The Many Musings of Albus Potter

xx. dementors

xx. dementors

The comfort of being back at Grimmauld Place is short-lived. And it's not just because Harry and Albus aren't on talking terms for the first time in years.

The Slytherin dormitories could get a little damp sometimes, if the elves forgot to spell the heating on, but at least Albus had his privacy. Sharing a dormitory with four other boys wasn't always pleasant but one need only pull the bedside drapes shut in order to get total silence. The drapes themselves were spelled to remain shut unless you gave consent for somebody to pull the drapes apart (a perk Scorpius and Albus routinely exploited in sixth year).

But now, Lily barges into his room, completely unannounced. And nobody knocks.

And everybody is always around.

Aunt Hermione wasn't joking about the homeschooling business. It's been a year since she, Ron and the Weasley-Granger children moved to a thatched cottage just outside of London, and she intends to take full advantage of it. With the thoroughness of...well, Hermione Granger, she Floos into Grimmauld Place every morning with a scowling Rose and droopy-eyed Hugo in tow. The grumbling Potters and Weasley-Grangers are then scattered around the kitchen table and made to start the day with a bowl of porridge and a copy of The Ethics of Magic in a Muggle's World: A Brief Introduction by Hermione Granger-Weasley.

"What subject is this supposed to cover?" Albus once made the mistake of asking this question.

Aunt Hermione had tsked. "Muggle Studies of course. Your Professor Green is very lovely but I had a look at her reading list. Very inadequate. How could she think Animal Farm would be a suitable read before an introduction to Marxism?"

"I didn't understand that book," Lily had said. "How were all those animals talking? Were they supposed to be Metamorphmagi? Or did the farmer just cast a spell on them?"

Aunt Hermione had a pained look on her face, but had nobody to share it with, seeing as Harry had switched an equally befuddled look with Ginny.

"Exactly," Aunt Hermione said, firmly shaking her head. "Inadequate."

Albus understands perfectly well why Headmistress McGonagall had tactfully declined Aunt Hermione's application to teach at Hogwarts, all those years ago, when James had just started his first year. The woman never stops.

Suddenly, he's found himself drowning in more assignments than ever. Having to juggle an essay on the properties of gillyweed and a five-hundred word explanation of why Muggles don't like this Russian bloke called Stalin is all a little overwhelming. Meanwhile, Ginny keeps giving him woebegone looks every time he brushes past his father and doesn't acknowledge him.

"Aren't you a little grown up for this, Al?" she said a little testily at one point. He quirked up an eyebrow.

"Isn't he?" he countered.

There's too many people around, too little time to breathe. Hugo spends an entire afternoon begging Albus to let him borrow his invisibility cloak so he can sneak off to go see his Muggle girlfriend in Covent Garden until Albus spells his mouth shut with tape. Rose is an occasional comfort but at least at Hogwarts, Albus could retreat into the comfort of his common room after a day spent with his favourite cousin. Even Rose becomes too excitable...too...much.

His saving grace is Teddy, as always. He's leaving soon, now that his fortnight's visit is almost up. On his last night before he goes back home, Teddy knocks on Albus' bedroom door. Looking up from his footlong parchment of notes, Albus looks up in a fleeting moment of irritation which disappears at the sight of Teddy's slender, smiling face poking through the door.