Author's Note: Okeley doke ... This was just a bit of background first, because I'm a bit pedantic about having character history before just diving right into a fic. So ... I thought I'd start with the main characters' Sortings ... And their thoughts and such. That's all I really had to say. If you feel enthusiastic ... Drop a review and CRITICISE me! :D

Disclaimer: Blah ... No copyright infringement intended ... All recognisable characters, locations, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling ... Blah.


PROLOGUE:

The Sorting

Scorpius Malfoy had known for years that he would be sorted into Slytherin when he finally came to Hogwarts. His father and all of his father's family had been sorted there when they were at school; so it went without saying that he'd wind up there too. He hadn't been agonizing over it like the other first years on the train, or now that they were lined up in front of the entire school and waiting for their Sorting. No, even though his mother had been in Ravenclaw, and she constantly told him that he could be sorted there too, he knew he would be in Slytherin. It was just the way it would turn out. He knew it.

Professor Longbottom called out "Malfoy, Scorpius" and he walked from his position at the edge of the group, up the stone steps and sat on the stool. The Hall broke out in curious whispers when his name was called, and he didn't have to guess why. Before he had the chance to scowl or sneer at any of the startled and expectant faces, however, the old hat was placed on his head and said, "Malfoy, eh?" into his ear. He didn't bother answering, as it was obviously a rhetorical question, and he simply wanted this over and done with, so he could also get the stares and whispers over and done with. "Hmm ... a witty mind, I see," the hat continued. "Yes, witty indeed. A streak of loyalty too ... But the dire thirst to prove yourself ... Yes, I know where you'll do well ... SLYTHERIN!"

No-one apart from a few of the teachers and the Slytherin table clapped. As he walked down the steps, Scorpius could feel the eyes of the Hall on him and hear the hushed discussions; "Malfoy, as in, the son of Draco Malfoy?" and "Well, he was bound to end up there ... that whole family were slimy snakes ..." were common amongst the older students. Scorpius ignored them, like he did whenever he went out in public with his father, and sat down at the Slytherin table. Just as he'd known for years that he'd be placed in Slytherin, he'd also know for quite some time why people stared and whispered. His father had thought it best for Scorpius to know why before starting at Hogwarts, instead of finding out as a result of someone taunting him. And he was glad for it. He knew that a lot of people wouldn't agree with it; telling an eleven year old boy that you'd once attempted to murder someone, that your family had murdered people ... But Scorpius was grateful that his father had been honest. It wouldn't leave him clueless. He'd rather know why everyone was staring and whispering ... Now he knew to keep to himself, to avoid everyone and simply get on with his school work and hope everyone left him alone.

As Professor Longbottom called out "Nott, Robert", however, an older, thickset boy with a squashed-looking face nudged Scorpius in the ribs and said in a harsh whisper, "So you're the Malfoy boy everyone goes on about. You sure do look like yer dad. My grandfather's told me loads about your family ... You know, back in the day..." He stuck out his hand. "I'm Mulciber, and this here," he indicated to another older and beefy boy on the other side of him, "is Harper."

Scorpius hesitantly shook his hand and immediately regretted it. The boy almost crushed his knuckles – deliberately, he was sure, because he grinned evilly whilst doing it. But Scorpius refused to grimace or wince. His father, too, had warned him about people his family used to 'associate with', as he put it. The Mulciber family was one mentioned, and his father had told him to avoid them at all costs. He could certainly see why ... This boy didn't seem very pleasant at all - he reminded him of his grandfather. Instead of telling him so, however, he smirked back at the boy, releasing his hand. Then he whispered, "Oh, okay. Well, pleasure to meet you, then," and hoped they would leave him alone for the rest of his life. Though, he seriously doubted that would happen. He was about to ask what year the boy was in when the Hall fell silent.

Turning to the front, he saw a small boy with scruffy black hair walking hesitantly to the front of the hall. Ah yes, Albus Potter. His father had pointed him out at the train station earlier today. Everyone in the hall was staring in anticipation, and after a few minutes, the hat bellowed "SLYTHERIN!" and Scorpius was as surprised as anyone. Mulciber beside him had scoffed in shock, "Potter, in Slytherin? A Potter?" Not that he would say so, but Scorpius couldn't help but agree with him. The son of the great Harry Potter in Slytherin – it would be like him being sorted into Gryffindor; absurd. Ah well, he thought, at least he'd have something interesting to write home about other than the dull school routine and his encounter with Mulciber now.


"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... It doesn't matter to us, Al." His father's departing words came flooding back to Albus now that he was standing nervously in the Great Hall, waiting to be sorted. He'd been anxiously pondering his Sorting for the past week, much to James' delight, and up until now he'd been sure he would be placed in Gryffindor. He thought it was the most likely place for him; both his parents had been in Gryffindor, his brother was in Gryffindor, even all of his grandparents had been in Gryffindor. But now he remembered his father's advice, and his parting words. He'd told him that the Sorting Hat took your thoughts into account when deciding which house you would be placed in. When his father had told him that, he'd decided for sure that he'd be placed in Gryffindor – the house of the brave.

But now that it came down to it, now that he was standing amongst his fellow nervous first years, he wasn't so certain. Sure, his whole family had been Gryffindors and Gryffindor was certainly an honourable house to be sorted into. But were the others really that bad? From what he'd heard about the houses, he would fit into any of them quite easily. He was fairly shy and humble enough to be a Hufflepuff; possibly witty enough to be in Ravenclaw, though he doubted it and didn't much like the idea of being sorted there; everyone said they were stuck-up know-it-alls ... Which, apart from Gryffindor, left Slytherin. James had teased him constantly the past few weeks about being sorted there. He'd heard some fellow first years on the train saying that Slytherins were all slimy, sneaking, cowardly gits. Yet, his father had told him that the bravest man he'd ever known was a Slytherin. Which meant that really, it didn't matter which house he was sorted into; he'd still be the same person regardless. And more importantly, if the bravest man his father had ever known had been in Slytherin, then perhaps he could do that man's memory justice by being sorted there and being proud of it. To hell with James and Gryffindor ... Albus would prove him wrong if it was the last thing he did.

"Potter, Albus," said Professor Longbottom loudly.

At first, Albus didn't move; he'd been so deep in thought that he hadn't been paying attention. It was only after his cousin, Rose, gave him a swift nudge in the ribs that he walked nervously toward the front. The mild chatter of the Hall had quieted when his name had been called, and he supposed that it was for the same reason that everyone seemed to stare at him and his family wherever they went. Whatever that reason was, he still didn't know; his father refused to tell him. Though, he was fairly sure James knew and would let it slip eventually. He gingerly walked up the steps to sit on the three-legged stool in front of the four, long house tables. He stared out at a sea of expectant faces before Professor Longbottom carefully placed the Sorting Hat on his small head. It covered his eyes, but he could still feel the expectant stares of the other students upon him, and he wondered again why they all seemed to be holding their breath for the result of his Sorting. Why was his so much more intriguing than anyone else's? His thoughts were once again interrupted, however, by a small voice in his ear.

"Another Potter, eh?" Albus wasn't sure whether or not he should answer, or whether or not the entire school could hear what was being said by the hat or if it was just in his head. When he simply waited, the hat continued with its musings. "A difficult one; like your father. A generous amount of wit, I see. Plenty of courage too, and oh! A kind and loyal heart, oh yes, but yet – the overwhelming desire to prove yourself ... But where should I put you? Hmm, very much like your father, indeed."

Albus went stiff; hoping what his dad had told him was true. He desperately chanted in his head, "Slytherin, please, please ... Slytherin. Not Gryffindor, please, Slytherin."

At this the small voice made a surprised noise in his ear. "Not Gryffindor, eh? How very curious. Well, I suppose if you're sure ... SLYTHERIN!"

Albus knew the hat had shouted the last word out to the entire Hall, and as he removed it from his head his gaze fell upon many shocked faces. Professor Longbottom was looking down at him, equally shocked as he took the hat back and stammered when calling "Powell, Josephine" to the front. Albus quietly made his way to the Slytherin table with a small smile on his face. He avoided the gazes that followed him; taking particular care to avoid looking at the Gryffindor table, where he knew James and the others would be looking at him, shocked and possibly appalled. Once he reached the Slytherin table, he took a seat on the end next to the small, skinny, brown-haired boy who'd been sorted before him. The boy smiled at him gingerly, so he stuck out his hand. "Hi, I'm Albus Potter."

When the boy continued to look at him hesitantly, he smiled encouragingly. The boy then shook his hand with another nervous smile and mumbled something that was drowned out by the cheer following the announcement of Josephine Powell being sorted into Hufflepuff. Albus released his hand. "Sorry, didn't quite catch that."

The boy smiled timidly again. "I said," he mumbled in his small voice, "I'm Robert Nott, but you can just call me Rob."

Albus grinned; he had a feeling Robert Nott was nothing like the Slytherins his brother had described. He couldn't wait to prove James wrong about his new house. "Well, Rob, it's nice to meet you."


Rose watched on as Albus, who for the entire day had been dreading being sorted into Slytherin, was sorted into Slytherin. When he removed the Sorting Hat from his head, she was quite surprised to see him smiling, if not grinning. She had no idea why. She was certain that he'd be placed in Gryffindor, just like James and almost everyone else in the family. And when he wasn't she was just as certain that he'd be devastated. He must've changed his mind ... And she remembered now seeing her Uncle Harry talking to him back at the train station; he must've told Albus something about Slytherin that no-one else knew for him to be so carefree about being placed there now.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts, returning her attention to the Sorting. They were in the "T's" now. She, like Albus, had been worrying herself all day about where she'd be sorted. She knew that she absolutely did not want to end up in Slytherin, regardless of what secret knowledge her Uncle Harry might or might not have told Albus. She thought that Hufflepuff would be alright; her mother had told her that it was the house of the kind, hard-working and loyal, all things she prided herself in being. But her choices seemed to always boil back down to two: Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.

She knew that her father desperately wanted her to be sorted into Gryffindor as both he and his parents had been. But, the more she thought about it, the more it worried her. She was much more studious and witty than she was brave or chivalrous, and this is what bothered her. Her dad's teasing words came back to her now, "If you're not in Gryffindor we'll disinherit you, but no pressure." She knew, as her mum had told her this morning on the platform, that he didn't really mean it. But she couldn't help feeling terrified at the thought of disappointing him, which she knew would happen if she wasn't sorted into Gryffindor ... even if he didn't say so.

"Weasley, Rose," Professor Longbottom called. And Rose realised that she'd just missed her cousins' Sortings. She walked toward the front nervously; this was it, her defining moment. Would she be a disappointment?

She sat down on the stool. The old hat fell over her eyes, and she was glad for it, that way she wouldn't have to look out at all those expectant faces.

"Ha!" cried a voice in her ear that she supposed was the hat, "Another Weasley! Hmm, loyal and fair I see, yes, a fair amount of courage, too. Oh, but the thirst for knowledge ... Such wit! Yes, I know exactly what to do with you ... RAVENCLAW!"

The Hall erupted into polite applause as Rose made her way to the Ravenclaw table, a little unsteady on her feet. Her father would disown her. She'd no longer be his little Rosie, instead she'd be the first person in their family (excluding her Uncle Percy's daughter Molly) to be sorted into a house that wasn't Gryffindor. She'd broken Weasley tradition.

She sat down cautiously at the end of Ravenclaw table, and listened in as Professor McGonagall welcomed the first years to Hogwarts, and the older students back. Soon after her welcome, the feast began, and food appeared on a plate in front of Rose. Before she could think about tucking in to her roast beef and vegetables, however, the girl beside her had started talking. Rose looked up, a little regretfully from her plate (her dad had told her how good the food at Hogwarts was and she was most eager to try it) and into the bright and excited almond-shaped eyes of the girl next to her. The girl was smiling at her radiantly. In fact, everything about her seemed radiant; her smooth olive skin, her straight white teeth in that wide smile – even her shiny dark hair, which fell elegantly in ringlets to her shoulders, seemed to bounce with enthusiasm as she spoke.

"Hi! I'm Aimee Traverston; it's a pleasure to meet you."

Rose knew this already, as the girl had been sorted before she had, but she didn't tell her that, as it would be rude. Instead, she smiled back politely. "I'm Rose, Rose Weasley." When the girl seemed at a loss for something to say, Rose asked, "Were your parents in Ravenclaw too?"

Aimee shook her head - her curls bouncing again. "Oh, no ... My parents are ... What do you call them ... Muggles? We were all so excited when I got my letter! I'm afraid we thought it was a bit of a practical joke at first."

She giggled, and Rose couldn't help but laugh along with her. It was fascinating enough to see Hogwarts for the first time; she couldn't imagine what it would be like for those from Muggle families ... It must be very overwhelming. When they calmed from laughing, Aimee asked, "What about you? Were your parents in Ravenclaw as well? Or are you from a normal family too?"

Rose laughed at her 'normal family' comment. "No. I'm from a wizarding family, but my mum is a Muggleborn. And no, neither of my parents were in Ravenclaw, though I'm sure Mum could have been; she's incredibly smart."

Aimee kept on smiling and Rose wondered whether or not her cheeks were beginning to hurt from keeping her face like that for so long. "Oh, so what houses were they in then?" she asked eagerly. Then, seeming to think it may have been a nosy thing to ask, added, "I mean, I don't mean to pry, but it's just ... everything's so new to me ..."

Rose laughed again; she liked Aimee. She was really easy to talk to and so happy; Rose didn't think it was possible to dislike her. "It's fine, really," she replied. "Both my parents were in Gryffindor. Dad wanted me to be sorted there ... Told me he'd disinherit me if I was sorted otherwise," she finished glumly. Then, seeing the look of utter disbelief and shock on Aimee's face, laughed, "He was only joking, though! Well ... I hope he was."

And she did. She knew he'd be disappointed that she wasn't in Gryffindor like he had been, but Rose figured that her dad would be proud of her anyway. And besides, there wasn't much he could do about it; she was obviously just too smart to be brave.