Albus Potter and the Cursed Legacy | Scorbus

46. Aftermath

Albus struggled in Lacero's clutches, writing to try and break free. Her talon-like nails dug into him, her wand pointed unwaveringly at his temple. Her teeth glinted with a vicious smile, stretching wider when she met Harry's eyes. Everything seemed to play on in slow motion as if the Impervious spell never faded away and they were trapped in a slow and painful existence--the world wanted to drag out their suffering.

A flash of green light.

Albus fought no longer.

Lacero let his body crumble to the ground. There was no more light in his eyes. His beautiful green eyes. Harry's mother's beautiful green eyes.

His son. His beautiful son.

A vicious smile crossed her lips--red like blood or the anger that boiled up inside Harry. She'd stolen his life with no remorse for her actions. She wanted Harry to feel pain. Numbing pain that Harry would never recover from. He'd dealt with copious amounts of grief from a far too young of an age but never had a death hurt with such a ferocious pain like this. It ate away at his insides until he was hollow. A shell of a man--empty without his son.

"Did you manage to sleep at all last night?"

Hermione's slow allaying tone snapped him out the imaginary scene that flashed before his eyes. She must have been able to see him slipping into a weary daze. Or perhaps the bags under his eyes and his unshaven face gave it away.

He was at the Ministry, not at the Lacero Estate. The battle was over. He was safe in the cosy firelight of Hermione's office and, most importantly, his son was alive. All three of Harry kids where safe at home with Ginny, only a few cuts and bruises to show from the night before.

Hermione sat on the edge of her desk, fiddling with a muggle trinket Harry recognised from his childhood. Five metallic marbles suspended by a thin wire. A Newton's Cradle. The metal spheres clacked against each other after each swing outwards. A persistent beat that never seemed to stop repeating. Even without Hermione's touch, the spheres continuously swung--as if kept in motion by magic. Sometimes the science of their world mystified him more than magic itself.

Although he supposed she knew the answer to her question already, Harry rubbed his aching head as he responded, "Got in few winks, at best. I don't recall ever feeling so sore after our battles when we were younger. My bloody shoulder kept me up half the night."

He rolled his shoulder back in a circular motion, trying to ease the tension in his joint. He'd been cooped in his office for far too long now and not on the scene in the centre of the action with the Aurors where he used to be. His promotion to Head of Magical Law Enforcement had only enforced in him that he was ageing. He hated to admit he'd gotten a little rusty.

Hermione chuckled softly, her eyes filled with understanding, "We took being young for granted back then." She leaned back with a far off look in her eyes, "At that age, you think you're the oldest you'll ever be. The wisest you'll ever become. The future can be difficult to picture. You think you're on top of the world until you realise you're at risk of it crumbling beneath you."

'Is that how Albus felt?' Harry thought to himself, 'Had his son inherited that mindset from him?'

He'd spent hours that night trying to understand Albus--although it seemed that many of his hours lately had been occupied by the same thoughts. But this time was different. This time, Albus' life had been on the line. He looked so ready to give it all up for them. Ready to sacrifice himself for the cause. Harry saw a little too much of himself in Albus at that moment than he cared to admit.

Harry shook the thought away, trying to remain present in Hermione's office. Letting his mind wander too far would only be more detrimental in the end.