Chapter Two - The Sorting
Chapter Two - The Sorting
To say Albus was overwhelmed would be an understatement. Any confidence he’d gained quickly vanished the moment he returned to Rose’s compartment. First, they commented on how long he'd been in the loo, and then, he had to pretend he'd actually gotten lost on the train. They bought it, which somehow stung even more. He didn't know if he should be smug that he told such a believable lie, or offended that they thought of it as something he would actually do.
To make matters worse, they realized Albus had only remembered Polly Chapman's name, forgetting the other two boys entirely. He could feel Rose's glare beside him. Instead of defending him, she acted surprised and apologized for his 'lack of social skills,' blaming it on his 'secluded childhood.' Her comment shifted the conversation to his family—the one topic he desperately wanted to avoid. And she knew that. He didn’t want to talk about his parents—especially not his father, which seemed to be the only thing anyone cared about. Some of the Quidditch fans asked about his mother’s time with the Holyhead Harpies, but Albus didn’t know much about Quidditch, and his ignorance was quickly exposed.
Talking to these kids was far more exhausting than talking to Scorpius. As the journey dragged on and the questions became even more irritating, Albus considered using the lavatory excuse again—maybe he could claim an upset stomach—but he didn’t want to be 'that kid' on his first day. He could already sense Rose’s disappointment, which felt unfair. It wasn’t like he was trying to be unlikable; he just didn’t like these people. And it was becoming obvious they didn’t care much for him either—except, of course, for his last name. They only tolerated his so-called “bad personality” because he was a Potter. The realization made his mood sour even more.
He wanted to roll his eyes. All this time wasted when he could’ve been with Scorpius instead. The more Rose spun pointless stories about their parents’ “Hogwarts adventures,” the more Albus's contentment and annoyance heightened. She even hinted that the others might be lucky enough to join their “future Hogwarts adventures”—as if epic adventures were passed down through their bloodline. To make it worse, like James, Rose soaked up the compliments, fully embracing the role of 'the perfect daughter of Hermione and Ron Weasley.
Albus’s stomach sank as he wished more and more to be anywhere but here. Doubt began to creep into his mind, and he hated feeling this way about Rose— his Rose. His best friend since birth. She had never acted this way around him before. They used to complain together about being overshadowed by their parents, about always being known as 'so-and-so’s kid.' They would laugh, roll their eyes, and glare at the cameras in shared frustration. Rose had always claimed to hate the limelight as much as he did. But now... her words didn’t match her actions.
A dark thought flickered inside him: had she lied to him all this time? Or was she, like him, just wearing a mask to fit in? It hurt and confused Albus that he couldn’t tell. He feared he didn’t know his best friend as well as he thought he did. His mouth felt dry as the uncertainty settled in.
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Thankfully, Albus’s torture and embarrassment didn’t last long. The train soon reached its destination: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As they arrived, Albus felt his nerves resurface, the dread he had tried to suppress wriggling its way back into his thoughts. His mouth felt dry as they began to disembark, and the chaotic movement of students in all directions did nothing to ease his nervousness. The sight of Hagrid, the half-giant and well-known family friend, did little to calm him either.
Albus didn’t have anything against Hagrid, but unlike the rest of his family, he wasn’t particularly fond of him either. He felt more impartial towards the half-giant. Albus planned to maintain a standard professor-student relationship with Hagrid and keep up appearances by attending the occasional tea time in the Hut, like the rest of his family currently at Hogwarts. However, he hoped he wouldn’t have to go alone. If he could, he’d tag along with Rose or James, letting them handle the conversation. Since he wouldn’t have Hagrid as a professor until his third year, he didn’t have to worry about it just yet. Albus wasn’t even sure if he wanted to take Care of Magical Creatures. It wasn’t that he disliked magical creatures—he found them as fascinating as his little sister did—but he preferred to admire them from a distance.
Hagrid, always easy to spot from afar, waved enthusiastically. He wasn’t exactly known for maintaining an unbiased appearance toward students. When Rose caught sight of him, she immediately abandoned her conversation with Polly and the other boys who had been discussing Hogwarts: A History. She stopped in her tracks and beamed, raising her arms above her head and waving wildly with a big smile that showed all her teeth.
Albus grimaced. His social battery was running dangerously low. He wasn’t used to maintaining this level of interaction for so long—back at home or during gatherings, he could usually sneak away to his room or hide in a quiet corner. But now, he had to keep up the appearance of being engaged, and it was exhausting. Forcing a smile, Albus raised a hand in a much smaller wave than Rose’s, more aware of the faces now watching them and whispering. Hagrid, as usual, returned the waves with a hearty laugh, then gestured for the students to follow the path that would take them down to the Black Lake, and onto their ride to the castle.
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He boarded a boat with Rose and the others from their train compartment. Although he tried to engage in conversation, his mind was elsewhere, intensely searching for that shade of pale blonde hair and pale skin stained pink. Traveling across the sea of faces of strangers, he sought the silhouette of the boy with the same intensity as a Seeker searching for the Golden Snitch, he spotted the boy as easily as a sailor found the North Star in the night sky. Scorpius wasn’t alone, which was a relief, but it also ignited a silent rage within him that he didn’t quite understand. The boys around Scorpius didn’t seem to harbor the same animosity toward him as Rose had earlier; they appeared to have known him for some time. It seemed to add fuel to the silent fire burning inside him.
His attention was momentarily diverted by the boat’s movement and the breathtaking view of the castle coming into sight. The castle’s beauty was awe-inspiring, and the magic around it felt tangible, like a living, breathing beast, with the castle as its pulsating heart. As they drew closer, Albus’s gaze wandered back to Scorpius. When he saw the expression on Scorpius’s face, he felt as though his heart had stopped beating, his veins pulsating painfully. The expression was something he would never forget. As his heartbeat resumed, it seemed to synchronize with the rhythmic pulse of the castle. His mask cracked, revealing a smile so truthful and pure that it shocked even him, filling him with a contentment he hadn’t felt in a long time. As if their hearts beat together, Scorpius’s eyes found his, and he returned a smile even brighter than the castle’s glow, making Albus’s magic dance to the rhythm of the castle.
He was taken out of the moment by a shouting in his ear, and a voice that could only belong to his dear Rose. His eyes traveled toward hers, and her expression was much alike his own, and she beamed at him, giving him a hug, and in that moment all the resentment he felt for his cousin melted away in the euphoria of the magical moment they shared together, their eyes meet each other and it was like they were small kids again, discovering magic for the first time. Together hunched over a nook they had stolen from Rose’s Mothers private library, Rose as the genius that she was could read and understand the complex text, and gracefully told Albus in words he could understand. They can have been no older than five, with all the childlike wonder in the world, acting out a first act of rebellion in stealing a book they shouldn't be reading, hiding away underneath roses blankets, the only light being a magical lamp Rose used to use to read under her blanket.
He felt as if Rose was the only one who truly knew him and loved him for it, who did not seek to change him and Albus returned the hug with equal emotion, certain that she could feel the magic just as he did—the warmth and sense of belonging radiating from their shared experience, a feeling of home in its purest and most truthful form.
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The magic around him made him feel a bit delirious. As he was moved through the castle, he stumbled in a haze of creeping dread. He needed to face the spell—within minutes, the large doors to the Great Hall would open for the Sorting ceremony, where the entire school, except for the first years, awaited. His brother would be among them. It was nerve-wracking. Albus couldn’t picture what his brother was doing at that moment. Was he snickering and talking to his friends about the disappointment of a brother destined for the snake pit? Or was he boasting about how obvious it was that Albus would end up in the proud and brave House of the Lions? Albus was anxious about not knowing which scenario was more likely and which was preferable.
His magic seemed to be adjusting to the castle's, pulling him more and more into the present. The chatter around him—most of which he knew was about him—grew louder, until it drowned out everything else. He felt sweat beading on his forehead, his heart racing, and his limbs trembling. It took all his concentration to maintain a calm exterior, with only the occasional small tremble that could be explained away. Thankfully, his companions had stopped trying to engage him in conversation, which made it easier to fake a composed appearance. He knew he couldn’t trust his voice right now, and the last thing he wanted was to sound weak in front of his new peers. He could not bear the thought of being seen as a disappointment.
Albus knew Rose could sense his distress. She was trying to soothe him, slipping her hand into his and tracing small circles with her thumb. It helped, just as it always had when they were kids, and for that, he was grateful. He wasn’t alone—not entirely—despite how hard those dark thoughts tried to convince him otherwise. Rose cared. She knew him, and she loved him. He managed a weak smile, which she gracefully returned without drawing attention to it. Now, she was determined to take as much of the focus as possible, so Albus wouldn’t have to. He took a deep breath, willing his heart to slow to a more normal rhythm.
Rose seemed to bask in the spotlight, loudly introducing herself as Albus’s cousin and efficiently taking over the limelight. She mentioned her surname countless times, clarifying it was not Rose Granger, but Rose Granger-Weasley. Unlike Albus, she excelled at making conversation and confidently stood in the spotlight, never second-guessing herself, standing bravely in the face of adversity.
She had already amassed a group of adoring students eager to listen to her, as if she were Merlin himself. Rose had always had a knack for leadership, and now it was clearer than ever how much of a Gryffindor she was—in the best sense. The eyes of the first years turned toward her, completely ignoring Albus, allowing him to finally breathe again. Truly, his cousin was a marvel, one of those people who drew others in like moths to a flame. But the more brightly Rose shone, the more Albus, like a bat in the shadows, wanted to escape from the rays. It was a weird feeling, he taught himself subconsciously slithering away from the light, from being seen. That was the reason that he was the least known family member of the Potter family, and he was determined to keep it that way. While he knew there was nothing wrong with wanting to be more private—a trait he grudgingly shared with his father—Albus’s reasons were different. He didn’t care what people wrote about him; he just didn’t want to be seen at all. The more eyes on him, the harder it was to keep secrets, to get away with things, and to do what he wasn’t supposed to. Being known would work against his interests, after all. The more pictures the Daily Prophet printed of him, the more people would recognize him, making it harder to disappear into a crowd. He knew he stood out—he looked like his father, after all, with the same dark, unruly Potter hair and nearly identical eyes, though his were just a shade darker, touched with a hint of his mother’s brown. But those were fairly ordinary traits, ones that could be hidden if necessary. Darkly, the brighter his siblings or cousin shone, the more he wanted a distance between them, it was like his mind feared he would be burned if the light was on him for too long. Like Icarus who flew too close to the sun.
But Albus knew he was like a planet orbiting a sun; he needed that gravitational pull to stay in his orbit. Without it, he would drift into the abyss.
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The castle did not wait for him, and the doors swung open to reveal a sea of faces. The first years were greeted with applause from excited students and siblings eager to see which house the newcomers would join. Albus could have sworn his heart was in his throat, but thankfully he wasn’t the only one feeling the pressure. Every first year was a mix of nerves and excitement. Rose, however, held her composure perfectly, walking in with the confidence of someone who had been here before, as if this wasn’t her first time in the castle.
Albus quickly shifted his gaze from the sea of faces to the ceiling, which wasn’t just a roof but a reflection of the night sky. He could hear voices behind him, whispering that it was exactly as described in Hogwarts: A History , though they marveled at how seeing it in person was far more breathtaking than reading about it. Albus silently agreed. He had, of course, read the book long ago, and while the pages made it sound magical, even Bagshot couldn’t fully capture the wonder of seeing it firsthand. The enchanted ceiling displayed a stunning view of the night sky, the bright stars twinkling above while candles floated just below, casting a warm glow—and Albus was utterly captivated.
He made an effort to keep track of the sorting, memorizing the names of those placed into each house so he wouldn’t make a fool of himself at the house table later. It was never a good look to forget the names of the people you’d be sharing a dorm with for the next seven years. Although Albus wasn’t planning on making many friends—he had imagined just following Rose and her mates, who would, out of kindness, tolerate him—his focus shifted slightly. Now, he found himself intrigued by a shy-looking boy who seemed openly as nervous as Albus himself felt. He envied the boy’s ability to be so unabashedly himself, his emotions laid bare. Even if the open display of feelings irritated him, Scorpius’s vulnerability drew him in just as much as it frustrated him.
Scorpius, the Malfoy heir, seemed on the brink of a breakdown, muttering to himself in a low frantic manner. The other children around him, the same children who had the privilege of being able to openly share the boat ride with him didn't look concerned, no they dared to be put off by his behavior. Albus felt a surge of anger, and a brief impulse to comfort the boy, but he quickly reined it in. Making a scene was not his style, even for Scorpius. He turned back to the Hat, noting Rose’s confident demeanor as she prepared for her sorting. Her gaze was fixated on the Hat and the person being sorted, a subtle indication that she was keeping track of the sorting, likely with a particular interest in Gryffindor and some Hufflepuff.
“Rose Granger-Weasley!” Her name was called, and she walked forward with a grace and confidence that made Albus wish he could borrow even a fraction of it. Her smile radiated with a fire in her eyes, and she approached the Hat as though she had been here a thousand times before. Albus couldn’t help but smirk in solidarity with his cousin, feeling a pang of envy. Merlin she really was a wonder, with her long ginger locks swaying in the wind, like she was in one of those muggle hair commercials, He truly did understood the crowds that seemed to gather around her, with her tanned skin glowing underneath the light of the candles, her striking weasley blue eyes dead set on a target, she had only gotten good genes and she wore them well. It was easy to be jealous of someone who did not only win the lottery in the brain department but also in appearance.
He would probably have to duel a lot of boys in their coming years, though Albus doubted that she would need it. She was as independent as Albus and could hold herself better than him. That much was clear.
It seemed like Rose was destined for Gryffindor before the hat even touched her head. She accepted the applause with effortless charm, tossing her hair and flashing a radiant playful smile at the crowd. The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers, and drumming on the table, some small firework spells could be seen from the table as Rose confidently made her way over to the lions table, who now was filled with applauds and lion’s roar. Albus, watching from the sidelines, felt a mixture of admiration and resentment. He didn't yearn for that kind of attention but it was hard to ignore the most human pull of being that well liked. The Gryffindor table could not possibly get any louder—Merlin.
After a few stern looks from the Professor's table, and a few spells flowing haywire, the Gryiffndors seemed to calm down a bit enough to continue the sorting of the next person. Albus didn’t find anyone particularly noteworthy until Scorpius’s name was called, and then the silence that followed was so suffocating you could almost hear a pin drop. Everyone held their breath, craning to catch a glimpse of Voldemort's supposed son. The only sound in the room was Scorpius’s own deep inhale as he braced himself to step forward, leaving the comfort of the crowd behind.
And he did—bravely. Albus couldn’t imagine himself carrying that same grace, even though it was clear Scorpius wasn’t unaffected by the unnerving stillness. Worse still, the silence soon gave way to whispers—rumors of his origins, vile speculations about his mother, and cruel remarks about his childhood. Albus overheard a group behind him discussing how Scorpius had led a secluded upbringing, rarely seen outside the privacy of Malfoy Manor. That isolation only added fuel to the fire. But Albus understood. If this was the reception Scorpius had to look forward to, it was no wonder his parents kept him hidden. Albus grimaced—perhaps they should have sent him abroad instead.
To no one’s surprise, the Malfoy heir was swiftly placed into Slytherin. At least someone was keeping up the family legacy. Albus, on the other hand, had a sinking feeling he wouldn’t be so lucky. He briefly entertained the idea of turning around and throwing himself into the lake—drowning seemed like a more appealing option with every name called, each one bringing him closer to his doom.
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The hat felt a bit bigger than it looked, and honestly, it did look big on most. Albus felt his cheeks flush the longer it stayed on his head, especially in front of so many people. He straightened his posture, trying to channel some of that Rose-like confidence. Horribly, he felt as if the Hat could see right through his façade, and Albus hated it. Growing irritated at the silent treatment from the Hat, and offended that it dared to try and embarrass him by becoming a Hatstall, he begged, “Please.” He knew that damn Hat could hear him. “Don't drag this out. My father is going to hear about it, which I’m not a fan of.”
He was smart enough not to try and scare the Hat, fearing it might place him in Slytherin just to spite him. Internally, he groaned. Why couldn't anything go right for me? He must be cursed.
That seemed to earn a laugh from the Hat, which made Albus jump, even more embarrassed by his own reaction. He felt the blush deepen. Albus grimaced. The Hat seemed to want to play, and he was not eager to engage.
Feeling an increasing need to be sorted and avoid becoming a Hatstall, he desperately tried to channel some Gryffindor traits. In an act of bravery, he looked over the hall. His gaze first fell on Rose, who was staring at him with her brows furrowed, clearly as perplexed as he was. Further up the Gryffindor table, he found James, gawking at him and scratching his head, like the twat he was. Albus wanted to roll his eyes but didn’t, for appearances, of course. The boys around James were whispering something, which made James look worried. Albus shifted his gaze, and it fell on Scorpius.
Albus felt like he could always find him, however big the crowd was. His eyes found Scorpius’s head as easily as a delivery owl finds its recipient. Albus’s gaze softened; he had Scorpius’s full attention. He was the only one who bore an encouraging expression. The idiot even offered him a subtle thumbs-up. Oh, how Albus wanted to laugh, touched by the boy's open support.
The Hat dared to laugh again and, without warning, shouted:
"SLYTHERIN!"
“Bloody hell, Morgana strike me down,” Albus muttered.