Slytherin Son

In Christian theology, METANOIA is commonly understood as "a transformative change of heart; especially: a spiritual conversion". The term suggests repudiation, change of mind, repentance, and atonement; but "conversion" and "reformation" may best approximate its connotation.

Part one, METANOIA;

Albus Severus Potter is the middle child of Harry Potter and expected to take after him and his remarkable namesakes however he is sorted into Slytherin House and finds an unlikely friendship with none other than Scorpius Malfoy, son of notoriously hated pureblood family

Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year, like lightning on a tree. The morning of the first of September was crisp as an apple, and as the family bobbed across the rumbling road toward the great sooty station, the fumes of car exhausts and the breath of pedestrians sparkled like cobwebs in the cold air.

Albus Potter followed behind his dad who pushed his trolley laden with his trunk bearing the initials A.S.P and his caged owl named Lacerta after the constellation meaning the lizard due to her slit green eyes. Lacerta ruffled his feathers and hooted indignantly at the new surroundings. But Albus was no ordinary boy and his dad was no ordinary dad–they were Potters. His father was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and Albus had the fortune, or sometimes misfortune, of being his son. His second son, he added to his trail of thought, casting a look at his big brother James. He had deduced himself capable enough to push his own trolley but his owl Lion made this particularly difficult by flailing his wings and rocking the trolley from side to side. But even after the wizard, his owl and his belongings almost toppled over, James refused help from his parents. 

His little sister trailed along, clutching the sleeve of their dad’s auror robes. She looked very much like their mother with bright red hair and soft brown eyes. “I want to go with them,” she sniffed. Albus sent a pitiful smile over his shoulder. She was only nine so she wouldn’t be able to join her older brothers at Hogwarts. He would miss her while he was away. 

“It won’t be long and you’ll be off too,” his dad comforted her. 

“Two years, but I want to go now! I don’t want to be alone at home,”

“You won’t be alone,” his mum chimed in from the front. She was leading the family through the busy train station. “You’ll have Teddy coming over every second night for dinner.” 

Teddy Lupin was his father’s godson. He was raised by his grandmother Andromeda Tonks but visited the Potter family at 12 Grimmauld Place well enough to be considered an honorary Potter brother. Albus sadly realised he would miss Teddy too during his stay at Hogwarts as he had graduated the year previous. 

The commuters stared curiously at the owls as the family wove its way toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Albus’ voice drifted over the surrounding clamour as the brothers resumed the argument they had started in the car. “Dad, he keeps saying it,”

His dad shot a stern look at his older brother. “James, give it a rest,”

“I only said he might be in Slytherin, he’s just being a worrywart–” but one look from their mum had him quietening. “Fine,”

“I won’t be in Slytherin,” Albus said surely. There was a growing ache in his chest that had become more and more apparent as the morning went on. It had been easier to ignore his brother’s remarks about being a Slytherin when he wasn’t actually on Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. 

“You sure?” James grinned at his younger brother. “Come on, baby brother , I can see you cursing muggleborns in the corridors–especially with that scowl!”

“James,” said his mum warningly and his brother fell silent. 

The five Potters approached the brick barrier. “All we have to do is walk straight between Platforms Nine and Ten,” his mum explained. “Easy enough.” 

James threw a cocky look over his shoulder at his brother and broke into a run, barely keeping his trolley upright as his owl squawked, and a moment later, he had vanished. 

“You’ll write to me, won’t you? Don’t forget,” Albus asked immediately, capitalising on the absence of his brother. 

“Every day if you want us to,” said his mum. 

“No,”Albus gulped. “Not every day. James says most people only get letters from home about once a month,”

“We wrote to James everyday for his first year,” his mum laughed. “Three times a week last year,” 

“What?” he shot an accusing look at the barrier where his brother had vanished.

“Yes,” his dad put in. “You may not want to believe everything he tells you. He likes a laugh, your brother.”

His gaze nervously fell upon the brick barrier. “I’m ready,”

His dad placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be scared of crashing, that’s very important. Best do it with a bit of a run if you’re nervous,” Side by side, they pushed the trolley forward, gathering speed. Albus winced as they reached the barrier, but no collison came. Instead, boy and father emerged onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters which was obscured by thick white steam that was pouring out from the scarlet Hogwarts Express. Albus wanted two things, to run over and jump on the train but also to turn and run away from the train. 

He looked up at his dad and smiled a mixture of excitement and worry. His dad smiled back. 

Indistinct figures were swarming through mist, into which James had already disappeared. Instead of muggles clad in business suits, wizards and witches in their robes were fussing over their beloved progeny. His mum and sister appeared behind them shortly. “Where are they?” Lily demanded. “Are they here?” 

The family made their way down the platform, past hazy families and excited students, but the vapour was dense and it was difficult to make out any faces. Detached from their owners, voices sounded unnaturally loud, Albus caught ear of his Uncle Percy loudly discoursing on broomstick regulations and was grateful his parents didn’t stop to say hello. 

“I think that’s them there,” said his mum suddenly. 

A group of four emerged from the mist. Their familiar faces only came into focus when they had drawn right up to them. 

“Uncle Ron! Uncle Ron!” Lily squealed as she went barrelling into his arms. He picked her up and placed her on his shoulders, easily making her the tallest on the entire platform. 

“If it isn’t my favourite Potter,” Uncle Ron remarked laughingly. 

His cousin Rose skipped over to him, she was already wearing her brand new Hogwarts robes and had her bright red hair barely contained in a ponytail. They were the same age, though Albus was technically one month older, and it was also Rose’s first year at Hogwarts.

“Hi Al,” she beamed at him. 

“Hello,” he returned with a smile. 

“If you’re not in Gryffindor, we’ll disown you,” said Uncle Ron. “but no pressure.”

“Ronald!” Aunt Hermione gasped.

Lily and Hugo laughed, but Albus and Rose looked solemn. 

“He doesn’t mean it,” said Aunt Hermione but Uncle Ron was no longer paying attention. Catching his dad’s eye, he nodded covertly to a point some fifty yards away. The steam had thinned for a moment and three people stood sharply against the shifting mist. “Look who it is,”

Draco Malfoy was standing there with his wife and son, a dark cloak buttoned up to his throat. His white hair was receding somewhat, emphasising the pointed chin, but very long and tied into a ponytail at his neck. The boy, his son, resembled Mr Malfoy as much as Albus resembled his own father. They were the same age then, Albus gathered, both starting their first year at Hogwarts. 

Malfoy caught sight of them staring at him, nodded curtly, and turned away again. Albus kept his eyes fixed on them longer than the others, watching as the boy was hugged by his mother, he just sort of struggled to crane his neck away. . .

They looked every bit the image Albus had created in his head of what an aristocratic pureblood family would look like; with their tall posture, high chins, impeccable black robes and cloaks that flared out dramatically. They were sharp and contrasting against the plainer families.

“So, that’s little Scorpius,” said Uncle Ron under his breath. 

His gaze centred on the boy; he was wearing a black cloak like his father’s over his school robes. His face wasn’t as pointy and sour as his father’s but plump with youth, his hair was white too but cut shorter. He noticed that his nose was pink from the cold. Albus wondered if his own nose looked the same as he was quite cold too. 

His attention was torn away by Uncle Ron saying, “Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. Thank Merlin you inherited your mother’s brains.”

“Ron, for heaven’s sake,” Aunt Hermione sighed, half stern, half amused. “Don’t turn them against each other before they’ve even started school!”

“You’re right, sorry,” but unable to help himself, he added. “Don’t get too friendly with him though, Rosie. Grandad Wealsey would never forgive you if you married a pureblood.”

James had reappeared without his trunk or owl and was evidently bursting with news. Albus sent a final look across the platform as he watched Scorpius Malfoy getting onboard the train. 

“There you are! Teddy’s back there!” James said breathlessly, pointing over his shoulder into the billowing clouds of steam. “Just seen him! And guess what he’s doing? Snogging Victoire!” he gazed at the adults, evidently disappointed by the lack of reaction. “Teddy Lupin! Snogging Vic!” 

“You interrupted them?” their mum asked. “You are so like Ron,”

“He said he’d come to see her off! And then he told me to go away.” he huffed, eyes darting between everyone. “ He’s snogging her!” James added as though worried he had not made himself clear. 

“Oh, it would be lovely if they got married!” whispered Lily ecstatically, who had even less of an idea of what snogging specifically entailed. 

“He already comes round for dinner about four times a week,” remarked their dad. “Why don’t we just invite him to live with us and have it done with?” 

“Yeah!” James exclaimed. “He can share a room with me! I don’t mind!” 

“No way,” said their dad. “The day you and Teddy share a bedroom is the day Grimmauld Place blows up for good.” he checked his battered old watch that had once been Fabian Prewett’s. “It’s nearly eleven, you’d best get onboard.”

Rose hugged both her parents and messed her brother’s hair then hopped onto the train. 

“Don’t forget to give Neville our love!” his mum told James as she hugged him. 

“Mum! I can’t give a professor love!” 

“But you know Neville–” 

James rolled his eyes. “Outside, yeah, but at Hogwarts he’s Professor Longbottom, isn’t he? I can’t walk into Herbology and give him love,” shaking his head at his mum’s foolishness, he vented his feelings by aiming a kick at Albus and told him, “See you, Asp. Watch out for the thestrals,”

“You said they were invisible!” Albus sputtered. “You said they were invisible!” but James merely laughed, permitted his mum to kiss him, gave his dad a fleeting hug, then leapt onto the rapidly filling train. They saw him wave once then sprung down the corridor.

“Thestrals are nothing to worry about,” his dad said, looking down at him. “They’re gentle things, nothing scary about them. Luna can tell you about them. And, you won’t be going up to the school in carriages, you’ll be in the boats,”

His mum kissed him goodbye, offering a consoling smile. “See you at Christmas.”

“See you, I love you,” he quickly hugged her. 

“By, Al,” his dad said as he hugged him. “Don’t forget Hagrid’s invited you to tea next Friday. Don’t mess with Peeves. Don’t duel anyone till you’ve learnt how. And don’t let James wind you up. You’d best listen to your professors, not James.”

“Thanks dad,” he looked at the train, then at his feet, the gnawing in his chest returning. He pulled on his dad’s robes. His dad looked down. “Do you think–What if I am–What if I’m put in Slytherin?” The whisper was for his father alone. 

“What would be wrong with that?”

“Slytherin is the House of dark magic. . .it’s not a house of brave wizards,”

His dad crouched down so that Albus’ face was slightly above his own. He stared anxiously at his father, into his green eyes, green like he had. “Albus Severus,” his dad said quietly, so that nobody could hear. “You were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew.”

Sometimes he wished he hadn’t been named after such extraordinarily brave wizards but something ordinary instead. He didn’t want to disappoint everyone by his inadequacy or shame the memory of the late wizard’s by not being good enough. How could he ever prove to be substantial to modern age Merlin and a war hero?

“But just say–”

“Gryffindor runs in your veins. No Potter has ever not been a Gryffindor.”

“But–” 

“If it matters to you, the Sorting Hat takes your choice into account, you’ll be able to choose Gryffindor.”

“Really?” 

“It did for me,”

His dad had never said that to him before. His mind became blank and muddled as he considered it. 

It was too late to ask further as doors were slamming shut all along the scarlet train and the blurred outlines of parents were swarming forward for final goodbyes, last minute reminders, students had their arms stretched out the windows as they waved.

A great number of faces, both on the train and off, seemed to be turned to his dad. Albus ducked his head under all the eyes and hopped onto the nearest carriage just as a floundering wizard ducked over to ask for a signature. He watched as his family became a small speck in the distance, his parents smiling as they waved him off. Lily tried chasing after the train but was no match in speed. 

Albus tried not to cry as the sight of the station finally disappeared into nothing. He began to turn from the window but thumped backwards suddenly as he collided with another student. “Mer-Merlin, sorry,” stammering, he stepped back, holding in his breath, eyes wide, as he met eyes with the other wizard. He should have run away in a heartbeat, but for some reason, he felt like his feet were glued to the floor and he simply could not turn away, stare stuck on the boy before him with sparkling grey eyes.

“Oh.” Malfoy uttered, voice low, a quick smile. “It’s fine.”

Albus returned the smile without thinking, still stuck on his sparkling eyes. He tore his gaze away from the boy. He felt relief sink into him, glad he wasn’t being hexed by Malfoy for bumping into him. He wasn’t even at Hogwarts yet, he couldn’t make a fool of himself just yet. He should turn and run, disappear somewhere down the corridor–he should leave now–LEAVE NOW. He stayed where he was. “Sorry,”

Malfoy coughed a pathetically smooth laugh. “I said it’s fine.” 

Albus ducked his head to hide the flush of his cheeks. “Yes, right,” he avoided looking into the taller boy’s eyes. It felt like trying to gaze upon the sun–blinding–but for some reason, he was drawn to burn over and over.

Malfoy looked the part of a pureblood heir, but up close there were normal things about him too, like his chapped lips that were drawn in a straight line, the rosiness of his cheeks, the freckle by his eye, the few wayward hairs on his head that stuck out of place. 

Albus searched down the corridor for a familiar face, perhaps Rose or even Freddy or Victoire, but there were hundreds of students flurrying together, dragging trunks and shoving themselves into compartments, merging into one unrecognisable crowd. There were some upper years nearly three times the size of the firsts. He pulled his hands together nervously, a slither claustrophobia growing in his chest. He did not want to get caught amongst them all. 

“They’re feral,” Malfoy nodded, seemingly understanding where his thoughts had gone. He had to glance down to speak to him. Albus could feel his attentive eyes searing into him but refused to meet them again, fearing he wouldn’t be able to look away. “I tried looking for someone to sit with,” he didn’t sound very sure of himself. “I barely made it halfway down the train. . .was almost trampled. . .probably should have gotten onboard and found a compartment before it was packed. Everywhere is full.” 

Albus nodded gravely then gestured over his shoulder at an empty compartment. “There’s one over there. Someone will snag it soon. We could share it, if you’d like?” he looked over at Malfoy, gnawing with trepidation.

It seemed like the right thing to do–like his subconscious was pushing him. Besides, he wouldn’t want Malfoy to snag the compartment for himself and be left out with the dogs–uh, students. It would be convenient for both of them to share. He didn’t seem like bad company either like the rumours he had heard about his family.

“Do you know who I am?” 

“Scorpius Malfoy,” Albus answered, feeling rather stupid for thinking he wouldn’t be conceited like everyone said so. Malfoy would want to sit with the best of the best, and Albus certainly didn’t fit in that category.

There was a glimmer of surprise across his face, he pulled his eyebrows together but before he could speak, Rose had appeared in the corridor and stomped over to Albus. “You almost missed the train!” she exclaimed. “We need to find somewhere good to sit. Everyone will want to be our friend. We need to pick wisely. My mum and dad met your dad on the Hogwarts Express to their first year, whoever we choose will ultimately be our friends for life!” 

Albus gulped. “That seems like a big decision,” then he glanced between his cousin and Scorpius Malfoy.

Rose’s face grew cold as she took in the sight of Malfoy. She grabbed her cousin’s arm and began to pull him away. “Let's go.” 

“Rose–hey–stop that!” he shook his arm out of her grip. “I’m going to share a compartment with–”

“You can’t!” she pressed. “I’m thinking maybe Benjy Perks, his mum is the Head of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,”

“Why not?” Albus ignored her, his stubborn streak shining through. “You’re welcome to join us.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Rose began to walk again but he did not move. She shot him an exasperated look. “Come on, Al.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Albus asked abashed. 

“It’s because of me.” Scorpius Malfoy said. When the cousins looked over he glanced away and laughed pathetically gracefully. He seemed a little bit put out but not very surprised, subdued and dull as he listened on. “It’s because I’m a Malfoy.”

“And?” Albus argued. 

 “Well,” Scorpius spoke up, voice much more soft-spoken than theirs. “Considering my family. . .Well, I’m sure you’ve heard about my family. . .we aren't very well-liked. . . nor is my father really. . .” his voice became quieter and quieter with every word until his voice simply disappeared. 

“That’s putting it mildly!” Rose exclaimed, loudly in contrast. “His mum and dad are death eaters!”

“Father was—my mum wasn’t.” he informed, affronted. 

“As if that makes it any bit better!” Rose huffed. “Come on, Al. Let’s go find a compartment.”

“No,” he said after a moment, taking a step away from her. “No. I’m okay. You go on,”

Rose crossed her arms. “I won’t wait.”

“I know you won't. I don’t expect you to.” he remarked. “I’m staying here.”

She gave him one final look then turned on her heel. “Fine!”

The boys were left swapping unsure glances at each other. “Do you want to go inside the compartment?” Albus asked. 

Malfoy gave him a long look, face unreadable. Albus felt stupid for a moment, thinking he would laugh in his face, but he didn’t. He didn’t glare or shove him or pull out his wand and hex him, he just blinked then swallowed. “No one ever. . .everyone thinks. . .”

“I don’t care who your father is. I don’t think it matters. I’m nothing like mine. I know what it’s like for everyone to expect. . .” Albus considered saying more but stopped himself. H

The blond wizard stopped, reached out his hand and said, “I wouldn’t mind sharing a compartment with you, and you can call me Scorpius,” then quickly added, “That’s if, you’d like to,”

“I’d like to!” Albus smiled widely at his achievement and shook Scorpius’ hand. 

The boys dragged their belongings into the compartment and sat down across from each other. An unsure silence brewed between them with just the sound of the train bumping along the tracks beneath them. Scorpius dug out a book from his trunk, an old leather-bound book. Albus wished he had packed something for the trip too, he had no clue what could keep him entertained for the five hour trip. 

“What are you reading?” he mustered the courage to ask after a few passing minutes. 

Scorpius glanced up over the book, grey eyes locking on him. “ History of Magic; Magical Personas Through Muggle History. It was discontinued two-hundred years ago by the Ministry of Magic because the author disregarded the Statue of Secrecy in his studies.”

He was glad it wasn’t a school textbook as he had only lightly read a couple of them–It would be dreadful to be stuck behind all his classmates on the first day of school. He gave the boy and his book a curious expression. “Is it legal then?” he wondered in a low murder, used to being so quiet that nobody heard. . .

“I hope so,” 

. . .Scorpius had heard. 

There was a sudden knocking on the door before it swung open and an elderly witch popped her round red face inside their compartment. “Fancy a treat, lads?” A trolley was pushed into view, loaded with sweets and pastries. “I’ve got fizzing whizbees by the hundreds, Pepper Imps, jelly slugs.” She gave them a curious look. “How about a chocolate frog? Cauldron cakes are still warm,” 

They both bought a cauldron cake and nothing else. 

“They’re my favourite,” Scorpius said, wiping a smudge of chocolate off his chin. 

Albus grinned at him. “Mine too, don’t have much of a tooth for lollies,” then he took a big bite into the middle. If he could survive off only chocolate then he would. Lacerta hooted from within his cage. “You cannot eat chocolate,” he said simply, giving the owl a pointed look. He hooted unimpressively. 

“What’s his name?” Scorpius asked softly, his eyes peering curiously but not moving to get closer. 

“Lucerta,” 

“Like a lizard? That’s clever—look at her eyes,” 

“You know what it means?” Albus asked. His parents had no clue what it meant, neither did anyone else who asked what he named his owl. James had commented that the name sounded girly though. Albus had read up on the stars and constellations in a very old book he found hidden away in a nook in his bedroom. He had wondered who it previously belonged to. 

“You do recall my name, don’t you?” Scorpius implored, a smile touching his lips. “Scorpius the Scorpion, the constellation. It’s a family tradition from my grandmother’s side.” 

Albus grinned and in that second realised in that moment that he had not mentioned his own name to Scorpius. It was strange to meet someone whose immediate reaction wasn’t shock over who his father was. It was nice knowing there was no expectation to uphold in Malfoy’s eyes. He was just an individual wizard who was separate from his dad. He considered telling him who he was for a second but chose against it. He liked the friendship they had sprung up and didn’t want Scorpius to leave just yet. Potters and Malfoys notoriously did not get along. 

Scorpius stuck a pale finger through a gap in the cage. The owl nibbled on his finger. “He really is hungry,” 

“Silly owl,” Albus chastised light-heartedly. “You cannot eat him. He's not food. He won’t taste very good.” The owl hooted mockingly at him, like she was laughing at him, like she knew something they did not. 

The boys became more relaxed with each other as the trip went on, swapping between quiet moments of thought and the occasional conversation. Albus found it quite easy to exist around Scorpius Malfoy, unlike most; he didn’t feel drowned in endless chatter, sinking into the background, bored beyond measure. He just felt right; easing in and out of conversation, slipping back into comfortable silence.

He discovered titbits about Scorpius, like how he had a black kitten that he chose to leave at home, also how the grounds of Malfoy Manor homed twenty-seven peacocks, and how Scorpius drank his tea black. 

“What Hogwarts House do you think you will be in?” Albus asked; a straight-forward question. 

“Slytherin,” 

No hesitation, no second to think, not even blinking.  

“You’re sure?” Albus queried. Scorpius didn’t seem the sort.  

“Why wouldn’t I be? I have all the traits and my entire family is. . .” he glanced off in thought. “I suppose I could be a Ravenclaw–no, I doubt it.” 

Albus chewed on his lip. “Aren’t Slytherins all dark wizards?”  

“Do I look like a dark wizard?” 

“No, I suppose not,” but, “Why are all the death eaters Slytherins then? Voldemort was a Slytherin,”  

“Not all death eaters were Slytherins, many were Ravenclaws and aren’t they meant to be the smart ones? I don’t think being resourceful and determined are evil traits, I think it’s just tact. I think it's wise to look after oneself. And Merlin was a Slytherin,”  

Albus just nodded as he took in his words. There was no heed to argue. He had heard others try to defend Slytherin House or excuse the reputation (like his father had), but he had never in his years heard someone glorify Slytherin. It made sense what he heard but it didn’t change the fact that everyone knew Slytherin House was a cesspool of evil—everyone knew it.  

“What house do you think you will be in?” Scorpius asked.  

Albus paused, having not expected it and having no clue what to reply with. “Gryffindor?” The word felt weird on his tongue, foreign and too much like James. “I don’t know,” he sank back into his seat. He had spent so much time arguing that he wasn’t a Slytherin that he hadn't even really considered what house he could realistically be in (if not Gryffindor). His mind went right to Gryffindor, the obvious choice. “Everyone in my family are Gryffindors. My father—” 

“You’re not your father,” Scorpius mirrored his earlier words. “Or your family name.” 

Albus stared right at the other boy, right into his blinding grey eyes. There seemed to be so much hidden just beyond the greys, he wanted to know every thought Scorpius had ever thought, but he wasn’t sure why and thought asking might be a bit weird of him. He knew he was being a hypocrite, but it just wasn’t the same, his own words didn’t apply to himself. Scorpius wouldn’t understand what it was like for your very own father to be the Boy-Who-Lived. 

“Maybe Ravenclaw then,” Albus wasn’t sure what came over him. It had just slipped out. He had never admitted to anyone that he might be anything but a Gryffindor. His heart dropped momentarily. “No,” he rolled his eyes and huffed, trying to play it off. “My whole family are in Gryffindor. They expect me to be too—everyone does. And I want to prove my stupid brother right.” 

“What does your brother say?” 

That was another thing about Scorpius; he listened to every word he spoke and asked questions, even about the little things. It was like he was actually interested in what he had to say, interested in his silly life. It was addictive.  

Albus felt his cheeks heat up, burning when his own owl betrayed him by chirping mockingly right at him. “He thinks I’ll be a Slytherin,” he rolled his eyes–again. “I’ve told him a million times that he’s wrong. I think he just loves to torture me honestly,” 

Scorpius narrowed his sharp grey eyes on him. “Do you think that perhaps—”  

“No!” His answer was far too quick.  

“What’s so bad about Slytherin?” he crossed his arms, becoming standoffish.  

Albus hated the gap that suddenly formed between them. He felt his heart thrumming, desperation flooding through him. “Like I said, it’s full of criminals. . .and—and—Voldemort!” he didn’t stop to breathe. “And everyone expects me to be in Gryffindor like my parents and to be just like them. I’m already so unlike them. I’m the odd one out without trying. I need to be a Gryffindor for my own sake,” 

Scorpius smirked slightly, the sort he’d pictured when he heard stories of sycophantic purebloods. “Self-preservation is a Slytherin trait, by the way,”  

Albus said absolutely nothing, stubbornly crossing his arms, but there was a glimmer of surprise too. Of course, he saw through everything he said and picked that to say. 

“But I understand,” the blond hummed after a moment. “I think I would feel the same if I were you, but you can’t just pretend to be something you’re not, I don’t think it would work.”  

His thoughts drifted. . .if Scorpius Malfoy could be a Slytherin, maybe they weren't so bad after all? But he caught himself, and turned his mind blank, emptying all of his thoughts and stared unyieldingly out the window, refusing to even humour the thought of being a slimy—  

“Do you like the colour green?” Malfoy’s soft-spoken voice cut through his thoughts. 

He blinked. “Yes, I like green,” 

“If you do get sorted into Slytherin, know you’ll have a friend there with you,”  

He couldn’t stop the smile or the spreading gnawing sensation in his chest, and suddenly Albus Potter wasn’t quite sure what he would be getting himself into at Hogwarts. Nothing was going as expected so far.  

“Thank you, Scorpius,”  

Every now and then, Albus would look out the window at the changing scenery. The grassy mountains with grazing cows, into dark forestland and pattering wind, the endless farmland into ravenous creeks, the short-lived warmth of the morning sun into the trickling of rain on the window as the sun began dropping into the faraway horizon.  

“Students, please take heed and make sure you are dressed in your uniform robes and prepared to depart at Hogsmeade Station within this hour,” a witch’s voice sounded down the corridor, repeating herself every few feet. “Leave your luggage and pets onboard, they will be magically transported into the castle,”  

The boys shared a look of terrified excitement, on their toes, with their eyes trained on the scenes outside the window. “I think I see Hogwarts,” “Where?” “Down there a bit—see there!” 

Albus threw his Hogwarts robes over his muggle clothes. Scorpius was already in his uniform because his family apparated to the platform and weren’t at risk of muggles seeing them. Albus thought that was an easier idea than a half hour car ride.

It was almost fully dark when the Hogwarts Express came to a halt at the station and all the compartment doors flew open. Getting off the train was even more busy than getting onboard as hundreds of students pushed and shoved their way off the train.

“Are you ready?” Albus asked unsurely.  

Scorpius shook his head. “Not at all,” he smiled despite the clear fear etched on his face. “But we have to, right?”

Albus took a deep breath and peeked out the compartment in trepidation, the flurry was somewhat calming down. He glanced back at his owl, worried about leaving her on the train, but chose to put on a brave face in front of Malfoy. He stepped out of the compartment first with the other boy close behind him and they tiptoed their way to the nearest exit and stepped down onto the platform. 

He was engulfed by a cold rush of evening wind, colder than it had been earlier that day on the platform. He pulled his robes tight around him and wished he had a cloak like Scorpius who looked quite snug. He looked across the dark platform, only illuminated by wands and lanterns, but didn’t see any familiar faces.

“Right now! This way! Come this way, firsties!” a familiar grunt roared across the platform. “Right this way yeh go! Down by the boats. There yeh are, this way! First years be going up the castle in boats!” 

Albus smiled widely at the sight of the first recognisable person since setting foot on the train. He noticed the confused and slightly scared look on his new friend’s face and elaborated, “Hagrid. He’s a friend of my dad’s. He’s a half-giant. Apparently, he was a real hero during the war.”  

His dad liked to keep hush-hush when it came to talking about the war but there wasn’t much he could do about everyone else, occasionally bringing up feats of heroics and destruction. He didn’t know a lot about the war, but he had scrambled together enough to paint a faded image of what might have happened. 

Scorpius took a long look at Albus and then at the half-giant as he flailed around by the boats, attempting to lead the first years onto boats but truly just scaring them. His face was hidden by his shaggy tangling of grey beard but his eyes shone when the light hit, glinting like black beetles. He towered over everyone easily and was certainly the tallest man either of them had ever seen. Malfoy’s face scrunched worriedly.  

“Don’t be shy!” Hagrid roared. “Come now, first years!” 

“He looks a bit scary,” Albus admitted. “But I haven’t heard of him so much hurting a fly,”

They walked over to the half-giant and down to the dock where dozens of boats were waiting for them. The stars reflected against the Black Lake and shone back up into the sky like a mirror. They carefully stepped into a boat and sat across from each other. When the boats rocked and began passage across the lake, Scorpius casted him a curious look, maybe a minute later, he finally chose to speak, “It is quite rude of me, but I just realise I have not asked your name,”  

“Oh, right–right well–actually–” he stammered over his words, thankful for the darkness of the night to hide the stress of his face but gasps of amazement clamour in the evening around them,

The boys quickly forgot their previous conversation as they beheld Hogwarts in all her glory for the first time. The castle stood tall atop mountainous rock and hill; the tallest tower reached above the clouds. The golden hues of candlelight shone down on them and illuminated the night sky and cast the lake in bronze.  

The first years docked at the boat house and trailed behind Hagrid and his lantern up the stony path to Hogwarts. They held their breath as they crossed the viaduct, urging each other not to look down, and held their breaths in wonder as they took in the sight of the courtyard. Hagrid knocked three times on the heavy oak doors which magically creaked open, granting each of the newest students access inside. He bowed to them, “Have a wonderfully magical first year, Welcome to Hogwarts!” before returning down the viaduct and down the strenuous path.  

“Welcome, students,” a much softer in contrast voice grappled their attention. “My name is Professor Longbottom, I am the Deputy Headmaster here at Hogwarts,” His godfather stepped down a grand marble staircase and made his way over to them, a hint of a smile on his face. “Come inside, out of that cold,” he urged them and they all huddled in.  

It was very warm and homey inside the castle. Albus looked in every direction and no matter how many fascinating things he saw, there were still more to behold. The Entrance Hall was the largest room he had ever stood in, even more imposing than his visits to the bustling Ministry of Magic. The walls were lit with torches and the ceiling was endlessly high with several gigantic shimmering chandeliers. The marble staircase which his godfather had walked down was ten times bigger than any staircase he had ever laid his eyes on. 

Glancing at his watch, he said, “Let me check if they’re ready for you,” and disappeared through large foreboding doors. He caught a glimpse of many faces and for a moment, heard a very loud bustling of laughter and chatter, before the door shut behind him. On either side of the doors were four statues in different colours resembling the different houses with hoisted hourglasses; the house point hourglasses, he correctly assumed.  

“Witch Weekly said another Potter boy is starting Hogwarts this year,” a brown-skinned girl chimed. 

“A Potter! In our year!” another girl remarked, blonde with a small pigeon face. “I bet he’s just like Harry Potter except he’s all for us,” the other girl giggled at that. 

“And he’s my cousin,” said Rose as she confidently walked over. “Rose Granger-Weasley,” she outstretched her hand and the other girl, who introduced herself as Polly Chapman, shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“A Potter,” Scorpius repeated to himself. Albus couldn’t tell if he was scoffing or merely noting what he had heard. 

Albus glanced his way, a wry smile dancing on his lips. “Mm-hmm,” 

His godfather slipped back out the door. Albus thought he would have to get into the habit of calling him ‘Professor Longbottom’ instead of simply ‘Neville’ before he embarrassed himself or got into trouble. “Right this way, children,” he called. “Now, the Sorting Hat is ready to sort you all and I’m sure everyone is excited to see the newest additions of the Hogwarts school,” 

“Do we have to use magic?” some first year called out.  

Neville—no, Professor Longbottom shook his head fondly. “No, no, of course not. The Sorting Hat shall simply be placed upon your head, look through your head, and choose which house is most befitting of you. It is an entirely harmless ceremony; when your name is called, you shall come forward and be sorted—it shouldn’t take longer than a minute or two, some of you even a matter of seconds. I’m sure you’ve all had a good think about what house you will belong to,” 

His heartbeat thrummed hot in his ears and he felt his stomach twist into a tight knot. He kept his arms tight around himself and began to feel very overheated from the warmth the castle offered. His eyes shot around at every movement of those around him and he shrunk into the back of the line that was forming in front of the Great Hall. He saw Rose bobbing along with Chapman, he wanted to call out to her but no sound left his throat. Neville began speaking again but his words went through one ear and out the other.  

“Are you okay?” Scorpius asked, shooting him a look of concern.  

He rubbed his sweaty palms. “I’m—I’m fine,”  

The doors opened and hundreds of voices clamoured together. He looked down at the marble floor instead of the imposing hall as it grew closer and closer.  

“You’re worried about the sorting?”  It wasn’t really a question.

He nodded absently.   

“You’re worried about being a Slytherin?” 

Again, he nodded. “My brother says I will be, it’s just a joke I think, but what if I am?” 

Scorpius did not seem to understand. “Would it really matter?” 

“It would. My family wouldn’t... they just wouldn’t...” his voice grew quiet; he didn’t want to reveal who he was. “You wouldn’t understand. I don’t want to let them down but I’m nothing like them and everything I do just feels like a mistake... I wish I could just be like them—be like my dad,” 

“You won’t let them down for being yourself,” his voice was soothing, the only thing he could hear as they stepped into the Great Hall. “I think you’re enough,”  

That was something he had never thought of. He couldn’t even utter a response. He could never be enough, he was Albus Potter, he was just a figure in the left-over shadow of James; he didn’t play quidditch and didn’t pull pranks for fun, he was too meek and too bookish and too cowardly. He was nothing like a child of the hero Harry Potter and quidditch star Ginny Potter should be. He was a disappointment. He didn’t expect anyone to ever see him as worthy, especially not Scorpius Malfoy... he sunk into his own thoughts, perhaps his mind would change when he found out who he was? 

The first years gasped wondrously as they beheld the Great Hall in all its glory. There were grand torches along the walls and the ceiling was charmed to look like the sky above with the full moon basking upon them like a torch. Everyone in the hall watched in fascination as the first years walked in and huddled at the front of the hall where the professors sat on the dais. There was an old dusty wizard’s hat upon a bendy stool, and it took him a moment to realise that it was the Sorting Hat. The patched brown fabric began to morph and suddenly he noticed a mouth, speaking—no, singing; 

“I’ve done this job for centuries

On every student’s head I’ve sat

Of thoughts I take inventories

For I’m the famous Sorting Hat

I’ve sorted high, I’ve sorted low

I’ve done the job through thick and thin

So put me on and you will know which founder calls on you

Which House you shall be in”

There was a round of applause from the older students and professors and the bewildered first years copied them. One by one, the students were called up to the stool and sorted into their houses in front of the entire school. 

Augustus Abbott was up first and sorted into Gryffindor, setting the Gryffindors off into very enthusiastic cheering, followed by Craig Bowker Junior. Marius Burke was the first student who became a Slytherin; the applause was scattered, in fact, limited only to the Slytherin table. “All dark wizards go there,” said Polly Chapman who went on to become a Gryffindor. Burke didn’t look like a dark wizard however; he was a bit short with plain brown hair and dark eyes. He just looked like another kid. 

Casmir Carrow, following him into Slytherin, did however look a bit creepy. Christine Corner seemed disappointed when she was sorted into Ravenclaw. Goldsrein seemed pleased however. Sylvie Davis, who took two and a half minutes to be sorted, appeared indifferent to be a Slytherin. When Vincent Goyle's name was called, whispers spread across the Great Hall. Albus glanced around, noticing the dirty looks on some of the student’s faces. 

“I can’t believe their type is still allowed to come to Hogwarts,” scowled McLaggen Junior. 

Albus turned to Scorpius to see if he heard it too. He nodded. “Vincent’s father was caught in a neo death eater raid by Harry Potter and sent off to Azkaban. He was trying to get the old death eaters together but got drunk at a ball and bragged about what he was doing and—and well—the rest is history.”

Oh. His own dad had captured Goyle? “When was this?” expecting to hear it was a very long time ago.  

Scorpius scrunched his nose. “Two Yule’s ago? Maybe last?” 

Albus blinked. He had no recollection of such a matter, in fact, he barely had any memory of his dad mentioning more than a couple death eater raids his whole life, and that was typically by accident when he was so quiet the adults would forget he was there. He frowned, it was a bit weird to imagine his dad arresting criminals and leading raids and then coming home a few minutes late for dinner like it was nothing. 

He knew his dad was the Head Auror at the Ministry of Magic, but it had never really clicked that his dad—his dad who made them pancakes for breakfast on the weekends—was ‘The Boy Who Lived’. When he pictured his dad working, he just saw him sitting at a stuffy cubicle desk all day like Aunt Hermione and Uncle Percy, even his own mother just sat with a quill and parchment writing quidditch reports all day for the Daily Prophet.  

“Slytherin!” the Sorting Hat shouted for Goyle. Only the Slytherins clapped. 

“The only place for scum,” McLaggen Junior remarked.   

Albus felt his heart rising again. He definitely could not be a Slytherin if those were the sorts of wizards sorted into it. He caught sight of Scorpius, the grey of his eyes glinting in the candlelight, pale skin glowing golden, and faltered, for how could such a lovely person be a Slytherin? Frowning, he decided that Scorpius must be wrong, for he was not evil or scum, and sucked in a deep breath when Scorpius was called up to be sorted.  

“Wish me luck,” he whispered before venturing up onto the stool. He squeezed his eyes shut as the Sorting Hat started making curious expressions. He wondered what it could see in his head. “Slytherin!”  

No.  

No. 

No.  

This wasn’t how it was meant to be. 

Scorpius had expected it and half smiled as he slid off the stool. Albus caught his eye but couldn’t muster any kind of smile or nod or anything. He felt utterly cemented in place. It wasn’t meant to be this way. Scorpius made his way to the Slytherin table with a pleased smile as they clapped for him. 

He could hear his heart in his ears like someone was banging a drum on either side of his head. His chest hurt and his heart felt like it was going to explode. He went up on his toes over the crowd of first years to try and catch a glimpse of Scorpius as he found a place at the end of the table. 

He overheard his cousin Roxanne whisper, loitering near the Gryffindor table, “Mum says he’ll be a bully just like his father, Draco Malfoy,” there were some murmurs of agreement. Albus glared at her but no one seemed to notice. “He looks evil,” another boy commented, nodding. “Death Eater prog should be sent to their own school,” said McLaggen Junior. “Their school should be Azkaban,” Roxanne suggested and they all laughed at her joke. 

Albus glared at the back of their heads. He was buzzing in frustration, boiling beneath the skin at their idiotic assumptions. Scorpius was the last wizard deserving of going to Azkaban. They didn’t know anything about him. He was glad their backs were turned otherwise they would be subjected to the deadliest glare he had ever expressed. 

Cormac McLaggen Junior was next up and the hat barely touched his head before screaming out, “Gryffindor!” and the table cheered on their newest member as he ran over. He saw his brother for the first time since departing the station, he was sitting next to Uncle George’s son Freddy, pounding the table in applause, red-faced and smiling. 

He watched with a pang in his chest as they reached across the table to shake hands and introduce themselves to McLaggen. He wondered if everyone would topple over in joy when he was declared a Gryffindor too? He felt numbness take over his imagination as he tried to picture it. He wondered if he even suited the colour red the way James did or if he would look like a blundering fool?  

Mulciber was up next and went right into Slytherin but Albus kept his eyes on the Gryffindor table where his brother was moving to make space for McLaggen to sit down. Chapman was laughing at something James said. Albus became very uncomfortable at the thought of having to sit at the Gryffindor table with them. The Gryffindors had been right gits and he didn’t want to have to spend the next seven years with them but could Slytherin House be any better? He didn’t see himself as a Ravenclaw and James would never quit teasing him for being a Hufflepuff. 

He felt desperately alone now that Scorpius had gone off to sit at the Slytherin table. He went onto the tips of his toes to try and see Scorpius but a tall black boy was in his way. 

“Nott, Bartleby,” was called up and took the longest to be sorted: a hatstall. Some students jumped when the Sorting Hat finally said, “SLYTHERIN!” after about five or six minutes. 

“Potter, Albus,”  

The Great Hall buzzed like a beehive as necks craned from every angle trying to spot him. Albus shrank into the crowd of first years hoping he misheard and it was someone else but Professor Longbottom found him in the crowd and gently gestured for him to make his way up. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, there was no avoiding it. The first years parted for him in a second and gaped as they realised how close he had been to them the entire time. He glanced across at the Slytherin table momentarily and saw the thunderstruck expression that Scorpius was sporting as he watched in disbelief.  

“He looks just like him! I was right!” Polly Chapman called out. “He’s got hair just like him!”

He kept his head low, uncomfortable with the eyes on him, and nervously sat down on the stool. Professor Longbottom gave his shoulder a squeeze before lowering the Sorting Hat onto his head. Glancing up for even a second was a mistake as hundreds of eyes pinned on him began excitedly whispering, “Merlin, he looks just like Harry Potter!” “He was right next to us this entire time!” “Look at those eyes!” “He’s so tiny–how cute!” He ducked his head and wished for the hat to make a quick decision, but there was silence, utter nothingness. Panic rose up his spine at the thought of the hat not working—that perhaps he somehow broke it—but with that line of thought came a slow unfamiliar laugh from the depths of his head.  

“My, oh my.” the voice was low, coming from the right side of his head. “Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape were extraordinary wizards,”  

It’s a pity I’m not half as good as them.  

“You have yet to outshine your namesakes, young man,” 

Albus felt his cheeks burn. You can hear what I’m thinking?  

“I can indeed. I can hear all of your thoughts, every single thought you’ve ever thought—just then, that too, last Tuesday at dinner and the incoherent jumbling when you were still in nappies. My, my, did you really get stuck in the gate at the zoo when you were seven years old?” 

Albus shyly sunk further into himself as his entire body fumed with an overwhelming feeling of mortification. Hurry up.  

There was utter silence and he stressed that the Sorting Hat was offended or wanted to spite him by drawing out the sorting as long as possible. He glanced up and saw hundreds of students staring back from every inch of the Great Hall that had hushed down for the majority. He looked down at his lap and clasped his sweaty hands together.  

Dad said it would take my choice of house into account. It will be fine. 

“And which house would that be, Mr Potter?” 

Gryffindor.  

“You want to be a Gryffindor, do you?” 

He felt himself crossing his arms over himself nervously. Yes.  

“Where dwell the brave at heart! Godric Gryffindor was a fine wizard and warrior. Those with courage and determination have what it takes to be up to Godric’s standard!” The Sorting Hat made an inquisitive sound of curiosity. “Why is it you would like to be a Gryffindor, Albus Severus Potter?” 

He felt stunned and caught off guard by the unexpected question. He had a feeling the hat didn’t pester many of the others with questions such as that.  

“Well, most of the others are more straightforward, some are a bit tricky,” he hummed.  

He could feel worry climbing up his skeleton at those words. I am a Potter.  

“Do you want to be just like your father? To live in the shadow of your brother for the rest of your life? James Potter’s little brother? Harry Potter’s other son,” the Sorting Hat shot out word after word without a second in between. “I can see a lot of your father in you, Mr Potter, more than you think, but very, very, very different,” 

Albus tried to ignore the envy he felt. He had always thought that if he could muster together the courage to be outgoing and brave then everyone would stop looking right past him and treat him like they treated James—always showering him in praise and comparing him to their dad and his namesakes. Albus would have his looks compared to his dad but apart from that, there were never any other similarities and he would just fade into the background as James pranced around in the centre of attention.  

“In Gryffindor House, you will never amount to more than that. You will never make a name for yourself. I know that’s what you desire.”

If I’m good enough—  

“You will never be good enough in the shadow of your brother. He has outshined you your entire life, he will continue to do so if you submit yourself to trailing behind in his mighty shadow,” 

Albus blinked back tears desperately before anyone noticed. He went red in shame as he imagined everyone laughing at him for crying. Harry Potter’s stupid son who couldn’t even put on a brave face for the stupid Sorting Ceremony. He squeezed his hands together until they burned and chewed down on his lower lip.  

“You want to outshine expectations, you want to be worthy, you want to impress, you want to make your father proud.” The Sorting Hat stated. “You are boiling over with ambition to make a name for yourself, with envy, with desire to prove yourself.” 

He knew better than to argue with the hat who could read his thoughts.He knew it was true and the hat would know he was lying. Not Slytherin.  

“And, why not Slytherin?” the Sorting Hat questioned shrewdly. “Your hair said the very same thing to me many years ago. Not Slytherin, not Slytherin. In Slytherin you can make a name for yourself, be more than your father’s son. You have the ability to be great if you shall desire so. Slytherin can help you on the path of greatness! Only the best are deemed worthy by Salazar’s magic, and he chooses you, Albus Severus Potter, he sees that power in you!”

He glanced over at the Slytherin table and his eyes fell on Scorpius who was watching very intently. He didn’t look angry at him despite knowing who he was, in fact, he offered a quick smile. Albus wasn’t surprised that the Sorting Hat deemed him remarkable enough for Slytherin for he truly seemed like one of the best wizards he had ever come across. 

“I have two thousand years of experience and you are one of the most ideal students for Slytherin House that I have encountered,” The Sorting Hat continued. “May I mention, in all those years, nor have I ever seen a union between Gryffindor and Slytherin last. It cannot be done. You will be pulled apart. Love is fickle.” 

Albus couldn’t take his eyes off Scorpius. No.  He couldn’t lose him just after finding him. His dad found his friends for life on his first Hogwarts Express and Albus was sure he had too. Malfoy who treated him like he was an individual wizard, Malfoy whose company felt just right. 

“Don’t tame who you are to fit into a box, you have potential that would be a waste to ignore—but keep it on a leash. Don’t dismiss your ambition to stay in Harry Potter’s shadow for you could be just as spectacular as your namesakes,” the hat drew out a pitiful sigh. “I admit I would be disappointed not to see you reach your full potential—if only you could see what I could—but it is up to you, Albus Severus Potter,”  

He lifted his chin high; his heart was pounding; his head was spinning. Could he truly become everything that Sorting Hat claimed? Why would he lie to him? He could hear the drumming of his heart in his ears, the throb in his chest. He knew what he wanted.   

“SLYTHERIN!” 

The silence was sharp. He had never considered silence sharp before. The silence passed and there were gasps and whispers as it truly became accepted that what just happened had actually happened. It had to be an accident. . .

“A Potter? In Slytherin?” Chapman loudly questioned, setting off a hundred more outcries.

Professor Longbottom shushed everyone sternly. 

Albus felt unable to get off the stool or even muster thought. Rose was gaping in the crowd of first years. He looked up at his godfather in panic who nodded and took the Sorting Hat off his head despite looking momentarily aghast. 

He felt unblinking eyes on him as he started making his way towards the Slytherin table. “But this is wrong. This is not how it’s supposed to be.” Rose tried saying but he walked past her in a sort of shocked state. James was avoiding looking his way and red in the face. He passed by many students with differing expressions; calculating older Ravenclaws, wide-eyed Hufflepuffs who didn’t meet his eye. The Gryffindor table was mixed between moping disappointment at him not being in their house and fiery glares that split through him. 

“I suppose his hair isn’t that similar,” Chapman said, dismayed.

The Slytherin table cultivated a scattered applause after some shocked moments of shared suspicion and mirth. They were all watching him as he got closer, intimidating hard looks, spiteful glares, calculating, intrigued lopsided eyebrows. Albus gulped. 

Scorpius was the only one who smiled at him out of hundreds upon hundreds of witches and wizards. Albus shuffled onto the bench next to him, his heart pounding. “Do you still want to be friends?” he asked under his breath.

“Memento mori,”  

Albus shot him a confused look. He wasn’t sure what he meant or if it was a yes or a no. His grey eyes were shining with questions as he looked at him but he kept quiet for now. 

Scorpius did not seem hostile though which numbed the panic that had previously been swallowing him. He allowed himself to sink into his seat knowing that his friend was right there beside him.

He made no effort to watch the rest of the Sorting Ceremony as he stared down at the table; he could feel many eyes upon him. He caught sight of a glitter of green in the corner of his eye and inhaled sharply upon noticing the Slytherin crest gleaming proudly on his chest—a curling snake with a sharp silver tongue; the words ‘SLYTHERIN’ written in bold lettering. It was then that time finally caught up with him and his surroundings crashed down like a wave. It was then that he realised what had occurred, what he had given in to, what was too late to change. Albus Severus Potter, son of Harry Potter—a Slytherin.

“ Albus Potter?” Scorpius murmured; a bit unsure of himself. “What kind of name is that? For Dumbledore?”  

He winced. “Everyone usually calls me Al,” then, to test the waters, “Just wait until you hear my middle name,”

Scorpius smiled softly. “I don’t think it can be worse,”

“Severus,”

“Severus Snape?” At his nod, Scorpius pressed his lips into a serious line but his shining eyes were a dead giveaway of his mirth. “You really are the odd one out with a name like that,”

Albus felt his cheeks getting warm with embarrassment. He had never been told what Severus Snape actually did to merit his dad’s respect; he claimed he was a brave wizard, mercilessly misunderstood, killed by Voldemort for spying. But, when the grown ups did bring him up in conversation, they usually just groaned over his cruelty as a bitter professor.

Scorpius clearly noticed his tumultuous trail of thought and smiled reassuringly. “I think your name is fitting. I think it’s brilliant,” 

Albus felt himself flushing further.  “You do?”

Scorpius smiled. “Do you prefer Albus or Al?”

He thought about it. “Albus,”

He had never said that before. He had never liked his full name. Always the shortened version. He could never be as great. It felt wrong to wear the names of magnificent wizard whom he could never match. Slytherin House could help him on the way to greatness. Slytherin House brought along change, welcome and unwelcome; but he was welcoming this change with the promise that he would someday be great. 

Rose was sorted into Gryffindor after a gruelling two minutes and Roxanne followed behind her. Part of him hoped that Rose might also be a Slytherin but the thought was quickly disbanded. Everyone cheered for his cousins but the Gryffindors were significantly put-out since his sorting. He could feel eyes on his back from the other houses. The last to be sorted were brother and sister named Zabini; Cecelia was a hatstall but eventually sorted to Slytherin  and Julian was a fast sorting, right into Slytherin. The brother and sister sat across from them, amongst the very small number of first year Slytherins. It seemed the other houses had double if not triple the amount of first years sorted into them. 

“If I may have your attention, students?” Headmistress McGonagall called out, rising to a stand at the head of the professors table on the dais. “Before commencing the feast, I’d like to warmly welcome each of you back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and if this is your first year, then I wish you a magical experience,”  

Professor Longbottom sat to the right of the Headmistress with a charming smile. To the left, sat a very small man in shining silver robes who resembled the goblins at Gringotts Bank to some degree, he quickly realised he must be Professor Flitwick.  

Headmistress cast a shrewd look across the hall. “Hogwarts school rules are in place for a reason and are to be followed if we wish to have a peaceful year. It is expected that every student put effort behind their academics and go about in a polite and orderly manner with respect for your professors and fellow classmates,” her stern look was graced with a smile as she raised her wand, “Let the Welcome Feast comence,” and the Great Hall was filled with the most mouth-watering aroma of the dinner feast.  

Albus craned his head to take in the sight of the endless platters upon platters of feast and felt a sting of envy that he had missed out on such wondrous things that his brother got to experience for the past two years. He looked over his shoulder in search of his brother and watched as he carelessly chucked a lamb chop across the table at one of his many friends. The Gryffindor table was bustling in a way the Slytherin table did not. 

Glancing around at the unfamiliar faces of his new house, he picked up on the way they shot him sideways glances and murmured to their friends with their heads low. He copied the way they sat with their shoulders back, the collected way they scooped dinner onto their plates, but couldn’t bring himself to swallow more than some potato and a goblet of chilled pumpkin juice. His chest was tense in a way that completely soaked his appetite.  

Scorpius shot him a pitiful look as he pushed his plate away, nauseous at the sight of food. He folded his arms over his chest and looked down at his lap. He wanted to be at home, at his usual seat at the dinner table, picking at his dad’s familiar cooking.

Shrieks enveloped the Great Hall and everyone flailed around as rushes of pearly-white figures swarmed across the benches. Albus shivered as a cold rush drowned through his bones and he watched the shock pass through Scorpius as the same happened to him. 

“Ghosts!” He heard someone shout. Turning around in a second, he saw a rush of glowing translucent beings swooshing down from the ceiling and all across the hall. His eyes watched as a horrible ghost lowered down to the Slytherin table, starting at the opposite end where the oldest students familiarly acknowledged him, and floating down the table with his frilly blood-stained garments sinking through the platters of food. He sat down by the first years, a faraway look in his eyes, and took in the sight of the newest students.  

“You’re the Bloody Baron,” said Marius Burke. 

The ghost did not speak but tilted his head in acknowledgment. He stared down each of the first years, his empty eyes lingered on Albus for the longest and for a moment he seemed at an utter standstill before moving onto the next student. Vincent Goyle asked him why he was covered in blood but got no response, urging him to ask a second time which also had no effect. The students began to return to the feast and speak amongst themselves and the Bloody Baron drifted away without any of them noticing.  

The first years decided to introduce themselves to each other after quenching their hunger. Bartleby Nott shook hands with the others with a snarky grin. Burke told everyone about his father who owned Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley. The Zabini twins were stark opposites with Cecelia, the older twin, being wholly charming and enticing while Julian was very judgmental and serious. Sylvie Davis was very quiet but smiled shyly in greeting. 

“You’re a Potter, are you?” Goyle asked, beady black eyes narrowing on him. “Like Harry Potter?”

“I’m his son,” 

Goyle made a noise of disgruntlement. “Shouldn’t you be a Gryffindor then? It has to be a mistake.'' Those sitting close enough listened in curiously, putting their forks down and glancing over discreetly.

“Salazar Slytherin’s magic chose Albus.” Scorpius chimed in. “The Sorting Hat doesn’t make mistakes. He’s not a Gryffindor. Potter’s one of us. He’s a Slytherin.”

~