"Albus Potter: The Last Son of the Famous Harry Potter"

CHAPTER 1- The Famous Visitor

The rain pouring on the small house had grown heavier. It no longer filled the home with the gentle, trance-like sound of a summer shower, but instead, a roaring noise, like a thousand tiny stones were being hurled at the roof. The storm outside was becoming fierce, it's thunder shook the house, skewing the moving pictures on the wall, and lightning flashed so brilliantly the occupants of the house would have trouble seeing minutes after.

The storm was enough to unnerve even Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts for over thirty years. She had aged well, but the years were beginning to show. Her hair was nearly solid white, with a few strands of grey. It was pulled back into a tight bun, and out of her wrinkling face. She was getting old, but despite her age, she did not appear even slightly frail, a strange power seemed to come from her, and she moved with a grace unnatural for a woman of her advanced years.

If the storm was enough to make McGonagall nervous, it was more than enough to send Lavender Brown, owner of the home, into a quiet panic. Her eyes darted wildly around the room. A small circular living room in the exact center of the first floor, three rooms branched from it, the kitchen, the dining room, and a small room filled with extra crystal balls, chipped tea glasses and other old trinkets used for Divination. The living room itself had three oversized sofas and an excess of throw pillows, in the center of the room was a spiral staircase leading to the upstairs, a small table circled the stairs on all sides except the entrance.

Lavender let out a small but distinct shriek, when the thunder roared again, shaking the house so violently a small cup holding McGonagall's tea slipped of the table a shatter on the floor.

"It'll be alright Ms. Brown." Minerva said, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible.

Lavender simply nodded. Another flash, and the accompanying roar, which knocked a picture of the wall, the occupant screaming as it's portrait crashed to the floor.

"Sorry, again you got caught out in this Headmistress," She apologized, "I know you'd much rather wait out the storm at Hogwarts."

"While that is most certainly true Miss Brown, there's no need to apologize, unless of course you predicted the storm, which would oddly be reason to accept and reject your request to be the new Divination instructor."

Lavender smiled, "No, I don't think anyone could have foreseen this."

It was a true enough statement. The storm had caught everyone off guard. It sprang up suddenly three days earlier, and it quickly spread to cover most of Europe. No one had any way to explain how it started, even those at the Ministry of Magic. The Muggles were in a state of poorly controlled panic.

The size and ferocity of the storm were not the only puzzling things. For one, it had rendered the witches and wizard throughout Europe incapable of Apparating, and no one dared ride a broom out in the storm. Which is why Minerva McGonagall was spending her third night in the home of Lavender Brown.

The strangest thing about the storm for some, however, was it's place of origin: The childhood home of Tom Riddle, known throughout the Wizarding world as the most terrible dark wizard of all time, Lord Voldemort.

Lord Voldemort had spread fear in their world in a way no one had ever done before. He had been beaten once before in curious event, the details of which were still unclear to most. But he managed to return fourteen years after more terrible than ever. He was soon after killed due to the efforts of Harry Potter, considered by many to be the most famous wizard of all time. Lord Voldemort had already returned once when they had thought him dead, many were growing increasingly paranoid for the possibility of this happening a second time. Lavender Brown was among them. "Do you think it's possible that it...really is him?" Thirty years later, people were still terrified to speak Voldemort's name.

"Possible, but unlikely." McGonagall said with confidence.

Lavender continued, "But, over his home, it can't just be coincidence."

"There are many reasons the storm may have originated over the Riddle's home, and very few of them include the return of a man we know for a fact to be dead this time."

Lavender was still not convinced, " I heard that the dark mark was seen minutes before the storm started."

"If there is any truth to that rumor it still means very little." McGonagall insisted, " The dark mark can still be conjured whether Voldemort is alive or dead."

Lavender flinched at the name, "Please, Headmistress."

McGonagall frowned, " For heaven sake Ms. Brown, you don't expect me to still avoid his name! This is quite ridiculous! Grown people murmuring about the dead returning, you should have learned better in school, after all I was one of the ones teaching!"

Lavender started to protest, but was cut short there was a loud pounding on the door, and whoever was doing it was clearly not stopping until the door was opened. Lavender sat frozen in terror. McGonagall stood and moved to the door, as soon as she turned the doorknob the wind caught the door slamming it into the wall, misty wind blew into the hall soaking Minerva almost immediately. Framed in the doorway, was a tall man around forty years old, holding a boy of nineteen in his arms. He stepped into the light and McGonagall recognized them immediately. She ushered them quickly inside.

Lavender gasped as they entered the living room. The boy in the man's arms was completely pale, blood drenching his robes. The man holding him, was Harry Potter.

"Lavender!" McGonagall snapped, " We need to get him into a bed, can we use the guest room?" Lavender nodded. "Alright, Potter, take him upstairs." McGonagall said gently. Harry nodded, and moved immediately toward the stairs, McGonagall followed close behind.

Lavender was left alone. She once again eyed the room nervously. She waited jumping at every shadow, or, noise, and the storm provided plenty. After a few minutes, she could take no more, she stood and hurried up the stairs. following the drops of blood to the guest bedroom door. She could hear hushed, but clearly angry voices arguing.

"You really should lay down, Potter, your side looks almost as bad as his."

"I'm fine." He held his side grimacing with pain, " I need you to listen, we're in serious danger."

But that was all he said, McGonagall silenced him with a wave and pointed through the doorway at Lavender.

"They be fine Ms Brown, but I'm afraid we need privacy. "Lavender nodded and turned to leave, but Harry Potter had collapsed onto the floor. "Help me with him!" McGonagall barked, all the anxiety returning to her voice. Together they lifted Harry, and placed him on the bed next to the boy. McGonagall pulled out her wand and bandaged his wounds with a wave. A million questions swarmed through Lavender's head, she started with the most obvious and prominent one.

"Who is that boy, Minerva?" She asked.

"Surely, you should know at least by reputation, it's Harry Potter's youngest son, Albus Severus Potter."

Lavender mouthed the words again, she had never met Harry's children before, in fact she had not seen in him in over twenty-five years. She turned to ask McGonagall another question but stopped, McGonagall had begun pacing look incredibly focused and frustrated.

Lavender surveyed the two men, unconscious, seriously injured by an unknown, but clearly powerful curse. The older, Harry Potter, she remembered from her years at Hogwarts, but he was not that boy anymore. He was grown now, forty-five, the same age as Lavender. His brown hair was graying, his boyish face, chiseled and scared. His nose looked as is it had been broken more than once, and his face was covered with scars, but one scar stood out among the rest, Lavender remembered it well. A small scar shaped like a lightning bolt could be seen on his forehead, in between to new and much less extraordinary scars. It was one of the many things he was famous for.

He had gotten the scar at the age of one, Lord Voldemort had given it to him. He had preformed the Killing Curse, one of the three darkest and most illegal curses in the wizarding world, but Harry inexplicably had survived it, when no other wizard had, including his parents. The curse rebounded on Lord Voldemort, and sent him away the first time, a shred of his former self, but it had left a scar on Harry Potter; a scar that would mark him forever as "The Boy Who Lived". It was one of two things Lavender noticed, that had not changed from the boy she knew.

The second was his remarkable emerald eyes, given to him by his Mother. It was the one physical aspect of his mother he carried with him, the rest of him looked very much like James Potter, his father.

The younger figure she had never seen before, but oddly she felt she new him more. He was exactly as his father had been at that age. In fact, if it had not been for that absence of the scar and the subtlest red tint to his hair, she would have believed he was seventeen year old Harry Potter.

She eyed their injuries, both had been hit in the side with the curse, their faces pale and lifeless. Their chests rose and fell seldom and slowly, as if it pained them.

McGonagall continued to pace around the room, her hair let down out of it's bun and draped across one shoulder. "What are we gonna do, Headmistress?" Lavender asked, glancing at the two men once more.

"I am still thinking Ms. Brown." McGonagall said, frustration veiled thinly in her voice.

"We should try to contact the Ministry."

"And how do you suggest we do that, any owl we send would surely be killed in this dreadful storm, and we've already tried the floo network, it hasn't worked for the last two days. Besides even if they could be reached, what would they do, they can send no one.' McGonagall stopped suddenly, noticing Lavender's terrified expression, "I'm sorry Ms. Brown, but I need a minute to sort all this out."

Lavender nodded, but she was still grew more worried with each passing second. McGonagall had stopped pacing and now stood beside the bed, looking down at the unconscious Potters. "What did he tell you, Headmistriss?"

McGonagall frowned, "Not much, Ms. Brown." She stopped for a moment, and finally seemed to decide that she couldn't figure it out on her own, she answered. " Most of it was incoherent, he'd clearly lost a lot of blood." McGonagall paused, expecting Lavender to cut her off with a list of questions, but instead she sat, listening intently. McGonagall continued, "I asked him what exactly was happening and he said he didn't know the whole story, but that Albus did. He did tell me that he knew who had started the storm and that there was still time to stop them."

"Did he say who?" Lavender asked once it was clear McGonagall had no more to say.

McGonagall gave a look that made her next sentence unnecessary, "No, I'm afraid he never made it that far."

"Will they-?"

"That depends, on if we can determine what curse they been hit with and if I have the necessary knowledge to heal it." McGonagall sighed, "And if you have any ideas on how to determine that I am more than open to hear it."

"Actually, I do have one idea." Lavender said nervously, "Have you ever heard of the Memoria Recordatio?"

"Vaguely, Ms. Brown, I've been a teacher for over 50 years, please refresh my aging memory."

"Well, it's all based of the idea that as person's life will flash before there eyes when they die. Memoria Recordatio, allows a person to see the memories as there being recalled. If we used the spell, we could see exactly what happed to them tonight, as well as all the major events leading up to it." Lavender hesitated before adding, "It's among the most untested magic ever, Professor Trewlaney was the one who told me about it originally. I'd understand if you were hesitant to try it."

"Not at all Ms. Brown, it sounds like the best option we have," said McGonagall smiling.

Lavender couldn't help but smile too, "It's not going to be easy, there are several draw backs to the process. For one thing its really difficult to pull of the spell and requires complete concentration, which is difficult normally, on a night like tonight it will be next to impossible," she saw McGonagall frown again, and quickly added, " But if the two of us work together we should be able to pull it off."

"Yes, I believe we can, but what are some of the other…"draw backs"?

"The process is almost completely controlled by the subject's subconscious mind, it takes an extraordinary amount of work to redirect the process as a viewer and a knowledge of Oclemency that I do not possess."

"But surely, Potter's subconscious will be drawn to these events anyway, he knows the importance of them." McGonagall said dismissively.

Lavender hesitated, " Yes and No. It a lot of the cases done before, the subjects used this opportunity to say all the things they couldn't say in life, much like any person who knew they were going to die would do. The process can take quiet a while, and visit many memories that we would find useless."

McGonagall weighed this for a moment, but finally said, "We'll it's true we don't have all the time in the world, but as I said before, we don't have any better options."

Lavender stood up and walked over to the bed, " Which one should we cast in on?"

"Well, Potter said the boy knew the whole story, I'd say him." They both pointed their wand at Albus Severus Potter, and said the incantation, "Memoria Recordatio". Suddenly McGonagall felt the whole room fall away, she was moving very fast backwards. Places, names, and faces flew past so fast she couldn't concentrate on any single one, she felt as if she recognized some, but she couldn't see any of them long enough to be sure.

Then the world seemed to slow, she saw Hogwarts, students, and herself at the Start of Term Feast. She saw the Hogwarts express and eventually she came to stop, at Platform 9 and ¾, a Harry Potter nine years younger standing over her, a hand on her shoulder.