This story centers around Harry and Ginny's son, Albus, and his friends, Scorpius and Jupiter. I'm hoping for this to be a truly "full" work - following Albus through all seven of his years at Hogwarts. And what may happen in that time, you ask? Well, one thing I always wished there was more of in the books was magical theory, how classes run, all the nitty-gritty. So there's gonna be a lot of that. Also, Harry's job isn't really complete - Voldie is gone, but what about the attitudes? The laws? House-elves, goblins, giants, centaurs, prejudice of all of the above, the ministry….I could go on. So there's that. There'll be a few surprises, of course. I don't know how much action will pop up, but I promise this will NOT be 'The Cursed Child' - no time-turners, Voldie, bad-dad-Harry, secret descendants. Ick. Besides, I quote H2G2 in reference to time-turners:
"One of the major problems encountered in time travel is not that of becoming your own father or mother. There is no problem in becoming your own father or mother that a broad-minded and well-adjusted family can't cope with. There is no problem with changing the course of history—the course of history does not change because it all fits together like a jigsaw. All the important changes have happened before the things they were supposed to change and it all sorts itself out in the end.
The major problem is simply one of grammar, and the main work to consult in this matter is Dr. Dan Streetmentioner's Time Traveler's Handbook of 1001 Tense Formations. It will tell you, for instance, how to describe something that was about to happen to you in the past before you avoided it by time-jumping forward two days in order to avoid it. The event will be descibed differently according to whether you are talking about it from the standpoint of your own natural time, from a time in the further future, or a time in the further past and is futher complicated by the possibility of conducting conversations while you are actually traveling from one time to another with the intention of becoming your own mother or father.
Most readers get as far as the Future Semiconditionally Modified Subinverted Plagal Past Subjunctive Intentional before giving up; and in fact in later aditions of the book all pages beyond this point have been left blank to save on printing costs.
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy skips lightly over this tangle of academic abstraction, pausing only to note that the term "Future Perfect" has been abandoned since it was discovered not to be."
(In case that wasn't enough of a tip-off, there will be overly-obscure references to some of my favorite books and such in here. Apologies, and meaningless internet points to anyone who figures them out.)
Anyway, the story. Right.
Albus Severus Potter (for not the last time, he mourned the burden of his ridiculously awful name) was having a bad day, though that was somewhat to be expected. Having three infamous names as your own often sets up a lot of expectations, almost all of them impossible. Who can copy another so totally and completely as to represent their very name? Nevertheless, the expectations stand.
He'd been worried about this day for years, but his father had always reassured him. "The sorting hat is there to try to place you in a group with people somewhat like you. Whatever stereotypes there may be, it's really just a group to fit in with while there. A family. And no one says you can't be friends with people of other houses. To be honest, I don't care where you're sorted. Meet a friend on the train and hope you're sorted there, I suppose? That's what happened to me. I always have seemed to luck into things." Here he had whirled around and caught an entering mum in his arms and kissed her long enough that Albus had had to duck out, though not before he heard his dad whisper in her ear, "Like you."
But then, his dad had defeated Voldemort not once, not twice, but five times (more, depending on how you counted it) and nearly died several times every year at Hogwarts. For the most part, he kind of hoped his advice wouldn't be applicable - mountain trolls and dark lords weren't his cup of tea, though a good english breakfast certainly was. He was also glad Dumbledore and Snape weren't there anymore. No matter what his dad said, he agreed with what he'd overheard his mum muttering in the kitchens one day - "No matter what you say, Harry, I still think they both were right pricks!"
So he had gotten on the train, his dad waving farewell and his mum clutching Lily and making a good attempt at holding off tears. James had promptly rushed off to be with his Gryffindor buds leaving him where he now stood, worried and unsure of where to sit, where to put his trunk, and what to do. He was, however, looking forward to a good pumpkin pasty. Very calming.
He decided upon an empty compartment, figuring worst came to worst, he could read (better alone with a good book than around with over-boisterous companions) and began the process of heaving his trunk up, stopping occasionally to shove his mop of dark, unruly hair out of his eyes. As he finished, an odd voice called out, "Hello? Can I sit here?"
The voice (odd in that it was both low and sort of squeaky, at the same time - he wasn't completely sure how to describe it) belonged to a short young wizard, perhaps an inch or two shorter than himself (and that was actually saying something - he himself was nowhere near Uncle Ron's height), with blonde hair worn longer - almost shaggy - without actually going down to the shoulders. His eyes were hazel, and he was rather pale, which was accentuated by his black robes.
Albus caught himself and said, "Sure. What's your name?" in that nonchalant tone used by young boys greeting prospective friends.
"I'm Scorpius. Horrific name, I know."
"Don't worry, Albus is equally bad a name."
"Oh, erm...are you sure you want to...you know...be seen with me?"
"I don't really care, unless you're a murderer or something. Why?"
"I'm, you know...Draco Malfoy's son?"
"Ah. Nah, don't really care." Scorpius let out a sigh of relief.
"Maybe you being nice to me will stop the stares." Albus looked at him, confused, but decided not to engage with the comment. He helped Scorpius heave the trunk up and then sat down, Scorpius sitting across from him. Another person came in not a minute later, thankfully breaking the awkward silence. She sat down and pulled out a book and began to read.
Albus began to peer at the title, but it was at an awkward angle (was it upside down?) and finally he gave up and asked, "What are you reading?"
"Oh, a book on magical creatures for mum's research." She spoke with a lilting sort of tone to her voice.
"That's cool! Have you heard of the discovery of those Crumple-Horned Snorcacks in Switzerland by Mrs. Lovegood-Scamander? Really a brilliant piece of field work there, the emmaent approach proved impeccable…" The girl's eyes lit up and soon a rattling conversation was going, with Scorpius' eyebrows going higher and higher and his head swinging back and forth like a ping-pong ball as he understood less and less and the conversation went faster and faster.
The trolley witch interrupted the discussion, and Albus promptly paid for three pumpkin pasties and a chocolate frog (he helped Uncle Ron collect) and began to distribute the pasties. "Here's one for you, Scorpius, and one for you, um...I'm sorry, but I don't know your name."
"It's Jupiter."
"That's a beautiful name."
"Thank you, my mum thought it sort of matched hers - she's named Luna, you know."
"Is...is your mum Luna Lovegood?"
"Yup!" Scorpius and Jupiter watched as Albus' jaw dropped.
"You look like a right codfish, mate," Scorpius snickered. They began munching their pasties as he recovered. The three began a lively chat, and no one seemed to care that he, Albus, was the son of the boy-who-lived-twice. No, they were just happy that he was him. The day was getting better, but there was still the sorting.
They arrived, and Hagrid lead the first years, including the three of them, to the boats to get across the lake. It was a beautiful night, with the stars crisp and clear and the moonlight showing Howarts off to the newcomers, and the giant squid deigned to wave a tentacle at them. They were all gaping and chattering excitedly as they trooped into the room where they waited before Headmistress McGonagall brought them out to be sorted.
Jupiter was sorted Ravenclaw (which seemed like a good house), and then Scorpius was sorted Hufflepuff (which already meant he'd have to be away from one of his friends - or were they friends? He liked them a lot but they'd only just met) and then "Potter, Albus!" was called and the whole hall murmured as went to the stool and put the hat on his head. Professor Longbottom winked at him encouragingly as he went up, but that was no consolation.
"Hmm…" the hat said. "There is much you don't know about yourself, that is clear, and you don't really believe in yourself. But in the end you'd give yourself up for your friends - that's fairly Hufflepuff loyalty…"
"Sure, put me there, Scorpius is there!"
"But on the other hand, it's rather Gryffindor too. And you're a bright young lad, could be Ravenclaw."
"Jupiter's there, that'd be fine…" Albus said, despairing, as it seemed the hat was ignoring him.
"I'm not ignoring you. Anyway, you even think things through like a Slytherin sometimes, though I think better not there. Hmm, hmm. And you don't have very strong ties to one house or another, in spite many of your relatives being Gryffindor, hmm. You just want to belong, it seems...Well, I think...better be...Gryffindor!" The last was yelled to the whole hall as Albus trudged over to the one table his friends weren't at. Okay, they weren't in Slytherin, either, but still.
He plopped down in the first open seat and grumbled quietly to himself about his fate. He ate his way through the feast - the treacle was quite nice, he noticed - and followed the head boy up to his dorm. He flopped into bed and drew the curtains around himself, slowly slipping into the daydreams that always lead him to sleep.
Dreams of friends a family, always, of him saving his friends, of him doing something important, meaningful, something that would make him remembered, but not just by others...something that would make him feel whole, complete. And this joined by a new dream - someone he loved holding him afterwards. He'd never been interested in girls, but maybe he'd meet one here? He pushed the rather odd thought away with an "ick" before moving on to other thoughts and falling asleep.