Content Warning: Mentions of Self-Harm
Harry Potter fixed his emerald irises onto his son.
He could still hear the foreign words floating in slow motion through Albus' quivering breath.
I'm...I'm gay.
He waited for Albus to toss him a sly smirk. To admit he was only joking. Say it was nothing more than an invention created by his wildest thoughts. Confess that James—the infamous pranker—had put him up to this. Harry wanted to give his son several seconds to come clean. He waited some more, his eyes bolting onto the grand clock that slung off the thinned walls like a gargantuan, rather primeval balloon. But nothing. Albus continued gawking at him, his eyes wide and illustrated with most fear as if he'd been plummeted into the Black Lake and had come face to face with monstrous Grindylows and rancorous Merpeople; Albus was pleading, it looked like, for Harry to respond.
Harry didn't know what to say. What to think! His...his son...his youngest son...Albus Severus Potter...was...was...gay? Harry was positive he heard wrong. That—that couldn't be right. Albus never....never said anything to them before, why now? Albus never made it crystal clear that he fancied boys. He never dropped casual hints about his sexuality, either. He always talked about witches—about girls—whenever he was at Godric's Hollow. Whenever the conversation came to having crushes and James—bless his soul—was going on about his bloody girlfriend—Albus always chortled along, revealing that he had feelings for a rather reserved and bright Ravenclaw. He'd always describe her as enthusiastic, breathtaking and proudly gloat how she is the cleverest witch in school—although Harry would always passionately argue that there was no witch smarter than Hermione. The point is, it all seemed so...convincing so... real. Surely all of that couldn't have been created for the sake of fitting in? Then again, perhaps it was. There was always truth buried in the depths of fiction. Perhaps Albus was only painting fantasies of what kind of boy he wanted in his life. It was just easier to say it was a girl. Now it was obvious he had been lying. That he was trying to fit in. That, after all this time, he was only pretending to be like everyone else—pretending to be straight.
Harry couldn't even possibly imagine what that must be like. Harry never had to go through that. He was never piled with ignominy whenever he thought about the love of his life, Ginny. Back at Hogwarts, whenever he had romantic feelings for another, he never felt he was doing anything bad. It was normalized; wizards liking witches and witches liking wizards. But it wasn't the norm for witches to like witches or for wizards to like wizards.
Albus probably felt shame whenever he thought about boys. How horrible it must be to walk around hating yourself. How alone he must have felt throughout this. Why did Albus wait so long to tell them? And why—why didn't Harry come to this realization on his own? That would have been easier on his son, wouldn't it? Rather than wearing a mask every day and cutting his precious skin to cope with it all. He was all alone, wasn't he? His poor son had been struggling with all of this since he realized he was gay. How long had Albus known he was gay? Harry speculated. For years or was it a recent discovery?
Harry opened his mouth— thinking he had everything he wanted to say to him – but cowered at the last minute and closed it once more. Truth be told, he didn't know what to say nor was he aware on how to say it. He wanted to ask Albus so many questions, but wasn't sure if he was allowed to. He didn't want to accidentally upset his son whose temper was about as explosive as the Miraculous Mystic Mayhem Makers' fireworks from the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
Harry moved his discombobulated gape over to his dear wife, yearning greatly for her much needed assistance, but to his bafflement, she only gave him a dawdling, chary nod. She was beaming for goodness sake! Ginny was sneering at her husband's utter obliviousness, was that it? She knew this entire time, didn't she? Of course she did. She is Ginny Weasley Potter after all—nothing gets past her. She knows just about everything from who won the 1974 Quidditch World Cup—it was the Syrian Quidditch team—to where Lily had misplaced her personal diary—it was under the brown leather couch in the den. His wife certainly did not appear stunned at all by this certain disclosure. It was Harry who was new to all of this. Who was unaware of who his son really was. He tore away tartly from his wife's supercilious stare. The last thing he needed was to be mocked by her.
Albus couldn't possibly believe he managed to tell his parents he was gay. Where was this sudden shimmering fluorescent of confidence and why has it left his system so soon? What he did was brave and mad all at the same time. How he was able to muster up the courage to come out was beyond his belief. It was surreal. He couldn't fathom that after concealing such a secret for nearly his whole life, it was finally out.
The truth. At last.
This was the moment his life would never be the same. This was a good thing, though, wasn't it? It...it had to be. It was rather liberating when Albus told James he was gay. It was as if he were finally given permission by his very self to simply be. Scorpius managed to come out to his Dad which proved to be quite successful—that is—until Delphi interfered. The bottom line was it was Albus' turn now. The problem of course, was the tomblike silence. It made Albus queasy to the core. Why wasn't Dad saying anything? Albus pondered. It felt like the Wing had been invaded by Dementors, emptying the room from all its happiness, all its joy. Did Albus—? Did he make a mistake coming out? Had he come out too soon? Did he not give them a chance to digest such news? Was the timing all wrong?
Albus debated whether it was wise to make a run for it or not. He wanted to jump out of the bloody bed and leave the Hospital Wing. The Room of Requirement was one option. But Albus knew being by himself wouldn't be the wisest idea. Naturally, he thought of Scorpius. It would be quite nice to finish what they started, now wouldn't it? Albus quickly shook that thought away. They were to take things slow. Not rush into anything. Going to see Scorpius now wasn't the greatest idea either seeing as he knew his boyfriend was just about exhausted as he was. He needed his rest and Albus didn't want to intrude on that. Another idea took over Albus. Why didn't he think of it before? Albus should make his way up to the Gryffindor Common Room and slip into his brother's room. He needed to confide in James and tell him how cataclysmic coming out to his parents proved to be. Should he—? Should he take back what he said? Say he was joking? That might cheer them up? No, no. He'd come too far to chicken out. Albus Severus Potter was no coward. So Albus was gay—it wasn't a big deal, now was it? It was people like Yann who made it a big deal. People like Polly Chapman and Karl Jenkins. Albus felt himself shiver. The bullying would get a whole lot worse if Polly and Karl knew he was gay—it would worsen for poor Scorpius too. Albus let out a deep sigh. It didn't matter if they would be tormented even more. He had Scorpius and Scorpius was all he needed. Who cares if half the school disapproved of him? What mattered was that his family—his parents, accepted him. Not being accepted at school is one thing. But not being accepted at home was another. He wasn't sure if he could deal with facing oppression at home. Was Delphi right after all? Would his parents disown him? Kick him out of the house and force him to live on the streets? What was he thinking? That didn't sound like the parents he grew up with. The parents he grew up with took him to the 427th Quidditch World Cup when he was eight, not minding at all that he—along with his Mum— were the only ones of the family who wore shimmering green to support the Brazilian team while the rest of the Potters sported red clothing for Bulgaria. The parents he grew up with comforted him from nightmares when he was 10, after James scared him with mad stories about the ghosts called "Gloomy Nuns." The parents he grew up with didn't mind at all whenever Albus would sometimes glance fascinatingly at the elegant witchs' clothing whenever they were at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. The parents he grew up with fed him with unwavering affection, support and care—and still continue to do so today. His parents weren't bad people. They weren't the kind to toss their children out after discovering they were gay. Albus refused to believe his parents were capable of doing such thing. Then why weren't they saying anything? He deliberated with suffocating paranoia. Someone say something already! The voice in the back of his mind kept seething.
This was the worst kind of silence. He could hear the jagged beats of his heart bounce out of his chest; not to mention it felt like there was a Hippocampus pressing its sharp hooves at the very centre of Albus' chest, causing him to gasp for air. His head suddenly felt like it weighed nearly as much as an Antipodean Opaleye. Albus swore he would pass out in no time. Perhaps he'd obliterate into a million pieces from all this tension. Good thing he was at the Hospital Wing then.
Albus tilted his head slightly to the right so he would be able to catch a glimpse of his Mum—who streamed a ray of light smile with her pink lips. Just as quickly, Albus turned his head back, and continued daubing the towel onto his scarred forearms, his gleaming green eyes narrowing to the blanket which was draped over his legs like a tent. Was that—? Was that a smile from Mum? Yes...it was. This was a good sign! His Mum seemed happy with it, so the question was: why wasn't his Dad? Perhaps it would be best if the searing silence was shattered. Someone had to start the conversation after all.
Albus licked his dry lips while pressing the dank cloth harder on his cuts. "I—"
But at the same time, Harry said, "Al."
Albus stopped speaking at once and his mouth half opened, appearing rather abashed; like a cat that had been caught eating a mouse whole.
"R-right. Erm. S-sorry." Albus' nerves were all over the place. He couldn't breathe, it seemed. "C-c-carry on..."
Harry removed his black round rimmed glasses and cleaned its dirty lens against his ripped sea blue robes before finally placing his glasses back on his brown face. He closed a hand on his son's leg.
"Albus...Al. I-I want you to know that I don't—I could never—"
He hates me! Albus was nearly hysterical and began muttering curse words to himself. He couldn't let his Dad finish that sentence. He could never what? Accept him? That's what he was going to say, wasn't it? What was Albus thinking, coming out? Just because Scorpius' Dad approved of him, didn't mean Albus' Dad would. His Dad hates him, that's what Harry wanted to say. Albus didn't want to hear his Dad out. It would hurt too much.
"Whatever you want to say, just be honest. It-it's okay if you—" But Albus stopped himself midway. No, he told himself. No, it wouldn't be okay if his Father hated him because of his sexuality. Albus continued battling with his inner thoughts until he had no choice but to watch them drift out of his very lips. "You don't...don't have to lie..." Albus said quite tensely; a mixture of fear and doubt obscuring his voice. "You don't have to pretend...pretend you're okay with it...okay with me..."
"Al—" Harry said weakly.
"I'm..." Albus heaved out a tired sigh. He wished he was a Legilimens. Not a manipulating, sick one like Delphi. A good one. The two men he was named after were Legilimens, after all. Why couldn't he be one, too? Albus wished, with all his heart that he could decrypt what his Dad was thinking. If only he was able to gather access to Harry's deepest thoughts. His Dad was neither smiling nor frowning. He just appeared...conflicted. Or confused, was what it? It was hard to understand how his Father was processing all this. "I-I-I—I'm...I'm s-s-sorry, D-Dad," Albus stammered with a most petrified appearance, hiding his face with his shaken hands, the way his boyfriend usually did whenever he was embarrassed.
Ginny gave her son a grief-stricken gaze, her chestnut eyes sparkling with tears. "Why—for the love of Dumbledore—are you sorry?"
Albus lifted his head up timorously, turning to her. "B-because I'm...wrong," he whispered through his fingers before placing his hands on his lap again. "I'm...I'm sick, aren't I? That's what people say..."
Ginny's eyes darkened with fury, raising her nose up in antipathy. "Well those people can take those words and shove it right up their—"
"People who say that," Harry interrupted abruptly with a determined expression on his face. "They are the ones who are wrong. They are the ones who are sick. Not you, Albus. Not you."
Albus was mildly skeptical. "I'm not...supposed...to be this way. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Don't you get it, Dad? I-I'm bad. Deviant. Diseased."
"NO!" Harry shouted, a yell so piercing, so unexpected, it made both Ginny and Albus jump. Harry's emerald eyes travelled apologetically from his wife to his dear son. He didn't mean to scare them for the love of Dumbledore. He just couldn't stand—couldn't bear to hear his boy—his incredible son—direct such hateful things at himself. Harry took his hand off of Albus' leg and latched onto Albus' shoulder instead, jerking his son closer to him, until their green emerald eyes were locked with one another. "No Al. Don't say those things about yourself. You aren't sick. There's no potion to be brewed to cure you, if that's what you're thinking because there's nothing wrong with you. This isn't something for Madam Pomfrey to heal away. You aren't sick. You aren't something that needs fixing, alright? You are supposed to be this way." His voice broke like glass as he continued gazing at his brave and brilliant boy. He brushed his hand into his son's sweaty hair. He was so proud of Albus. He was proud of everything he was and everything he was yet to be. "There's nothing wrong about you, son. Do you hear me? Nothing."
Albus felt a sweet rush of relief in the pit of his stomach. His Dad...accepted him. It was too good to be true. Albus had to double check.
"Are you—? Are you sure?" His voice came out small. "Do you really believe all of that? Do you reckon there's nothing's wrong with me? Nothing at all?"
"Of course, Al," Harry insisted.
Albus felt a wrench of anxiety take over. "I think...I'm—I'm doing bad things. And...thinking bad things..."
A smile rushed to Ginny's face. "Thinking bad things? Oh, Al. What are you doing you claim is so bad?"
"S-Scorpius."
It was a hushed whisper so ominous and indistinct, Harry could have sworn his son was speaking Parseltongue.
Harry smacked his lips together. "Sorry, didn't catch that."
"I'm—" Albus took a great gulp of breath. "I'm...with...someone..."
"That's—that's lovely." Harry smiled brightly, his voice quite high pitched—thrilled his son was slowly opening up to them. "Who is this lucky wizard? When can I meet him?"
"Pathetic," Ginny muttered friskily beneath her teeth.
Harry disregarded her comment, continuing speaking to his son. "Well, Al. It's okay to think things...when you're with him. And it's okay to do...things—?" His russet ears were flesh hot by the mere second. "You're allowed...allowed to...erm...? Ginny, help me out..."
"Right," Ginny beamed. "What we want you to know is, it's perfectly fine to touch him or...snog him—"
"MUM!" Red foams puffed on Albus' bronze cheeks. "Okay we are—" Albus couldn't hold it together. He burst out laughing as he covered his face with his hands—a habit he'd most definitely inherited from his boyfriend. "—done—with—this—conversation."
Ginny and Harry too laughed along, knowing their son was probably beyond embarrassed by such a topic. Was this actually happening? Were his parents really giving him advice and guidance on snogging wizards? It was music to his ears, yet it was a song he didn't want to hear ever again. The mention of kissing and touching boys made Albus' mind skate over to Scorpius. Albus couldn't stop thinking about kissing Scorpius. How the taste of his tongue made him feel weak. How he felt safe and drunk with love whenever Scorpius would touch him. How he thirsted to once again feel Scorpius' smooth fingers circle around his bare chest.
"Snogging is perfectly fine!" Ginny reminded him, wiping her eyes which were full of tears from all of the giggling.
"But nothing else, Al!" Harry fumed strictly, although he still managed to wear a kind smile on his face. "You're fifteen!"
"Oh come off it, Harry!" Ginny rolled her eyes. "Acting as if you've never touched a girl when you were his age..."
Harry glared at her. "I didn't!" He said acidly.
"Cho Chang?" Ginny raised her eyebrows, still smiling. "Under. The. Mistletoe," she added dramatically, as if it were the greatest scandal.
Harry couldn't believe his ears. "GINNY!"
"I've made my point," Ginny said victoriously, winking at her son. "Touching above the waist, is allowed." Ginny nodded, turning to her husband, who seemed disappointed and conflicted all at once. "I think that's a fair rule. Al's a responsible boy..."
"We forgetting about the Time-Turner incident?" Harry asked sarcastically.
Ginny flicked him away with her wrist. "Oh shush," she said hotly, her doe brown eyes flashing at him perilously. "Al is more than old enough to recognize what he should and shouldn't be doing with a boy..."
"MUM!" Albus shouted, covering his ears. "Please stop!"
"Love, we ought to have this talk," Ginny urged him responsibly. "Especially since your love life differs from your siblings. I just want you to be careful and safe."
Albus wanted to disappear into thin air. "Mum, another day. Please. We've only recently gotten together. We're taking it slow..."
"Good," Ginny smiled satisfactorily.
"I'm really happy for you, Al," Harry praised. "Truly. There's nothing wrong about being in love with a boy. There's nothing wrong with kissing him, or thinking about him in an...erm...intimate way—"
"Dad, I'm begging you—"
"—or touching him—"
"Enough, Dad!"
"...Or being with him. Understand?"
Albus didn't think it was possible for his face to turn redder. "Got it," he said quickly, hoping this would be the last of it.
Ginny grinned at her husband and clasped her son's hand, kissing it. "We love you, Al."
"I'm sorry for being gay," Albus said grimly. "I know this isn't something that many people like to hear about their kids..."
"Parents who hate their kids for being gay," Harry turned bright pink with fury, clenching his great fists. "Shouldn't even be parents in the first place." He took a deep breath, exhaling and threaded his fingers with his wife, doing his best to calm down. "When you're a parent..." he sighed once more. "...your job is to love your child unconditionally. And Al? We love you unconditionally. Always will."
"Thank you, Dad," Albus whispered.
Ginny flashed her son a smile. "Love, don't ever be sorry for fancying boys. If I don't have to be sorry for liking wizards, then you certainly don't have to."
Albus couldn't help but laugh. "T-thanks." He gushed, grasping tighter onto her hand.
Harry noticed the cloth that was once wrapped around Albus' arms had fallen onto the bed from all of the laughing and movement on the cot. There were large dark slashes that were cut onto his son's skin. The marks, he noticed, seemed to be different this time. There were words. What did they say? Was that—? Did that say Death or was Harry seeing things? He knew this wasn't the time to ask Al about it. He would ask him later, surely. When the time was right.
Harry could feel the heated gaze of his wife but wouldn't dare to look at her. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and knew, in this moment, that his Boggart had changed. Dementors were nothing compared to this. What he feared, most in the world, was this: his son cutting himself. His son purposely hurting his beautiful skin until it bled. The fact that Albus had not been manipulated to do it, like Harry was by Umbridge. His greatest fear was that his son knew exactly what he was doing—that he'd used the Black Quill and cut himself knowingly. Willingly. He did it because he didn't know how to handle the pain he was swarmed with on a daily basis. It tore Harry's heart in two.
Harry spoke rather softly, almost like a lullaby. "Al. Being gay...being you...is no reason to cut yourself."
Albus' emerald eyes glossed with pain, realizing his scars were plain in sight for his parents to see. He shut his eyes, breathing loudly. "Do you—? Do you still wish I was never your son?"
"Oh Al," Harry embraced his son in a large Hippogriff hug, holding him steadily by his broad chest. He pressed his lips to the top of Albus' head while thick tears spilled down his cheeks. "Never," he whispered.
"T-thank you," Albus choked out, fastening his hands tighter around his Father's shoulders.
"I love you, Al," Harry consoled, letting go of his son and smiling down at him. "Doesn't bother me the slightest that you fancy wizards."
Albus grinned largely at Harry, and then at his Mum, who joined in on the hugging. She stretched her arms towards her son and pecked a long kiss on his forehead.
"You knew, didn't you?" Albus asked her with a little laugh.
Ginny smirked at him, plucking the bobby pin out of her thick rosy hair. "Naturally."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry rounded on her, scratching the back of his neck. He felt about as doltish as a Gilderoy Lockhart who had blasted Obliviate on himself in Harry's second year at Hogwarts.
"Because," Ginny groaned, as she stared at the humble face of her youngest son. "It wasn't my secret to tell."
"Reckon you've got a point," Harry surrendered, realizing she was—as usual— right. "Al?" Harry cleared his throat. "Is it—? Is it okay if I ask questions about—? About you? I want to know more about you, if you'd let me."
Albus was smiling harder—longer, until his cheeks burned like fire, in the best kind of way. His Dad was trying. Trying to understand him and Albus knew, right now in this moment, if he would have to conjure a Patronus charm, and had to think of a happy memory—his happiest of memories, he would pick this moment, right here, right now. This moment where his parents accepted him, fully, for who he was. This moment, where his Dad wanted to know more about who Albus truly was. Albus couldn't have been happier.
"Of course!" Albus agreed a little too enthusiastically. He threw the blankets off his legs and quickly folded them together, sitting cross-legged, his spine upright. "Ask me anything." he simpered.
Harry adjusted his rimmed glasses. "How long have you known you were gay?"
Albus hesitated. "I've always fancied boys. Had little crushes here and there. I just didn't understand what they meant. Always flicked them away, pretending they weren't anything of real importance. I was confused, I guess. B-but when I met Scorpius—" His ears were scarlet. "—it was like I could see clearly. It was like I finally understood what it was like to love someone."
Ginny grinned while Harry looked as though he'd been hit in the back of the head with a rogue bludger.
"You—?" Harry shook his head, once again, tired of being the last to know everything. He didn't have to turn to his wife for support. With that smile on her face, it was more than obvious that this was no surprise to her. "You and Scorpius—? Scorpius Malfoy? You two are...are dating? That's the boy you like? Blimey, you've snogged him as well?"
"Harry..." Ginny warned. "You don't have to answer that last question, darling!"
"Scorpius and I are boyfriends." Albus blushed. "And yeah, we've...erm snogged."
"I should have known." Harry grinned, thumping himself with his hand lightly on the forehead. "Am I clueless or am I clueless?"
Ginny and Albus smiled at each other. "You're clueless." They said at the same time.
It shocked Albus how easy it now was to talk to his parents about these things. This conversation would once be deemed a taboo; an impossible subject at the Potters. But now—? After coming out and gaining their acceptance, Albus felt like there was nothing he couldn't tell them. That there was absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. He felt unconquerable; a burning fire of pride flickered at the centre of his chest. He was no longer slouching as he spoke, but was sitting upright, shoulders up, chest puffed out. He was proud. Proud of himself. Proud to be Scorpius'.
"Is—? Is that why you always sleep over at the Manor—?"
"Harry!" Ginny snapped.
"Dad, no!" A part of Albus was horrified, and another part of Albus felt like he was going to pass out with jollity. "I didn't—we never did anything. Except sometimes...we'd wake up, and we'd be hugging each other." Albus paused to smile, recollecting such memories. Scorpius was quite delicate and soft. Albus loved looping his arm around his silky body. He quickly snapped out of such a daydream, talking at the speed of light, feeling his legs turn to jelly. Did he really say all of that? He wanted to sprint out of the room, yet his feet were locked in place. "B-but no. We never did anything....romantic. We never admitted our feelings for each other until erm today, really."
Ginny rested her closed fist on her oval chin, smiling. "What is it you like about him, Al? Scorpius?"
Albus heaved a joyful sigh, feeling a scorch of fervour blaze over his face. "Much time have you got?"
"All the time in the world," Harry beamed.
Albus didn't want to wait. He couldn't quite help it. He just started chirping away, as if he were holding all of these emotions, all of these thoughts away and wanted so badly to let them loose.
"I love the way he laughs. He laughs with everything he's got." Albus blushed heatedly. "It's as if someone had told him the funniest joke in the world. I could close my eyes and listen to that adorable—beautiful laugh my whole life...I love the way he smiles...he has a rather shy smile too, if you stare at him for too long...he's always the first to break eye contact because he just gets so nervous—it's adorable! I love how his skin is always quite warm...probably to match that great big heart of his..."
"Hang on, Al. His skin?" Harry's eyebrows soared up so high, it nearly touched his hairline. "How do you know what he feels like?"
"Oh will you stop!" Ginny snarled, her face about as irritated as Argus Filch whenever Peeves would play tricks on him. "You knew perfectly well what Cho's skin was like in your fifth year! Stop pretending otherwise. Not to mention mine when you were sixteen—"
"GINNY!"
"Oh don't look at me like that!" Ginny shot back. "I think it's important for Albus to know we've had our fair share of dating and relationships, too." She smiled sweetly at her son. "When I was fourteen, I dated Michael Corner. We met at the Yule Ball. He was quite nice until he got all pouty after Ravenclaw lost to Gryffindor in a Quidditch match..."
Albus appeared rather entertained by this disclosure. Ginny was with a bloke named Michael Corner? What was he like? Albus marvelled. His Dad dated someone named Cho Chang when he was Albus' age? He snogged her as well? And under a Mistletoe, too. That seemed rather romantic. It was most intriguing to hear about their pasts.
Albus smirked at his parents. "Have I scared you off, then?"
"Certainly not!" Harry objected, shamefaced. "I was only being..."
"An overbearing parent," Ginny cut in. She sneered at her husband fiercely. "Mollycoddling, wouldn't you say?" Harry smiled at her, shaking his head. Ginny gave her son a supportive thumbs up. "Do continue."
"No way," Albus snorted. "Don't accidentally want to get into trouble. I'll save this conversation for later." He paused for a bit, clipping a finger in his mouth. "I-I want Scorp and Draco to come to our house for dinner."
Harry swore under his breath while Ginny simpered pleasingly.
"Definitely," she sang enthusiastically, the way his sister, Lily usually did whenever she was happy. "We'd love that, wouldn't we Harry?"
Harry was quiet for a moment. "It will be hard...having to get along with Draco. But...Al? For you—for you, I will do it. And for Scorpius. I would love to get to know your boyfriend more. I'm excited to." He smiled. "We'll have them over soon. I promise."
"Thanks." Albus beamed so hard his cheeks started throbbing. He couldn't recall a time when he was smiling so much that it hurt. Everything seemed to be working in his favour. He wasn't used to being treated with such grace by the universe. Albus peered down at his wrists, knowing this topic had to be discussed. He didn't want to delay it any longer. It would just create more tension and problems. He had already come out to his parents, and the result was immeasurable. Now...now he had to discuss another rather serious matter. It had to be done. "I know you have been meaning to ask..," he said quietly. "I-I know it's something you both have been wondering about..." He held up his damaged forearms to their faces, watching them doing their absolute best to remain composed. Ginny was most convincing while Harry—his face was just as bad as Rose's. "The cuts...it says...Death Shall Take. Delphi made me write that." The faces of his parents were growing more and more confounded. "I hate to bring this up, really, but I have to ask...do...do I—? Do I have a Prophecy?"
The frowns on his parents' face formed into horror.
"Al, sweetie," Ginny began. "You did, but we had it—"
"Why didn't you tell me?" Albus sulked.
"The same reason you didn't tell us about who you really are." Harry said, looking guilty, "Because we were scared."
"It wasn't just any Prophecy, either," Ginny said gravely. "It was—"
"An Ill-Fated one, I know," Albus grumbled, shimming out of their arms and slouching again. "Use me as your own personal noose. Your lover's blood is now on the loose. A tortured mind will go mad. Death shall take the second Dad."
Harry's jaw dropped. "Al...Al...please don't say that again..."
"Harry's right," Ginny agreed, appearing rather anxious and solemn, clearly worried someone would overhear their conversation. "Repeating it only makes matters worse." She tried to knit her brown eyes onto Albus, but every time she did, Albus only turned the other way. She was utterly defeated. She didn't want her son to be angry at Harry again. They were just patching things up between them; turning over a new leaf. "Oh love, please don't be upset. We did it for your best interest. We wanted to shield you from the Prophecy. We didn't know what the Prophecy meant, exactly. All we knew was we had to keep it hidden. From the world. From you."
"Well, it didn't work," Albus said mordantly. "Delphi got a hold of it and used it against me. But...but in the end..." A cunning sneer crept onto his face. "In the end, I used it against her..."
"What are you talking about, Al?"
"Did—?" Albus sighed. "Did my Prophecy come with any article? A Black Quill?"
Harry was outraged. "No, of course not." His eyes kept skittering over to Albus' arms.
"Delphi must have planted the Quill then," Albus thought aloud. "I never understood the line Use me as your own personal noose. I always wondered, what me was referring to. Was it the Quill? Was it something else? Suppose it's up to interpretation. Suppose maybe it can be referring to the Quill after all." Albus met eye contact wit his parents, whose faces were growing sadder by the mere second. "Strange, don't you think? That the Black Quill is...well...sort of mentioned in my Prophecy? Almost like...almost like I was meant to use it. Meant to find it." Albus stared into his lap. "Scorp doesn't want to talk about what happened in the cellar. But...I do. Delphi...she...she made me write the Ill-Fated Prophecy with the Black Quill."
"My poor boy!" Ginny clung onto Albus' wrists, examining them. "Oh Al! These marks—they're awful! We should add more of the Essence onto your cuts..."
"Mum, I'm fine!" Albus claimed, pulling away from her. "Really. I'm okay now."
"Al, show me." Harry propped close, drawing his fingers by Albus' wounds. It ached to see his son's scars, but he didn't want Albus to know that. "This...this is the last line of the Prophecy, isn't it?"
"Erm, yeah."
Harry squinted his thick eyebrows together. "This says Death Shall Take." He looked up at his dear son, amazed at Albus' braveness. "You didn't finish it?"
"Changed my mind," Albus said proudly. "The thing is..." His smile disappeared as quickly as it came. "She didn't let us leave the cellar. Threatened to torture Scorpius. Said she would kill his House Elf if I didn't agree to write the lines of the Prophecy with the Quill. So I obeyed her. I wrote the Prophecy with the Black Quill. But—I stopped at that line because I conjured up a plan. Besides, I didn't think she deserved that satisfaction of watching me in pain. She did seem to be enjoying it, though. The Prophecy was hidden away to be forgotten, but in the end, it was supposed to be found. It's a good thing, too."
"How—?" Ginny's mouth was half opened. "How is this a good thing, love?"
"Every bit of the Prophecy came true, that's why," Albus carried on. "It's over now. There's nothing to be scared of, anymore."
"What do you mean it came true, Al?"
"Scorp and I decoded it, and soon watched it all unfold before our very eyes. The first part, talks about me cutting myself. The second, talks about Delphi being on the loose. And the part where it says: A tortured mind will go mad refers to Draco Malfoy since he was under the Imperius Curse. And the last part..." Albus paused slightly, his voice awfully forbidding. "The last one is about...about killing the second Dad. At first Scorp and I thought it was talking about you or Draco. But...it was talking about Delphi's second Dad. Voldemort was her first Dad. But when he died, Bellatrix's husband, Rodolphus Lestrange took care of her. And, well—he was in the cellar with us and I...I r-r-realized what had to be done. I...I killed him, Dad. I killed Rodolphus Lestrange. I killed the Second Dad." Albus knew he was supposed to feel remorse after saying such a statement. He was supposed to feel something. Pain. Regret. Guilt. Sorrow. But he didn't. He didn't feel anything at all. Except perhaps pride. "Am I bad?"
Harry was silent for a moment. "We've...we've all done things we wish we could undo..."
"That's the thing!" Albus said with a rise of panic. "I'm not sorry! If I had a Time-Turner—" He ignored the alarm in his parents' eyes once he mentioned Time-Turner. "—If I had a Time-Turner, I wouldn't change anything. I'd do it again! I'd light the Manor on fire and watch him meet his death—"
"Surely you don't mean that," Ginny tried to smile.
Albus ducked his head down. "I wish you were right, Mum."
"I am," Ginny averred, her voice becoming louder.
"Ginny..." Harry stopped her. "It's alright. Let Al talk to us..."
"What?" she thundered. "Our son is no killer, Harry!"
"I am, Mum," Albus told her, wishing she would just hear him out.
"YOU'RE NOT!" Ginny yelled.
She let go of her son's hand and stormed out of the Wing, trotting into the empty corridors.
"Mum!" Albus called after her.
But she didn't look back.
Harry pulled Albus close to him. "Your Mum will come around. Death... has always been a touchy subject with her—especially because of Fred dying in the war...Your Mother, she's been through a lot. Voldemort...he was an awful wizard, you know that. Full of prejudice. Hate. Darkness..."
Albus clutched his Father's hand, surprised at how protected he felt being in the arms of his Father. Normally, he wouldn't come close to his Dad. He wouldn't want anything to do with him. After the whole Time-Turner incident, things were slowly being sewn back together, but they weren't perfect. But now—? After coming out...coming clean with all of his secrets, it was like they've broken down the wall between them.
The Wing door flew open, and Harry and Albus turned—hoping it was Ginny, but were disappointed to see it was only Hannah Abbott—a new Healer at Hogwarts—who was levitating an injured fifth year onto the very last bed of the Hospital Wing. Curiously, Albus stared at the boy, who was fast asleep. Albus bounced off of the bed, with Harry cautiously following behind him until Albus stood at the foot of the boy's bed, getting a closer look at the boy, recognizing him at once.
Albus gasped, stepping back. It was Kasim Klayton. He was wearing his Ravenclaw robe and had dark skin and black corkscrew, coiled hair. He was in Potions class with Albus and Scorpius, often defending them whenever people would taunt them.
Hannah administered bandages on his left leg.
"Wha—? What's wrong with him?" Albus asked nervously, his heart bouncing all over the place with anguish.
Hannah made eye contact with Harry; the two nodded respectfully. He remembered her when they were kids. They were never really friends. Acquaintances.
Hannah pushed her blonde hair out of her face, frowning at Albus.
"Been hexed— hit by a nasty curse from that Jenkins boy." Albus' face darkened with rage, ready to snap. But it was as if she read Albus' mind and could easily predict his behaviour. "No need to play the hero, Albus. Jenkins is in detention."
"Right," Albus said thickly. "By the time Karl's made it out of detention, he'll come back tomorrow and do it again."
Hannah applied a bottle of potion onto one of the gashes on Kasim's arm. It seemed she was preoccupied tending to Kasim, and only half listening to Albus.
"Kids can be cruel, I know," she murmured.
"Come on, Al," Harry instructed. "Sit back and let her do her work."
Albus glanced sadly at Kasim before following his Dad's heels. "I'm going to kill Jenkins," he vowed through gritted teeth. "Just wait—"
"You only say that because you're upset Al—and you have every reason to be..." Harry said gently, pulling up two wooden chairs by Albus' bed for Harry and his son to sit.
Albus spun his head around the Wing, gazing in the direction of Hannah and Kasim. He lowered his voice just to be sure they couldn't be overheard.
"Perhaps—? Perhaps there's a darkness in me, too. The same one that is in Delphi. In Voldemort."
"Al, what you've got to remember is—" Harry stopped midway, remembering they weren't alone anymore.
His eyes travelled to Hannah, who covered Kasim with thick woolen blankets. She started travelling down the aisle of the Wing, making her way to the entrance, her boots clicking as she walked and halted abruptly when she came to Albus and Harry. She smiled generously at them, pitching a handful of Chocolate Frogs by the dresser of Albus' bed before departing the Wing.
"Thanks," Albus said politely.
"My pleasure," Hannah responded as the door shut.
Harry gazed at his son again. "There's no scrap of darkness in you, Albus Potter," he stated.
"There was in Dumbledore, wasn't there?" Albus' voice was becoming quieter. "And Snape?" Albus pulled his legs up to his chest, fastening his arms around them. Albus tried to get his Dad to see his point. "And Dumbledore...he was gay, like me. Fell in love with Gellert Grindelwald. Grindelwald was nearly as dark as Voldemort, if not more." He chewed on his nails with most angst. "What if I'm like Grindelwald? What if I'm bad?"
Harry thought of the true, honest and comforting words spoken by his Godfather Sirius Black and beamed at his son. "You know..." he said quietly, brushing his fingers into Albus' dark hair. "When I was your age, I used to worry about the same thing. I used to think...because I saw a lot of darkness in my life, I was turning into my trauma. I believed I was doomed to live a life of darkness. That there was something evil growing inside of me. But I was wrong. You killed a man. But why did you? For fun? Or to protect your loved ones?"
"I...I did...did it to save Scorpius," Albus said shakily. "To save myself. I did it so we could get out of the cellar. I realized the Prophecy was talking about Rodolphus as the Second Dad, and knew that meant he was going to die. I just didn't—couldn't cast the Killing Curse on him. I couldn't kill him directly. So I cast Fiendfyre. Then we fired the full binding curse on him so he couldn't move. And...and the fire started attacking him. He was dead in minutes."
"See now that's the difference between you and Voldemort. He would have cast Avada Kedavra. But you couldn't bear to cast such a curse. Why is that?"
Albus observed a Lacewing fly flitter onto the brown dresser, resisting the urge to hit it. "I...I suppose because we're different..."
Harry snapped his fingers. "Exactly, Albus! Exactly!"
Albus seemed reassured now, as his shoulders steadied. "I suppose I ought to tell you something else, too. The...the reason...I...s-s s-s-stopped using the Quill down at the Manor was because...I could hear Delphi's voices, Dad. It grew louder each time I used the Quill. It seems...every time I use the Quill, the connection...the communication between us grows stronger, clearer. The reason she wanted me to cut, was so she could sway my thoughts with her words."
Harry's face was unreadable. "Has it stopped, the voices?" His voice quivered.
Albus bit his lip, thinking, looking thoughtful as his eyes skated towards the grand clock on the wall: 3:01 a.m. It was late. Very late, wasn't it?
"Since I threw the Quill in the pool of fire, yeah."
"Albus," Harry said desperately, doing all he can to make his son believe he wasn't absolutely terrified. "Listen to me. These voices? What exactly do they do?"
Albus mustered out a yawn. "Dad, I'm getting tired..."
"I know," He empathized, grasping his shoulder sharply, "I swear you can head to bed soon. Just—tell me what these voices do!"
Albus closed his eyes, and crumbled his head onto the shoulder of Harry. "Erm. They just...whisper things. I have nightmares about Delphi and those nightmares are just...visions—I suppose...visions of what she wants me to see. But since I chucked the Quill, the nightmares, the voices...they've all stopped. All I've been getting is dead silence. Nothing to worry about...I...I know what you're thinking. I'm not a Horcrux, Dad."
"I must investigate this Quill, Al."
"Perhaps," Albus said sleepily. "But the Quill's probably burnt to crisps."
Harry didn't want to admit that Albus was probably right. He held hope that it would be found. Harry had already ordered the Ministry to conduct a thorough investigation at the Manor. Surely, they are bound to recover pieces of the Quill.
"Al?"
Ginny tiptoed back in the Wing, her eyes red and puffy with deepest aching and unhappiness. It was apparent she had been crying.
Albus opened his eyes with delight at the sound of his Mother's voice. He sat up, watching her closely.
Ginny walked over to her son, throwing her arms around him. "I'm sorry...for shouting...I....I don't normally shout—"
"Actually," Albus said slyly, still holding onto her. "You do."
"Oh, shut it," Ginny said gruffly, pulling him close. "I know...know it's okay...what you did...I imagine that must have been scary...having to take a life... and even scarier to admit to us. I made it rather difficult for you to trust me again, now have I?" She leaned her back against the bed, watching her husband and son.
Albus thought about it, pausing. "No, Mum, you didn't. I'll still—I'll always come to you and Dad. No more secrets."
Ginny smiled bravely at him, and strolled over to the dresser, taking a Chocolate Frog and tossing it to her son, who clasped it in his hand, watching her with marvel. His Mum never allowed chocolate at Godric's Hollow. They always had to sneak it into the house. This could only mean Ginny was exceptionally sorry for her little outburst.
Harry watched his son unwrap the Chocolate Frog and grimaced. He was starving. Perhaps if he pouted long enough, his wife would take pity on him and let him eat the sweets, too. He locked his eyes on Ginny—who snorted loudly, flicking one at him, too.
"Let's talk about something...happy, shall we?" Ginny suggested considerately. "Can we ask any more questions about you?"
"Yeah, Albus approved, checking the purple-bluish package of the Chocolate Frog, grinning triumphantly when he saw that the card he collected was a picture of Albus Dumbledore with his half-moon glasses smiling widely with those twinkling blue eyes of his. He slipped the card into his pocket, beaming.
"Who was the first boy you fancied?" Ginny questioned.
Albus swallowed the remaining bits of chocolate. "Gonçalo Flores," he said hastily.
"The Brazilian Chaser!" Harry's eyes widened, nearly spitting out the frog. "Of course!"
"NO!" Ginny said, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree. "You really did fancy him? That's why you've—?" She covered her face with her hands. "Merlin's Beard, you loved him since you were eight! Always talking about how strong he looked. How he was beautiful in midair."
Albus felt himself grow hot. "Did I honestly say all that aloud?"
"Uncle Ron said similar things about Victor Krum," Ginny smirked. "So I never really thought much of it."
"Blimey, you were obsessed with Gonçalo!" Harry chortled, remembering it all. "Had posters all over your wall. I remember—" Harry let out a great chuckle. "—during the match, when your boyfriend scored—"
"DAD!"
"—you were so ecstatic that you nearly fell out from the VIP box!"
Albus giggled. "I remember that perfectly well," he admitted bashfully. "James laughed at me as I tumbled pathetically. But Uncle Ron broke my fall and caught me just in time. Then you patted my head and gave me some of Luna Lovegood's sweets." Albus' eyes swept the eager faces of his parents, who were smiling down at him. It was nice that they could talk like this now. He paused slightly. "I love you, Dad. And you, Mum."
"We love you too, son," Harry said, his spirits sinking, wondering why they've never been this close with one another before. "I wish...wish we had known about you earlier. It would have helped you...helped us. Why—? Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Harry said fishing out his wand and summoning the green cloth. He clasped it into his hands, dabbing it soothingly onto Albus' forearms.
"I was afraid," Albus said quietly, watching his Dad add more of the yellowish Murtlap Essence onto the towel. "Didn't have a clue how you'd take it." He winced slightly when the soaked cloth touched his skin. "Ow!" He jumped. "S-sorry. Surprised me is all. It's okay," he told his Dad. "It's...it's a good kind of pain. Means it's working."
"Surely you could have told someone else," Ginny murmured. "Why not tell your brother?"
Albus snorted. "Like hell," he said dully. "Thought he'd make fun of me even more."
"Must have been hard," said Harry, the despondency in his eyes becoming more pronounced than ever. "Having to walk around carrying such a secret."
"It was," Albus admitted, removing the towel from his forearms and peering darkly at his scars. They didn't hurt as much as they used to. The aching of his skin burned slightly, but what had hurt even more was simply staring at them. Death Shall Take. They were a reminder of what happened in the cellar. A reminder not of his self-infliction, but his reason not to. He wasn't the same boy he once was. He wasn't the boy who self-inflicted due to the strangling feelings of self-loathing. That part of him no longer existed. He evolved. Grew. Albus was different. He felt it in his veins but didn't know how to properly explain it in a way his parents would comprehend. "Being in the closet..." said Albus, heaving an enormous sigh, "...is like being trapped. There's no way out. There's barely space to breathe. And it's obscured with darkness... not a trace of light in sight. And you're all alone. There's no one in there but yourself. It's cold and empty in there...you get used to shivering in the darkness...for the frigidness to seize a part of you. Sometimes...when you're in the closet for so long—too long—you start smelling death. It's tempting...to go through with it. But in the end, you know...you know it's not worth it. You know you can't stay in there for the entirety of your life. You know death isn't the only means of escape. That it isn't the only way out. Sometimes, in order to survive, in order to live the best life you deserve—you have no choice but to come out—regardless of your fear—your consuming fear—of facing oppression, so you go through with it. You come out of the closet. But when you come out of the closet..." A sweet smile of liberation planted itself on Albus' face. He squeezed some of the essence of Murtlap from the towel onto his scars, until he could no longer feel the stinging, searing pain, "...it's like you've entered a new world. A rather beautiful world. You can finally see. There's a shimmering of light in all directions, it takes you by surprise. At first, it's hard to adjust to...there's such overwhelming sunlight...you forget what darkness feels like. And...there's people...there's a whole lot of people everywhere. Witches and wizards alike. People like you. People who've survived living in the closet. And—and everything has changed in an instant. You're not alone anymore. You suddenly forget what the stench of death is like. You lose the enticement to depart the world. And—and most importantly you...you're happy. You're yourself. There's no shame. No sorrow. Just happiness. And pride, yes there's pride. Pride that you were able to survive all of those terrifying nights in the closet. You're not trapped anymore. You're not alone. You're...you're free."
There was a stream of silence as Harry and Ginny watched their son. Albus was rubbing his fingers up and down his forearm—which was blanketed with the cloth as he was speaking. Finally, their son stared back at them, with a satisfied smile. It made sense...what he was saying...but it also broke their hearts. Harry's heart had been broken before, sure—after Sirius died, when he thought Snape betrayed Dumbledore, when he heard Hermione being tortured down at Malfoy Manor—but not like this. This was a different kind of heartbreak. It nearly destroyed him, knowing that Albus had been hiding a whole part of his identity from him—from the world. That his precious son used the Quill to flee from all of the inner turmoil that he was battling with. That it was an unimaginable, overwhelming struggle being in the closet.
Harry knew firsthand what it was like to live in the closet—literally, not figuratively. But at the same time, everything his son was saying somehow related to him. Living in the closet at Number Four Privet Drive with the Dursleys—that was excruciating...it was everything his son had described. And...and coming out of the closet...that was like when Harry was rescued by Hagrid—when eleven-year-old Harry had first stepped into the Wizarding World. How comforting it felt for Harry to see witches and wizards alike...it brought him a sense of community...a beckoning symbol of togetherness and harmony.
Perhaps Harry didn't understand Albus...how difficult it was, having to hide his sexuality, nor would Harry ever understand. But what he did understand, was the emotions and feelings he felt while living with the Dursleys, and the shining ball of hope—of happiness—he felt once he was free from such an abusive household. Harry scowled to himself, shaking his thoughts away. What was he thinking? Coming out of the closet and leaving the Dursleys were incomparable. They were not similar in the slightest. They were two very different experiences. Perhaps what Harry needed to do was simply listen—listen to his son—listen to where Albus was coming from. Harry continued staring at his son, wanting nothing more than to truly understand him, to truly support him.
"Is that how you feel now," Ginny prodded, clutching her chest, so sure her heart would crush to pieces. "Free?"
"Free. Happy. Proud," Albus listed honestly. "Yeah."
"And you—?" Harry swallowed the lump growing in his throat. "You don't smell death anymore, do you?"
"No." He stared at his parents. "Death was cunning. But so was I. No matter what happened, I would never shake hands with death."
"And now?" Ginny questioned, her face flustered with fright, which she didn't seem to conceal well.
Albus thought about it. "I don't think about it anymore. But if I ever do...I will tell you. Both of you. You'll have to help talk me out of it."
"We will," Harry said heavily. "Every. Damn. Time."
"I'm free, now Dad," Albus said. "No need to cry."
Harry didn't even realize he had been weeping. Albus leaned in and brushed his fingers by his Father's face, wiping away his streams of tears.
"Wow, Dad. You've got a lot of wrinkles," he teased.
Harry laughed. "That's what being old does to you. Reckon when you're my age, you'll have twice as much."
"I'll apply excellent skin cream," Albus smirked.
Harry gave his son a compassionate smile, his white teeth shining. His son kept amazing him. He was awe-struck by his son's courage...strength...determination, resilience. His son endured so much and was still here. Still standing. Still strong. Harry gathered his son close to his chest, hugging him long and slow. Albus closed his eyes and reciprocated his Dad's hug rather enthusiastically, patting his back. Harry rubbed his son's black hair, appearing to feel a mix between flustered and proud.
"You're probably the bravest wizard I ever knew," Harry murmured.
Albus' striking green eyes widened in astonishment. His insides did a somersault or two. His Dad had said that exact thing about Severus Snape—the great wizard he was named after. On Albus' very first day of Hogwarts, at Platform 9 ¾, his Dad told him that he was named after Severus Snape, who was probably the bravest man he ever knew. Now—? Now to be told that he was probably the bravest wizard his Dad ever knew? It was the highest honour. His Dad was only lying. He had to be!
"T-that...that...you...you don't—?" Albus blundered piteously, practically forgetting how to speak in proper sentences. "You...you don't really mean that, do you, Dad?"
"You're right," Harry said quietly, "I don't." He pursed his lips together, grinning at the great young wizard that was sitting before him, who was by far more heroic than anyone he'd set eyes on. "Albus Severus Potter, you are the bravest wizard I ever knew."
It was as if Albus suddenly realized he was never truly happy. He was happy some days, sure. But that brittle field of contentment was horribly unreliable—annoyingly short—temporary...always fading within minutes—hours—if he were lucky. Had Albus known happiness before this? Absolutely. He felt it whenever Scorpius was nearby. Whenever he and James got along. But on a day-to-day basis...his happiness just lurked from place to place, like a lost Grim Reaper, leaving him isolated and wretched. He never felt the emotion of happiness in its entirely. He was half-happy. But never fully happy. Completely happy. Not until this very moment.
From this day forth, Albus knew, he was invincible. He could no longer be pushed to the edge by anyone or anything. Not the Black Quill. Not the Ill-Fated Prophecy. Not Yann. Not Delphi. Not any of those bullies that infested the grounds of Hogwarts. His Dad—his famous Father, Harry Potter—a wizard who Albus swore he would never be able to measure up to—finally accepted him; finally saw him for who he truly was and loved him nonetheless. Albus was finally seen by Harry—and that's all he ever wanted.