HA 10b: Outcast

HIM AGAIN: Chapter 10: Ashes to Ashes - Outcast

“Lights out!”

Abigail Lupin was stomping around the Gryffindor dormitories, glaring at those who weren’t yet in bed. Albus had had to suppress a knowing chuckle more than once; Abigail seemed to have inherited both her father’s sense and her mother’s forthrightness - when one Second-Year had refused to give up his chair in the Common Room, she had simply grabbed him by one ear and pulled him up to his dormitory whilst using her Metamorphmagi abilities to pull threatening faces.

“You, what are you sniggering at?” she demanded, staring at him as he began to draw the bed-hangings closed.

“Nothing,” he said politely, suppressing a smile.

“Right then. Nox.”

The dormitory dimmed and there was a brief silence in the first few minutes after the Head Girl had exited. Then the First-Years, the excitement of sleeping away from home having not quite worn off, began to whisper and giggle, sitting up and drawing back their bed-hangings. Albus drew back his own too; if he was going to relive life as a student there was no point in being stand-offish.

The other four boys in his dormitory were already chatting and laughing. His eyes moved to their faces one by one, knowing that his observation was unlikely to be interrupted. Stand-offish he tried not to be, but his lack of confidence in accurately portraying an eleven-year-old to actual eleven-year-olds and his awareness of being much older and inevitably cleverer had led to a good deal of silence on his part. That accompanied with awkward smiles and one word replies had soon given his classmates the impression that he wanted to be left alone, just four days into the term.

The first boy Albus’s eyes found was Eric Weasley, the loud and humorous third child of Bill and Fleur. His young face was already very like Bill’s, and Albus was certain that the coming years would leave a mark on the Hogwarts female population. He also happened to be Brian's cousin, and was the subject of an unspoken war between Molly and Fleur; Molly welcomed him into the bosom of the Weasley family, whilst Fleur firmly dragged him away to the Delacours, with the result that alone out of the Weasley clan, Eric and his siblings were perfect strangers to Brian. Unsurprisingly, Eric, out of all the Gryffindor boys, had been the most persistent in trying to make friends with him, chattering away at him in Potions until even a very genial Slughorn had wagged a warning finger at their table. Family connection notwithstanding, Albus suspected that it was something to do with the fact that both Brian and Eric was children of figures of the Second War and, as such, both had to deal with unwanted media attention.

The second boy, Mark Scott, had taken Albus’s reticence as a sign of vanity and now tended to pointedly ignore him whenever he was in the same room. Mark also talked with the air of pretending to know more than he actually did; the Scott family patriarch’s opinions could be heard in every word. The third, Daniel Glover, seemed to fall easily into the role of Eric’s hero-worshipper (“I can’t believe you can fly like that! I can’t believe anyone can fly like that!”) and the fourth, Cal Smith, was painfully shy, adopting an ingratiating manner every time someone spoke to him (“Really? Yes! I thought that too!”).

“…And Madam Hooch said she was going to speak to Professor McGonagall about it,” Eric was saying triumphantly.

“Wicked!” said Daniel, beaming. “I bet she lets you, too! You’ll be the second youngest on the team in over a century!”

“Wasn’t the first your dad?” Eric said suddenly, looking over at Brian.

“Yes,” said Albus, injecting some hesitation into Brian’s voice so as to reinforce the impression of shyness.

“What position did he play?” asked Daniel.

“Seeker, of course!” Eric replied, rolling his eyes. “Madam Hooch talked about him for half the lesson!”

“And then she spent the other half of the lesson talking about you,” Mark pointed out.

Erin flushed. “Yeah, well - Brian wasn’t bad either. Had you flown before?” he asked, addressing him again.

“Yes,” said Albus easily. For one thing, it was the truth - Harry had often taken Brian flying on his old Firebolt, allowing for some ability to be displayed in class.

“He wasn’t bad,” said Mark. “But he was nothing like you, Eric. Did you see Madam Hooch’s face? She thought he was going to be like his dad and he wasn’t-!”

“He was still good,” Eric interrupted, shooting Albus an encouraging smile. “And he’s in the best in the class at every lesson.”

“Not really,” protested Albus, knowing that most normal eleven-year-olds would object to that. “I wasn’t really.”

“Yes you were! You got everything right first time in Charms - and in Transfiguration - and in Herbology!”

Albus had to suppress a sigh. Every time he walked into a classroom he resolved to make deliberate mistakes, to be slow at learning, to pretend to get confused. Unfortunately, the resolution was usually forgotten whenever the situation presented itself, and whenever it was remembered, it proved almost impossible to fulfil. Performing spells that were second-nature wrongly was incredibly difficult and took far more concentration than was required to cast the spells in the first place. He’d managed to set his feather on fire in Charms, but only after levitating it almost to the ceiling and he‘d contrived to add the wrong ingredients in Potions, leading to a short scolding from Slughorn, but the mistake seemed too obvious to be repeated too many times. The worst crises had been in the first few lessons of Transfiguration - during which he had struggled to simplify his answers to questions and had had to repress the urge to clarify the inept teacher on certain points. All in all, it was exhausting.

“So, what do you all think of the teachers so far?” he asked, trying to make conversation. He winced; the question sounded just the sort of thing the Hogwarts Headmaster would ask if secretly disguised as a student - as he was now.

“Dunno, really.” Eric shrugged. “Slughorn’s funny, even if he does go on about all the famous people he’s ever known. Sprout’s all right, Binns is boring, Hooch is okay, I suppose… Read’s annoying.”

“Yeah - yeah I thought that,” Cal agreed.

“I tried to run away back to the Common Room today, when she gave us that essay,” Mark muttered.

“Really?” said Eric interestedly. “Didn’t you get into trouble?”

“Obviously - that’s why I still turned up, but late. McGonagall caught me in the corridors.”

Albus felt his attention sharpen to a point. Minerva! Why had he not tried to bunk off too so as to meet her, even if only for a scolding? The other boys also sat up - but for a different reason.

“What’s she like?” Daniel asked. “I mean, we only ever see her at breakfast and dinner-”

Mark shrugged. “Strict and stern. She all pursed her lips at me and acted as though I’d tried to throw someone out the window or something.” He put on a high, squeaky voice that Albus didn’t think sounded at all like Minerva’s. “‘Mr Scott, is it? Why are you not in your lessons? Run along immediately or I shall inform your Head of House.’”

Both Daniel and Eric laughed - and Albus found himself liking the latter less. “She looks ill, doesn’t she?” the former commented.

“Yes. I asked someone about that - one of the Fifth-Years about whether she was suffering from some lethal wasting disease and was about to drop down dead. They got well annoyed and bit my head off - but they said she’s always looked like that! And that, actually, she’s gotten better!”

“My dad said something about her getting hurt in the war,” Eric murmured. “It’s probably to do with that.”

Albus found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, as though nearness could affect the amount of information received. Minerva… getting hurt. But how? What had happened? Or had Bill simply been talking about her encounter with Umbridge and her Stunners?

“What happened?” he asked breathlessly.

Eric gave him a blank look whilst Mark raised one eyebrow. “I dunno. Dad didn’t say.”

Daniel yawned. “I’m turning in now. That Flying lesson really tired me out.”

“Oh all right then.”

The First-Years settled back down in their beds. Albus laid down with his back to the other boys and his face to the cold chill of the window. Through it, he could see the dark spire of the Astronomy Tower rising up against the moon. As though from a long way away, he again saw himself falling, with the ghostly light of the Dark Mark shining up above. How ridiculous it must have looked, he thought distantly. His beard and robes would have been all flapping in the wind - and Merlin knew what his body must have looked like.

“I was the one who found his - his body…” Harry said softly, staring over the baby Brian’s head at a past both dark and horrible.

Poor Harry, he thought. On top of everything else, he shouldn’t have had to find that.

“He’s weird,” he heard Mark whisper.

“Who?” Daniel whispered back.

“Potter. Too high and mighty to talk properly.”

“He was a bit funny about McGonagall.”

“He’s bit funny about everything.”

“Shush,” said Eric.