Upon further review, Albus was not so sure how he felt about being on the train once it started moving. He mutely followed Rose through the corridor as she searched for a place to sit. Her huff of annoyance told him that she had been unsuccessful in spotting either an empty compartment or a herd of their cousins with whom they could pass the time.
“We’ve got to sit down some time. I’m starting to feel a bit sick.” And it was the truth. Albus did not do well standing on things that moved, which was the reason why Harry had bought a car for family trips. The tube was brutal for the middle Potter child, much to the amusement of his siblings.
Rose pursed her lips. “Well, there’s one, but…” By the way her words drifted off, Albus figured that the rest of it was something along the lines of ‘but someone we don’t want to be around is sitting there’.
He just shook his head. “I don’t care who’s sitting there, Rose. I just need to sit down.” With a snort, he added, “I’d even sit near James right now, and I’m right pissed at him at the moment.”
Snickering at her cousin’s use of profanity, Rose said, “I’m not sure if this bloke is better or worse than James, so I’ll leave that up to you.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Albus leaned his forehead against the wall of the hallway and struggled to catch his breath. “I don’t feel so good.”
Putting her arm around Albus’s shoulders, Rose guided him toward the aforementioned carriage. “We’ll get you sorted out, and if you want to move after you feel better, I’ll find us somewhere else.”
Albus nodded meekly and allowed himself to be led like a child through the cars full of students. While most of them ignored him, some stared at the boy who looked exactly like the saviour of the modern world, who was currently also as green around the gills as one could get without vomiting on the spot.
He could vaguely hear some of them whispering as he passed. Though he could not hear exactly what they were saying, he knew the subject of their covert conversations: Harry Potter’s son could not even ride on a train?! Normally, that would have bothered him, but at this point, he was so desperate for relief that he could not care less what anyone was saying about him.
Finally, they stopped outside a compartment, and Albus lifted his head just enough to see who this mystery person was that was supposed to be worse than his terrorist brother. He almost could not believe his eyes when he saw that it was none other than Scorpius Malfoy. What completely shoddy luck!
Rose opened the door and pushed Albus into the nearest seat. He just laid down on it and closed his eyes in an effort to stop the rollicking waves of nausea that churned in his abdomen. His breathing was laboured, and his breath tasted foul, and he already knew what that meant. He was definitely about to vomit.
He waved his hand to Rose, trying to get her attention. She knelt down next to him, her eyes alight with concern, and whispered, “Do you need…” She did not finish her question, but she knew him well enough to know what he was asking of her. “Okay. I’ll see what I can find.”
Rose rummaged through her rucksack for a couple minutes before producing the paper bag that had formerly held her packed lunch. The sandwich, apple, and bag of crisps that had formerly occupied it were dumped haphazardly on the seat behind her as she held it out to Albus. Soon, the sounds of retching filled the car.
After his breakfast had been completely jettisoned from his stomach, Albus rolled onto his back, eyes still closed to quell further sickness. He blindly reached out for Rose’s hand. Instead, he felt another hand touch his, and that foreign presence left something behind.
Albus dared to open his eyes long enough to look at it. It was very small, white, and felt like it was made of powder pressed into a tiny pellet. Curious, he sat up, albeit too abruptly. “What is this?” he asked, ignoring the renewed illness.
The voice that answered most definitely did not belong to Rose. “It’ll help with the sickness.”
His head jerking toward Scorpius, Albus said, “Thanks.” He examined it further before asking, “But what is it?”
“It’s called dimenhydrinate.”
Both Rose and Albus pored over the little pill. Neither of them had taken anything remotely resembling it before. Usually, any sort of remedy involved choking down a gobful of noxious potions, but never a simple, little disk.
Her curiosity taking over, Rose snatched it from Albus’s hand. “I’ve never heard of it. It must be new or something.” She held it up to the light and squinted to read the tiny printing on it.
Scorpius…chuckled? If Albus had to venture a guess, from what he had seen of this pariah Malfoy boy, he was not one prone to mirth. The action surprised him to the point where he almost missed what Scorpius was saying about the dye-my…whatever it was.
“Well, that’s because it’s Muggle.”
At that point, both Albus and Rose’s heads snapped toward this blond young man, who they were supposed to revile on sight because of his blood purist background. Had they heard him wrong, or had he just said that he took Muggle medicine?
Albus had to know. “How is it that you, of all people, end up taking Muggle medicine? I thought your family was supposed to hate Muggles.” He really had not meant to say the last part, but it sort of slipped out.
The left corner of Scorpius’s mouth twitched. “Ah, you are just as daft as my grandfather said you’d be. Always assuming things about us just because of our name.”
“I…” Albus was taken aback. He had not expected himself to be the bigoted one in this exchange, but sure enough, he had been. “I’m sorry,” he said truthfully.
With that, he took a bottle of pumpkin juice from his own rucksack and swallowed the little tablet. The flavour of it was almost indescribable…almost. It was, without a doubt, more foul-tasting than anything that he had ever taken before, and the bitterness sunk into the roof of his mouth, despite the pumpkin juice to act as a buffer.
It was several seconds before he could talk again. “How did you end up with Muggle medicine, anyway?”
Scorpius looked triumphant, as if the acrid medicine was his own private revenge for Albus’s lack of tact. “I’m allergic to motion sickness potion, so my father looked elsewhere.”
That statement raised many questions about what Albus supposedly knew about Scorpius. For the spawn of a flock of pure-blooded fanatics, his willingness to use Muggle remedies was no less than shocking. Not even his own father trusted Muggle Healers (he could not remember what they were properly called) for anything.
“Next time,” Scorpius continued, “try not letting it touch your tongue. It’ll keep most of the bad flavour from lingering.”
Next time? “Wha—“ Albus stopped mid-word as Scorpius withdrew a decent-sized bottle, full of these little Muggle pills, and poured a generous number of them into his hand. He held them out to Albus, who simply accepted them while staring like an idiot. “I…”
“You’re not much for words, are you, Potter?” Scorpius was smirking, but this time, his smile seemed more genuine than mocking.
Albus blushed, much to his irritation. “I don’t know what to say.”
Rose saved him from further embarrassment. “I’m sure he means to say ‘thank you’, but no, Al isn’t very…clear all the time.”
“Obviously.” Scorpius looked out the window, giving Albus the chance to straighten himself out. He was already feeling better with the help of the pill, and the greenish tinge had started to leave his cheeks. “You know,” Scorpius added, surprising Albus, “if you take them before you go anywhere, you won’t get sick.”
Nodding his head, Albus said, “I’ll remember that.”
The rest of the train ride passed in relative silence, which gave Albus time to reflect on what had just occurred. There had been so many preconceived notions in his mind about who Scorpius Malfoy was supposed to be, but every one of them had been proven false by a five-minute conversation. What was he supposed to think now? Everyone he knew had spoken ill of the Malfoy family, but this boy who sat across from him, the one who had offered to help when Albus needed it, could not be included in that.
Could he?
Hogsmeade Station was as completely different from King’s Cross Station as was humanly possible. Where there had been massive throngs of people, there were now only the students, teachers, and a few townsfolk to greet the incoming flock. Even though he had never been there before and was generally uncomfortable in new surroundings, Albus felt an immediate connection with the place.
Rose, apparently, felt the same. Albus heard her sigh of wonder as she looked around at the village and the pristine countryside that framed it. For both of them, the extent of their rural living had been playing in the orchard of The Burrow, but they had never seen the crisp, blue sky meet the distant mountains in quite that breathtaking fashion as it did in the waning daylight.
Their reverie was broken by a booming voice that was instantly recognised by them both.
“Firs’ years, this way!”
Had they not been summoned to him, both Albus and Rose would have gone anyway, if only to say hello to an old friend of the family. “Hagrid!” they bellowed at they ran toward him and clutched an arm apiece.
Hagrid chuckled. “Ah, now I was wonderin’ when I’d see the likes of ye two. Yer dads want me to keep ye outter trouble, but seein’ what young James is like…”
Rose giggled. “Oh, Hagrid, we’re nothing like James. He’s a right git!”
Albus nodded in agreement, still miffed about the snake incident. “Yeah, we’re the behaved ones.”
“Likely story,” snorted Hagrid. He then gestured toward a fleet of small boats. “Ye’ll need to be getting’ on here soon. No more ‘n’ four of ye!” He shooed the pair toward the dock, where throngs of their classmates were boarding the tiny boats.
He had not been joking when he said only four to a boat. Any more probably would have toppled any one of them into the dark, murky water.
Much to Albus’s frustration, most everyone had separated themselves into groups of four, which left both he and Rose in search of two more passengers.
“Who’s going to ride with us?” Rose asked.
With a shrug, Albus said, “Well, I suppose we could ask Malfoy. He seemed decent enough.”
This seemed agreeable to Rose, as she was soon shouting, “Oi! Malfoy!” She gestured wildly for him to approach from his lonely spot behind the horde.
Though he seemed reluctant to associate himself with Rose’s rather embarrassing hail, Scorpius wandered over to his former fellow train car passengers.
When he got there, Rose rambled, “Be in our boat!”
Scorpius rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said through clenched teeth. He seemed on edge to Albus, but, as he had no idea why, he decided to stay out of it.
Since nearly all of the students’ boats had already departed, they started boarding the next available one with just the three of them. At the last second, however, a girl, about the same height as Rose but of a stockier build, jumped into their diminutive vessel before it could leave.
Again, without prompting, the girl said in a fast, high-pitched voice, “Hi, I’m Nichola. Nichola Bussey.” She shook everyone’s hand in a rapid and hyper manner that made Albus hope that she would not be in too many of his classes. But she was not done quite yet. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, have you? Magic and stuff is still pretty new to me, but it’s all so exciting.” Her prattle continued at lightning speed, in which she asked several questions for which she did not even wait for an answer.
It was Scorpius who broke her stream of chatter. “Do you ever shut up, you silly little bint?”
Silence ensued as everyone stared at Scorpius, who somehow seemed unperturbed by his little bout of ill manners. Even the children in the surrounding boats were staring, slack-jawed, at the rude boy that they had all heard about, as well as at the girl who he had just reduced to tears.
Rose was the first to round on him. “How could you be so mean? What kind of person says something like that to someone they don’t even know?”
“Her name is Nichola. She’s a Mudblood, she doesn’t like trains, has a cat, her favourite colour is purple, and she talks entirely too much. I think I know her pretty well by now, or at least more than I ever wished to.”
Albus was completely nonplussed. Never in all of his life…not even James was that horrid, and his older brother was easily the vilest person that Albus knew. “You’re a right foul git, Malfoy.”
Scorpius snorted. “Oh, and I suppose you’re going to say that it runs in the family like all the rest of them?”
“No,” Albus replied, crossing his arms defensively. “I mean it because you are acting like a complete tosser to someone who’s done nothing to you but chat a bit and share a boat for a ten minute ride.”
“Like you can stand to listen to her go on and on like some mad shrew! I—“
He was never able to finish his sentence after Rose shoved him with all her might into the lake, her face beyond enraged. As Scorpius came to the surface of the water, sputtering, she hissed, “You want a mad shrew? I’ll give you a mad shrew, you straw-haired back end of a hippogriff!”
Everyone in earshot stared at Rose. Even Albus, who was used to her particular brand of irritation, was stunned at this point. And though the scene was epically ridiculous, no one even thought to laugh, and most definitely did not think to help the sodden Scorpius from the water before the weight of his robes pulled him under.
That would, however, not be necessary. With a great splash that caused both Rose and Albus to jump in their seats, a tentacle that looked like it belonged to a gargantuan octopus, pulled Scorpius from the lake and unceremoniously plunked him into the boat once more.
Though Nichola, still huddled in a ball and as far away from the others as she could get, did not look at him at all, Rose and Albus stared down their new rival—the former with disgust, and the other with disappointment. Everything had gone so well up to the point where Scorpius decided to act like a prejudiced snob, but given the warning that Ron had issued, they both felt like they should have seen it coming.
The rest of the boat ride passed in utter silence. Albus did not speak, because he honestly could not think of anything to say that would do justice to how angry he was with Scorpius. He figured that Rose was keeping quiet to avoid knocking her victim into the lake once more, or worse, running the risk of being caught doing it.
When the boat slid onto the shore of the Hogwarts side of the lake, for the first time, the occupants disembarked hastily. Nichola practically sprinted in the opposite direction, but the other three found themselves staring up at the magnificent castle that had seen so many young witches and wizards just like themselves—including their parents—walk through those historic halls. The night was clear and sparkling, and with the dusk came a blanket of stars, which twinkled with a brilliance that none of them had ever seen before.
It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing that Albus had ever seen. He stared at the shining constellations, rapt by the fact that those stars were so far away, yet they still saw fit to say hello to the world every night.
A none-too-gentle tug on Albus’s arm pulled him back from the cosmos and to the Hogwarts grounds once more, where Rose was pointedly cocking her head toward two great, wooden doors. Since swarms of students, from both the carriage rides from Hogsmeade and the first-years in the boats, were filing in, he knew that Rose meant for them to follow before they got completely lost and shuffled away from their classmates.
Albus knew what was best for his personal safety, especially after the fiasco on the lake, so he allowed himself to be dragged toward the door. He was surprised, however, when Scorpius simply followed them quietly. Rose did not seem to notice him, and in a wave of sympathy for someone that obviously did not deserve it, he decided not to enlighten her.
A middle-aged woman, who identified herself as Professor Vector, the Deputy Headmistress, herded the first-years to a room off to the side of the Great Hall. The older students all sat down at the tables, boisterously greeting friends and acquaintances.
“Children,” she started, trying to speak over the din of over forty excited eleven-year-olds, but they drowned her out. “Children!”
Every adolescent mouth within ten metres snapped shut instantly. They could all already tell that this woman was going to be even more fearsome than the legendary Professor McGonagall, about whom even the Muggle-borns had heard during the train ride.
Professor Vector smiled, though it was completely without joy or mirth. “Much better.” After clearing her throat, she continued. “On behalf of Headmaster Flitwick and all of the teachers, I would like to formally welcome you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For over ten centuries, this institution has commanded the respect of the wizard world for its fine traditions of excellence and honour.
“There are four Houses here at Hogwarts, and, by the end of the night, each of you will have been Sorted into one of them. The Houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.”
At that last name, Albus felt his entire body stiffen. This was it. This was the night that would make or break who he was as a person. And the thought that it was so close made Albus’s knees wobble. Whatever Professor Vector was saying by then, he had no idea; over and over in his mind, all he could think about was being sent to sit with the green and silver clad students and, moreover, what James would do the next time they saw one another.
An elbow in the ribs from some unidentified individual signalled that he needed to pay attention again as students were circling and sorting themselves alphabetically. Within seconds, Rose was far behind Albus in line, and the only person near him that he recognised was Scorpius, who was separated from him by two others, a girl and a boy.
Even though he was a complete prat, Albus would not have minded having Scorpius’s familiar presence right about that moment. Not only was he mere moments away from possibly the scariest experience of his life, he was doing it alone for the first time in his entire eleven year existence. How was that not supposed to be borderline petrifying?
The line of first-years, finally in their proper order, stood single-file outside the door of the Great Hall, ready for what lay within: the Sorting Hat. The Muggle-born students quietly speculated about how their Houses would be chosen, while the rest fidgeted nervously. That comforted Albus, albeit only slightly; it was nice to know that at least someone was as miserable as he was during this excruciating wait.
The metaphorical waters parted as Neville Longbottom, Herbology professor, Head of Gryffindor House, and long-time family friend, carried an ancient, three-legged stool and an even older hat. That had to be the Sorting Hat. The minutes until his showdown with his future were winding down, and even the slight smile of encouragement from the man affectionately referred to as ‘Uncle Neville’ could not stop Albus from nearly hyperventilating with anxiety.
When the Hat was placed on the stool in front of the staff table, nearly all of the new arrivals jumped when a singed rip near the brim opened like a mouth and started to…sing? Albus’s mouth hung open in disbelief.
‘Listen up, those who are new,
For I am the Sorting Hat,
I shall know each one of you,
And we’ll have a little chat.
Will you wear black and yellow?
Or maybe red and gold?
Will green and silver be your fellow?
Or blue and bronze in your future told?
‘For those made of loyal stuff,
Hard working to the hilt,
Will find themselves in Hufflepuff,
With others of their ilk.
Those of valour and inner strength,
Of undiluted bravery,
The Gryffindors go to quite a length,
For justice, friends, and family.
The Slytherins, wily and slick,
May be your future’s key,
Ready and willing for any trick,
Cunning you must be.
Perhaps reason is your light,
A desire to learn and to know,
One who will think instead of fight,
Then in Ravenclaw you’ll go.
‘Come one and all, place me on your head,
For I’ve not once been wrong,
Though once I was naught but thread,
Now I sing the welcome song.
In each and every one of you,
I shall delve deep within,
To know your House and colours true,
Now let the Sorting begin!’
A round of applause met the end of the rather unorthodox vocals. The older students did not seem surprised by the singing Hat, but a clamour trickled through the first-years, still standing in alphabetical order, now speculating about their Houses more than ever. Even the Muggle-born children, who could not be anything but overwhelmed, were in on it. Personally, Albus could not even conceive how they could be so relaxed when a quarter of them were going to be in Slytherin!
Professor Vector stood next to the stool that bore the Hat, a scroll in hand, and started at the top of the list. “Avery, Lennox.”
A boy who was nearly twice the size of Albus strode toward the stool confidently. He plunked himself down where the Hat had been sitting and placed the ancient headgear on his sandy-coloured hair. After less than ten seconds, the Hat spoke once more, but instead of a song, it bellowed, “Slytherin!”
The table on the far left of the Great Hall stood and clapped for their newest member. Lennox merely smirked and sauntered like a peacock to his place amongst the Slytherins.
One by one, the rest of the boys and girls in front of Albus took their turn with the Sorting Hat. A good number of them went to Hufflepuff, and about five went to each Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Only three others walked to the same table that Lennox had.
That was, of course, until the first person of interest approached the stool. As Scorpius walked through the Hall, commenced as both first-years and older students alike talked about him. Some of the murmuring was speculative, but most of it, from what Albus could hear, was not very kind. There had to be something about Scorpius that he did not know, because none of the occupants of the Hall knew of what happened on the boats.
Despite his self-assurance earlier in the day, Scorpius did not look so calm now. If possible, he was even paler than he was by nature. Albus could see him chewing on his lip nervously as he walked as slowly as possible toward the Sorting Hat. It took nearly an eternity for him to actually sit down and put the Hat on his head.
Albus expected the Hat to shout ‘Slytherin’ almost immediately, but it did not; actually, this was the longest Sorting of the night up to that point. The only one that had taken more than a minute had been Elijah Macmillan, who had gone right before Scorpius, but that had ended with an assignment to Gryffindor and smiles from their newest member.
But Scorpius was not smiling at that moment. The frown on his face was deep, despite the fact that it seemed to be moving. Was he talking to the Hat? Could he do that? Harry had said that his choice would be taken into account, but was he supposed to physically say where he wanted to go?
Nearly five minutes had passed, and still the Hat had not spoken. Albus figured that either Scorpius was going to be kicked out for being a git, or he was arguing with the Hat himself to keep from going into a certain House. And, with all things odd and curious, he really wanted to know what was going on inside Scorpius’s head.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the Hat called out, “Slytherin!” If Albus did not know better, he would have said that Scorpius looked upset. Whatever had gone on in that conversation had shaken him thoroughly, and even the cheers and handshakes that he received from his new Housemates fell short of cheering him up.
Albus was now dangerously close to fainting. Now, only “Marten, Jane” and “O’Dell, Sean” separated him form the same fate as Scorpius. A new fear took hold; what if the Hat did not honour his request to be in a certain House? It had done that for Harry, but his father was the exception to a lot of rules. That did not mean that Albus was going to be.
“Potter, Albus.”
He stood stark still. The proclamation of his name brought a rush of whispering, just like it had for Scorpius, but Albus did not hear anything except for the sound of his own name echoing in his head. He tried to will his feet to move forward, but they would not comply.
Professor Vector gave him a meaningful look, but he simply stared at her, not even daring to blink, as if trying to say that he was simply incapable of proceeding. Her eyes narrowed in annoyance, which did not help his motor functions in the slightest.
A hand touched his shoulder, and, finally unfrozen, Albus turned around to see Rose, who had broken out of line. She gave him a weak smile, which was not any more reassuring than the scowl of the irritated Deputy Headmistress.
“Al, it’s okay. Whatever happens, I’ll be your friend. I don’t care if you’re a Slytherin or a Gryffindor or whatever. You’re still you.”
She squeezed his hand in hers, and some of the tension seeped from Albus. No matter what House the Sorting Hat chose, he would always have an ally in Rose, to whom he was closer than his own brother and sister. That thought gave him the push he needed to finally take his place on the stool.
The Hat was overly large, and it engulfed nearly Albus’s entire head. Only his chin stuck out below the brim, and he could swear that it smelled like mould and burnt wood. That bit of unpleasantness, however, was nothing compared to the heart attack that he nearly had when it spoke to him.
‘You’re not much like the last Potter that sat on this stool, are you?’
Er, hello? Albus thought to himself. How was he supposed to answer? Did he actually talk, or did it know what he was thinking?
‘Yes, I know what you’re thinking. I know every little thing that goes on in your head.’
Albus was glad that the Hat was covering his face, because he was fairly certain that he was redder than a radish at that very moment. No one ever knew what he was truly thinking—not even Harry. Most people just took him at face value because he did not demand otherwise, but this manky old hat knew his innermost fears and desires.
‘You’re very worried about where you’ll end up, even though your family will accept you regardless.’
Well, if you had a brother like mine…do you have some sort of brother? Albus had no desire to ask a question like that, but he could not very well stop himself, since the Hat was reading his mind and all.
The Hat chuckled. ‘No, I have no brother, but I do know yours. Your brother is a Gryffindor without a doubt, but I’m not so sure about you.’
Yes, I am! Albus’s psyche rebutted.
‘Books are often your companion, and you are one for puzzles and challenges. Ravenclaw may suit you best.’
Ravenclaw? Albus had not once considered that he might end up in any House other than Gryffindor or Slytherin. All he knew of Ravenclaw was that it was the destination of the brightest students, and Albus did not consider himself particularly intelligent—at least not more or less than anyone else.
What he really wanted was to be where he belonged, and something told him that Ravenclaw was not it.
‘Very well, then. If Ravenclaw isn’t where you think you should be, then there is only one place left to put you.’
Albus held his breath and clenched his fists so hard that he could feel his fingernails digging into his palms, but he did not care. He just concentrated with all of his might on one thought. Please, not Slytherin.
“Gryffindor!”
A sigh of relief accompanied the escape of his bated breath at the Hat’s proclamation. The waiting was over. It was finally done. He was not a Slytherin, and James could shove off, because he was a Gryffindor!
Now that the Sorting was done, all Albus had to do was think about everything else that could possibly go wrong at school. And knowing himself better than anyone, the possibilities of that were nearly endless.
Written in the Stars by ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor
Chapter Notes:Writing a Sorting song isn't easy, so if you don't like it...you try writing one, lol.
Chapter Endnotes: Reviews = love. Thanks for reading. :D