Chapter Text
They’d had to go to Upper Flagley for it, to a place above a muggle cafe. The only sign that it was there was a little brass plaque on the brick wall next to the door, reading ‘L. E Knapp, Therapies and Mind Healing’. The practice was behind a narrow blue door, up a flight of stairs, and then there was a makeshift waiting room on what must have once been the landing.
Dad sat on one end of the old leather sofa. Albus sat on the other. Both looked down at their knees, or their feet, or occasionally at their watch, but never at one another. Had either of them been able to view themselves from another perspective, they’d have seen how mirrored they were, but as such neither had noticed that they were sat in the same way, with the same expression, the same tics. Every now and then they could hear clattering of plates or large laughter from the cafe, but otherwise; nothing.
Albus looked at the brown door, with the frosted window and brass lettering repeating the name of the Mind Healer. He’d told Dad they’d be too early, but as usual he’d been overruled.
The silence ached.
Eventually, the door opened. The witch, who Albus assumed was Healer Knapp, had long, chestnut brown hair pulled into a sleek chignon. Her makeup softened her; Albus guessed that she was a few years older than Dad, but she looked younger than him.
‘Good morning,’ she said warmly. ‘It’s nice to see you again, Harry.’
Dad gave an odd jerk of the head and rose. He gestured to Albus, who rose too. ‘My son - Al,’ he said hoarsely. He couldn’t seem to look her in the eyes.
‘It’s lovely to meet you, Al,’ she said, holding out her hand. Albus shook it. ‘I’m Lenora. Shall we go through?’
She led them through, past a traditionally office-y looking room with books and a desk and a typewriter and all that, to a room at the back that was set up more like a strange, slightly impersonal living room. A plain, brown leather sofa. A green, gingham armchair. Abstract art on the walls in muted colours. A peace lily.
Healer Knapp gestured for them to sit on the sofa as she settled into the armchair and offered them refreshments. Dad shook his head, but Al requested tea. She made two, one for her, one for him, and offered to Dad again. Dad requested water.
‘Gentlemen,’ she said. ‘Tell me what brings you here today.’
There was another long silence. Neither of them wanted to admit it.
‘My wife suggested it,’ said Dad eventually.
‘Insisted on it,’ corrected Albus.
Dad sighed. ‘Yeah.’
‘There are problems in your relationship with one another,’ she said calmly, reaching for a large notebook. ‘Your initial enquiry says that this has reached a point where your wife is very concerned about Albus’s safety and Harry’s mental health.’
Once again, they were both silent. Dad had one elbow on the arm of the sofa, and he leaned his head into his hand there, unable to look at either of them. Albus could see his fingers rubbing over the scar on his forehead. ‘Yeah,’ said Dad. ‘Albus ran off.’
‘I left,’ Albus burst out, ‘don’t say ran off, that makes it sound sound so much worse than it - I’d just had enough-’
‘It was bad, you keep minimising it, you have no recognition of the danger - the worry-’
‘All right,’ she said gently. ‘We’ll examine this right from the start. But this will only work if both of you approach these sessions with respect for one another, and for me. You must allow each other to speak uninterrupted, agreed?’
They both nodded, in the same surly manner.
‘Let us begin,’ she said. She looked directly at Albus, which surprised him somewhat. ‘Tell me about your earliest memories with your father.’
‘Oh,’ he said. He hadn’t expected to leap right into it all, somehow. ‘Erm…’ He thought desperately hard. ‘I… I don’t know, my earliest are all… we were all together as a family, it’s hard to think specifically about just the pair of us.’
‘Those can count,’ she said reassuringly.
He swallowed. ‘Erm… I suppose… at home. Just… just normal kid stuff, you know.’ He didn’t want to admit it. He could feel Dad’s eyes on him now. ‘I… mostly remember Dad being really tired all the time.’
‘I had a lot of night shifts then,’ said Dad. ‘I took them on to advance my career quicker, so I could do less dangerous fieldwork.’
‘For how long?’ Healer Knapp asked.
‘I made Head Auror when Al was about… four or five, I think. They pretty much stopped after that.’
‘Al,’ Healer Knapp said, ‘when you say Dad was tired, what do you mean by that? You were very young to realise that your parent was tired.’
‘I dunno, he just… slept in the day a lot-’
‘Because I was on night shifts!’
‘Harry,’ said Healer Knapp. ‘Again, a reminder not to interrupt. Al, please continue.’
He felt pissed off. A hundred memories were storming through him now. ‘He’d be there at breakfast really grumpy and stomping around, and then he’d go and sleep and get grumpy if we came in and woke him up, and then on his days off we’d all go on these big days out and suddenly he’d be all right again.’
‘So your earliest memories are of your father being somewhat unpredictable?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Harry?’
‘I just think that’s so unfair,’ Dad muttered. ‘I just think that’s you applying your feelings now onto things in hindsight. Yes, I was tired, but it was only a handful of times you lot ever interrupted my sleep - I know that because Ginny went to frankly amazing lengths, sacrificing large parts of her career, to make sure that my sleep was protected. The… honestly maybe four or five times you lot woke me up was when she had a conflicting meeting or childcare fell through or something. And, sorry, am I really being criticised for taking you all on days out?’
‘Al hasn’t criticised you for that, Harry, he said that you’d be all right again.’
‘But “suddenly” - and unpredictable, you said.’
‘That may well be unpredictable for a young child. They’re not going to necessarily understand about things like night shifts.’
Dad shook his head again, rubbing his jaw. ‘You were happy, as a child,’ he said firmly. ‘You had a happy childhood. Me being a bit grumpy at breakfast does not constitute an unhappy childhood-’
‘I never said I had an unhappy childhood!’
‘Albus, in the same way that I asked your father to, I must ask that you do not interrupt.’
‘You lack perspective, Albus,’ said Dad. ‘You’re so determined to be hard done by me that you’re perceiving normal household stress as some kind of tense, awful experience where you were all tiptoeing around me, but that’s just not the case. Show me any family with young toddlers that doesn’t have tired parents.’
‘Al?’
‘I’m not…’ He was trying very hard to be open minded, as his mother had asked him to be, to try not to be defensive. ‘I’m not saying I had an awful childhood or anything, I’m just saying that… that’s what I remember.’
‘Tell me about how your childhood was happy, Al,’ said Healer Knapp.
‘I do recognise, you know,’ said Al. ‘I do see that it’s true, we had a nice house and Mum and Dad loved us and we had this big family with lots of cousins and everything. But it hasn’t been a normal childhood either. It couldn’t ever be, not with Dad being who he is.’
‘I can’t help that,’ said Dad.
‘Neither can I.’
They fell back into silence, and Healer Knapp let it sit there for a moment before at last speaking again. ‘All right. So what I am seeing initially is a few slight complications in early childhood, but no significant trauma or difficulty between the two of you at that point, am I correct?’
‘Yeah,’ said Al.
‘We had a good relationship,’ Dad said, with something a little like urgency in his voice. ‘You know, he was - he was such an easy toddler compared to James, everyone found him charming, I loved being around him, there weren’t any-’
‘All right,’ Healer Knapp said soothingly. ‘So tell me about the issues you two are having now. You will both get your turn to speak. Harry, I would like you to go first. Without going into detail of the incident that brought you both here today, tell me about the general relationship between the two of you.’
‘I…’ Albus heard Dad swallow again. ‘I think that Albus… Albus struggles with things. Struggles with friendships in school, with the - I admit - particular emphasis people place on him looking like me and the attention that comes from that, struggles with normal teenage angst… But can’t seem to recognise that a lot of the time his attitude contributes to the problem, that not everything is the fault of others - and he seems to blame me in particular - and ultimately he lacks perspective of the very privileged upbringing he has had and that the way he speaks to people, treats people, pushes them away - that that can hurt people. He can be especially viscous in the way he speaks to me lately. And the breakdown in our relationship is intrinsically linked to that.’
Healer Knapp nodded slowly. ‘And your own part in it, Harry?’
Dad took a great shuddering breath. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse again. ‘I… have said some unkind things. And…’ he looked away from them both; Albus couldn’t see his face at all. ‘And I’m not… particularly equipped to… understand or empathise with some of the things he struggles with.’
‘And Al? The same: how would you describe your relationship?’
‘Dad doesn’t get me,’ he said bluntly. ‘He has unresolved trauma issues which means that he cannot tolerate the suggestion that I might struggle with anything, because to him I should just be grateful. But I think, really, deep down… he doesn’t like me. Because I look like him everyone assumes I must be just like him and I think that includes dad. He’s disappointed I’m not Gryffindor, disappointed I’m not on the Quidditch team, disappointed in the friends I’ve chosen, disappointed I’m no good at defense, disappointed I don’t fit neatly into this little life that he wishes he could have had.’
‘And your par- Harry? Are you all right?’
Dad had rose, and was heading to the door. Albus still couldn’t see his face.
‘Yeah,’ he heard him say gruffly. ‘Two minutes.’
He left the room, and now Albus swallowed, and looked back at his knees.
‘Al? What’s your part in the conflict?’ she prompted.
‘Aren’t you… Shouldn’t we wait for Dad to be back?’ He looked back at the closed door.
‘We can catch him up when he’s composed himself. What’s your part in it all?’
‘I… I say stuff like that to him all the time,’ he said. ‘Lash out at him. Try to hurt him.’
‘Do you think any of it is true?’
He paused. ‘I think he thinks it’s true. Otherwise it wouldn’t upset him so much.’
‘But do you?’
He stared at her. She had an expression that reminded him of his mother. ‘Well I think it must be if it upsets him,’ he said at last. ‘But… I don’t know. I don’t know which came first, me saying it or it being true.’
‘You must be very angry with him.’
He found he couldn’t say anything. After a few moments, the door opened again, and Dad returned, looking as serious and stoic s ever. He walked swiftly back to the sofa, and said, ‘sorry,’ as he sat, his leg bouncing anxiously.
Lenora Knapp looked at both of them, and then spoke with the same kind of firmness as she had used with Al just moments before. ‘If this is to work, you both need to try. That means only saying what is true and necessary to say, not things aimed to provoke or upset. Similarly, the very nature of things which may well need to be said might be upsetting, but you need to listen and engage with that. Do you both agree? Neither of you will deliberately hurt the other, and both of you will listen?’
They nodded.
‘Where do you both see the start of this breakdown of relationship? When did things start to change?’
‘When I started Hogwarts,’ said Al, at the same time as Dad said, ‘when he started school.’
‘An agreement!’ said Lenora brightly. Albus saw Dad smile weakly. ‘Al, have you ever used a pensieve before?’
‘No, but I know what they are.’
Lenora reached down to the small side table beside her, and rapped on the cupboard door. It opened, and an oval, shallow looking dish floated out, settling between them. Around the edges were runes, carved into the stone, and the water inside shimmered. ‘In your initial enquiry, you both agreed to using a pensieve - though Harry, I appreciate your note about where your boundaries are with this. Al, would you be willing to use this to show us what you feel the turning point was?’
‘Yes,’ he said, though with some trepidation. ‘But… I don’t know how to…’
‘Quite all right. Think hard.’
He did so, thought of the moment, and watched as she touched her wand tip to his temple. It felt strange as she pulled the memory from him - a slight prickle through his head, a little like pins and needles. Then she placed it into the dish, and looked up at them both. ‘Are you ready?’
She expanded the stone dish, and guided them over. Feeling rather stupid, Albus lowered his head. He could see movement in the water. He touched his face to the surface, and felt himself tumble.
***
The Great Hall was lit with hundreds of floating candles, the vast ceiling showing inky blue and grey clouds sweeping in the night. Albus watched as his young self, along with all of his classmates, walked nervously in and stand before the Sorting Hat.
‘There he is - look!’
‘Oh yeah, yeah you’re right, he does look like Harry Potter.’
‘Short, isn’t he?’
Albus watched as his younger self turned and looked back at the vast crowd. He remembered, vividly, the sick feeling of anticipation, but it was something else seeing it on his own young face here. He hadn’t realised that he had been visibly trembling.
‘Al! Al! Albus!’ James’s carrying whisper could be heard, and they watched as Young Albus quickly turned back to the hat, ignoring his brother. Albus looked over at James, on the Gryffindor table, grinning gleefully and nudging his friends.
They watched as Professor Longbottom brought out a little stool, and upon it placed a tattered and singed looking hat. They watched, and from the brim it sang.
Oh, I may look old and shabby,
I may look past my prime,
But listen here and I will tell you,
Through the power of rhyme!
If patience guides the work you do,
And you value friends who stay,
Fairness may matter most to you,
And so you’re destined for the Hufflepuff way!
If courage burns within your chest,
Daring deeds beat in your heart so true,
If you can rise to each test,
Gryffindor may be for you!
If wit and wisdom light your mind,
And clever thoughts run bright,
Learning’s joy is what you’ll find,
In Ravenclaw tower tonight.
Or perhaps cunning strategy leads your aim,
You may be sharp and strong of will,
If you strive for power to claim,
Slytherin will take you to the highest hill.
So sit me gently upon your head,
And I’ll hear every thought unsaid.
For I have pondered, year by year,
What makes each student shine so clear.
Now take a seat, and remember to be true!
From my brim to my point, I promise there’s a perfect house for you!
The hall burst into rapturous applause, and beside him, Albus felt his father give a chuckle of appreciation. ‘That’s a lovely one,’ he said. Albus immediately felt irritated - couldn’t he remember that this was not a happy memory for him?
They watched all his classmates be sorted, including Scorpius who sat for perhaps thirty seconds before the hat declared him for Slytherin, and he hurried over to polite applause.
And then…
‘Potter, Albus!’
Once again, he heard the excited, trembling whispers, saw the older students kneeling up on the benches to get a better look, saw all the teachers smiling affectionately at him, tilting their heads and exchanging glances with each other and he knew, he just knew, that they were all thinking, ‘oh, he looks just like Harry. How wonderful. How sweet. Harry was our favourite.’
‘Whoo! Albus!’ he heard James call, and then the ripple of laughter from the Gryffindor table. He saw Professor Longbottom give a stern look over at his brother, but then back to smiling genially at Albus as he approached the stool.
He watched as Young Albus sat down, and had the hat placed on his head. They all waited in the long… long pause… much longer than anyone else. Finally…
‘Slytherin!’
Albus remembered the sound of the gasp through the hall. He remembered the muttering. What he had not seen before was Professor Longbottom - his godfather - turn to exchange a look of shock with the Headmistress. He had not before seen the way his brother’s face had dropped, and how he had stopped kneeling on the bench and sank back down.
He watched as Professor Longbottom rearranged his face back into that comforting smile, removed the hat, and whispered his, ‘well done, Al,’ to him. He watched his own face, twisted in shock, pink flushing along his cheekbones, look up at Neville.
They could not hear what he was whispering, so he spoke for his father and Healer Knapp. ‘I’m asking him if it really said Slytherin,’ he said dully.
They watched as Neville nodded, still with that comforting smile, and Young Albus rose and made his way to the Slytherin table. He remembered that daze of a walk, his heart thudding in his throat. There was scattered, patchy applause.
Except for one. One person applauding with all their might, looking absolutely delighted, waving frantically.
They watched as Albus went and sat next to him, his pal that he’d already met on the train, Scorpius Malfoy.
Albus looked at Lenora, and nodded. ‘That’s pretty much it,’ he said.
‘All right,’ she said soothingly, and she took his hand in her left, and Dad’s in her right, and with a whooshing sort of feeling he felt himself pulled up, and back in the strange little living room.
They sat back down on the sofa, and Lenora waved her wand and sent the pensieve back into its little cupboard. ‘Interesting,’ she said to them. ‘Albus, you feel that your being sorted into Slytherin was the start of all this?’
‘Yes,’ said Albus. ‘Dad wanted me in Gryffindor. Everyone wanted me in Gryffindor. They all expected it. You saw the reaction. Everyone knew it was a disaster.’
Healer Knapp looked at Dad. ‘What do you think, Harry?’
‘That… It can’t have nice,’ said Dad, making the understatement of the century. ‘I’m certainly no stranger to similar sort of shocks in front of a large audience, and I’m sorry that your school career started that way. But you’re wrong on one thing - yes, it was a surprise to me that you weren’t in Gryffindor, but it wasn’t wholly unexpected. You’d been worrying about it all summer, hadn’t you?’
‘Yes, because it was clearly seen as the worst case scenario.’
‘That’s not fair,’ said Dad. ‘Didn’t I reassure you, that very day? Didn’t I tell you that the bravest man I ever knew was in Slytherin? You should have known it wouldn’t matter to me.’
‘But it did,’ said Al. ‘That’s what I’m saying, you clearly thought it wouldn’t matter to you, but it did - and everyone knew it would. You saw Neville and Professor McGonagall.’
‘They… they were just surprised…’
‘Al,’ said Healer Knapp. ‘When you say that your father doesn’t like you being in Slytherin, can you give examples? What has he said or done that has suggested this?’
‘He said all the right things,’ said Al. ‘But it was that he kept saying them, you know? Like he oversaid them, like he was trying to convince himself.’
‘Only because you still seemed so worried,’ said Dad.
‘And it’s just generally how he talks about the house, and Slytherins he knew at school. He uses Snape as an example but that’s clearly the one nice Slytherin he knew, and even then there’s all these jokes about how he wasn’t nice really.’
‘There’s also your aunt Audrey, and my old Professor Horace Slughorn-’
‘But you don’t like those people that much, Dad. Like, you’re fine with them, but there’s no… big friendship or whatever.’
‘Harry,’ said Healer Knapp. ‘Do you think you have a bias against people in Slytherin house?’
‘Yes,’ said Dad as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Because in my day in Hogwarts there was a huge cultural problem within that house. There were too many familial links to Death Eaters and nothing had been done about the bullying that was embedded into that house’s identity. But I know that things have changed now, I know that Professor McGonagall and Neville put a lot of work into-’
‘So why do you still go on about it?’ burst Albus.
‘Albus,’ said Healer Knapp.
‘Because that was the reality of my experience, Albus, I can’t pretend it wasn’t just to spare your feelings! Of course I don’t have any Slytherin friends, they were all bloody horrible to me!’
‘And now you’re son’s one! And you’re still lying through your teeth and pretending you’re fine with it!’
‘I am!’
‘You’re not!’
‘Both of you,’ warned Healer Knapp, but they ignored her.
‘You wish that I was in Gryffindor, things would be easier if I was in Gryffindor, you and mum wouldn’t have to bend over backwards telling me that actually it’s good to be cunning and power hungry-’
‘There are lots of valuable traits in that house, and I’ve told you before that the hat nearly-’
‘It never offered me the choice!’ Albus shouted, his voice wobbling. ‘You got to say no, not Slytherin and I never did! It just put me there! And that was just ‘cos you were half Voldemort anyway-’
‘Don’t you dare-’
‘You both need to stop,’ said Healer Knapp a little sharply. ‘You both agreed that you would treat one another with respect.’
They both stayed silent once more. ‘Sorry,’ muttered Dad at last.
‘Harry,’ she said, ‘can you accept that there is a reputation that comes with Slytherin, and that though much of that is now considered old fashioned, that you may have inadvertently encouraged it within your home?’
‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘Yes, I can see that.’
‘Albus,’ she said, and her voice was firmer now, ‘has your mother ever talked about positive relationships with Slytherins?’
‘No,’ said Albus.
‘Your uncles or grandparents?’
‘No.’ He wondered how this was supposed to make him feel better.
‘So why is it that your father, the only one who has, is the one facing your wrath over your sorting?’
That stumped him a little, and for a good minute he stayed silent. ‘Because he’s the one that…Everyone knows he’s a Gryffindor, and everyone expects him to hate Slytherin. I think most people - most ordinary people, I mean, outside family - might not even know what house my mum was in.’
‘And your father was the one who initially tried to talk to you about it?’
‘Yes, but mum did too, and mum was better at it. She didn’t - didn’t make me feel like it was all in my head or that I should just ignore people about it.’
‘So you felt dismissed by your father?’
‘Yes,’ he said. He hadn’t really realised before. He’d just felt so pissed off all the time. ‘Yeah, I just… he said all that stuff to me but then turned around the next moment and was slagging off Slytherin again and it just felt more like he was telling me to get over it.’
There was yet another long silence. ‘That’s… not what I… I didn’t mean it to be like that,’ said Dad. He looked up at the ceiling and blinked a few times, before continuing, ‘I don’t always know the best way of comforting people…’
‘In our previous sessions, Harry,’ said Lenora, and Al realised her voice had become more gentle than ever, ‘you have discussed your own childhood and how that has shaped your own coping mechanisms. Your discomfort with crying or expressing feelings, both for yourself and witnessing it in others.’ Dad gave a slow nod, looking away again. ‘Do you think that Al might have a point? That you were giving him lots of reasons why he should be happy with his choice and stop feeling upset about it, but not really listening to what he was saying?’
Dad nodded again. ‘Sounds like me,’ he said, with a flippant kind of laugh, but then fell back into silence.
‘And Albus, do you recognise that where the sorting hat placed you is not within your father’s control? And that you may have unfairly apportioned blame onto him because of the reactions of others?’
‘Yeah, probably,’ said Al.
She nodded. ‘Then that’s a start.’ She checked her watch. ‘And our time.’
‘We didn’t even talk about what happened last term,’ said Albus, baffled.
‘These things are never quick, Al,’ said Dad bluntly, before Healer Knapp could say anything.
‘I will see you next week,’ she said. ‘In the meantime, as homework - I would like you both to make the effort to listen to one another. Repeatedly that has been a problem today, and I think is an underlying issue. I want you to come back next week and be able to give me an example of your having listened to the other.’
She led them out, and wished them well, and they descended the steps, out through the door, and onto the sunny cobbled street.
Albus sighed heavily. ‘That was awful.’
‘If we just learn to be nice to each other we won’t have to do it anymore,’ said Dad dully.
‘Or just learn to be nice to each other in front of Mum,’ said Al.
To his surprise, Dad snorted and spluttered with laughter. ‘That would be a start,’ he said, still chuckling. Then he sighed too. ‘Can’t remember where I parked the car,’ he said.
‘This way,’ said Al, pointing.
‘D’you…’ Dad started, and then seemed to stop himself. ‘Right. Come on then.’
The drive home was awkward, and near silent, as Albus had predicted. Dad had thankfully turned the radio on so that they could pretend to be listening to that instead. But eventually, his burning curiosity got the better of him, and he had to be brave.
‘She already knew you,’ he said.
‘Hmm?’
‘The Mind Healer. Lenora. She was sort of saying you’d seen her before.’
‘Er… yeah.’ Dad changed gears, and his eyes flicked to look in the rearview mirror. ‘Yeah… long time ago now, and then on and off a few times after.’
‘Why?’
Dad glanced at him, then back at the road, and then back at him again, looking utterly baffled. ‘Well because of my shit life, Albus.’
‘All right, Jesus…’ muttered Albus, and he shifted to lean against his door, staring moodily out of the window.
He heard dad mutter a swearword under his breath. ‘Sorry - I - I had spell shock.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s… complicated,’ Dad said, flicking his indicator on. It blinked and clicked noisily, and dad’s head swivelled as he checked his mirrors and turned right. ‘When people experience or witness dark magic, it can have an effect that… needs this kind of treatment to keep it under control. It gave me tremors and nightmares and stuff.’
‘Surely everyone had that? Surely mum did.’
‘Yeah, pretty much.’
‘Did they all have to go to her as well?’
‘No… It didn’t really affect their work like it did mine, I needed to be able to cast spells reliably and I couldn’t if my hand was shaking.’
‘Oh, gotta protect work,’ Al said a little darkly, and then Dad said nothing and he wished he hadn’t said it.
Sorry, he wanted to say. I don’t know why I said that. I was trying. It didn’t seem like it, but I was, then.
After another minute or two of silence, Dad turned the radio up, and they continued on.