Leave Out All The Rest

The Beginning of the Journey

Chapter One: The Beginning of the Journey

POV: Albus

Although I've crossed the same brick barrier since before I could walk, fear still raced up my spine when I ran through with my trolley. My eyes were still squeezed tight, but when the noise transformed from the terrified banging of my heart to the buzzing of a crowd and the engine of a train, relief washed over me.

Until James followed right after me.

"Oh, come on now, Albie. It's not sssssooo bad," my older brother laughed, flicking his tongue out like the snakes he's worked so hard to bring around me all summer. 

"Don't call me Albie," I warned, but that just encouraged him to laugh louder, drawing in more attention from the permanent fan club that seems to follow us around everywhere we go. I was about to step aside from my trolley and give in to the voice in my head that told me I'd feel better after shoving my fist against James' jaw, but that was quickly contained when our mother appeared before us.

Mum used to be the captain and star Chaser for the HolyHead Harpies back in the day; as fans of Quidditch, it was not hard for us to find old sport articles on her. Most writers of those articles used words like 'insane', 'a force to be reckoned with', 'short-tempered', 'hurricane', 'deadlier than a bludger, especially if she's swinging the Beater's Bat' to describe her—and they were all correct. Except, of course, that was just Mum as a professional Quidditch player. It got worse when she was your mother.

So when Ginny Potter strolled up to us, hands on her hips, brown eyes narrowed, to say, "How many times do I have to tell you two to behave? For Merlin's sake, if you insist on acting like babies, I will put you two in nappies and parade you down this platform for everyone to see"...well, even James stayed quiet.

For a second.

"I wasn't even saying anything," James grunted, looking back up from his shoes with a flash of stupid courage. "It's not my fault little Albie can't take a joke. But, fine. Whatever. I'll be nice to him. It's not like he's going to have friends of his own, anyway."

Behind Mum was Dad and my nine year-old sister Lily. Smartly enough, they both took a step back from the swinging zone when Mum's eyes darkened. 

"Harry," Mum called Dad, "is anyone watching?"

Dad did look around. Despite the fact that he is Harry freaking Potter and a crowd formed everywhere he went, he still said, "Nope. We're all alone, Ginny."

"Good. I don't want any witnesses when I murder my own child."

James found it hard not to contradict Mum's every word, but even he was not (surprisingly) that thick. As much as he liked to poke the dragon, he knew his limits. It's what made him take a step back and yield. 

"How about I go find myself a compartment?" he said with a big, bright, phony smile. 

Dad laughed at my brother's easy defeat. "Come here." He reached for James, reeling him in from the side of his trolley, even as my brother shook his head in protest. "Be nice to your brother before your mother actually decides to act on her threats."

"I can't make any promises," James huffed. 

I frowned at him. "It won't kill you, you know."

"Maybe it will, Albie."

"Don't call me Albie!"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Mum groaned, reaching for the stretchy band on her wrist before going to pull her long, red hair up. "I'll just murder both. I have Teddy. I don't need two spare sons."