The day was unusually warm for a British spring, yet the dungeons of Malfoy Manor carried an eerie chill. The scent of crushed dittany and powdered moonflower filled the air, sharp and herbal, clinging to Harry's robes as he knelt in the corner of the drawing room, examining bundles of rare ingredients laid out on the table.
"Daddy," came a quiet voice from the doorway, "what's wrong with Mrs. Malfoy?"
Harry looked up, startled. Albus stood there in his pajamas—dark green flannel with tiny broomsticks embroidered on the cuffs—his black hair ruffled, his green eyes too observant for a boy his age.
"What makes you think something's wrong?" Harry asked gently.
Albus stepped closer and pointed at the open box of potions components.
"You're not this serious about common potions. Because fluxweed and bloodroot don't go in anything normal. That combination's only used in blood curse stabilization. And that bottle—" he gestured to a sealed vial of silver-tinted serum, "—that's used to delay magical degeneration and the rest of the ingredients… most of them are usually used in blood purification and curse suppression." Albus tilted his head. "She's got something ancient, doesn't she?"
Harry sat back on his heels. "…You've been reading again."
"I like reading." Albus blinked, then tilted his head. "So… what's wrong with her?"
Harry sighed, then motioned for his son to sit beside him. "Astoria Malfoy has a condition. It's old magic. Passed down in her bloodline. A maledictus curse—slow, but fatal. It transforms her bit by bit, taking over her body from the inside. There's no known cure."
Albus didn't flinch. He didn't gasp, or panic, or even frown. He just looked thoughtful.
"But you're trying to help," Albus said. "Even though it's impossible."
Harry nodded. "Draco asked. I said I'd try to find something to ease her pain. Slow it down. That's all anyone's ever managed."
A moment passed.
Albus stared at the ingredients again. "That's not good enough."
"…What?"
"If she's dying anyway, then slowing it down isn't helping. It's just waiting."
Harry gave a small, tired smile. "You're not wrong. But the magic that created her curse is too old—"
"Then I'll break it."
Harry blinked. "Albus…"
"I want to try," Albus said quietly. "Please."
Two Days Later – The Potter Library
Albus sat by the old study fireplace, dozens of scrolls floating around him with glowing annotations. He'd read enough magical theory to understand the basics of bloodlines, curse mechanics, and ancient rituals. But he wasn't looking for theory. He was looking for loopholes. He wasn't just trying to slow Astoria's death. He was trying to break the curse entirely.
The books stacked around Albus were taller than he was. Scrolls of ancient blood theories, magical gene diagrams, curse-breaker journals, ritual blueprints—some copied from Hogwarts archives, others borrowed from Aunt Audrey's stash, or scavenged from the attic at Grimmauld Place
"Maledictus transformation stabilizes with anchor enchantments," he muttered. "But destabilizes the heart, lungs… unless…"
His hand flashed as he drew a rough sigil midair—a design from The Irregular at Magical High School—a magic compression array. Converted to rune form, it might…
He didn't sleep that night.
His small fingers traced runes and diagrams while numbers and theories danced in his head—maledictus curse sequences, transfiguration anchors, basilisk immunogenic cells, phoenix rebirth cycles...
His eyes widened.
"There," he whispered, "that's it."
It wasn't about purging the curse. It was about reprogramming it.
Albus worked through the night.
The Kitchen, the Next Morning
Ginny was pouring tea when Albus marched in with a folder clutched to his chest.
"Mum. Dad. I finished it."
Harry lowered his paper. "Finished what?"
"The spell," Albus said seriously. "The cure."
Ginny looked to Harry. Harry looked to the folder.
Inside were runic charts, a stabilized ritual circle, a serum formula designed to rebind the maledictus mutation with phoenix-enhanced healing threads—and most importantly, a method to keep the mind anchored during the rebinding process.
"You did this in two days?" Ginny asked, stunned.
Albus just nodded. "Will you please give it to Mr. Malfoy? Please try?"
Ginny glanced at Harry, worried. "He's seven."
"And more brilliant than any healer I've worked with in twenty years," Harry replied honestly.
Albus stood between them, tired-eyed but determined.
"She's dying. I can see the signs in her aura. She has less than a year. But if we use a life-anchored ward core, mixed with diluted basilisk venom and phoenix tears in an inverse layering of curse-breaker sequences…"
Harry's hand rested on his son's shoulder. "You've already written the spell?"
Albus handed him a folded parchment. "And the ritual framework. I just need someone to believe it's worth trying."
Harry didn't answer immediately. He read every page again. Then slowly, he folded the papers and said, "I'll go now."
Malfoy Manor – One Week Later
The sitting room of Malfoy Manor was drenched in morning light, but Draco looked like a man carved from shadow—tense, guarded, bitter. Draco Malfoy was not an emotional man—not anymore. But when Harry came to him with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, he'd listened.When he saw the spell matrix drawn by a seven-year-old, he'd scoffed.
"So this is the miracle your son created?" Draco said coolly, tapping the folder.
Harry nodded. "It's more advanced than anything I've seen from the Department of Mysteries. But it'll take courage to try."
Draco didn't answer.
Behind him, Daphne Greengrass—her sister, a cursebreaker herself—studied the diagrams. When Daphne Greengrass—a cursebreaker herself—reviewed the notes and whispered, "This could work…" Draco had gone silent.
Draco's mask cracked. "Are you certain?"
Daphne hesitated. "Nothing like this has been done before. But if it's real—Albus Potter may have just written a new chapter of magical healing."
And when Albus arrived to assist—calm, prepared, unnaturally composed—Draco asked, "Do you know what this means, boy? If you fail, my wife might—" "I know," Albus replied without flinching. "But if no one tries, she'll die anyway."
Daphne whispered, "He's right."
Astoria, pale and fragile in bed, smiled at the boy. "You remind me of someone I used to dream about when I was a girl. A clever little boy with too-old eyes." That night, Astoria agreed.
"If I die," she said, touching her husband's face, "at least it will be trying something that gives hope."
The Ritual – Seven Nights Later
Albus stood in the circle he had designed—his hands trembling only slightly as the runes began to glow around the edges.
Astoria lay in the center, her body already weak, her breathing shallow.
Daphne stood at the east point, wand ready.
Draco and Harry stood together, not as enemies, but as fathers watching their sons become something more.
Albus murmured the incantation.
The circle flared.
The light intensified.
Astoria arched, crying out once—and then fell silent as golden tendrils wrapped around her.
The curse hissed, resisted—and then broke.
She fell back. Still. Quiet.
And then… she breathed.
A full, strong, painless breath.
Draco fell to his knees beside her, clutching her hand. She opened her eyes and smiled.
"I feel… alive."
Albus had done it.
After the events happened. Scorpius ran to Albus as they left the ritual chamber, throwing his arms around him.
Scorpius: "You saved my mum!"
Albus flushed. "It was just… logic."
"You're amazing," Scorpius said. "You're going to be my best friend forever."
From that day, Scorpius and Albus were inseparable.
Draco shook Harry's hand. Not a handshake of rivalry or obligation—but of respect.
"Your son saved my wife. No matter our past… I owe him everything."
Harry smiled. "He said you'd say that."
For the first time in decades, the Potter–Malfoy rift began to heal. Draco and Harry shared tea for the first time without tension.
The Malfoys, for the first time in decades, opened their home to the Potters.
And in a private moment, Daphne Greengrass placed a hand on Albus's shoulder.
"You're not just a boy. You're something new. If you ever need the Greengrass name… you have it."
Albus simply smiled, hiding the small sparkle of pride in his eyes.
He had rewritten one fate.
And he was just getting started.
Later That Night
Ginny watched Albus sleeping peacefully, the faint light of his notes still glowing beside him.
"He did it," she whispered.
Harry placed a hand on her shoulder. "Our son just did what the best Healers couldn't. He saved a life. He united families."
"He's going to change everything," she whispered. "And we'll stand by him. Even when the others don't."