Chapter Text
It was only a matter of time before I absolutely lost my mind. The World Cup usually lasted a little over three weeks, less if less teams had qualified overall. But I had the misfortune of arriving at the Black Forest a week before the event took place. Mum had been covering the preparation for the Cup for the Daily Prophet. Us kids were instructed to remain inside the tent to avoid the press.
Soon enough, the World Cup was in full swing: the tent area became crowded, fireworks went off almost every night, and occasional fights broke out over teams. My only refuge was temporary, and my surroundings were hostile almost all the time. We’d gone to most of the matches, always being assaulted by the loud screaming and celebrations that followed each. Even the tent wasn’t safe, with Dad, Uncle Ron, and Uncle George laughing up a storm and singing after a couple of swings of Firewhiskey. I just wanted it to be over.
“Cheer up, Al,” Teddy said, hanging upside down from his bunk bed. “The finals are in a few days.”
“You mean true chaos approaches,” I said from the floor, leaning back on the side of my bed.
That made them laugh. “You could see it that way if you like.”
Lily poked her head over the threshold of our makeshift room. “Teddy, have you seen Mum?”
“Bug, if I’m honest with you, I haven’t seen your mum in three weeks,” he sat up and swung his feet over the edge. “I think she’s broadcasting last night’s match through WWN. OI, JAMES.”
“WHAT.” After a second, he appeared beside Lily. “I wasn’t doing nothin’.”
“I was gonna ask you to turn up the radio,” Teddy hopped off the bed, landing beside me, “but now I’m suspicious as hell about what you were up to.”
“Hey! I only said that because everyone’s always pointing fingers at me,” James crossed his arms. “It’s this one everyone needs to look out for,” James shoved a thumb in Lu’s direction. “Come on, Lu. Mum’s on broadcast.”
“Al, you and James will be fine on your own, right?” Teddy asked, but they were already putting on their shoes.
“Tell Victoire I said hi,” I sighed.
Teddy ruffled my hair with a grin. “Thanks, kiddo.”
I closed my eyes and listened to Teddy call to the others that they were leaving, the flapping of the tent door and a muffled, cheery conversation I couldn’t make out.
“Knock, knock,” Luc’s voice got closer.
“Bedroom!” I called.
“Hey,” he greeted, pulling back the dividing canvas. “My Albus-wants-to-bite-a-bullet senses went off.”
“Your senses are getting sharper.”
“Nah, I just can’t leave you to wallow for more than an hour and a half.”
Luc clambered onto my bed with a sigh. He extended his hand over the edge of the bed, expecting our little handshake. He’d insisted on developing one over the summer weeks we’d been stuck at the Cup. It was fairly simple, starting off with a regular shake, sliding our palms forward to snap our fingers around the other’s thumb, and a finger gun.
“Mama sends her love,” he said. “Wants you guys over for dinner tonight.”
That made me smile. “She doesn’t have to send her love every time you come over.”
“I’d say she’s ready to adopt you at this point, she is.”
“Does Scorpius know about dinner?”
“Yeah, I got him on the way over. His dad said he could go.”
“I think I’ll have to ask Teddy. Dad will be out late, he’s—”
“On patrol, yeah. I ran into him on the way here.”
“Did you ask?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah… I’m still getting over the fact that Harry bloody Potter knows who I am. He was bein’ interviewed by Skeeter, y’know, the reporter? And he had a real sour look on his face, like he couldn’t wait to be out of her sight. And he saw me and lit up, giving me a big wave. Asked how my parents were, I told him about dinner, he said it was fine.”
“Well, that’s just Dad.”
“I know, I know,” I felt Luc shift above. “But it’s also Harry Potter, the Man Who Survived.”
“Harry Potter, Father of Three. Or four. Depends who you ask.”
That made Luc laugh. “So, you coming to the next match? It’s Chad vs Luxembourg.”
“Chad’s favoured to win this year, yeah?”
“That’s what people with eyes are saying,” Luc grumbled. “I swear it’s like they’re not even watching the matches!”
“I might go, only if Scorpius goes, too. You and Rose get too involved in the match.”
My bed creaked as Luc sat up.
“Then let’s go.”
“Isn’t the match in an hour?”
“But the mascots!”
“Alright,” I chuckled.
Luc almost sprinted out of the room, making a quick exit out of the tent. I quickly found James and Lu in the open common room, near the iron hearth. The radio was emitting Mum’s warbled voice, giving an exciting retelling of last night’s match, and summing up the stats and favourable teams. James was slumped on the armchair; Lu was perched on the armrest listening closely to Mum’s voice.
“Look who crawled out of his hole,” James said in a bored tone.
“I go out of this tent more than you, James,” I flicked the back of his head as I passed.
He swatted at my hand. “Only because of your Hufflepup,” he shrugged.
“I thought you liked Luc,” Lu said with no real investment in our bickering.
“I like him well enough, doesn’t change what I said.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “We’re going to the match.”
“It’s not in an hour, sit your arse down.”
“He likes to see the mascots.”
James raised an eyebrow. “Okay, and?”
“And I’m going with him.”
“No, Teddy put me in charge—”
“Teddy told us not to kill each other—”
“—and since I’m in charge—”
“—I’m leaving—”
“—I say whether or not you leave this tent.”
“—see if you can stop me.”
“Hey!”
I was already out of the tent, looking around for Luc. I found him just a few steps away, very visibly uncomfortable. He was cornered by Skeeter, who was bombarding him with questions.
“How long have you known the Potters? What’s your relation to them? Distant cousin? Family friend? Fanboy? Mm-hm, how long have you been stalking the Potter family? Has Harry decided to take legal action yet?”
Luc could only look flustered and try to work his mouth around proper words, but nothing came out. Then Skeeter spotted me and pounced.
“Albus Potter! So good to see you again! How are you? Is it true that you were tragically sorted into Slytherin House? A travesty. Proper outrage has been felt around the nation. Has the issue been taken up with the Administration of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?”
I grabbed Luc by the elbow and started dragging him away. “No comment,” I said, sidestepping.
“Well trained, this one,” I heard Skeeter mutter.
“RITA,” Aunt Angelina was approaching fast. Skeeter looked alarmed for once. “How many bloody times do you have to be told to stay away from the children!”
We didn’t stick around to witness the rest of Aunt Angelina’s rage, but I threw her a grateful smile before dashing off with Luc.
* * *
The only thing that made the crowds at a match bearable was that my family got seats at the Minister’s box. Luc had retained his enthusiasm throughout the weeks; I, on the other hand, had quickly lost it once Brazil had been eliminated. His mother always accompanied us to the matches, which was how I found out where he got his passion for Quidditch. For the Coins, the view was extraordinary, but I was used to this kind of seating, even at standard seasonal games. It was easy to overlook that privilege when I’d had it all my life… The thought made me squirm.
“You alright?” Scorpius whispered.
I only hummed in reply.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just—I had a thought I didn’t like. I usually try to stay away from it.”
A cheer erupted from the crowd, a deafening yell of approval. Scorpius shrunk in his seat, leaning closer to me. We sat in the back of the box, spared only slightly from Mrs. Coin’s ranting and Rose and Luc’s arguments.
“What is it?”
My heart pounded a little harder. I was trying to figure out how to say it without actually saying it. “I’m scared talking about it might make him appear.”
“Might make him…?” Scorpius was thinking hard. “Who?”
“Scorpius, please.”
He thought about it for a minute. “Kreacher?”
I nodded.
“You haven’t brought it up? To your dad, I mean.”
“No. How the hell am I supposed to do it? Hey, Dad. How are ya? Just a quick question. Why do we have a bloody house-elf?”
“Fair,” Scorpius said. “What made you think of this?”
“I dunno… I was thinkin’ about privilege and the thought just—followed.”
“Alright…” Scorpius paced out his thoughts. “Well, Albus, are you willing to walk around eggshells forever? Especially when it comes to something like this?”
He didn’t sound judgmental, which was a relief. “No, but—”
“Talk to him. It can be tonight, it can be after the Cup, it could even be while we’re at school or during winter break. But you have to talk to your dad,” he shook my arm for emphasis. “Take the time you need to gather your thoughts and courage but do it before this year is out. I don’t think you’d want to drag this out.”
“Right.” Scorpius’s confidence steeled my nerves.
“Right,” he nodded with a gentle smile. “And, Albus?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t you dare torment yourself over keeping quiet. They did it first.”
“Okay, yeah.” I returned his smile a little. His words soothed me; gave me a comfort I didn’t know I needed. How incredibly, stupidly lucky I was to have Scorpius as my best friend. “Hey, Scorp?”
“Hm?”
“You’re really freakin’ smart.”
“Thanks,” Scorpius blushed in a bashful way.
The crowd went insane then. I could hear Mrs. Coin switch to French screaming, Rose was shaking Luc. Something happened.
“AND THAT’S THE GAME, FOLKS. CHAD TAKES THE SNITCH WITH A LEADING SCORE OF 170-40. A SHORT BUT TENSION FILLED MATCH. WHAT A RISK! WHAT A PLAY!”
“That was fast,” Scorpius said.
“We better stay up here for a bit,” I said. “We might get caught up in a brawl on the way down.”
Scorpius frowned. “Hasn’t happened before.”
“High tension, we’re entering the quarter finals.”
“Oh.”
I stepped into the tent with Scorpius right behind me only to be greeted by a stern-looking Dad. His arms were crossed, and he was tapping his foot; he looked like a caricature of how an angry father was supposed to act.
“Albus, James tells me you snuck out.”
“I didn’t sneak out,” I said, feeling how Scorpius was fidgeting behind me.
“Then please tell me your version of the events,” Dad said, deflating a little. He never liked being strict with us; he would take any excuse we gave him just to avoid conflict.
“I went to the match,” I shrugged, “like I always do. I was with Rose, Luc, Scorpius, and Mrs. Coin. Like always.” I felt Scorpius nod.
“Oh,” Dad said sheepishly. “Oh.” Just as Dad began to call for James, James’s figure darted behind Dad and pushed past me and Scorpius, out the tent. “James! Bloody hell. Sorry about that, Al.”
Dad walked swiftly after James, exiting the tent, taking the commotion outside with him.
“How many times is your dad going to believe James’s accusations?” Scorpius said, making his way over to the kitchenette. He reached for the cupboard, his fingers grazing the bottom door. “Damn. Hey, Albus?”
“Yep,” I went over and just barely managed to get the door open. “Probably never. James has Dad wrapped around his finger. Ugh, hell. They pushed the jar back.”
“That’s just cruel.”
“We could use a chair.”
“Then they’d know it’s us stealing the biscuits.”
I thought for a second. “But if we don’t get them this time around, they’ll definitely know it’s us.”
“Fair logic.” Scorpius pulled up a chair and, with a hop, retrieved the jar. He pushed the chair back in its place and handed me the jar. We turned to find Mr. Snowy-Owl, Dad’s patrol partner, holding out his wand. I uselessly shoved the jar behind my back. Scorpius was frozen like a deer caught in headlights.
Mr. Snowy-Owl smirked and motioned for us to move to the bedroom with his wand. I hurried over, dragging Scorpius by the collar. I hid the jar between my pillow and the tent canvas for good measure. I sat down on my bed, leaning on the pillow. Scorpius sat somewhat hesitatingly, looking back and leaning forward to get a better look at Mr. Snowy-Owl.
“All clear,” Mr. Snowy-Owl said, pointing his wand to his throat. “The Potter tent has Albus and the Malfoy boy. All kids accounted for.” He paused, listening. “Got it. Mr. Longbottom and Ms. Lovegood are on their way over.”
“Has something happened?” I asked him a little concerned. My family wasn’t usually unavailable.
“Nothing out of the ordinary… Just—trying to save the image of our First Warlock,” Mr. Snowy-Owl said graciously. Oh.
“What did your uncle do?” Scorpius whispered to me.
“He either got in an extremely heated argument or something more violent,” I whispered back. “He’s like a different man when it comes to the Cup.”
“Your godfather will be here soon.” Then he added pointedly, “Your siblings and cousins are being brought back here.” Crap.
“Thank you, Mr. Snowy-Owl,” I said. He turned and exited the tent, standing outside while Neville and Luna arrived.
I stood and yanked the pillow back, taking a handful of biscuits. I shoved them into Scorpius’s hands and grabbed the jar, dashing to the kitchenette. I stored it as best as I could and hopped off the chair.
“You gave me a heart attack there,” Scorpius said as I walked back.
“Sorry, but siblings and cousins mean snitches incoming,” I sat down and reclined on the headboard. I beckoned him closer, and he kicked off his shoes.
“Here,” he handed me half of the biscuits. “If we’re going to spoil Mrs. Coin’s dinner, might as well do it evenly.”
“I’ve really been a terrible influence on you, haven’t I?”
“Awful,” he agreed. “You’re a monster.”
“So,” I kicked at his ankle, “I’ve been thinking—”
“Look at that.”
“Bugger off,” I laughed. “I’ve been thinking about school—” Scorpius reached for my forehead, like he was taking my temperature. “—I never knew you could be a real arse.”
He burst out laughing as I shoved him. “Sorry, sorry. Alright. You’ve been thinking about school.”
“Yes, I have—and I kind of…don’t want to go back?”
“That’s reasonable,” he said through a mouthful. “Most kids would agree with you.”
“I guess.”
“I’m guessing you say it beyond the stress of schoolwork.”
“Well, if you call a ghost and a time-water dealer ‘beyond schoolwork,’ then yes,” I huffed, taking a bite out of a biscuit.
“Right,” Scorpius crawled up and sat beside me. “We’ll get through this. There have been more complicated things in the world that have been solved.”
“That’s not as comforting as you think it is,” I leaned my head back, closing my eyes.
“I don’t know what else to say, mate,” I felt him shrug. “But I can say for sure that avoiding it isn’t going to fix it.”
“Scorpius?”
“Yes, Albus?”
“Please stop being so smart for five bloody minutes.”
He leaned his head on my shoulder and chuckled. “Sorry, no can do. Who knows what kind of trouble we’ll end up in?”
“Sure, okay. Because if you stop thinking I’ll get us into a stupid mess, alright.”
He shrugged again. “You’ll likely ask me to jump off a train.”
I gave him a look and he smiled brightly. “Like that’ll ever happen.”
“The day it does, and I let you? That’s day I’ve lost all my marbles.”
“Noted.”
“Albus?” Neville called from the tent entrance.
“Bedroom,” I called back.
“You two alright?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
“Just making sure, trying to be a proper guardian and all,” he said in a mock-defensive way, like he wasn’t the second-best thing I had to a proper dad. “We ran past the scuffle, by the way. It’s taking half of your family to hold Ron back.”
“Aunt Hermione is gonna have a fit.”
“She’s already having one,” said a soft voice I didn’t hear too often. I felt Scorpius sit up straighter. “Hello, Albus. Hello, Scorpius.”
“Ms. Lovegood, it’s an honour,” Scorpius said in his polite-official tone.
“That’s sweet,” Luna smiled.
“Soon enough, this tent is going to be a mess,” Neville said, inspecting his surroundings.
“It might be Krum’s retirement all over again,” Luna said.
“Merlin forbid,” Neville sighed.
“Should we brace ourselves?” Scorpius asked me.
“I think the most we can do is just let it happen,” I said.
Less than an hour later, the Potters and Granger-Weasleys were crammed into the tent’s common room trying to not melt under the murderous energy Aunt Hermione gave off. Uncle Ron didn’t seem very fazed by it.
Aunt Hermione took a breath and the whole room stilled, waiting. “Ronald,” she began with a deadly calm. “You are telling me that you got into a row with a random stranger—”
“Not random, I met ‘im at the match—”
“—a stranger nonetheless, over what? A foul?”
“Two fouls,” Mum supplied. “Bumphing and flacking.”
Uncle Ron pointed at Mum. “Thank you, Gin. Bumphing and flacking. At a World Cup! I’m not blind, I’m not insane—”
Aunt Hermione held up a hand. “Two fouls. The First Warlock of Britain lost his composure over two fouls. Ronald, you are supposed to set an example—”
“What? Am I just a trophy husband to you? I’m human. I feel things, Hermione.”
“Of course you’re not a trophy. When have I ever treated you as such? But you can’t ignore the position you hold, the position you all hold,” she turned to the rest of the room, and we collectively stiffened. “Like it or not, our family is in the public eye. That’s a reality that is independent of my political career. We are still the Golden Trio, we still founded Dumbledore’s Army, our names would still be in history books. And things like this wind up in the press. The last thing our family needs is bad press and a target on our backs. So, yes, Ron, you need to set an example. If you’re allowed this kind of behaviour, what kind of leeway are you giving the public?”
Mum and Dad braced themselves. This was the side to Uncle Ron that was, by all means, a fanatic: explosive and passionate.
Uncle Ron ran a hand over his face and heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, Hermione. You’re right.”
Aunt Hermione leaned back on her chair. “Thank you, Ron.”
The tension in the room bled out slowly and Scorpius took the opportunity to nudge me.
“What is it?” I whispered.
“We’ve got dinner with the Coins.”
“Right.” I wasn’t sure how to break the silence, so I awkwardly raised my hand.
“Erm—yes, Albus?” Aunt Hermione seemed amused.
“Scorpius and I were invited to dinner with the Coins,” I mumbled.
“That he was,” Dad said, jumping to his feet. “Come on, I’ll take you boys over.”
Dad pushed us out of the tent in an oddly hurried way. Mr. Snowy-Owl was still waiting outside the tent. He jumped to attention and matched Dad’s pace as we walked over to the Coins’ tent.
“How’s Ron faring?” Mr. Snowy-Owl asked.
“Fine, I reckon,” Dad said, his tone weird. “But, knowing them, let’s just say I pity anyone within earshot of their tent.”
Mr. Snowy-Owl chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it.”
I looked over at Scorpius and found him scrunching his nose, like he smelled something unpleasant.
Oh.
Gross.
Dinner with Luc’s family was refreshing most of the time. But as the World Cup came to a close, there was no escaping the jargon of team stats and what was each player’s best plays. That’s what most of the conversation consisted of, Scorpius and I barely keeping up. After dinner, Luc huddled over a sheet of paper his mother had drawn out, running his finger over tables and numbers.
Mr. and Mrs. Coin were clearing the table and putting away the food when I kicked Luc under the table. He looked up, startled.
“I’ve got a question about the last match,” I whispered. Scorpius groaned and put his head down. Luc lit up instantly.
“Shoot.”
“What’s the big deal with the two fouls?”
“L’arbitre ne les a pas appelés!” Mrs. Coin said from the kitchen. I sat up straighter at her tone.
“I know that, Mama,” Luc seemed unfazed. Then said to me: “The referee somehow lost his eyeballs and didn’t call the fouls. At a World Cup. Frankly, it’s embarrassing.”
“Oh,” was all I could say. Uncle Ron was going to be ranting about this for a while.
It was lucky that not many fights broke out as the finals neared. After a certain point, it was just easier to listen to Mum on the radio with Luc clinging to my arm, cutting off its circulation. As dreadful as being at the Cup may be, it was probably the best one I had gone to, not that I remembered many.
The final had been between Chad and India. Luc had practically camped out beside the radio listening with rapt attention. The match lasted three long days and had accumulated an ungodly amount of points. I spent the last two days reminding Luc to eat and trying to sleep over the fluctuating cheers that rang through the night. Everyone was listening to the game at any given point of the day. I felt dead on my feet by the time it was called. Suraj Koli caught the Golden Snitch.
India, 2,010. Chad, 2,370.
There was no bloody sleeping that night.
In a moment of pure insanity, I wished for term to start sooner.