Albus Severus Potter and the Mystery of the Letters

4 - First Light

Chapter Four - First Light

2nd of September, 2017

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

When Albus Severus Potter woke up, on the bright, morning that was Saturday the second of September, he had no idea at all where he was. 

Looking up, he saw embroidered fabric instead of a dazzling white ceiling.

“Mum? Dad?" he called. He sat up to look around, and realized he was totally surrounded by the heavy material that formed curtains around his bed. Suddenly, everything came back to him - the feast, the ghosts, the sorting. The room was still and peaceful, so it was with a gentle hand that he drew back the curtain.

Gazing around the room, Al saw the room - literally - in a new light. The walls were panelled oak, the floor the same. With the heavy fabric, it could have been suffocating to the heavily modern Al, but the inclusion of some large windows more than made up for it. The sun was streaming in through them. There was a small desk, just for him, complete with a large box of parchment, ink bottles and a couple of quills. A communal mirror leant against another wall, and there was a chest of drawers and a bedside table for each pupil, who were all, with the exception of Al, asleep.

Scorpius Malfoy. Al's uncle Ron had seem very averse to him - could he be associated with all the dreaded things that had happened in the wizarding wars? Al wasn't positive, he was just guessing shrewdly - but like his namesake, his shrewd guesses generally turned out to be right. He guessed that Scorpius might be related to the the Dark Lord's assistants, a name he had only once heard pass between his mother and father - death eater. However, Scorpius seemed adamant that he wasn't like his father - whatever that meant - so Al decided he could trust Scorpius.

Thomas Wood. The name Wood seemed familiar - Al did remember his father mention the name before to uncle George, but he couldn't place the connection. Again, he seemed like a nice guy. Very into quidditch, from what Al had heard at the feast last night.

Augustus - or Gus, rather - Creevey. Again, a name he had heard before, yet couldn't quite picture where. He had a feeling it had been on a memorial - yet he wasn't sure that Gus didn't have a living father. Perhaps it was an aunt or something that had died.

Max. Al didn't even know his second name. Was it Johnson? Or Jacobson? Maybe Jackson? Al didn't know exactly, but he was sure it began with a j. Or was it  g? But it didn't really matter. All he knew was that Max was muggle-born, and that he enjoyed a muggle sport - it had a strange name. It was rug-by maybe? What rug-by was Al didn't know. He didn't know where Max was from, Scotland, he thought from the accent, but he'd never been to Scotland, until now, of course, so he couldn't really say.

It was a Saturday, which meant no classes, so Al dug some muggle clothes out from his trunk, and threw them on. He checked the time - it was a half past seven. That was pretty early, especially for him, who had a rule never to get up before nine o'clock. Al decided to grab breakfast, and then go for a walk. He used the small bathroom - fairly modernly furnished - before folding his letter to his father into his pocket.

He went back into his trunk to get his wand. It was, typically, at the bottom. Underneath it, there was a parcel. How strange, Al thought, but he slipped it into his bag all the same - he would open it later.

Then he slipped out of the dorm, shutting the door quietly, so as to not wake anyone else. Al glided down the twisting staircase and entered the common room. There was no-one there, nor on the stairs or corridors. It was eerily quiet. Al carefully followed the route he took yesterday and found his way to the Great Hall.