Chapter Text
The amount of constant chattering that wizards partake in is probably related to the fact they’re always speaking to perform spells. Muttering a mix of Latin under their breath before lighting the end of a wand, and keeping the momentum with vapid talking.
Albus finds that the noise makes his heart pound to the same irregular, thunderous beat. His thumb instantly runs along the oval-shaped grooves at the hilt of his wand, momentarily drowning out the cacophony. A brief trilling of annoyance brings Albus’s green eyes to meet matching ones. The ruffled speckled screech owl looks just as nervous, if not more, than the trembling eleven-year old.
Upon seeing the dotted downy of the bird, Lily lovingly called it “Devil” because of its horn-like tufts of feathers. Not wanting to upset the spunky redhead, Albus agreed on calling the skittish owl that. So far though, he hasn’t lived up to his namesake.
Which brings Albus back to his major crisis, drowning out the smiles of friends and family as they hug and joke. His clammy hands grip cold metal and he ponders...what if...what if...he, Albus Severus Potter...doesn’t live up to his namesake? What if he’s a failed wizard, who can’t even preform a spell as simple as lumos? What if he can’t fly a broom and become a legendary seeker? What if he can’t live up to the looming expectations of wonder and greatness set before him? What if he’s put in...Slytherin?
The thumping of the owl’s cage snaps Albus out of his intrusive thoughts, and he smiles weakly at his companion.
“Well Devil,” he murmurs, leaning close to the cold cage,” at least we’ll have something in common.” The bird squawks a reply that could be perceived as happy, but that would be a stretch.
A sudden kick of a familiar foot, that has given Albus years of torment, comes swinging at his shin. The boy dodges, and frowns up at his parents, who were previously talking to the smarmy James Potter.
“See you later, Al. Watch out for the thestrals.”
Albus’s eyes bulge.
“I thought they were invisible? You said they were invisible!” Albus chokes, but his brother just runs over to get a kiss from his loving mother, winking at Al and laughing lightly. He gives his father a quick side-hug, which ends with ruffled hair, a few grumbled “love you”s and James scurries off as his snowy owl screeches in fear.
“Thestrals are nothing to worry about,” the famous Harry Potter himself tells Albus softly. “They’re gentle things, there’s nothing scary about them. Anyway, you won’t be going up to school in the carriages, you’ll be going in the boats.”
That sounds wet and uncomfortable to Albus. He glances worriedly at his fretful owl, praying it doesn’t fly away if the water scares it.
The warmth of his mother approaches, and she kisses Albus’s cold cheek gently.
“See you at Christmas,” he mumbles, distracted.
“Bye Al,” Harry says as he bends to hug his son,” don’t forget Hagrid’s invited you to tea next Friday. Don’t mess with Peeves. Don’t duel anyone till you’ve leaned how. And don’t let James wind you up.”
The last one seems impossible to Albus.
“What if I’m in Slytherin?” Albus whispers, making certain no one but his father can hear him. Harry’s mouth pulls sideways in a kind smile, and he crouches so he’s just below his son.
“Albus Severus, you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew.
“But just say-”
“-then Slytherin house will have gained an excellent student, won’t it? It doesn’t matter to us, Al. But if it matters to you, you’ll be able to choose Gryffindor over Slytherin. The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account.”
Albus’s heart stops its arrhythmic beats and stutters to a steady pace.
“Really?”
“It did it for me.”
A moment of silence passes, and Albus’s father turns reflective for that time. The boy is soothed though, as his head fills with the wonders of what awaits him at Hogwarts, as a proud Gryffindor.
There’s a flurry of hugs and kisses, and everyone bustles onto the train, leaning out windows, and nearly falling onto the platforms as they lean too far to hug their mums and dads. Uncle Ron makes a joke, which makes Hugo, Rose, Lily, and Albus laugh.
The crowd of wizards and witches in bright robes erupts into waves and shouts as the train begins to pull away.
For only a moment, only a moment, Albus feels the urge to run off the train and tell his father he can’t, he can’t go so far away for so long.
“Anything from the trolley dears?”
The indecision passes as Albus turns to gorge himself on his favorite snack, chocolate frogs, much to Rose’s disapproval.
Far behind the train, at the steamy station in early September, stands huddles of families fretting lovingly after their departing children, with good reason.
***
“This is a crucial day Al,” Rose lectures as she walks with a ramrod straight back.
“Why is it again?” Al asks through mouthfuls of chocolate, as he carries the large cage of his noticeably smaller screech owl. Devil munches on a frog of his own, despite Rose’s badgering of how utterly unhealthy that is for birds.
“Because this is the day our parents met each other Al. This decides who we’ll be friends with for the rest of our school career, and what type of people we’ll become.”
“Rose, I’m not sure it’s that big of a deal. Can’t I just sit with you?” Al asks, his nerves getting the better of him again.
“No, you need more than your cousin and brother Al.”
“I have Victoire, she’ll talk to me,” Al offers, but Rose sends him a questioning look.
“I’m sure she’s more interested in snogging Teddy,” she giggles. “Now, let’s rate each compartment and then decide where to sit.”
“I don’t want to-”
Albus’s argument is swiftly cut off by a painful kick to the shin from his obsessively athletic cousin.
“This is important Al,” she hisses, and throws open the door of the first compartment. Wide brown eyes meet almond green ones, and the huddled form of nervous boy greets them.
“Hi-"
Rose slams the compartment door shut.
“What was that for?” Albus gasps, attempting to pry open the compartment doors Rose stubbornly jams together.
“Do you have any idea who on earth that was?” Rose hisses, elbowing Albus with all her might. He stumbles a few steps out of the way. She shifts to dramatically press her back against the compartment and throws her arms outward as if the room contains some beast she’s has to keep in. “That was Scorpius Malfoy. Malfoy. His father is the sworn enemy of our parents. The loyal minion of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named himself. The sole tormentor of Mum and Dad and Uncle Harry and-”
“He’s not the same as his Dad Rose-”
“-and Teddy’s father and-”
“I completely doubt he was the sworn enemy of a Professor, Rose. Please, let’s just go on to another compartment.”
“That’s the best idea I’ve heard out of you all day Albus,” Rose spits at him. He knows her spitting rage is directed more at Scorpius than him, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys her attitude. “This compartment will be dubbed a solid zero.”
Rose struts away in the fashion of a farm’s most prized rooster, her chin held impossibly high. She’s obviously proud of the decision not to associate with a Malfoy. Albus starts to walk with her, but halts.
Rose judged Scorpius entirely off of who his father was. She took one look at the lonely boy in the corner and decided he was the vilest of villains and utterly undeserving of her attention.
Albus happens to know a lot about the sins of the father. He knows the expectations laid upon him from a young age because of who his parents are. The praise, the disgust, the danger of being known and the responsibility to be as good, or better than, those who came before you.
Albus takes a few steps back and swings open the compartment doors.
“Hi. Is this compartment...”
“Oh! It’s free. It’s just me!”
Albus feels a smile come to his face, he can’t stop it. It’s as if he’s swept under the power of an Imperious curse and can’t control the wonderful reaction of mirth. Pure, inexplicable happiness courses through him as he stares at the round eyes of the jittery blonde with a mountain of sweets on his lap.
“Would you like some of my-my Fizzing Whizbees?” Scorpius asks, digging his small hands into the candy and massaging it like each Pepper Imp and Jelly Slug is a stress ball.
“If I may, I prefer Jelly Slugs,” Albus replies, and he places Devil on the seat across from Scorpius. He doesn’t sit down though, just stares at the other boy for a few moments. This is the son of his family’s worst enemy. The fearsome, cruel Death Eater Draco Malfoy.
He looks as if he would snap if the wind blew him the wrong way.
“Mum told me to buy a bunch-a bunch of sweets,” Scorpius stutters as he sorts through his pile for Jelly Slugs. “She always says ‘Sweets, they help you make friends.’”
Scorpius sings the last part, in the cute little tenor voice that a young boy has. His face immediately reddens and he cranes his head lower towards the candy pile, trying to hide from the onslaught of embarrassment like an ostrich would.
Albus feels laughter bubble up in his throat. He can’t stop it, and Mum would scold him from being so ghastly rude, but he tilts his head back and laughs. Scorpius stops his frantic search for Jelly Slugs and slumps in a downcast, defeated position.
“Mum used to sing these brilliant little lullabies to me,” Albus giggles, setting himself comfortably near Scorpius. “She’d go,’ Go to bed please. Mummy has a game tomorrow. Shhh.” Albus sings in the crackly, scratchy voice of a boy who’s vocal cords are altering with his age. It sounds like the godawful sound of Devil’s squawks. The two burst into laughter at his mother’s “brilliant little lullaby”, and Scorpius lifts his head to get a clear glimpse of the wonderful boy across from him.
“Here’s your Jelly Slug Mr. Potter,” Scorpius smiles, putting on an extremely posh accent. Albus’s face falls at being called “Mr. Potter” and he snatches the slug away.
“Thanks,” he mutters, unwrapping the slug and popping it in his mouth. “I like the way they burst when you bite on them.”
“Yeah, it-it’s really wicked,” Albus agrees, and Albus snorts at his use of “wicked.” Scorpius flashes a small smile, but then begins to pick at his candy again. “What-what would you like to be called?”
“Albus.”
The word cracks through the compartment like a spell being fired off and Scorpius snaps his head up.
“Not Al, or Potter, or Mr. Potter, just Albus.”
Scorpius nods, smiling as warmly as he can muster.
“Do you-” he begins, but stops to awkwardly cough,” do you know who I am?”
“Yes, why else would I sit with you?” Albus answers, leaning forward to grab a handful of Jelly Slugs. “A Potter friends with a Malfoy.” He raises his eyebrows. “Utterly Scandalous.”
His face splits into a large grin, and Scorpius feels his own features reflect that incredible smile.
***
The mountain of candy is picked clean of Jelly Slugs by the time they arrive at Hogwarts.
Albus jerks himself awake as soon as the train halts. He spills forward a little, and spots Scorpius sleeping quite uncomfortably over a pile of candy wrappers. His stomach aches horribly from over-eating the sugared treats, and he begins to realize why his mother restricts his intake.
“Wake up Scorpius,” he whispers, shaking his newfound friend’s shoulder gently. “We’re at Hogwarts.”
Albus turns his head to catch his first glimpse of the legendary school his namesake ran with perfect perfection. The mythical brick castle that was his father’s sanctuary throughout years of abuse and torment. The spindling towers he would soon call home.
Hogwarts rises above the dark, choppy waters like a proud giant. Its windows spray golden light into the darkness as if their calling is to light the way for young witches and wizards.
Albus finds it quite the intimidating place.
“Scorpius.”
Scorpius begins to stir, and then he panics because he overslept and he’s certain everyone’s on the boats already. They scramble for their things before high tailing it to the boats, making it just in time.
“Albus!” Hagrid cries eagerly, clapping the boy on the back so hard he topples into a nearby boat,” good ta’ see ya kid. I remember when yer father were just a wee lad like yerself, coming here for the first time with wonder in his eyes and all…”
Scorpius happily plops next to a rumpled Albus, flashing him a giddy smile.
“We’re at Hogwarts Albus,” he whispers, bouncing his knees like a child.
“I’m aware of that, don’t feel free to remind me,” Albus mutters back. He attempts to listen kindly to Hagrid's spiel about Hogwarts and the splendor that awaits inside its castle doors. Scorpius appears to have no trouble listening, with astonished brown eyes and an eager beam, but Albus and the other first years are finding themselves sleepy.
The dreamy haze is quickly replaced with the cold claws of dread as their opening ceremony begins. There’s a flurry of lectures and the Headmaster herself speaks to them about propriety. Albus is exhausted and nervous, but his main focus is on keeping himself upright and getting into Gryffindor. They’re ushered into the Great Hall and a bout of singing and poetry ensues. Scorpius is happy to sing and rhyme along.
“Join on in,” He prompts, but Albus gives him an exhausted look. “Or not Albus, whatever makes you feel good.”
Then comes the worst of the worst of all moments.
Rose catches him in the clump of first years.
“Why didn’t you come with me? Who did you even end up sitting with?” she hisses in Albus’s ear, her grip tight on his shoulder. Albus shakes it off.
“I’m sorry I didn’t go with you earlier. I found a good compartment though. We’ll talk later in the common room, after we’re placed in Gryffindor.”
Rose’s grip slides off his shoulder and to his back to give him a hardy pat. She shares a proud grin that eases his festering fear.
“We’ll talk later then, fellow Gryffindor,” She winks, and then disappears into a crowd of chattering eleven-year olds to talk to a blonde freckled girl and two gangly guys.
Scorpius is called up, and the hat lingers on his head for a moment before proudly calling out,” SLYTHERIN.” An abashed smile comes to Scorpius’s face when the Slytherin house erupts into cheers, and the Quidditch captain is quick to pull him aside to ask if he’ll buy the entire team new brooms like his father did.
A pit forms in Albus’s stomach. A pit of fear and sorrow. As a Gryffindor and Slytherin they’ll be sworn house enemies. Slytherin and Gryffindor relationships aren’t unheard of, but they seem pretty difficult to keep up.
Sooner than he’d like, Albus’s name is called. He instantly feels Rose’s sharp gaze snap to him, and then every single eye zeroes in on his lonely figure as he approaches the hat. A hush falls over his relatives, the entirety of the student body, and even the professors as they all lean in to watch where the newest Potter child will be placed.
Albus places the hat onto his head with trembling hands, and sits in an awkwardly sprawled position on the stool.
Ah, what do we have here? Quite the large dilemma in such a small package…
The hat begins to whisper of power and fame. It talks of out shining his father, of living a life of guaranteed adoration that makes it so everyone loves him and will never judge him for not being his parents. A world where he isn’t held to the suffocating responsibilities imprisoning him now.
He tries to prove his courage and his heart by thinking of how brave he has to be to accomplish those feats. How strong and unafraid he’d have to make himself to even grasp the life he dreams of.
Then the hat asks him the true kicker.
And what would you do to make certain that life is yours?
Albus barely has time to comprehend the question before the answer is in his mind.
Anything.
“SLYTHERIN!”
The horrible title echoes painfully through the Great Hall like a thundering roar. As its boom fades a flurry of hushed whispers rise from the low seated tables and fills the silence.
Rose’s disbelieving gaze burns holes into the back of Albus’s head, and he can’t bear to look at her.
“You can sit with me!” Scorpius calls from across the Great Hall, waving his arms in a frantic greeting. His face is a beaming beacon. Despite the fact his invitation prompts the whispers to erupt into outright roars and screeches of gossip, Albus feels his heart swell with belonging.
Headmaster McGonagall clamors for students to quiet down as Albus takes his rightful seat among Slytherins.