HA 9d: Nerves

HIM AGAIN: Chapter 9: Human Intelligence - Nerves

“Nerves, eh?”

Albus looked up from his toast and saw Harry beaming at him from across the table. He curved Brian’s lips in a small smile and nodded. It was certainly no lie; Albus felt as nervous as Brian’s position warranted. The castle, crowned in the splendour of a setting sun, floated in his mind’s eye. Could he bear to stand in the Hogwarts grounds and gaze up the head teacher’s tower, knowing all that had happened there and knowing its present occupant, without keeling over from both pleasure and pain?

“Don’t worry,” Harry was saying. “I can guarantee you’ll like it there, Brian. I’m afraid I’ll have to keep quiet on the subject of the Sorting Ceremony, but I can assure you it doesn’t involve trolls.”

“Trolls?” repeated Ginny, as the Potters rose from breakfast and donned their coats. “What are you on about?”

“Ron’s brothers told him that he had to battle a troll. Come to think of it, he did too.”

“How prophetic of them. Brian, go and get your trunk. And brush your hair - if you won’t have it cut to a sensible length then at least keep it tidy.”

Albus gave a very convincing little boy’s moan and obeyed. Even after over ten years of practice, keeping the mask donned was extremely trying. He knew that it hadn’t been entirely successful; Brian’s mannerisms and speech weren’t like a young boy’s, and his vocabulary and knowledge were certainly beyond a eleven-year-old’s. However, not for nothing had he been Hogwarts Headmaster for so long - the act was convincing enough to make Brian unlike an old man and merely a bit odd - and luckily his over-abundant repertoire of knowledge had thus far simply created a familial consensus that Brian Potter was extraordinarily clever for his age and would probably be “the next Hermione.” There had been slip-ups, but not many, none to make a lasting impression - bar one.

“Curious, very curious,” Mr Ollivander had said, blinking at Brian’s lack of uneasiness at the former’s penetrating stare. “I happen to know from old records that this wand possesses the very length, core and wood of old Dumbledore’s wand. How curious that Harry Potter’s son should receive this exact combination…”

Harry’s hand had tightened on his shoulder painfully, and the old wand-maker had begun to speak to him whilst continuing to gaze at Brian.

“Your son is not like other people, Mr Potter. He looks at me just as how old Dumbledore used to do so too… I’m not surprised the phoenix chose to stay with him. You watch him, keep him close. A most unusual boy indeed…”

Albus experienced little of the journey to King’s Cross (by Knight Bus), being too distracted by the growing reality of seeing Hogwarts again. He tensed at the sight of the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten; home was getting closer all the while, no matter that he was entering it as a stranger!

At last the Hogwarts Express belched its steam before him and other young witches and wizards crowded around, shouting and tugging at their luggage. The scarlet metal mesmerised him.

“Got Fawkes with you?” Harry shouted in his ear, straining to be heard above the sound of the mob.

“He flew on ahead!” Albus replied, coming back into his role with difficulty.

“Good! Now Brian, don’t worry about a thing! You’ll love it! You write to me every now and then, okay? Remember your poor old dad whilst you’re enjoying yourself, eh?”

Albus looked up at Harry’s concerned and encouraging face, with its emerald eyes and livid scar, and felt a genuine pang. Affection surged through him - and so he grinned and flung Brian’s arms around his father’s middle. Out of the corner of his eye, another student could be seen staring at him scornfully.

My boy, it does not matter what others see. Time’s too short for that, the spectre of the Hogwarts Headmaster addressed the boy cheerfully. One must show love whilst able…

A hollow emptiness became a void in his chest. Brian buried his face into his father’s shoulder; he hadn’t obeyed his own advice…

“Brian?”

Harry and Ginny exchanged worried glances. Brian had always been very affectionate but this display indicated some inner distress - yet the moment was over before it had begun, Brian was drawing back, smiling and promising to write.

“Make sure you’re in Gryffindor!” Harry yelled at the flaming mop of hair that was his son as it disappeared into a carriage.

“Harry!” Ginny scolded.

Then the train was gone.