Summer vacation flew by in the blink of an eye. Before Albert knew it, August was drawing to a close, and the start of term at Hogwarts was just around the corner.
It would be a lie to say he wasn't looking forward to school, but if given the choice, Albert would have gladly lazed about at home a little longer. Unfortunately, time waits for no one.
When it came to magic, stumbling around by himself was hardly ideal. It was like a blind man tapping his way forward with a cane—never quite sure what lay ahead. Despite having read all of his schoolbooks once, Albert's grasp of magic was still only superficial.
He continued exchanging letters with Truman, his Hufflepuff pen pal, every three days. Truman's grades were average at best, and whatever magical knowledge he did have was quickly exhausted by Albert within a few conversations.
Truman was convinced Albert would be sorted into Ravenclaw, given his enthusiasm for magical theory. He said so with just a hint of regret.
Albert, on the other hand, wasn't bothered about which House he'd end up in—any House except Slytherin. Muggle-borns were hardly welcome there anyway, and with his background, he doubted the Sorting Hat would even consider it.
"You've worked hard. Have a good rest," Albert murmured to his owl, stroking her head before placing some food in the cage.
He was quite satisfied with Shera; after his repeated reminders, she had finally stopped bringing dead mice back home. Daisy would not have appreciated such surprises while cleaning.
Shera gave a weary hoot and settled into her cage to eat, ignoring Tom the cat baring his teeth beside her.
"Stop it, Tom." Albert scooped the short-haired cat into his arms and headed downstairs for breakfast.
Herb was home today. He had recently developed a fascination with The Daily Prophet, especially with how the pictures moved. Daisy had started reading it too, eager to learn more about the wizarding world.
"This morning I made corn chowder," Daisy said with a smile as she ladled a full bowl for her son. She knew Albert loved it.
"Then I don't have to drink milk, right?" Nia asked hopefully. She hated her daily glass of milk.
"You still have to drink it," Daisy said, placing a glass in front of her.
"Did Albert learn new magic again?" Nia tried to change the subject, eyes drifting away from the milk. She planned to pour it into Tom's bowl when her mother wasn't looking.
"Nia." Daisy's voice came from right behind her, hands on her hips.
"Mom, I was just preparing breakfast for Tom! He likes milk," Nia said quickly.
"It's fine. I've got more," Daisy replied, pouring another glass and placing it firmly in front of her. "Drink it all."
"I hate drinking milk every day," Nia muttered.
"Albert drinks it every day. He never complains," Daisy reminded her.
"That doesn't count. Albert doesn't dislike anything," Nia grumbled. "You can't keep comparing me to him. He's an exception."
"Oh, he does. Your brother used to hate cheese," Daisy said, raising an eyebrow. "But he eats it now."
"Liar." Nia frowned. Even Albert's potato pancakes were full of cheese and ham.
"It's true," Herb chuckled. "He still avoids some strong-smelling cheeses though. But really, he's not picky."
"Children who aren't picky eaters grow taller," Albert said calmly.
"And why should I be taller?" Nia shot back.
"Because it makes you prettier. Just look at Mom."
Daisy clearly approved of the answer. Her smile widened.
"Flatterer," Nia mumbled. Still, under her mother's watchful gaze, she grudgingly drank the milk—though she poured half into Albert's glass, insisting it would help him grow taller and more handsome like Dad.
Herb had planned a family trip to the zoo, but Albert wasn't interested. When Nia declared the zoo boring as well, the plan was abandoned. Instead, the family spent the day chatting and watching TV together.
Nia wanted to ride her toy broomstick, but Herb immediately refused. Last time, she nearly crashed into the television. The living room was too small, and letting her fly outside would risk exposing magic. So the broomstick, newly bought by Luke, was locked away in a closet.
Albert had flown it once and decided it wasn't thrilling. It barely got off the ground. He'd never touched it again.
But Nia, unaware of what chuunibyo even was, still dreamed of soaring freely through the sky.
After a while, Daisy headed into the kitchen to prepare black tea and cake. The family—plus one cat—gathered in the living room with The Tales of Beedle the Bard. They took turns reading a paragraph each, making the experience unexpectedly delightful.
The wizarding fairy tales were quite different from the ones they knew. For example, their version of Sleeping Beauty featured a jealous banshee, a spindle coated in Aconite Potion, and a wizard who woke the princess with lips coated in Invigoration Draught.
Far less romantic, but fascinating all the same.
They soon reached the tale of the Three Brothers.
"Are there really stones that can bring people back to life?" Nia asked, wide-eyed.
Given the existence of Nicolas Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone, such things didn't seem entirely impossible.
"Nia, there's no such thing," Herb reminded her gently. "And you heard what happened to the second brother's lover. She wasn't truly alive."
"It's just a fairy tale. And they say fairy tales are lies," Albert said lightly.
"Albert, you're so annoying!" Nia grumbled. "Can't you let me believe it for just a moment?"