"First years, this way!" A group of forty or so young wizards huddled closely together, not minding the invasion of personal space. They didn't want to be alone, after all. It was their first year at Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and after getting over the grandeur of the castle, the eleven year olds were now fearful of the event that would permanently decide their fate at the school for the next seven years.

Albus Severus Potter had heard rumors of the Sorting Hat for ages. James had no problems making fun of him about it. He had been extremely worried, but his dad's words had calmed him down.

"Albus Severus Potter, you were named after two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin, and he was the bravest man I ever knew."

He felt special then, particularly after the bit about the Sorting Hat taking his opinion into consideration. He had calmed down on the train ride over, but as the group of them huddled together in the massive hall his nervousness had returned tenfold. An older man stood, and everyone turned his way. Albus was unsure what they were waiting for, but he understood the man was the Headmaster; obviously, neither of the ones he was named for.

He lifted a hand upwards and the chattering hall grew silent. A woman, aged and stern approached the students with a scroll in one hand and an old worn hat in the other. She placed the hat on top of the stool near the center of the room and stood off to the side of it. The first year students stayed confused until the brim of the hat burst open, a face forming in the aged leather and a tune spilling out of the mouth.

"Oh you may not think me pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me!

Albus was taken aback. James hadn't explained this part. The song continued, revealing more and more about where the students could wind up.

You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart.

He liked the sound of it. A Gryffindor. Brave and chivalrous. As he imagined it, images of his father, and brother flashed in front of him; even his mom, aunt and uncles. Gryffindor was like a family business. The smile faltered at the corner of his lips despite his deduction. He supposed he never quite felt he fit in with his siblings. Even they sounded like the short description. Everyone he knew seemed like the perfect Gryffindor; he had imagined them all in the house—but himself. He shrugged off the thought, proud to carry on the tradition of Potters and Weasleys alike.

You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind.

He thought of his little sister. Lily could pull off Hufflepuff. He could envision her there a little, though not as much as in the other. Ravenclaw reminded him of Rose. He turned in her direction and she gave a curt smile and nod in return. All he could really tell from the house was that they were smart. He got good grades and all, but he didn't particularly like school. One of the few things he and his brother could agree on was that homework was torture.

Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends.

The boy visibly cringed. Over the last two years, he had heard his brother's threats and taunts about Slytherin house. He had almost feared it. But in words, it didn't sound so evil. They were smart, but sometimes too ambitious. Cunning, but not really brave. But that was all the good he could think of. They were snobbish and manipulative. Not to mention—they were the evil side in every great war, though not all of them. Regardless, he knew what path he was going to follow. He'd make his father proud.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands – though I have none
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The Great Hall erupted in a short applause before it was immediately silenced, this time, by the woman in the middle of the room. After looking a little longer, Albus realized it must have been Minerva McGonagall from the stories. His father had described her as a kind and brave woman, but at that moment, she was the scariest witch in the room. With the silence, a younger witch, assumed to be the older's replacement as keeper of the hat, stepped forward. Despite the change in speaker, the tense atmosphere hadn't shifted at all.

"Thomas Anneston."

The first name. A chill ran down the boy's spine. He glanced over to his brother at the Gryffindor table, and their eyes meet for a moment. Pointing from the Slytherin table to Al, he then performed a gagging motion, causing Albus to immediately frown. James portrayed the same emotions as always. Confidence, arrogance. It's all there. They reminded Albus of the times that had spent together growing up.

"Hey Al, I bet you can't sneak into Dad's office and steal his spell book." And as always, Al would take the bait, wanting to prove himself against his brother. To not be the weak one. He snuck into the room and reached up, thankful his eight year old body had grown enough over the years to flip the light switch. As he managed to grab the book and was on his way out, the one voice he didn't want to hear rang boomed over his head from the doorway.

"And just where do you think you're going, young man?" The younger Albus simply looked up to his father with a pitiful expression, knowing he was going to get in trouble. Behind the man, James was holding in his laughter. Laughing, while he was getting in trouble. The nerve. Before he could think of anything else, he blurted out the reasoning behind his actions.

"James made me do it!" The older boy's laughter had immediately stopped as he turned to glare at his brother.

"I didn't do anything, Dad. He did whatever. I was watching TV." Albus panicked, not wanting to get in trouble again.

"He told me if I didn't do it, he'd beat me up!"

"Now he's seriously making stuff up!"

"I'm sorry, Daddy!" The younger boy began to cry out loud, letting tears well up in his eyes.

"Stop faking you little—"

"James." The boy's fell silent. "How many times have I told you to stop picking on your brother."

The brown-haired boy's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Come on, Dad, don't tell me you fell for that? He's completely faking it! I didn't—"

"That's enough for tonight, James. I'm taking away your broom for a week."

"A week?!"

"You're lucky I don't make it two." With that, Harry plucked the spell book from his son's hands and returned it to its proper location before shuffling the boy out of the room. "Now go to bed, boys."

His father thought it had ended after that, but, James, upset that Albus not only told on him, but lied too, decided to take action. Within the hour, James had Al pinned against the wall crying until his little sister Lily had to come to the rescue. That's how it usually happened. James said something stupid, they'd fight, Lily would try to help Albus, and then their father would come in and break it up. The worst part was if Lily didn't jump in, he would always lose. It just wasn't fair.

"Ravenclaw!" He broke eye contact with his brother to pay attention at the situation at hand. It was his first day at Hogwarts and he was not going to let James spoil it. As the cheers and applause died down, he played nervously with the hem of his robes.

"Martha Castleberry."

He closed his eyes, trying to keep calm. "P" was in the middle of the alphabet. He had a little ways to go. But there was no need to be nervous. The hat would surely listen to him. His father had told him so, and Harry Potter wouldn't just lie, would he? He was the most famous wizard of the generations. The defeater of the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Voldemort. Yes, his father had carved a legacy that would last throughout the school's history—a legacy that he had carved into his son with 2 words: "Albus Severus."

He felt his hands sweating again. What if he couldn't live up to his father's name? What if made a fool of himself? He paused a moment, remembering an old story his aunt had told him.

"But what if I make a fool of myself?" a young Harry Potter had asked. He had just been recruited by Professor McGonagall to play on the Gryffindor's quidditch team as the new seeker. Problem was, he had no idea how to even play the game.

"You won't make a fool of yourself," his Aunt Hermione had replied back then. "It's in your blood."

His blood—Albus let the phrase turn in his mind. If Harry thought his father was something to live up to, Albus wondered if he could imagine following up "The Boy Who Lived."

"Megan Forewood."

His eyes watched as a short brown-haired girl approach the stool. She looked at it as if it were going to swallow her. After a moment, she hopped up warily, looking upwards as the hat landed on her head. He studied her face. She looked deep in thought. Then he saw it. Her lips move slightly. His eyebrows quirked. It was as if she was having a conversation with the hat.

"It listens to you." He guessed that if the hat could listen, it could probably talk too.

"Hufflepuff!" The brunette jumped off the three legged stool proudly, quickly shuffling over to the yellow themed table. Was that how it had happened for his dad? A conversation? He wondered for a while what his father would say—how he'd react. What did the Sorting Hat feel like in your head? According to the story James told, the hat had barely been on his head a moment before the name Gryffindor was announced from its brim.

"Rachel Huddleston."

He glanced across the Great Hall, studying each of the shades of the houses. The red and gold was vibrant and bright.

You might belong in Gryffindor
Where dwell the brave at heart

He felt the hat was linked to his thoughts when a cry of "Gryffindor!" ended the previous girl's turn. He nodded, smiling as she joined the table of colors he had been musing over. It seemed appropriate. He chuckled to himself for a moment at the main color, red. The color of blood. Too often, the brave die young, foolish. Albus could never forget the nights he spent crying after reading his father's journals of all his encounters at Hogwarts. At the age of nine, he had barely gotten through his Uncle Fred's death. The story explained why Uncle George was so strange. Then Mr. Lupin and Mrs. Tonks. Teddy's parents had given their lives to protect what they loved. His father's godfather—an exciting and thrilling man—taken from the line of action by his own cousin. And of course, the ones his siblings were named after, his long gone grandparents. Lily and James Potter died to save their only son without hesitation. At the end, even his father had died. Taking a killing curse, because it was the right thing to do. Though he had lived through it and saved the world, Albus was still unsettled. If it were him instead of his father—could he have done it? Could he have died that night? James would. James always would; he'd do anything to be the hero. Lily too— she was so sweet, always looking for justice, doing what was right. And then there was him. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he would be afraid. So afraid – he couldn't even imagine doing it himself.

"Margret Jones."

Everyone seemed to be such great friends at the Gryffindor table. They were all smiles and laughter. It wasn't like the other tables. The Hufflepuffs had these dopey smiles and Ravenclaws looked too serious. The Slytherin's looked like they thought they were better than everyone else. But the Gryffindors just looked happy. And that's all he wanted—to be happy. He'd never had many friends in normal school. Despite the fact that they were pureblood kids, his father had insisted that started at a muggle school. He thought it was important for understanding how both worlds worked. He had often wondered if Hogwarts was better than what he was used to. If kids didn't pick on each other there or play pranks. But when his brother had come home from his first semester, acting like he was the next best thing that came out of Hogwarts, he realized it'd be just the same.

Immediately, the scene at the table, laughs and smiles, faded into a third grade classroom. Albus had just aced an exam, something he was proud to accomplish considering he found long division quite tough. A group of upperclassmen came by and stole it. Called him a nerd and ran around with the test like it was diseased. It was the same group of guys that had shoved him in his locker the week before. The week before that they made fun of his name.

"What kind of weirdo name is 'Albus Severus?' It's ridiculous!" Everybody laughed at that one. Everybody always laughed. Elementary school was harder than it should have been. The two guys he had considered friends just ran away when the bullies came. And then there was James. The bullies were in fourth grade, his brother in fifth. If James had just told them off, they'd have left Albus alone, but no, James just walked on. He always walked on.

"Don't you know who I am!" Albus tried once. "My dad is Harry Potter!" That just got more laughs.

"Are you kidding? Everybody knows James is Harry Potter's kid. And James Potter could never have such a dumb brother!" That had gotten his knees scraped in the second grade. Since then, he hadn't pulled the family card. When Lily finally got to school the next year, it got better. No one had a problem believing she was James's sibling and she vouched for Albus. Because of his little sister, he was able to finish primary school in peace, but he never forgot the laughs, the jokes. Suddenly the Gryffindor table wasn't so welcoming anymore.

"Ben Letard."

But he supposed that was the way his days usually went. Just like before, James would poke fun at him and he'd fall victim to an irritating prank. Lily would try to help, and James would just pick on him more.

"You can't even fight your own battles! You have to get a little girl to help you!" One time, Albus had gotten so embarrassed, he yelled at Lily to leave him alone. As any 6 year old would, she cried. But it wasn't his fault. It really wasn't – he didn't mean to hurt her feelings. But James was such a jerk, and Albus doubted he would ever change. He asked James once, on the verge of tears, why he was so mean. His brother's reply had been snide.

"If you can't handle me, then you sure can't handle being in this family. That's why I said you're probably adopted."

"Emma Noble."

After all, James was worse than his father. His father might have been famous, but he had been humble. People were willing to die for him, people did die for him. Harry Potter commanded respect, and all Albus wanted was to do the same. He wanted people to respect him – not because he was Harry Potter's kid, but because he was a great wizard. He wanted to live up to his name sake. He wanted to be worth something too. He looked back over to his brother. But as long as James was there, it was impossible. For his whole life, Albus would have to fight through a legacy. Harry Potter was bad enough, but James Potter was impeccable. James was perfect. Made the quidditch team his first year, just like his dad. Had a knack for getting into trouble, just like his dad. Just his presence made people feel better, just like his dad. He'd forever be stuck in a shadow of greatness. Forever trying to catch up to something he could never be. Harry Potter and his son were amazing. No one cared about Albus Severus Potter.

"Beatrice Osten."

It was no huge secret. He was the one mistake. The black sheep of the entire Potter line. Everyone always praised James and Lily for what they had done. James won a game. Lily stood up for her friend in ballet. They were rambunctious and trend-setters. Albus just got pat on the back for being "a good kid." What good was that? No one ever remembers what Albus did get back at his bullies, even James. Maybe not with his fists, but violence didn't solve everything, did it? Albus always had the last laugh. He wasn't strong like dad and James. He wasn't brave like his dad and James, but at the very least he was crafty. The bullies got in trouble. James got in trouble. Albus never got caught. Shouldn't that be an honor in its own right? He'd learned his lesson after third grade. He observed, plotted, and executed. Once he realized James wouldn't be helping him, he had to find his own way to survive. Sure he got picked on, but those last two years it was rarely the same guys twice. Not that anyone noticed. Not that anyone ever noticed.

"Westa Partridge

No, Al was the cute kid. The one no one took seriously. The one who needed his little sister for protection. Well no more. They boy took a deep breath and let his eyes fall on his brother again, still laughing, joking. Albus figured when he got into Gryffindor, James would praise him. Finally see him as an equal. But who was he kidding? James hadn't stuck up for him once in his entire life. Why would that change? He would always be a brute. A big, mean cocky bully that everyone adored. What good was approval from a guy like that? Being loud. Playing sports. All that would lead to was a life of reminiscing. Telling people of the "glory days" of school. Sure, James might have been popular, but his time at Hogwarts would probably be the peak of his life.

But not for Al. Albus wanted so much more. He would rise above the jerks and the bullies. He didn't need his little sister's pity. He didn't need superficial friends. He would do it all on his own. He would be great. He would make his father proud. Not just for the prestige of the Potter name, but for himself. For the respect he hadn't received his entire life. Albus Severus Potter would no longer be synonymous with "weak" or "loser." He wouldn't be anybody's punching bag. James would see. His father would see. They would all see.

"Hufflepuff!"

In his thoughts, he had lost count of where the woman was on the list of names. How close was he to-

"Albus Potter."

The room got quiet. The hush in the air much more fervent than it had been for the previous names. Not that is was anything new. Potters had a certain way of commanding a room with the utterance of their name. But Albus wasn't concerned with that. Feeling his confidence surge higher than it had been all day, he strode through the dwindling crowd that graciously parted to let him pass. Taking his seat on the stool, he glanced around the room with his eyes, being able to take it in fully for the first time. The hall was even more magnificent than it initially seemed. He had to wonder if all magic schools were like this. He barely noticed when the hat was placed on his head.

"Another Potter."

The low creaking voice startled the boy, and he almost jumped. Instead, he closed his eyes.

"Are you the sorting hat?" After a moment of silence, he let his eyes flutter back open, feeling like an idiot for talking to himself.

"You're not dumb, boy. Nowhere near it. Maybe we should develop that knowledge." Albus couldn't keep his nose from scrunching up at the thought. That hat's chuckle resounded in his head.

"Or maybe not." He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "But where to put you, then?" The hat seemed to be thinking, and Albus let his mind wander. Casting another glance across the room, he caught the eye of his brother once more, and felt his chest well up again. The older boy was repeating the same gagging motion from earlier, and Albus fought the urge to roll his eyes. He'd put his brother in his place soon enough. He'd be the greatest Gryffindor the world had ever seen, and James would be begging to hang out with him. Soon, everybody would know how amazing he could truly be.

"Well boy, your brother is a Gryffindor. Your father was one. Your mother. Your aunts, uncles, and grandparents alike. So the question of where to put you is obvious. You want to be just like your family, after all."

Albus's pulse slowed. He was calm. Calmer than he ever thought he could be with the entire school boring their eyes into him. It was perfect. He was completely determined to prove he could be better than his brother. That he would be better. That he'd be the one to live up to his father's name. And it was all going according to plan. He let a slight grin play at his mouth, ready for the word, the legacy, the name that would put him on his path to –

"But you never quite fit in with your family…"

The boy's thoughts came to a grinding halt with the hat's message. Confusion. Shock. Worry. Nervousness. He wasn't sure what he was feeling as his eyes widened, his heartbeat skyrocketing. He wasn't anticipating such a response.

"Did you?"

o

o

o

o

The tenseness in his shoulders relaxed before he scooted off the stool. A strange chorus of proud cries and confused hollers filled the hall as he began walking to his newly appointed house. His gaze found his brother's amongst the expressive faces one last time, and he felt a satisfying smirk find its way to his lips. He had been right.

With just one name, the Sorting Hat had put into motion his plan to usurp James's tyranny.

With one name, he would be able to stand tall and proud of who he was and where he came from.

With the hat's decision, Albus Severus Potter knew he would never be overlooked again.

"Slytherin!"

If it was confusing, bold words are the hat speaking. Italicized is the past/ in Al's head. So bold & italicized is the hat in Al' head. But yeah, I wrote it
ages ago, but never posted here, so here. it is. I think it's pretty cute. I really wanted him to be a Slytherin, lol. And yes, I know the Sorting Ha
never repeats a song, but I didn't want to write a new one.