was taking this very obvious jibe. He was shocked to see that she merely looked amused and not the least bit angry. However, there was a certain glint in her eyes that frightened him.

Luckily for Rose, the front door to Greenhouse One opened at that moment and Neville Longbottom strode out.

"Hey, kids," he said. "This is Class One? Excellent. Come in, come in!" He led them into the greenhouse and gestured for them to sit on benches in front of various plants. They waited while he took roll call (it took all of two seconds, thanks to magic) and looked around interestedly. Albus spotted a disgusting writhing mass of leaves and stems at one end of the greenhouse.

"Class, come over here for a moment," said Neville once he was done taking roll call, walking over to the writhing mass of leaves that Albus had been staring at a minute previously. The students followed him obediently and jerked to a halt in front of the grossly huge and moving plant. "Can anyone tell me what this is?"

Rose's hand, predictably, was the first one up. Nearly everyone in the class had raised his or her hand as well, but Rose had a talent for throwing her hand into the air at top speed. She seemed to have trained her arm muscles her whole life for this task alone. "The Ventriculherba," she said when Neville called on her. "A more commonly-used name is the Stomach Weed. It can digest virtually anything without being damaged in any way."

"Absolutely correct," said Neville. "Five points to Gryffindor."

"Wow, Rose, you're sooo smart," cooed Alisha.

"No, I'm not, really," said Rose smugly, sounding as though she'd said, "I know I am."

Valentina gave the group of girls an extremely nasty look, but they were too absorbed in themselves to notice.

"Now, can anyone tell me how to kill it?" continued Neville. "And don't say chop it up, because that won't work. It has so many nutrients stored that it can easily build itself new stems and leaves in a matter of seconds."

Everyone sat in stumped silence. Albus rolled his eyes.

Thirty seconds later, Chabot spoke. "Feed it something that'll explode."

"Clever, but no," said Neville. "Like I said, the Stomach Weed can easily revive itself. Any other ideas?"

"Feed it a chainsaw!"

"What's that?" said half the class.

"No." Neville shook his head.

"Poison?"

"Nope. You guys keep telling me the same thing! Think! It's not the obvious!" said Neville.

"AIM THE KILLING CUR—"

"No," said Neville before the student had even finished her sentence. "The Unforgivable Curses do not work on most plants. They have no souls to separate from their body, no brains to control, and no senses to feel pain."

Albus wracked his brains. It's not the obvious, it's not the obvious... Neville had said, "It can digest virtually anything without being damaged..." So feeding it something was not the solution.

Then feeding it nothing was the solution!

Albus raised his hand. Everyone stared at him.

"Mr. Potter?" prompted Neville.

Albus bristled. "Mr. Potter"? How rude! Neville had known him since he'd been in diapers. He'd had no trouble calling Rose by her first name, so why was he being so polite and formal to Albus? It was unfair.

I'll show him. "This," began Albus in an equally formal tone, "is a hypothetical solution. What we need to do is to isolate the Stomach Weed somewhere that it can't get any food. None at all. Starving it will drain it of all its nutrients and then it can easily be killed. Since the Stomach Weed can literally eat anything, isolating it would be very difficult and near impossible, though. But, I mean, it'll work if we manage to do it."

Silence. Dead silence.

Neville, who had been staring in shock at Albus, seemed to jerk back to life. "That's correct. Five points to Slytherin. I love confusing the first year Class One students with this question every year. Even among the smartest, it's not an easy question to answer, and rarely is someone clever enough to answer it. It generally happens every two years. If I recall correctly, last year no one guessed it. The year before, Carlianna Jayden managed it. Before that, the only people to answer it were Trey LeVon, a seventh year, Teddy Lupin, who graduated two years ago, and Ingrid Hane, who's in her fifth year now."

Albus was now receiving baleful looks from the rest of the students, especially Rose. Any second now Albus predicted that steam would begin to spew from her rapidly purpling ears.

"All right, now sit back down on the benches," ordered Neville. The class obediently made its way back to the rows of aforementioned benches in front of the variety of plants. When everybody had sat down, Neville continued. "Today, we'll be starting a yearlong project. You will each be given a seed, which you do not know the name of, and will be required to grow it throughout the year. Since we want to encourage teamwork, you will be assigned a 'tray buddy,' with whom you will share supplies and knowledge. You will each keep a plant diary and will be required to share any changes in your plant with your tray buddy at the beginning of class, and vice versa. And before you ask, NO, you do not get to choose your tray buddy."

Everyone groaned.

"Now listen up! I'm going to be reading the pairs out loud: Judy Judd will be with Lisa Yancy, Casper Williams will be with Pierce Cruise, Rose Weasley will be with Scorpius Malfoy..."

Rose looked pleased. Scorpius looked scared. Alexis Weldor looked unhappy.

"...Valentina Willows will be with Albus Potter..."

Albus moaned loudly into his arms. Why her, of all people? He stood up. Valentina was eyeing him from the other side of the benches in an unfriendly way.

When Neville finished reading off the names, he said, "Now that everyone has a tray buddy, look to your left to see a table with trays stacked on it and supplies. Don't all rush over there at once! Get in line. Once you're done, go sit on the tables by the windows. This will be your seat for the rest of the year. You will need one tray, two pots, one small shovel, two pairs of gloves, one pair of shears..."

"So we should get the stuff now, I guess," muttered Albus to Valentina, walking over to the table and waiting in the slow-moving line. Valentina followed suit and stood next to him. They were both silent for the two minutes that they stood in line. When it was finally their turn, they began to pile supplies on their tray. Then they sat down at a table and put their tray in the middle of it. They hadn't spoken a word to each other the entire time. Clearly, both were still sore about their spat that morning.

They glared at each other as the other pairs settled down in the tables around them. Casper and Pierce Cruise sat down at the table next to theirs. Casper and Valentina were sitting back-to-back, but Valentina was too busy glaring murderously at Albus to notice Casper, who had tapped her lightly on the shoulder several times to let her know that he was next to her.

"Is everyone seated? That's good," said Neville. He opened his mouth to say the next part of his instructions.

"OW!" shrieked Valentina, interrupting him.

"Oops," said Albus, not very sorry at all. In an effort to bring the heavy tray closer to him, he had "accidentally" dragged it over her fingers.

Valentina growled in response.

"Is everything okay over there?" asked Neville.

"Yeah," said Albus, smirking.

"Very well." Neville reached down and lifted a dirty burlap sack into the air. "This bag is filled with plastic pouches of seeds. None of the seeds are labeled, of course. It's going to be a secret what plant you get at least until a month or two later, when the sprouts come up. I will go hand out a pouch to each person. Once you get your seeds, wait for instructions. Do not plant them right away!" Neville passed out the first two pouches to Judy Judd and Lisa Yancy.

Albus suddenly felt something hard collide with his shins. "OW!" said Albus, not unlike how Valentina had said it two minutes prior.

"Oops," said Valentina, smiling sweetly at him. Her aura radiated smugness.

Albus retaliated by stomping down on her foot as hard as he could. Five seconds later and their feet were engaged in a violent war under the table. "Is that the best you can do?" jeered Albus when Valentina missed stomping on his foot. He instantly regretted doing so when he received a bruising kick to the knee. His automatic reaction was to reach down and grab her leg as she tried to aim another kick at him. He pulled hard, so hard that he actually pulled her off her chair. She hit the ground with a loud thunk.

About three seconds passed and Valentina didn't make a sound. Albus, a little worried now, said, "Are you o—"

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. She grabbed his leg and pulled him down with her with such fury that he smacked his head against his chair on his way down, knocking it backward. The earsplitting clack of the chair falling on the hard floor was enough to catch the attention of the entire class.

"Mr. Potter? Miss Willows? What's going on over there?" said Neville, looking confused. "Why are you both under the table?"

A lump the size of an egg was swelling on Albus's head, and Valentina's bare shins—since she was wearing a girl's uniform instead of pants—were red and scratched and would surely be black and blue in the morning. Both were sprawled on the floor under the table. Albus opened his mouth to explain their position, but Valentina got there first.

She burst into tears. "I'm sorry, professor," she moaned, rubbing her eyes. "I—I don't know what I d-did. He's b-been so mean to m-me ever since s-school started." She gave a very convincing sob. "J-Just now he started k-kicking me and p-pulled me under the table. I w-was scared I was going to h-hit my head—I just g-grabbed him to steady myself, and he fell down, t-too. I'm SO sorry, Professor Longbottom! Please, please forgive me!"

"WHAT?" said Albus, shocked. "No, that's not it! She's lying! She pulled me down first—Neville, tell me you don't believe her!"

Neville looked confused, angry, and surprised all in one. "I don't know what to believe anymore," said Neville. "It's true that's it's not like you to do this, but why would she lie?"

"WHY WOULD SHE LIE?" screeched Albus. "OF COURSE SHE'D LIE!"

"Don't yell at me," said Neville in a calm voice. "I may know you at home, but at school you will treat me with the utmost respect. If you continue this behavior, I will take away points. Since I don't know whom to believe, I will not take disciplinary action today, but if I see this happening again, the guilty party will receive a detention. You are partners; you have to learn to get along. Do you both understand?"

Valentina gave a very real-sounding hiccup and nodded, tears shining in her eyes. The moment Neville looked away, she gave Albus a sugary sweet smile and batted her eyelashes. Casper was snickering nearby; he, like Albus, had seen through her clever act.

Albus gritted his teeth. Willows: 1. Potter: 0.

Their next class was Charms. Albus's bad mood was worsened by the prospect of doing magic. Now his short-lived first-place rank would be over. If he couldn't do the charms required of him, it was over: Valentina would win. Hopefully, they wouldn't be doing magic on the first day. If he was lucky. What am I saying? thought Albus glumly. This is Class One. We'll probably be starting NEWT work today. There's no hope of us not doing magic today.

Their Charms professor was Wyatt Northumb, who could only be described as a crazy bald man. The first thing he did when they walked in was make a few offhand comments about the weather and Judy Judd's untied shoelaces. When the students had finished sharing bemused looks and had taken their seats, he calmly walked behind his desk and jumped on top of it as loudly as he possible could. The entire class shrieked and scooted their chairs back as far as they could go.

"CHARMS!" bellowed Professor Northumb before they'd all gotten their breaths back. "Charms is the most important part of magic! It makes magic, well, magic!" He smacked his foot down on his desk, hard. The thud of it echoed around the silent room, and everyone stared at him with wide eyes, calculating his degree of insanity.

"This is Class One. Unlike most other Classes, we will be starting off with magic right away and with a fairly difficult spell. The Color-Changing Charm. This particular branch of the charm's incantation is atramutatio."

Albus groaned to himself. Not only did he have to do magic now, which he would most certainly fail at, but he also had to do deal with a barking mad professor.

"Today, we will start with changing the color of our ink. Take out your inkwells now. Have you done so? Good."

Albus, feeling ill, extracted his inkwell from his schoolbag.

"Make sure it is a plain, normal, nonmagical inkwell," said Northumb. "Believe me, I will know if you are cheating by using a magical color-changing inkw—YOU THERE!" He pointed a fat, hairy finger in Lisa Yancy's direction. "IS THAT A WEASLEYS' WIZARD WHEEZES COLOR-CHANGING INKWELL I SEE?"

Lisa squeaked and put the offending inkwell back in her bag.

Northumb leapt off his desk ungracefully, stumbled, and hobbled around, mumbling about a sprained ankle. "BE WARNED!" he thundered when he had recovered. "ANY CHEATING I SEE WILL RESULT IN A ZERO FOR THE DAY! Understood?"

Everyone gulped and nodded.

Northumb snorted to himself, muttering why it was that the smartest students were always the most prone to cheating. He wrote the word "atramutatio" on the blackboard and turned back to the class. "You say the incantation, then you think of the color you want the ink to be, then jab your wand downwards a wee bit. Watch me." Professor Northumb seized an inkwell on his desk and pointed his wand at it. "Atramutatio," he said firmly, jabbing his wand in the aforementioned manner.

The ink turned hot pink.

"A lovely color, is it not?" he said happily to a class that was thoroughly not amused. When nobody answered him, he snapped, "Very well. You can turn the inkwell into whatever color tickles your fancy. Now, before you try the spell, we're going to say the incantation together as a class. Then, we're going to take our wands and practice the wand motion. Go on."

The class took out their wands and, as one, said, "Atramutatio." Northumb made them say it again and again and practice the wand motion again and again until he was satisfied that they were doing it right. He surveyed the students' wandwork, calling to attention those who were doing it perfectly and those who were making small mistakes.

Finally, he told them to try it on their inkwells. But before that, he said, "At the end of class, I will testing each and every one of you personally to see if you have mastered the spell." He glared at them all with narrowed eyes. "You may begin."

There was a frenzy to get started. Cries of "atramutatio" rung throughout the classroom. Valentina's ink changed color first, then Casper's. They had both managed the spell perfectly on their first try. The other students had more trouble, though Rose, Pierce Cruise, and Terrence Chabot all managed it within the first five tries.

Albus stared down at his inkwell. He didn't want to try the spell; he knew it wouldn't work for him, and half the class was watching him like vultures, clearly wanting the smartest student in the year to fail spectacularly. Albus didn't want to give them the chance, but he was cornered and had no choice.

He pointed his wand firmly at the inkwell and said in a slightly shaking voice, "Atramutatio."

The effect was instantaneous. Unfortunately, it was the wrong effect. Albus was thrown out of his chair, smacked his head on the desk behind him, and fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.

"You okay?" said Scorpius Malfoy in a concerned voice.

Scowling, Albus struggled to his feet. "Yeah. Fine." Lovely. He now had another egg-sized bump on his head to add to the first. The school year was getting off to a great start.

"What in Merlin's name was that?" said Professor Northumb from the front of the classroom.

"Nothing. My wand slipped, that's all," said Albus through gritted teeth. He held his wand so tightly that it almost snapped. Stupid, useless piece of rubbish, he though viciously.

Valentina giggled loudly.

Albus, attempting to ignore her, sat down at his desk again and gave the inkwell another try. The entire class was watching him now. "Atramutatio!" he cried. His black ink turned blue, then green, then orange, then so many colors that he could no longer keep track of them. He waved his wand frantically, trying to stop the ink from going through the entire spectrum of colors. Instead of stopping at a single color, the inkwell began to smoke slightly, as if it was about to explode.

Albus put his wand down, afraid for his life. The inkwell quieted down and the ink turned black again.

Everyone stared at him. Some students sniggered, Casper, Terrence Chabot, and Rose among them.

"Did your wand slip again, Potter?" cooed Valentina, faking concern. She smiled widely, causing her dimples to appear. If she hadn't been completely evil, she would've made the perfect doll.

Albus gave her a murderous look, but before he could utter a single death threat, Professor Northumb walked over to him.

"Mr. Potter, are we having a bit of trouble here?" asked Northumb.

"Not really, sir," said Albus quickly. "I'm just... tired today."

"I'm sure you are." Northumb clapped Albus on the back heartily. Albus almost felt his spine snap. "At least, I hope you are. Not being able to do magic properly in the most magically talented class in a school of magic just spells disaster."

Albus gulped, now counting down the time until Charms ended. At the end, he learned that he was the only one in the class who hadn't successfully changed the color of his ink.

Fortunately for him, Transfiguration wasn't as humiliating as his previous two classes had been. Professor Petra Douglasse, a tall, stern-looking young woman with her hair in a pale blond bun, taught the class. She was fond of competitions. The first class she separated the class into groups of seven and asked them questions about magic. The group who got the most questions right, she said, would win a prize.

Albus was determined to win. His group consisted of Scorpius Malfoy and Antonio Zabini, as well as a short Hufflepuff boy and a few Ravenclaw girls. Valentina and Casper led another group, Rose Weasley and Pierce Cruise another, and Terrence Chabot the fourth.

"State the Law of Conservation of Magic," shot Professor Douglasse at Casper and Valentina's group.

She had just barely finished her sentence when Casper stood up. "No magic can be lost in any sort of spell or transaction. It can only be transformed into another form or be recycled, or moved to another place. No magic has been lost since the start of time."

"Correct. One point to Team Two. Team Three, your question is..."

Nearly an hour later the class period was almost over and Valentina and Casper's group was in the lead by five points, narrowly followed by Rose and Pierce's, then Albus's, which was twelve points below first place.

They were now at the final question.

"This question will be worth ten points," said Douglasse. "This could mean victory. This question is up for grabs; any group that wants to answer it can. Are you ready?"

"YES!" screamed the class.

"What is the first ever form of magic?" said Douglasse. "Whoever answers the question correctly first wins."

There was silence for a moment, then the class dissolved in whispers.

"I know this," said Albus.

"What is it?" said Scorpius. "I honestly have no idea..."

"I'm thinking, it's on the tip of my tongue," said Albus angrily. "Just give me a minute..."

"We don't have a minute!" snarled Judy Judd. "Look, that Willows girl is already standing up!"

Albus whirled around, furious, to see that Valentina had indeed figured the answer out.

"Yes, Miss Willows?" said Professor Douglasse.

"Wandless magic," said Valentina smugly.

"Nope," said Douglasse.

Valentina's smirk slid off her face. "What?" she spluttered. "I'm never wrong."

"But you just were," said Douglasse simply. "And now your team is out of the running."

Valentina bit down on her lip so hard that she drew blood. She sat back down, her face red, her eyes narrowed, her aura black. Her team members gave her nasty looks.

Suddenly, the answer came to Albus in a flash. He stood up and held his head high.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"The answer is 'Elemental Magic,'" said Albus.

"You are correct," said Professor Douglasse, causing an uproar from the other students. "You are now only two points away from first place. If you can describe the forms of Elemental Magic and how it came to be and what it is now, I will add ten more points to your score, securing victory for your group. Would you like to answer the question, Mr. Potter?"

"Okay." Albus took a deep breath. "Elemental Magic existed in the universe long before wizards—or humans, for that matter—did. There are seven Elements: Fire, Water, Air, and Earth—these are the 'normal' Elements—and Shadow, Energy, and Time—these are the 'special' Elements, and the stronger ones. Fire opposes Water, Earth opposes Air, Energy opposes Shadow, and Time pretty much opposes everything; it's the most powerful.

"The earliest wizards were able to harness these Elements, and soon made them more artificial, pushing them to take the form of magic. And as magic transformed to meet the needs of wizards, the basic form of it became rarer and rarer until it became a mere shadow of what it had once been. Recently, Elemental magic has been brought back into wands in the form of a jewel, though it's mainly just for aesthetic purposes. Nobody needs raw magic when there's so much processed magic. Did I get everything?"

"You are correct. Team One wins," said Professor Douglasse, smiling. "The prize is a free homework pass for each member, which can be used on an essay if desired."

Albus grinned. At least his first day of school had ended on a fairly good note, if Valentina's dark red aura was anything to go by. He made his way to dinner in high spirits, but, alas, his favorable mood was not destined to last. James and the group of his fans had arrived, chattering loudly about their first day of classes. James was telling some apparently funny story about something he had done in his Potions class, and the group laughed like a pack of hyenas.

Albus pressed himself against the wall as the crowd of people passed by him. Some of them glanced at him interestedly, some of them glared at him. James, however, didn't even look in his direction. But Albus could tell from the way he tensed that he knew very well that Albus was standing there.

"JAMES!" yelled Albus, causing everyone in the vicinity to pause and look around at him.

James flinched, but still did not look at him.

"OI! JAMES!" repeated Albus.

Everyone was staring at the two brothers, frozen in place. Albus, feeling self-conscious, tried to melt into the wall, regretting his decision to bring attention to himself. He wondered if everyone knew he had scored the highest on the PITs in his year. It was unlikely, since nobody paid attention to the first years anyway.

James was still not looking at him. "Why are you guys waiting around?" he barked at his friends, his eyes blazing. He was very careful not to let his eyes travel in Albus's general direction. "Come on, let's go! I'm hungry!" The people in his crowd returned to normal and followed James into the Great Hall, still sending Albus curious looks over their shoulders.

When they had gone and the hallway was empty, Albus unstuck himself from the wall and stared at the doors to the Great Hall, unseeing. He felt hurt, angry, and frustrated at the same time. James hadn't even acknowledged his existence! Who did that?

At least he didn't yell at me, thought Albus. But he thought it would have been better if James had yelled. Silently, he slid into the Great Hall, his heart somewhere in his knees. Dinner was a quick, quiet affair (during which he could not help noticing that everyone else was talking and laughing), and then he made his way to the Slytherin common room, which was mainly empty. A few fourth years were gathered around the sickly green fire, chuckling about something.

Not wanting to sit down on the uncomfortable-looking armchairs, he wandered around the common room, trying to find something to catch his attention. The tapestries were only mildly interesting, but there was a large marble statue in the darkest, most shadowy part of the common room. The marble bust depicted a tall bald man with a monkey-like face and a long, sharp beard. He looked a bit comical, at least until Albus looked closely into its empty marble eyes, which made him creepier and more formidable. The plaque next to the statue read, Salazar Slytherin.

Albus got out of there quickly. He wondered if Salazar Slytherin could sense which of his students despised him.

Flying was the class that Albus dreaded the most. He had tortured himself through two more hours of Charms that morning, during which they had done so much magic that Albus had nearly burst into tears from frustration, and he was already in a horrible mood. Lunch hadn't been much better, since a few of the Class One students had come up to him, snickering, asking if he wanted any help with his wandwork. It had taken all of his self-control not to dump pumpkin juice on their heads.

Albus and the rest of Class One made their way to the Quidditch pitch. It was sweltering outside, and Albus had shed his cloak, throwing it on the growing pile of cloaks on the lowest row of benches. He was surprised to discover that Class One had been joined by Class Two, which led to a total of fifty-six students.

He started to sweat heavily. The sun was beating down on his head. Albus tentatively laid a hand on his hair, only to retract it a second later, shocked at how hot it was.

Fortunately, he did not have to wait for long. A great roar shook the sky, and the magnificent dragon Smiley made its appearance. It gracefully descended onto the grass, causing all the students near it to back away hurriedly in order to give it a large circle of space. On Smiley's back was the extremely muscled Professor Van Flarus, along with a stack of countless broomsticks tied together.

He had just jumped down from the dragon's back when Rose raised her hand. Without waiting to be called on, she said, "Sir, I thought that having dragons as pets was illegal in Britain."

Flarus smiled, showing his teeth. Rose stepped back. "Oh, he's not a pet. I just treat him as one. Any more annoying questions, Miss Weasley?"

"No," squeaked Rose. Valentina snorted.

"Today, you will be learning how to fly. There are fifty-six of you here. Classes One and Two, the smartest your year. Yesterday, I had Classes Five and Six. I was appalled at their complete inability to follow directions. I hope that you do better, though I seriously doubt it."

"We will!" said Rose loudly, apparently trying to win back Professor Flarus's favor. Valentina doubled over in silent laughter.

A vein twitched in Flarus's forehead. He ignored Rose completely. "Your first test: line up! I want a straight, single-file line." Smiley the dragon roared for effect, spewing fire at the first years. They scattered like mindless sheep, screaming.

Professor Flarus looked as though he were enjoying this, but he gestured for Smiley to stop terrorizing them anyway. A few minutes later, they had formed a haphazard line. If possible, it was even hotter now, thanks to Smiley. Albus discarded his sweater, and several other students followed his example. He wished that the Hogwarts uniform was not so thick and uncomfortable.

"It must be the age," muttered Flarus to himself, evidently disappointed with their less-than-satisfactory line. Professor Flarus began to unload the bushel of broomsticks from Smiley's back and called them forward one by one to take one. All of them were old, some more so than others, and very beat up. Albus didn't care; he wasn't going to be flying anyway. He had never been able to fly. Which reminded him, he had to tell Flarus about his condition.

"Let's not waste any time. How many of you have ever flown before?" About two-thirds of the group raised their hands. Albus was not one of them. He didn't think hovering three feet up in the air and throwing up immediately afterwards on his uncle's shoes counted as "flying."

"Great," said Flarus. "But I'm sure very few of you are actually good at it. To determine those future Quidditch players from the general population, my dragon Smiley will walk in front of you. He will decide which of you are unfit to fly today, and which of you will demonstrate flying for the others. Stand still now. He can sense anxiety, so if you are too scared to fly today, you will not have to until you have built the adequate confidence to do so."

A good half of the class sighed with relief, including Albus. It was short-lived, unfortunately; Smiley had started to prowl down the line. He snorted, growled, and bared his teeth. Flarus interpreted these ridiculous actions as words and started to divide the first years into three sections: those who didn't want to fly, those who wanted to try, and those who already knew how to fly very well. Rose, Cruise, Chabot, and Scorpius Malfoy were all in the advanced group. It seemed that Smiley was pretty good at his job, though Albus thought it was unnecessary. Valentina and Casper had both obviously never flown before, but Valentina had thrown a fit and had gotten put into the second group, insisting that she wanted to try to fly.

When Smiley reached Albus, he snorted out some fire and let out a huge, earthshaking roar. Albus cowered before him. Why was Smiley so angry? He hadn't been like this in front of any of the other students!

"OI! CAREFUL!" yelled Flarus, reigning in Smiley with ropes that had sprung from his wand before Smiley could lunge at Albus.

Sometime during this, Albus had fallen on the ground in a quivering heap. He stared up at Smiley and Flarus in fear. "W-What h-happened?" he stuttered out once he had somewhat recovered.

"I don't know," said Flarus, irritated, giving the dragon a slap to the rump. Smiley lowered his head in shame, though his eyes still smoldered. "He seemed to think you were a threat to him."

"What?" said Albus. "Why?"

"No idea," said Flarus, shrugging. "You don't look like much of a threat to me."

Albus wasn't sure whether to be insulted or not.

"Anyway, you'll be going in the advanced group." Flarus was just about to move onto the next student, but Albus stopped him.

"No!" said Albus. "I-I can't fly. I-I don't know how."

Professor Flarus stared at him. "Nonsense. Smiley's reaction made that much clear."

"NO!" said Albus, louder than he had meant to. Everyone stared at him. "I mean... please, Sir, I would prefer not to."

Smiley's snort released a column of flame from his left nostril, which narrowly missed Albus. Apparently this snort explained the meaning of the universe, because Flarus stared at the dragon for nearly a whole minute, shocked.

"I suppose he said something metaphysically profound, Sir," said Albus sarcastically.

Flarus jerked out of his shocked stupor. "He said that you have the soul of a dragon."

"That's nice," said Albus. "I suppose I'll be going over to the last group, thanks..." He started to shuffle in the direction of the group of non-flyers, but Professor Flarus blocked his way.

"Excuse me?" said Albus, now getting seriously annoyed.

"Advanced section!" thundered Flarus. Smiley roared in agreement. "You were made to fly!"

"No, I wasn't!" said Albus heatedly. "There's got to be a mistake. How can you trust the word of a dragon, anyway? How can I trust that whatever that dragon's doing is nothing but gibberish and that you're not just making all this up? I'm not even allowed to fly! The school must have told you about my condition… er… never mind." He had just noticed that everyone was staring at him, wide-eyed.

Professor Flarus glared at Albus. "Never has anyone spoken to me like this, so brashly and rudely! You, boy, definitely have the spirit of a dragon! In the advanced section you go! The school did send me a list of students with medical issues, but it is a waste of precious talent not to allow you to fly. You cannot be parted from a broomstick! GO!"

Albus stood his ground. If Flarus thought that he could bully Albus into following his orders, he was sorely wrong.

Professor Flarus grinned sinisterly. "Well, I can see you still refuse."

"You've got that right," said Albus. The rest of the first years were whispering loudly, shocked.

Flarus grinned even wider. "Well, then, perhaps I'll need something to convince you."

Albus had a very bad feeling about this.

"THINK FAST!"

The next thing Albus knew, Professor Flarus had thrown one of the broomsticks at Albus. His reflexes quick, he grabbed it, but had no idea what to do with it. Then, to his utter horror, Professor Flarus jumped onto Smiley's back and jerked the reigns.

Albus just had enough time to think, Uh-oh, before the dragon rose into the air, stretching out its marvelous wings. The rest of the students watched in awed silence, at least until the dragon, a smug Flarus perched on its back, spewed red-hot flames in Albus's direction. Everyone screamed and fled in different directions, and Albus gave a particularly girlish shriek and leapt onto the broomstick, having no idea what he was doing but not really caring at the moment. As he unsteadily hovered above the ground, he felt an indescribably strong urge to throw up. Another jet of flames came toward him, and he had no choice but to shoot into the sky.

And just like that, he had passed some sort of barrier. He was weightless. Feeling strength surge into his veins, he leaned forward on his broom, forcing it to go faster.

"That's it, boy! FLY! Fly like you were born to!" urged on Flarus, forcing Smiley the dragon into a tight spiral after Albus.

Albus shot through the pitch like a bullet. Girls and boys alike on the ground screamed as Smiley the dragon and Professor Flarus pursued him, Smiley still spewing flames. Albus jerked to the side suddenly to avoid a jet of fire and spun into the stands, hoping to force Flarus to stop this mad chase. But no such luck; Flarus simply ignored the stands and happily allowed Smiley to set them on fire. Even so, Albus could not make himself panic.

He felt so alive, more alive than he had ever been before.

Catch me if you can, thought Albus smugly, going faster than he had ever gone on the ground.

It was a whirl of colors, fire, and exhilaration from there. Smiley chased him all around the Quidditch pitch, but Albus did not tire once. The students on the ground dodged wildly to avoid the columns of flame that erupted from Smiley's jaws, creating chaos on the ground—not that Albus cared what was happening on the ground anymore.

Eventually—after what seemed like at least twenty minutes—Smiley and Flarus, both master and dragon evidently tired, returned to the ground, though Albus wasn't paying enough attention to them to follow.

"POTTER! That's enough!" called Professor Flarus from below. "You've proved yourself a flyer. If you could please return to the ground now, it'd be appreciated."

Albus began to descend, slowly and hesitantly. When he reached the ground, he felt his lunch rise up his throat, all the strenuous physical activity he had been forced to do catching up with him. The ground reeled in front of him, and it was getting closer… was he falling? He used his hands to break the fall and kneeled there, gasping and panting. Why did he suddenly feel so sick now that he was on the ground again? Was he that weak?

"Good job, boy! And you believed that you were too ill to fly," said Flarus, patting Albus on the back.

Albus didn't trust himself to speak. The whispers in his head had started up again, and the world spun worse around him. Unfortunately, nobody was paying close enough attention to notice; the first years were clapping and cheering, impressed.

But his momentary fame ended just as quickly as it had come when, unable to hold it in any longer, he vomited right there on Professor Flarus's shiny shoes.

Justice, he thought before he passed out.

The next morning, a subdued Albus made his way to Potions. After the disastrous flying lesson of the previous day, he had been taken to the Hospital Wing and administered several emergency medications, watched over by a furious Madam Dearborn, the matron, and apologized to over and over again by a very guilty Professor Flarus.

Well, that was the end of his too-short flying career. He was now most certainly forbidden from touching a broomstick ever again. He now wished he had never properly flown; he wouldn't have known what he was missing otherwise.

The students of Class One kept looking around at him, whispering under their breaths. Nobody would be forgetting his failure for a very long time. Albus cursed Professor Flarus for the hundredth time that day. Luckily for him, at that moment the doors to the Potions classroom banged open. An utterly gorgeous woman strode out of the room, her cornsilk curls flowing behind her. Her eyes were vaguely catlike and her skin was the color and texture of dark caramel, strangely contrasting with her light hair. She wore robes of the most splendid scarlet.

"Welcome, welcome," she said in a rich, velvety voice. "My name is Professor Lyona. Come in, my lovelies, don't be shy!"

Reluctant to enter the classroom of a teacher who called her students "my lovelies," they all slowly walked in and took their seats. The room was filled with tables that held three students each, and Albus, for some reason, was joined by Valentina and Casper at his.

As Professor Lyona talked, Albus realized that Professor Douglasse, the Transfiguration teacher, had been the only one of their professors to be even remotely normal. Professor Lyona's speech was sprinkled with terms of endearment like, "sweetie-pies" and "honeycakes" and "little cuties." The entire class was hugely annoyed by the end of her lecture. She'd talked so much that they hadn't had time to make a potion.

At the end of the period, they made their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, which, needless to say, was the class that everyone was looking forward to. Though considering what he had heard about Professor Chronos from Ben, Albus was less than excited.

When he arrived at the DADA classroom, he slid into the seat in the row furthest from the front of the DADA classroom. It turned out that so many people had been looking forward to the class that Valentina and Rose got into a tussle for the last available seat in the front row. Ten seconds later, a defeated Valentina took a seat in the second row with Casper.

Five minutes had passed, and there was still no professor in sight.

"What if he never comes?" wailed Sophie Boot.

But she needn't have worried, because, at last, their professor decided to grace them with his presence.

Faulkes Chronos, the Head of Slytherin House, stalked unhappily into the class and slammed the double doors threateningly behind him.

There was dead silence.

"FEET OFF THE DESK!" Professor Chronos bellowed at Terrence Chabot.

Chabot was so terrified that he did as he was asked.

"I am Professor Chronos," he said, clearing his throat loudly. "Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. My class may be your most difficult this year. Let me start off right away by saying that I do not tolerate students who cannot keep up with the material. You must work hard in my class to maintain even decent marks. You will receive homework every lesson, and every classwork assignment will be worth half of that day's points. Missing any work at all will cause you to fail my class. Is that understood? This is Class One. There is no room for failure."

There was a general nod amongst the students. Albus held back a yawn. Same old, same old.

"Today will be a practical lesson. Can anyone tell me what the difference between the Spell Scale and the Spell Strength Scale is?" said Chronos.

Casper Williams raised his hand the fastest. Rose gritted her teeth. Valentina didn't seem to mind.

Chronos checked the class roster to confirm Casper's name. "Yes... Mr. Williams?" "Spells are ranked by a difficulty of one to ten on the Spell Scale, just like wizards are. Certain harder spells require a wizard to be certain level to perform them properly. How well each wizard performs a spell, no matter what level it is, is recorded on the Spell Strength Scale."

Professor Chronos nodded slowly. "A little oddly worded, but essentially correct. To understand these two separate scales a bit better, I'll give you an example. Expelliarmus, the Disarming Charm, is a Level Three Spell. Basically anyone who is not a Squib can perform it. Now, to understand what the Spell Strength Scale means, let's paint a scenario: Two students, Student A and Student B, are practicing the Disarming Charm. Student A and Student B are both Level Seven wizards. Student A has lots of energy that day, and puts a lot of work into his incantation and wand motion. He ends up producing a spell with Level Nine strength—a very well-done Disarming Charm, in other words. Student B is a little tired, and she is unable to keep her mind on the lesson. She produces a spell with Level Two strength—a very poor Disarming Charm indeed. Does everyone understand now?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"Can anyone tell me why the Spell Strength Scale is so important?" Professor Chronos asked.

Rose waved her hand around wildly in the air. "It's because it helps people determine who will win in a duel," she blurted out without waiting to be called on.

Professor Chronos frowned. "Yes, I suppose, but be a bit more specific here. Give an example."

"Oh…" Rose did some straw-grasping. "Well, if two opponents are dueling, and one of them fires a jinx with Level Eight strength, and his opponent uses a Shield Charm with Level Six strength, the jinx would be able to break through the shield, or at least damage it enough to take it down on a second shot."

"Correct," said Professor Chronos. "Now that you understand why the strength of spells is so crucial, we will be doing some exercises." He reached under his desk and pulled out a most curious contraption. It was cubical and metallic, with several silvery knobs and dials all over it. When Professor Chronos turned the box around, Albus saw that one of the sides of the box was not present, allowing the students to see into the darkness of its middle.

"This is a device that measures the strength of spells," said Professor Chronos in response to their questioning looks. "It is new to the magical market, as I was the one who invented it. As of now, it is not available for the use of the general public, but is used in professional duels, most often in international magical competitions, such as the Talent Search.

"This device, which I call the Spell Absorber, will absorb your spell and measure the strength of it. We will be learning the Disarming Charm today, and you will find out how strong your spell-casting abilities are. Now, let me tell you, the average strength for first years is Level Three, especially when you first start the spell. It has nothing to do with your power level; it doesn't matter whether you are a Level Ten wizard or a Level Four wizard, because you may still have the same spell strength."

For the next ten minutes, Professor Chronos told them how to perform the Disarming Charm. The class was illuminated with jets of red light before he called a stop to the experimenting. "Now that you've all got the hang of it, I will come around with the Spell Absorber." He lifted the contraption and placed it on Valentina's desk, then turned a dial. Immediately, the empty side of the cubical device was replaced by an iridescent yet translucent sheet, like a portal of sorts, clearly the part of the device that would be doing the absorbing.

"Go ahead," Professor Chronos urged Valentina. "Don't be worried if you don't get a Level Ten; nobody will at first.

"Expelliarmus," she said firmly. Once the spell had been absorbed, five buttons out of ten lit up on the top of the device.

"Level Five strength, impressive for a first timer," said Professor Chronos, moving on to the next student. As he moved through the class, Albus made a mental note of what spell strength the most formidable students in his class were able to reach. Rose's, Chabot's, and Cruise's were all at a decent Level Four, and Casper's was Level Five, like Valentina's. Mostly everyone's Spell Strength was at Level Three, though there were a few Level Two's here and there.

Finally, it was Albus's turn. Knowing he was going to fail utterly (during the practice session his only attempt at the spell had made his shoes smoke), he said, "Expelliarmus!" A jet of red light from his wand smacked straight into the absorbing sheet. At once, seven of the ten buttons lit up.

The students stared. Professor Chronos stared. Albus stared.

"Level Seven," muttered Professor Chronos, his eyes bulging. "Well, that was unexpectedly high for a first time."

Albus was still in shock. He had actually done magic properly! A grin spread across his face.

"He just got lucky," hissed Valentina.

Albus paled. He knew she was right, though; he had gotten lucky. The chance of him doing magic well on purpose was phenomenally low.

Professor Chronos took a few more minutes going over the course material for that year, repeating over and over again how he expected the best from his class. He assigned them an essay on Spell Strength and its significance, which would be due next week. When the bell rang, everyone was muttering mutinously.

"Mr. Potter, if you could come see me before you leave, please," said Professor Chronos before Albus had a chance to sprint out of the room.

"Ooooh," said the class.

"SILENCE!" bellowed Professor Chronos for what seemed like the tenth time that day. Everyone got out of the classroom very quickly after that, and soon Albus was all alone with the crazy DADA teacher.

"I've talked to your other teachers—you know, the usual staffroom gossip. We can all see you're having a bit of trouble with your magic," said Professor Chronos conversationally.

"Uh," said Albus, his face reddening. Even his teachers, who had no lives and therefore could not be considered normal people by any means, were talking about him. Who would hear about his failures next—the Giant Squid?

"From what I've noticed today with your exceptionally high Spell Strength, you seem to have a large amount of power. However, power is useless if it cannot be controlled. This is where your problem lies. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," mumbled Albus, shame seeping out from every pore in his body.

"Clearly you do not," sniffed Professor Chronos.

"I do!" insisted Albus, his face so warm now that you could fry an egg on it.

"If you do, you will be trying your hardest to fix it," said Professor Chronos. "All I see you doing is trying your hardest not to cry."

Albus flinched. His voice shaking, he said, "I-I'm not crying."

Professor Chronos raised a thin eyebrow.

Albus hurried on. "But Sir, I don't know what I can do to increase my control. If I knew, I'd try—"

"EXCUSES!" thundered Professor Chronos, making Albus jump about a foot in the air. "There is no clear-cut way to gain control. It simply happens. Through hard work and practice, of course. I see you wallowing in guilt, not even trying. The other students laugh at you! You think that not doing anything will prevent the teasing, but you are sorely wrong; you only make yourself look stupider. This is Hogwarts. You are in Class One, the brightest of the bright. You cannot fall behind."

Albus gritted his teeth.

Remembering that he had been invited to visit Hagrid's for tea (though he had no idea if the invitation was still standing now that he was in Slytherin) on Friday, Albus made his way out onto the Hogwarts grounds. He could see students milling around, enjoying the last few weeks of the summer weather. Everyone seemed happy and with friends. Some older students were even swimming around in the Black Lake, the girls shrieking and the boys whooping.

Feeling thoroughly miserable, Albus dragged himself to Hagrid's hut, which was alarmingly close to the Forbidden Forest. He had never been here before, and he had to admit that the hut was unimpressive. Steeling himself, he knocked firmly on the door.

"COME'N!" grunted Hagrid from inside. "THE DOOR'S OPEN!"

Albus pushed the door in, nervously stepping over the threshold.

The small hut was filled to the brim with people. Victoire and her sixteen-year-old sister Dominique were arguing in a shadowy corner (Albus could make out the name "Teddy" in their conversation); Fred and Louis, otherwise known as the Cousins-Who-Should've-Been-Twins, were playing Exploding Snap with a few of their fourth-year friends; Roxanne was apparently deep in discussion with Rose about fashion, because Rose was talking on and on about magical makeup and its Muggle counterpart; Molly was giving her little sister Lucy tips on how to become a prefect; James had brought his friends/fan club and was currently entertaining a pretty brunette hanging on his arm while exchanging jokes with a few of his classmates; Hagrid was talking to Luna Scamander, the apprentice caretaker, about the nearly extinct Crumple-Horned Snorkack, which had been discovered only two months ago; and her seven-year-old sons, Lorcan and Lysander, who lived with her and Hagrid while their father Rolf explored South Africa for the Purple-Beaked Orple, were playing with Hagrid's ancient dog, Fang.

Initially, nobody noticed Albus come in. But as he stood there, they seemed to sense something cold in the room and looked up, their eyes locking on him. One minute later, everyone in the hut was staring at him. All the conversation had died down, and the only sounds that could be heard were Fang's pleasurable whines as Lorcan scratched behind his floppy ears.

"Uh, hi," said Albus.

Roxanne glared, Rose grimaced, Lucy stared, Molly sniffed, Fred and Louis sniggered, Dominique and Victoire gave him pitying looks, and James completely ignored him.

"HI, AAAAL," said Lysander, drawing out Albus's name. "Do you want to rub Fang's tummy? He likes it a lot. A LOT."

"I should think Fang would appreciate it," said Lorcan in a more dignified manner, though not any less kindly.

"Hello Al. I'm glad to see that the Nargles are leaving you alone today. Every other time I've seen you they've surrounded you. Quite unfortunate, really," said Luna, like her sons, oblivious to the tension in the room.

"Uh, come an' sit down, eh?" said Hagrid, nodding at Albus. "I was expectin' yeh." He spoke awkwardly, as if unsure how to address Albus.

"Er, thanks," said Albus, taking a seat by Luna.

"How are you finding Hogwarts?" she asked.

"Lovely," deadpanned Albus.

Luna did not detect his sarcasm. "That's splendid," she said happily. "Rolf's doing very well on the hunt for the Purple-Beaked Orple; he found a couple fossils of its distant ancestor."

"Great," said Albus in the same tone. "So, what are Lorcan and Lysander doing while they're here?"

"Oh, just helping out with the caretaking in general," said Luna dreamily. "They're such kind boys."

Lorcan and Lysander, both with light brown hair and silvery eyes, gave Albus identical innocent grins, still playing with Fang.

Albus had just noticed that everyone else was listening in on their conversation, and he doubted it was because of the news of the Purple-Beaked Orples. He could practically feel the disapproving glares from his family members boring into his back.

Distracting Albus from the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Hagrid clunked down a cup of tea in front of him. Albus absentmindedly took a sip and nearly spewed it out again; it tasted like dead worms.

"Delicious, isn't it?" said Luna dreamily. "I gave Hagrid the recipe. It's an infusion of Gurdyroots, a favorite from my childhood."

Albus choked down the one mouthful of tea and resolved never to eat or drink anything again. The taste buds on his tongue seemed to have shriveled up and died. When he was capable of speech again, he said, "It's, uh, good."

Luna smiled serenely.

Albus stared down at his hands, feeling his face warm up, not with pleasure but with embarrassment. Here he was, sitting with a woman his mother's age and drinking the worst tea known to mankind, while everyone else was joking around with friends. He felt the urge to cry.

"I'm, uh, going to go back now," said Albus, his voice shaky.

Hagrid bustled over. "Eh? So soon? It's barely been five minutes!"

"I'm tired," said Albus, not entirely lying. "I just want to take a nap or something."

"D'you want to take the tea with yeh?" asked Hagrid.

"No thanks," said Albus quickly. He stood up, acutely aware that everyone was watching him. He blinked, trying to keep the tears threatening to fall behind his eyelids. He wasn't even sure why he was so unhappy. Perhaps it was because he had just realized that, even before he had been Sorted into Slytherin, he'd never had any friends or talked to anybody. It made him feel lonely and pathetic.

He made his way across the hut. Before he opened the door, he muttered, "Bye." Only the Scamanders and Hagrid answered. The rest of the occupants of the hut stared at him in silence.

Albus wanted to say something nasty to them, maybe even stick out his middle finger, but decided that the consequences outweighed the benefits for that particular action. It didn't change the fact that he wanted to leave the hut feeling cooler than them, which meant, of course, that he had to trip on the steps leading up to the hut. As he heard the ringing laughter from inside, he wished he were anyone but himself.

Author's Note: This chapter is the last of the "introduction" chapters. In the next chapter, the story really begins. :) Also, there is no longer a biweekly updating schedule. These last few weeks have been very busy and I cannot promise any updates every other week. However, I will try to update within three or four weeks (always during the weekends) and will try my hardest to make sure it doesn't take longer than that. Hopefully I will have more time in the future.

Thank you all for being patient!

Much love,

Crystalline

P.S. The Table of Contents is up on the first chapter! Go check it out. :D