The boats eventually ended up in a damp cave, more water dripping from the moss on the ceiling and onto Albus’s head. Albus groaned and sat down to contemplate the cruelty of the world, only to realise that he had sat down on a pile of bat guano.
“Albus! Come on!” Hagrid called.
Albus ran to catch up with the group, who were standing in front of a door carved into the rock.
“Oh dear, Albus,” sighed Hagrid. “Don’ worry, I’ll fix yeh in a jiffy.” Hagrid waved his umbrella, and to his shock and amazement, Albus was clean.
Hagrid turned away and knocked on the door, which opened to reveal a very, very short wizard.
“Here yeh are, Professor Flitwick,” Hagrid said.
“Thanks, Haggers. Come on, kiddos!” Professor Flitwick led them to a small empty chamber outside the hall. He smiled at all the first years.
“Yo! Yo! Yo! What’s goin’ on in your hip and groovy new school, Hogwarts?! I’ll tell you what! Are you ready to rumble? Well you’d better be, ‘coz soon you’ll be enterin’ the radical Great Hall, and taking your first step to becoming a true warrior in the battle against miseducation and illiteracy! You will be chosen to serve in four battle teams “ Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin or Gryffindor. Each warrior will have a minimum of five years of gruelling competition to add a bit of themselves to each team’s noble history. But watch out, dudes! We battle-masters can both give and take points for your sins and your redemptions. At the end of each year, those of you who survive will witness a special ceremony “ and the battle team with the most points will receive the House Cup!” He looked at each bewildered student in turn, then smiled and turned towards a door at the side of the chamber. “Now, I must go and prepare for the ceremony. Wait here quietly and then I will call you in.”
But he needn’t have worried; the students had been shocked into silence and were too scared to utter a word. Flitwick soon returned, however, and led them to the Great Hall without any surprise hip attacks.
The hall was magnificent, with floating candles lighting it up and a ceiling showing the sky outside. At the other end of the hall stood a stool with a grubby hat on it and behind that was the teachers’ table. As soon as they entered the hall, the hat began to sing:
“First Years, First Years,
Years of First Years,
I have had to sort
To each strong House,
To each strong House,
For that’s why I was wrought.
You may say this was
A good reason,
For Gryffindor
To rip me from his head.
But because of the sort
The Houses have fought
There has been much blood bled
And tears shed.
‘How was I created?’
You ask yourselves.
Ah, it’s a secret, strange but true.
A delightful object
Of the Founders Four,
Gave me a head,
Allowed me to bore
You with tales,
Every year the leaves fall.
But that same object
Caused Hufflepuff to fret.
For she knew its true meaning, as well.
She hid the poor creature,
Where, an old keeper
Guards it, yes, guards it well.
But of this weapon, beware!
In this dark, dark year,
A First Year, a First Year,
Should fear.”
The hall was filled with the sound of applause. Albus was a bit confused by the song.
“Scorpius,” he said, nudging his friend. “What d’you think that was about?”
“Well, you see, um, well, er… it goes like this… um… I don’t know,” Scorpius sneered, looking slightly alarmed about the fact that he didn’t know something.
“Aahmes, Zuriel,” rapped Professor Flitwick.
“Yeah, Zuriel
You’re the latest case
Of… Of… er… of something that rhymes with case
The first first year to take the hat
Yeah, come on, join in my rap
(Although rap doesn’t technically rhyme with hat)
That’s okay, coz it’s exactly that
Someone, give my back a pat
You know, it’s just the basic facts
That a first year’s gotta take the hat
Yeah, someone’s gotta lead the track
Um… wayz, these rappers got hard work, dude…”
“Excuse me, Professor, but would you please just read the names and not try out your… ahem… delightful rapping ‘skills’ in public?” interrupted a disturbed-looking Professor McGonagall.
But she was not nearly as disturbed-looking as the tall boy who was staring in horror at Flitwick, just moments away from the hat.
“Aahmes? Zuriel Aahmes? Are you well?” asked McGonagall worriedly.
“Erk…” gasped Zuriel. He collapsed on the floor.
“AY! JUS’ GE’ ON WI DE PLOT, NAH DREADS!” bellowed a random brethren, obviously not English.
“Would someone escort Mr. Aahmes to the hospital wing, please? It appears that he has undergone an ordeal so terrifying that he is (at this moment) unable to complete the sorting. Carry on, Professor Flitwick.”
“Brethren, Random,” called Flitwick.
And so the sorting began.
“Malfoy, Scorpius,” Flitwick called a while later.
Scorpius’s name earned hardened glares and scowls from many faces around the hall. Scorpius walked shakily towards the hat, trying to ignore this. He put it on. There was a long silence in the hall, as Scorpius shook his head sometimes and nodded at other times. At one point he even did a funny little jerk of his head that nearly sent the hat flying. Finally, the hat seemed to have made a decision.
“RAVENCLAW!” it bellowed, nearly deafening the whole hall.
Scorpius walked more confidently towards the Ravenclaw table, nursing his ears.
“He’s in Ravenclaw?!” Albus asked, amazed.
“Well, he didn’t want to be Slytherin,” said Rose.
Finally, they reached the Ps. Albus’s heart seemed to stop with nervousness.
“Peters, Jeremiah.”
“GRYFFINDOR!”
“Pharamond, Phaon.”
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
“Polkiss, Piers”
“SLYTHERIN!”
“Potter, Albus Severus.”
“Potter, did he say?” Whispers suddenly broke out like pimples on a teenager among the first years. The rest of the hall simply stared at him with the same curiosity they had shown towards the other first years. Albus took a deep breath and walked up to the stool, imagining exciting battle music playing. He put on the hat; it slid over his face.
“I can’t see!’ he thought worriedly.
“Obviously,” said a voice in his ear. “It creates quite an effect, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, I guess so. What House am I in?”
“Ah, well, another Potter? I won’t even bother to ask you - you want Slytherin.”
“NO!” Albus shouted.
The hat chuckled. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to make someone scream. I was joking!”
“SLYTHERIN!”
“NOOOOOO!”
“I didn’t say that aloud you know.” Albus could tell that if the hat was human it would be rolling on the ground, squealing with laughter.
“You know, you don’t seem brave on the outside whatsoever. But you are, on the inside, etc. etc. Ok, here we go… GRYFFINDOR!”
Albus heard the hall burst into applause, as he took off the hat and ran to Gryffindor’s table.
“Congrats, little bro,” said James, “But what’s with all the sissy screaming?”
Albus sighed, he had almost forgotten about his pain-in-the-neck of a brother.
***
Albus hadn’t really looked around the hall before he was sorted, but now that he did he noticed the candles floating overhead and the famous enchanted ceiling, which displayed a very dark, cloud-packed sky that threatened to bust into rain at any moment. Albus looked around at the tables and, at the Ravenclaw table, noticed Scorpius bugging Albus’s cousin, Victoire, who had begged to at least have a passing mention in this book.
“Weasley, Rose.”
Albus jumped. He hadn’t noticed the time go by.
Rose confidently walked up to the hat.
“RAVFINDOR!” bellowed the hat almost as soon as she put it on.
There was a pause.
“I mean… GRYFFINDOR!”
Rose ran towards the Gryffindor table.
“I got in Gryffindor!” she whispered excitedly to Albus.
“Yippee, we didn’t notice,” said James dryly. “Now be quiet so I can hear the rest.”
Finally, “Zimraan, Aaron” was sorted into “RAVENCLAW!” and the headmistress stood up.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said a tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes, who Albus knew to be the strict, but fair Professor McGonagall. “As Professor Flitwick has told you, being a member of a House at Hogwarts is a great responsibility and I hope each of you recognise this and serve your house well. Now the older students will let you know that this is the most anticipated part of our ceremony, the first feast of the new year. Enjoy.” She returned regally to her high-backed chair in the centre of the teachers’ table.
Food suddenly appeared in dozens of bowls, trays and other holders. There was all the food you could imagine and along each table were several trays stacked with Ginger Newts. Albus piled his plate high with food and asked James about the teachers.
“Well, that’s Professor Longbottom “ you know him. That’s Professor Flitwick, the charms teacher. Professor Shunpike teaches Defence Against the Dark Arts “ you know he managed to fight the Imperius curse during the end of the war? That’s Professor McGonagall, the headmistress, and her protégée, Professor Morley is sitting over there; he teaches Transfiguration. There’s Hagrid, obviously. But I don’t know who that lady in the fancy hat is though.”
“Hey, what’s with Flitwick?” asked Albus. “He’s acting weird.”
“Ah,” said James, sighing. “Well, you see, Rita Skeeter decided to write a report on the Hogwarts teachers, and she described Flitwick as an ‘Oldie who didn’t move with the times’, so now he’s trying to prove he’s not old.”
Meanwhile, Rose was making friends with some of the other Gryffindor first years.
“Oh, and this is Albus,” she said, tapping Albus on the head. “Turn around, will you?”
“Hello,” said Albus shyly.
“Albus, this is Paul Campagne,” she said, pointing at a tall boy with straight brown hair, “and this is Krysta Holland.” A girl with a mass of curly red hair and a highly freckled nose grinned at him.
“I’m Albus Severus Potter,” said Albus.
“We know,” said James. “My name’s James Potter. I’m in third year so I can help you out if you need anything. If you ask nicely,” he added.
“Pleased to meet you.” Paul shook James’s hand.
“That’s right, start being nice from now.” James nodded approvingly. Albus knocked him on the head.
“So,” said Krysta, her eyes glowing, “are you really Harry Potter’s son?”
“Yes,” said Albus, embarrassed.
“No, I was talking to James.”
“Oh, so that’s where I know you from!” James shook Albus’s hand roughly. “Are you sure this knuckle-head’s related to me?”
“Oh, I was just joking, Albus,” said Krysta when she saw Albus’s face.
“Harry Pottah’s son!?” gasped a voice slightly further along the table. “Way boy, da’s something, eh? Ah jus’ come tuh Englan’, and ah nevah expec’ tuh meet Harry Pottah’s son! Two ah dem!”
“Er… who are you?” asked James in a slightly disturbed voice.
“De name’s Brethren, Random Brethren,” he said, pronouncing Brethren like ‘Bread-rin’.
“Wait… you were the guy who shouted at McGonagall?” gasped Albus. “That’s your real name?”
“Yeah. Wa’s wrong wit dat?” asked Random in a hurt voice.
“Er… nothing,” said Albus hurriedly.
“Well,” said Rose, pausing to chuckle in a knowing way, “it may be interesting to note the ‘brethren’ is actually plural for brother! What do you think of that?”
Random’s face darkened. “Da’s meh las’ name, arite? An’, it may be ‘in’trestin tuh note’ dat where I come from, dey does use brethren fuh one person.”
“Er… okay…” said Rose, alarmed. “Where’d you come from, Paul?” asked Rose, changing the subject.
“London,” he answered. “My parents were considering sending me to France, but my granddad insisted I come to this school. He says he fought the war in England and I should be proud of that.”
“Why’d they want to send you to France?”
“My dad’s from there, he says Beauxbatons is better. But granddad says all French wizards say that and my dad doesn’t understand the value of a British education. They had a big fight, but, you know, granddad always wins.”
“What about you Krysta?”
“I’m from Birmingham, and I didn’t know anything about magic ‘til Professor McGonagall showed up at my House. My dad’s always been sure the damage nineteen years ago was because of magic, but he’s always been superstitious and I was sure he was bonkers. We were so excited when we found out it was true. I’ve been reading that stuff in The Updated History of Magic all summer. I’m thrilled to meet Harry Potter’s sons! And I read in the Daily Prophet that you’d won the Springbury’s Boys’ Beauty Contest a few years ago, Albus (though I really don’t see why…).”
“Ah, Albus’s done nothing compared to me!” said James. “I inherited all the smarts, and I’m sorry to say that I left Albus with nothing but… nothing. And he only won the contest because the other boys were trolls.”
A pretty girl with long, shiny black hair and brown skin slid up to sit in front of James.
“Hi, James.”
“Oh, um, hi, Nadira.” He quickly turned away. “Albus, this is Nadira Florence, she’s in my class.”
“So, this is your brother.” She smiled. “Isn’t he cute?”
“Yuk. I am not a baby,” said Albus severely in a monotone.
“How was your holiday, James?” she said, turning back to him.
“Leave me alone, won’t you?” James muttered. “You’re a witch, you know that?”
“Yes, that’s why I come to this school.”
“I meant a bad witch,” James growled. “Y’know, irritating, pesky little…” His voice trailed off.
“Well, you’re… you’re a… wizard!”
Nadira was saved the embarrassment of five first years rolling on the ground laughing at her as Professor McGonagall stood to address the students at large. The last of the desserts vanished before them, and the hall became silent as the students turned to face her.
“Good evening, students, now that you have all eaten, I would like to make a few announcements.
“First years “ though this is a reminder to you all “ should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden. You must not enter it without permission from me. I would prefer that you go no nearer to it that Professor Hagrid’s hut.
“Also, Mr Filch, our caretaker…” said Professor McGonagall. James, who had turned in his seat to face McGonagall, now yawned dramatically, closed his eyes and leaned back, crashing into Albus. There was a small commotion as Albus pushed James off of him, scattering a few goblets with James’ head. The fighting that ensued caused the bench to collapse beneath them, and the unfortunate Gryffindors seated there fell to the floor. The other students turned to watch the entertainment. On the teacher’s table, Flitwick and Hagrid were placing bets on who would win the fight.
“Sadly, Professor Slughorn decided to retire at the end of last year,” continued Professor McGonagall, oblivious to what was going on. “He made a wonderful contribution to the school during his time here, and he appreciates the cards that were sent to him over the holidays. William “ he wanted to let you know he really enjoyed the box of crystallised pineapple you mailed him. I would now like to introduce our new Potions teacher: Professor Lyra Fernham.
“And now, I would like you all to stand and sing our school song.”
Rose shook Albus frantically, and said “Albus! The song!” Albus and James jumped up quickly and began to sing.
***
But outside, a gale of wind blew against a dark man’s cloak. The man was crouched on top of Hogsmeade station, watching the school.
The man smiled “ it was all that could be seen of him, as his cloak covered the rest of his body and face. If he was right, and he was sure he was, then nineteen years’ waiting would be over. The man pulled a battered paper out of his pocket, read it for what felt like the millionth time and laughed mirthlessly.
The wait was almost over.
***
When they were done, Professor McGonagall sent them to bed, and the first years came together, following the stream of Gryffindors out of the Great Hall. Albus was exhausted as he climbed the thousands of stairs, ducked under hundreds of portraits and squeezed past millions of statues. He barely noticed any of them “ he sincerely hoped that Rose had paid attention to where they had to go. Finally, a prefect led them towards a large portrait of a fat lady.
“Ooh! Ickle First years! Pleased to meet you!” she squealed. The prefect raised an eyebrow. “Oh, sorry.” She gathered herself together, and standing tall, said majestically, “Password?”
“Knickerbockers,” said the prefect.
“Remember that, won’t you, oh great genius Rosie?” said Albus.
“Uh-huh, I’m oh great genius Rosie now, am I? What will I be tomorrow?” Rose said irritably.
“Boys that side, girls this side. Your room’s the one with no one in it, duh. You’ll probably find your luggage there. Most likely. Now leave, midgets,” said another rather bad-tempered prefect.
“Waz wrong wit he, dreads?” muttered Random.
Saying goodbye to Rose and Krysta, Albus, Paul and Random made their way up a spiral staircase and found their luggage next to several four-poster beds. The beds were so warm and inviting that as soon as Albus lay down he plonked his head down on the pillow ready to sleep, only to realise he had missed and hit the bedpost instead. Tears in his eyes, he settled down in his bed once again, and Paul turned off the lights.
Albus Severus Potter and the Thingamajig of Destiny by TrueMarauder
Chapter Notes: In which Albus, Rose and Scorpius are sorted.
Chapter Endnotes: If you enjoyed the story... review! If you hated the story... review! If you stopped half way through due to boredom... review! We're always looking to get better, but we can't do that without you!