Chapter One
Chapter One.
The noise on the platform was overwhelming for the young wizard, and the excited chatter of his family did little to help his rising tension. It wasn't like Albus wasn't excited to start his first year at Hogwarts, he was but it also filled him with worry and dread, mostly of not being what his family and the whole world expected him to be. It was a heavy burden to bear for the eleven year old, and Albus was breaking underneath the pressure of it all. He never cared for the attention that came with his last name, and it frustrated him that no one else seemed to share his discomfort.
His brother, James, leaned into it, playing the role expected of Harry and Ginny Potter's son. Naturally, James had been sorted into Gryffindor, acting as though it was the most obvious outcome. And His sister Lily, with her bright, fearless spirit, would surely follow in James’s footsteps. She was the epitome of a Gryffindor, even at ten. Albus loved his sister, but he couldn’t deny the jealousy he felt. She and James were everything their parents wanted—a mirror of their hopes and expectations. He, however, was not, and it was painfully clear, though his family acted as if nothing were amiss. They pretended he wasn’t different, but Albus knew better. He hated how he felt loathing and jealousy for his family, his siblings, after all Albus had little to complain about.
His life should have been perfect. He knew that everyone his age envied him, his famous mother and even more famous father. Albus was always given what he wanted, he never went hungry, he always had expensive and well made clothes, and his parents had never mistreated him or raised a hand, the only thing would be his relationship with his brother, who seemed to enjoy Albuses suffering and always made Albus the butt of every joke or victim of every prank, some more vicious than others. But really it could be summarized as a normal brotherly relationship, and it was really nothing compared to the horrible and abusive childhood his father had growing up. But something inside of him felt wronged, it felt different and surely something was very, very wrong, and if it wasn't his family, then it had to be him. Albus didn't know what he loathed more, his detestation for his family or for himself, for feeling it.
He often finds it hard to smile, even more as the years went on. Family dinners were the worst—he was always the odd one out. The dinners are always in high spirit, and rumbustious, where his family would laugh, James throwing his head back, lily adoringly giggling, Albus found it hard to put in an effort. it annoyed him how utterly Gryffindor his extended family was. It felt suffocating. The only relative who didn’t fit into the Gryffindor mold was Teddy, a proud Hufflepuff. But even Teddy fit the stereotype—kind, loyal, dependable. It made sense, given his parentage. But if Albus were sorted anywhere other than Gryffindor, what excuse would there be?
He hated how James teased him about the possiblity of him being sorted into Slytherin, calling it the 'House of the Death Eaters ' when their parents weren’t around. Albus knew his brother understood how much it troubled him, which made the teasing cut even deeper. That very morning, James had gone so far as to joke that Albus would be disowned if he ended up in Slytherin. Fortunately, their mother overheard and gave James a well-deserved scolding, which Albus had secretly enjoyed. She reassured him that it didn’t matter which house he was placed in—that they would always love him. Coming from her, it didn’t feel like a lie.
But Albus wasn’t naive. He knew his parents weren’t fans of Slytherin, even if they were wise enough not to voice it in front of the children. His Uncle Ron wasn’t as tactful. Albus knew all of James’s Slytherin jokes came from him, with Ron often referring to it as the 'House of the Death Eaters' during family gatherings. Albus didn’t want to admit it, but he was terrified of not being sorted into Gryffindor.
He tried to laugh along with the jokes, pretending to be unaffected but he knew he really wasn't fooling anyone, and the truth gnawed at him. Everyone, except his mother, seemed oblivious to his own distress. She always sensed when something was bothering him and was especially hard on James whenever she overheard those jokes, even though their father constantly tried to downplay the tension.
His father’s attempts to console him only made things worse. No matter what, he always seemed to say the wrong thing. Instead of feeling reassured, Albus’s fears were only deepened. His father would smile and tell him James was just joking, and that Albus was destined for the House of Lions. He already knew that his father thought of him like a poor excuse of a son, of a potter. He had overheard his parents talking about him and their concerns. His own father had asked what was wrong with him. to his mother when they thought nobody was listening in. His father always compared him to James, and to Lily.
Albus never let his parents know that he overheard their conversations. He didn’t want them to think he cared, although he did care about his mother. As for his father, he wasn't stupid enough to beg for love from someone who clearly didn't want to put effort into understanding him, he wasn't going to plead for his father’s love, he couldn't bear the truth yet, that he father loved him less than his other siblings.
A sharp whistle from the train jolted Albus back to the present. Looking around, he saw his mother still lecturing James, but Albus couldn’t summon the energy to care. Behind him, his father stood with Lily on his shoulders, chatting with Uncle Ronald and Aunt Hermione. His eyes searched the platform until they found the one person he actually wanted to be with—Rose, his cousin and best friend.
Rose understood him in ways no one else did. Sure, she could be a bit of a know-it-all, taking after her mother, but Albus didn’t mind. In fact, he liked it. Rose’s strong presence allowed him to fade into the background, something he was more than comfortable with. She knew his boundaries and never pushed him too far.
His parents had been concerned when they were younger, worrying that Rose was dragging him around. But that wasn’t the case at all. It only looked that way to outsiders. Albus never felt the need to correct their assumptions, then or now because their misperceptions worked in his favor. It had certainly gotten him a few more expensive things he wanted over the years to the dismay of his siblings.
His gaze fell on Rose, who stood near James, snickering as their mother scolded him. Albus let a smirk slip onto his face, realizing Rose had been the mastermind behind James’s latest trouble. As their eyes met, she grinned at him, and he returned the gesture. He was about to walk over when his father’s hand landed on his shoulder, gently steering him toward the train.
The moment of lightness vanished, replaced by the gnawing fear that had been eating at him all day. After saying his goodbyes, Albus mustered up some of that supposed Gryffindor courage he feared he didn’t have, and finally asked the question he had been too afraid to voice.
“Dad… what if I am put in Slytherin?” His voice trembled, barely more than a whisper, and the vulnerability in it made him cringe.
He hated showing weakness, even to his own father. But in a final act of bravery, he lifted his eyes to meet his father’s. His father’s expression was unreadable—certainly not disappointment, at least. "Albus Severus Potter," his father began, "You’re named after two Headmasters of Hogwarts—One of them was a Slytherin. And he was the bravest man I have ever known" He smiled, but Albus could sense the hesitation behind it. “But what if I am?” Ablus spoke barely above a whisper, showing a rare display of vulnerability.
"And if you’re sorted into Slytherin, then The Slytherin House will have gained a wonderful young wizard."
Albus wanted to believe his father, he really did. But there was something in his father’s eyes, a flicker of doubt that made Albus’s heart sink. It felt rehearsed, like something his father had prepared in advance. The words fell flat. His father once again insisted that the hat would take his wishes into account, as it had apparently done so for him. Albus didnt believe him. Afterall wasnt his father the perfect Gryffindor?
Albus forced a small smile as he gave his father a quick hug before he boarded the train. He knew he’d performed well enough to convince his father, who waved happily as the train pulled away from the station. But Albus knew better. It wasn’t hard to fool his father—his father preferred to believe the things that were easiest to swallow.
++++
On the train, the air had changed. Albus wasn’t sure if it came from being away from his father or if his father’s words had truly reassured him. But it felt more real than ever now. Here he was, heading toward Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, ready to begin his academic career and step into the magical world as his own person. A smile crept across his face. The future was his to make afterall.
He and his dear cousin Rose had already planned most of their first year—well, mostly Rose had planned it. She was determined about how their "Hogwarts debut," as she called it, would unfold, almost frantic over every detail. According to her, the most crucial decision was which compartment they chose on the train and who they sat with. After all, their parents had met their lifelong friends on that very same train their first ride to Hogwarts. Albus was skeptical, doubting that the people he shared a compartment with on the first day would determine his future friendships. But he played along, not wanting to dampen Rose’s excitement.
“There you are, cousin!” Rose’s voice rang out from behind him, cheerful and insistent.
As Albus turned, he was met with a grinning Rose looking all too smug, her energy infectious. He felt himself being swayed by her enthusiasm, as he often did. He followed her as she dragged him down the corridor, talking animatedly about the importance of finding the right people and how she had even researched families beforehand. Albus suppressed a grimace; it felt a bit excessive, but he kept his thoughts to himself. They continued to check compartments, searching for their potential new best friends.
Saying that Rose could be a perfectionist was an understatement, especially when she considered the task important enough. Despite loving and tolerating his best friend and cousin, Albus was growing tired of her indecisiveness about where to sit. He could tell she was starting to annoy even herself. Not wanting to start their Hogwarts debut with an irritated Rose and no compartment to sit in, he took a deep breath and opened one of the compartment doors, stepping inside without checking if it was already occupied. Too tired to care, and to play along with Rose any longer, he started to lift and place his trunk on the overhead rack. Rose, aware of his move, followed him into the compartment but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the occupant.
Rose’s expression transformed into one Albus hadn’t seen in a long time—an unmistakable mix of disgust and hatred. As Albus placed his trunk overhead and turned around, he was momentarily stunned. The boy in front of him seemed almost angelic with his pale face, rosy cheeks, and soft silver-blonde hair. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, and Albus found himself unable to breathe.
It wasn’t until Rose tugged at his arm that Albus snapped back to reality. He glanced at her, his initial confusion shifting to puzzlement as he noticed her intense disdain—not directed at him, but at the boy.
Albus’s gaze flickered between Rose and the boy, who sat with a book open on his lap and a bag of wizarding sweets beside him. The boy’s expression was a mixture of confusion and hurt, which tugged at Albus’s heartstrings. He felt as though he had missed a crucial part of their interaction, with both Rose and the boy now looking at him expectantly. Although he knew he should take down his bag and follow Rose out, an unexpected urge to stay and learn more about the boy held him back.
“Albus? What’s wrong with you? Didn’t you listen? Let’s go. I don’t want to sit with a Death Eater—and,” Rose spat out, her voice dripping with disgust, “supposedly Voldemort’s son.”
Albus winced, as did the boy in front of him, though for different reasons. Albus mentally kicked himself for getting so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t followed the conversation. He glanced at the boy again, and before he could think better of it, he asked, “Voldemort’s son?” His tone was a bit too light as in disbelief. Rose shot him an exasperated glare, but before she could respond, the boy spoke up. “Yes, here I am Scorpius Malfoy, otherwise known as Voldemort’s child.”
The acidity in Scorpius’s voice was sharp, and Albus thought it sounded almost foreign. Although this was the first time Albus had heard Scorpius speak, the tone felt strangely incongruent with the boy’s appearance. It seemed out of place, which was odd considering he knew nothing about Scorpius’s usual manner of speaking. Scorpius continued,
“Though it’s not true. My parents are Draco and Astoria Malfoy,” he added with pride, lifting his chin up in an attempt to look as pure-blooded as possible. Albus found the boy’s failed attempt at superiority somewhat charming—he actually found Scorpius himself quite charming. He mentally kicked himself for being so drawn in.
Rose scoffed. “Even if,” she grimaced and continued, "they're still blood purists and Death Eaters,” she spat with such hatred that Albus was momentarily taken aback. Her glare was fixed on him, but his eyes remained on Scorpius, who could no longer conceal the hurt on his face. Albus’s heart ached as he was reluctantly dragged out of the compartment.
He knew better than to cross Rose when she was this angry. She went on about Death Eaters, their parents, blood purists, and all sorts of grievances as they moved down the corridor. Albus found himself regretting his decision to go along with her, though logically, he knew he had no other choice.
A little while later, they found a compartment that Rose was satisfied with, which significantly improved her mood. She was already chatting with a pretty blonde girl named Polly Chapman and two other boys, whose names Albus didn’t catch. He was too lost in his thoughts, replaying the scene in the other compartment and lingerting on Scorpius’s hurt expression and those striking silver-blonde eyes.
Albus glanced over at Rose, who was sitting beside him, he bended slightly to the side and mumbles into her ear, “Lavatory.” Before standing and exiting the compartment, he looked back to see her engrossed in conversation with the other occupants. Instead of heading toward the lavatory on the train, Albus turns around and walks back down the corridor, his mind set on blonde hair.
He located the compartment door, took a deep breath, and opened the cabin door. As he stepped inside, his eyes quickly found the boy. Initially, the boy looked hopeful at the prospect of a new companion, but his expression soured when he recognized Albus. This made Albus feel a pang of insecurity about his decision to return. He turned around and pulled down the blinds on the compartment windows, not wanting anyone to recognize him, Harry Potter's Second son being civil with Voldemort's supposed child, he could only imagine the headline on The Daily Prophet. He sat down opposite of the boy, who now looked quite alarmed and guarded, Albus let his mask slip, feeling somewhat secure in the company of this new stranger, who he couldn't get out of his mind.
“I wanted to apologize for my cousin’s and my behavior earlier.” Albus said, his voice sincere. The boy’s guarded expression softened slightly, though he still looked puzzled.
“I’m Albus—Albus Potter, by the way. I’m really sorry we didn’t have a chance to properly introduce ourselves earlier,” Albus continued, extending his hand. Scorpius hesitated for a moment before shaking Albus’s hand and replying, “I’m Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, Heir to the Most Ancient House of Malfoy. Well met.”
Albus met his gaze and replied with a grin, “Well met, Heir Malfoy.”
Relief mixed with confusion and a spark of interest crossed Scorpius’s face, which made Albus feel a bit jittery. He was eager for this boy to show interest in him. Albus understood the confusion; he knew that pure-blood culture and customs were seen as foreign to him, as his family, the Potters and the Weasleys, were not heavily involved in such traditions despite holding several lordships. However, having grown up in a Black family home with a particularly old-fashioned house elf, Albus had acquired an old book on pure-blood customs and etiquette. Although he wasn’t an heir like James, he found the subject intriguing, especially since his immediate family had little interest in it.
“As I said earlier, I wanted to apologize for the way my cousin was behaving,” Albus said. Scorpius gave him a shy smile. “Apology accepted. To be honest, I expected that kind of warm welcome,” he sighed. “But you know, actually hearing it is a lot harder than just knowing it might happen.” His smile faltered, and his eyes dropped to the floor. Albus felt a surge of anger—not towards Scorpius, but for him, and towards Rose.
Scorpius, not wanting to dwell on negativity, quickly changes the subject as he ran his hand down the bag of sweets beside him while he spoke a bit more casually, still incredibly posh “I’ve also got some Shock-o-Choc, Pepper Imps and some Jelly Slugs—”
Albus eagerly accepted the sweets, as his mother rarely allowed them to indulge. The conversation flowed naturally, with Albus asking Scorpius about his taste in sweets and asking for somewhat of an sweets introduction, which Scorpius was happy to give, the other boy seemed to be somehow under the impression that Albus, like an muggleborn knew nothing of sweets and gave an very detailed introduction on wizarding sweets, and went into a ramble about how he disliked the rather lacking assortment of sweets on the trolley cart. Albus found himself just enjoying listening to the other boy talk, and quickly gained an understanding that Scorpius had a bit of a sweet tooth.
Albus was keenly aware of the time slipping away, but he didn’t want to leave Scorpius behind, especially now that the boy had relaxed and seamlessly engaged in conversation. He sighed. “Heir Malfoy, I’m terribly sorry, but I have to head back to my cousin before she gets too suspicious of my long stay in the lavatory,” he said, grinning and rolling his eyes. The thought of spending so long in the toilet was a bit embarrassing. “I really wish I could stay with you for the whole journey,” he added, letting a hint of vulnerability seep into his voice and a smile appear on his lips. Despite barely knowing Scorpius, the boy had managed to get past many of Albus’s defenses effortlessly.
Scorpius looked a bit deflated by the announcement but tried to mask it. “I understand. And there’s no need to call me Malfoy; just call me Scorpius.”
Albus’s grin widened. “Will do, Scorpius. You can call me Albus.” He stood up and headed toward the door. Before opening it, he glanced back at Scorpius. “See you at the castle?”
Scorpius nodded, a wide smile spreading across his face, which made Albus hesitate to leave him behind. Still, he felt better overall—less anxious about his house placement. After all, if he could strike up a conversation with Voldemort’s supposed son that easily, who couldn’t he befriend? A newfound lightness entered his step as he made his way back to his cousin’s compartment. He felt ready to face the spell—or rather, endure conversations with people he didn’t particularly care about. Somehow, Scorpius had given him the push he needed—or maybe, the courage he hadn’t realized he lacked.